Lago del Desierto is a glacial lake formed by the runoff from Glaciar Huemel. The hike to view the glacier is not long, only about three miles, but first you have to drive twenty miles of bad dirt road. The Hilux is up to the task and we find the last spot in the small parking lot. Despite its remoteness this is a popular hike.

After paying our 15000 peso entry fee (about ten US dollars) we start up the trail. The recent rain has made things muddy, and the trail is covered in tree roots and rocks, so the footing is tricky. As we climb higher there are ropes to help us up the treacherous path until we reach the top,

Glaciar Huemul narrows to a small tongue, and ice melt descends into a milky blue lagoon, before draining into the larger Lago Desierto. People picnic at the top despite the increasing rain, before heading back down the narrow trail .

Back at the trailhead there is a small lodge selling food and drinks. A hot chocolate tastes great after the cold and muddy hike. Tomorrow is our last day in El Chalten, and we have a hike to Laguna Capri on the agenda, which is supposed to have great views of Mt. Fitzroy.

We woke our first morning in El Chalten to cloudy skies, drizzle and 50 MPH winds howling around us. The receptionist at the hotel told us she had to walk the five blocks from her house mostly backwards and bent over to avoid blowing sand and gravel and to make headway in the wind. She said this was fairly typical at this time of year .

After our hotel breakfast we decided on a short hike that began just across the Las Vueltas River from the hotel. The route was mostly protected from the wind and rain except for the start and the mid point of the out and back trail. As we crossed the river wind nearly blew us off the bridge, wailing down the valley at gale force. Melissa turned back.

Once we reached the trees the wind was more manageable, and with a light drizzle coming down we set off on the Canon Rio de Los Vueltas trail, which promised beautiful views of the town of El Chalten and the surrounding mountains. As we ascended the mountain the footing was treacherous, with fine gravel and dust that would not hold the trail. Hiking poles made the way easier. The hills are covered with low growing shrubs with yellow flowers and thorny leaves called Neneo bushes. In protected areas there are conifers with wind tortured trunks.

As we reached the peak of the trail we emerged from the sheltering trees and the wind blew us sideways. Other hikers had taken refuge behind a rock outcropping, but there was no room for us. A weather station with solar panels was the best option for us, and we huddled behind it. There were no views.

The nearby mountains were shrouded in clouds and mist. The higher, snow covered peaks were ghosts. We could just see the village below.

After a few minutes at the top, we turned and headed down the trail as the rain intensified. Footing remained treacherous and the steeper areas were difficult even with poles. One of our group fell, but without injury. We reached the river and crossed the bridge to our hotel. The wind had subsided, now maybe 30 MPH. The rain was still increasing.

We gratefully reached the hotel, wet muddy and cold. But we had done our first hike in Patagonia.

Our two hour flight from San Martin de Los Andes back to Buenos Aires was uneventful. We checked in to the Magnolia Hotel and had dinner reservations at Fogon, a trendy single seating restaurant that specializes in meat cooked over a wood fire. They serve a nine course dinner featuring smoked meat, broiled meat, roasted meat, sweet meat and more meat. It was delicious and the meal took over three hours including dessert (not meat)

After dinner the walk back to Magnolia was welcomed to help digest all that meat. The air was warm and humid but felt good. Buenos Aires has been called the Paris of South America, and it’s easy to see the similarities. Plain trees line the streets with their distinctive peeling bark and large leaves. Statues dot the landscape, and numerous parks are full of people enjoying the green space and sunshine. Outdoor cafes are everywhere, with diners eating and drinking as the heat of the day slowly fades with the light. If they were all speaking French you would be in Paris.

Breakfast at the hotel and a ride to Aeroparque in the morning and we’re off to Mendoza, a short flight from Buenos Aires for the next leg of the journey .

San Martin de Los Andes may have the smallest airport I have ever flown into. There is one gate. The town itself is popular as a tourist destination because of a nearby ski resort and because of Lago Lacar, and has numerous restaurants and shops. After our too short sleep at Hotel Viejo Esquiador, we were met by our guides from the Limay River Ranch and drove the two and a half hours to the ranch.

Ron Sorenson has been our fishing guide in Montana for over twenty five years. He married Vanessa, an Argentine woman from San Martin de Los Andes and dreamed of creating a fishing lodge near her home town. Five years ago his dream came true with the opening of the Limay River Ranch, which has exclusive fishing access to a large and productive stretch of the Limay River below the Pichi Picun Leufu hydroelectric dam.

The camp is entirely off grid, with solar power and battery storage and consists of six guest cabins and a main dining hall. Each morning of our stay we set out after breakfast with our guide and drift boat to fish a section of the river. The big prize is brown trout that can exceed 28 inches long and fight like mad. We didn’t catch any of these, but got plenty of rainbow trout that were 18 to 20 inches long, leapt from the water and left your arm sore from the fight. Everything is catch and release.

We would stop mid afternoon for a shore lunch, and then fish into the evening. With the long summer days it was still daylight when we got back to the ranch for cocktails and dinner, and the food was excellent. One night featured a barbecue of a whole lamb, with good Argentine Malbec and Chardonnay to complement the menu.

With our truncated stay in Buenos Aires due to our travel delays, we were unable to do any of our scheduled tours. We got to our hotel, caught up with our friends Doug and Kip, showered, ate and went to bed. The dinner at the hotel was a multi course New Year’s Eve special, complete with wine and champagne and cost an astounding 150000.00 pesos per person (about one hundred dollars each).

Portenos, as residents of Buenos Aires are called, have a low key approach to New Year’s Eve . They tend to eat dinner very late, and a celebratory dinner is usually it for the evening. We didn’t see or hear any fireworks or other signs of celebration, so we fit right in.

After a good night’s sleep we had breakfast at the hotel and then headed for Aeroparque Jorge Newberry for our flight to San Martin de los Andes. We tried to use the kiosk to get our boarding passes and seat assignments and were informed that the flight was overbooked and there were no available seats. That’s when the PTSD set in.

The line to the check in desks stretched through the airport, but moved fairly quickly. We got to the desk, got the last four seats on the plane and breathed a sigh of relief. Security, passport verification, boarding passes, x-Ray machine and all the little indignities we put up with to fly meant nothing. We had seats on the plane!

Our flight to San Martin was about two hours, and most of the flight was over flat farms and ranch land that looks very similar to the great plains of the United States: fields laid out in a grid pattern, with occasional irrigated crop circles, ponds and small lakes. Some bodies of water were green with algae, and others were white either along the shore or in their entirety, probably due to pollution.

When we thought we might not get seats on the plane we checked the possibility of driving to San Martin de Los Andes-18 hours by car! That’s when the size of Argentina became real; with primarily a north/south orientation, it’s over two thousand miles from Ushuaia in the far south to Buenos Aires. There is no reliable train system and the roads are not very good. Flying is the only way to go, and the do have a robust domestic flight network including Aerolineas Argentinas and a couple of budget airlines

We checked in to Hotel Viejo Esquiador(the hotel of the old skier) and walked to Lago Lacar, a beautiful glacial lake at the west end of town.

We had a nice dinner at Abasto restaurant next to the hotel and then went to bed. Argentinians keep late hours so we didn’t finish dinner until after 11:30.

As the complexity of your travel plans increases, the chance that something will go wrong also multiplies. So while the Delta Airlines solution to get us to Argentina might work, with three plane changes along the way we could easily face more problems. With that in mind other solutions were needed. We considered driving to JFK, about 6 hours from home, but things were already stacked up there with delayed and cancelled flights, and the earliest we could get out there was two days from now.

The other possibility was Toronto, which is only three hours from home. As it turned out we could get a flight on the 30th that would get us into Buenos Aires by 3:30 on December 31, in time for our New Year’s Eve dinner, a restful sleep and easy departure for San Martin de los Andes on New Year’s Day for our fly fishing.

Bags were already packed, so we loaded them into our daughter Sarah’s car and set off for Toronto. The border crossing was easy, roads were dry, and traffic was light. We reached the airport by 7 PM for an 1155 PM departure on Avianca Airlines. Dinner at the airport, kill some time window shopping, board the plane and off we go. Next stop Bogota, Colombia.

Flights booked, bags packed, itinerary laid out. Today’s the day we start for Argentina, with nearly six weeks of travel and adventure ahead. Rochester to New York to Buenos Aires. Two flights, sixteen hours, two hemispheres before touchdown on a new continent in a new Country .

That was the plan, and we were just heading to the airport when the first text message arrived. Flight delayed at JFK; only half an hour, no problem. It was the second text that was the problem.

“We’re sorry that your flight DL5289 from Rochester to New York, NY is cancelled. We have been working to find a good option for you, but unfortunately, we didn’t find a flight on which to automatically rebook you.”

Four phone calls, 30 minutes on hold and 3 agents later, the best we could do was a 6 AM flight from Syracuse to Atlanta to Miami to Buenos Aires two days from now. Cancel the hotel in Buenos Aires, cancel the New Year’s Eve dinner with friends, cancel the tango tour and the introduction to Buenos Aires tour. If this works out, we’ll get to BA at 4:20 AM on January 1, 2026, then catch a 12:55 PM Flight to San Martin de los Andes for a few days of fly fishing on the Limay River in Patagonia.

I remain an optimist.