Freezing on the Frey

So while I was in Bariloche, I stayed in hostel where a lot of outdoorsy type people stay, and they have good maps and excellent information on a number of outdoor activities in the area. Moreover, the vibe is really laid back and everyone is of "buena onda" i.e. everyone's cool. So one of the popular hikes in the areas takes you from the the base of the main ski area (Cerro Cathedral) to a refugio at 1700m altitude, something that's claimed to take about 4 hours. Refugio Frey is one of the best rock climbing locations in Argentina because of it's rock facades immediately above the lake, or in the adjoining valleys. You can also use it as a jumping-off point for multi-day hikes that eventually take you back down to the town - or at least to places where there's a bus to town a couple times a day.

Although you can do Frey and back as a day hike - although a very tiring one - I was convinced by another guy to go up there for two nights and hang out, maybe borrow someone's equipment and do some climbing. Moreover, the guy I was going to go up there with had a friend who was living on the mountain as a climbing guide. So with that in mind, I headed out from Bariloche with Roger, a cool Spaniard from Barcelona. The two of us being in decent shape (mine in acute decline over the trip, I should mention, but apparently still living off the alumni weekend game), we actually reached the peak in about 1.5 hours less than is considered "normal" - and indeed, we were going fast, with only short breaks.

The refugio itself is a small stone house that sits by a beautiful lake almost entirely surrounded by high rock formations in rough shapes. On one side, it spawns a small stream by the side of the building. You can either stay at the refugio itself, or you can camp alongside the lake. Roger and I pitched our (separate) tents and made our respective soup dinners - he rocked some very good miso, and I was impressed. I instead opted for an old favorite, tomato cream, but is' since come off the list - you will see why.

First of all, my soup didn't really desolve properly, and thus was a little chunky for a cream soup. And almost the moment I finished the soup, I began feeling a little ... funky. Nonetheless, we chilled for a little while longer before retiring to sleep. I however, was having difficulty sleeping, which i chalked up to the cold. Despite my sleeping bag's claim to be comfortable around freezing and work until -8 C, I will at this point acknowledge that the Polish manufacturer is quite frankly wrong. So I was comfortably huddled up in my sleeping bag in sweatshirt, winter hat and pants, but began shaking more and more, in tune to my stomach becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I decide that I needed out of the tent - and quickly. After opening the tent and crawling about 3 feet to the end of the portal, I vomited immediately in front of the tent in the strong wind. A storm was brewing, Roger heard me and asked if I was ok, even came out to check on me. He said he would probably head to the refugio soon, as his tent (a second hand Argentine contraption he'd picked up in Bariloche) wasn't keeping him dry. I instead decided to stick it out in the tent, as the fresh air was actually quite nice. Moreover, having vomited I didn't feel nearly as cold, so I actually was able to fall asleep once I'd crawled back into the tent (my lower half never left the sleeping bag).

Unfortunately for me, neither my stomach nor the weather held. The wind increased more and more, beginning to drive heavy raindrops in front of it, until finally the rain turned into hail. My stomach settled into a rhythm of demanding an "emergency action" every two hours, and so I passed the night in and out of the tent, in and out of the hail.

By the next morning, the weather was foul. Low clouds made climbing impossible, and any views towards above impossible. I slowly packed up my gear, got a tea at the refugio, and began my descent while Roger decided to stay. It took me more than an hour more to descend than it had taken me to climb the mountain, plus I took some long breaks (including a 30 minute nap) and I was a wreck by the time I got down. Luckily for me, a bus to town was leaving just then; unluckily for me, i was at the back of the line, so I had to stand, making me feel like I was going to either get sick again or faint.

I'm glad I went down that day though: the next day there were 20 cm of snow at the Frey that had fallen overnight, which made for beautiful pictures (Roger showed me), but would have been a miserable descent in my sneakers. On the upside, from Barloche itself, the views were spectacular: Instead of either green or brown mountain tops, all around the city and the lake the hills were crowned in white.

That's summer in Patagonia.