Glaciers. You think, "You've seen one, you've seen them all."
But that was hardly the case in Tierra del Fuego.
Each glacier presented a distinctly different visual experience. I became more knowledgeable about them than I could have imagined possible in such a short time. For instance:
***How they are formed: When snow falls, it becomes heavier and heavier. The packed ice and the weight, combined with rock, earth and melted snow beneath, pushes the huge ice block along, forcing it to grow, as long as it is cold.
***Why they exist: Glaciers are the last remnants of the ice age which ended about 11,500 years ago. About 35 percent of the earth was covered with them then. Today it's about 10 percent, with Greenland and Antarctica their principal environments, though they also exist in the Alps, New Zealand, US, Canada and even on some mountain tops in tropical regions.
***Some may seem to appear blue, green or turquoise. Why? We heard varying explanations for this, but our guide's version indicated that the colors trapped within the ice are caused by dense compacted ice, which allows only short wavelengths of blue light through. There seems to be disagreement among scientists about the reason for this glacial coloration.
***Will they disappear? The magnificent Perito Merino Glacier that we saw in Argentina was expanding until 1988. Unfortunately, that is not the norm. Global warming has been blamed for the fact that over the past 50 years, the Southern Ice Field has lost 193 square miles of glaciers.
I was fascinated by the distinct differences among the many glaciers I encountered on this journey.
The Perito Merino Glacier was among the most spectacular.
Located in Parque National Los Glaciares, the Perito Merino remains a shimmering monument to thousands of years of climate change. Until recently one of the world's few advancing glaciers, it's been called a blue and white creaking, disintegrating mass, one of the world' great natural spectacles. I can vouch for that.
Perito Merino is located on Lago Argentino. At 566 square miles of freezing water, this is one of South America's largest lakes. Perito Merino, about 22 miles long and about three miles wide, was one of just a handful of glaciers in the world to be advancing. However, recently the process has halted, and some cite global warming as the cause of this somewhat abrupt turnaround from its previous performances.
The spectacle of huge chunks of ice crashing down from the glacier's face is a sight not to be missed. To get to see the glacier, Jean and I flew from Ushuaia, via Aerolineas Argentinas, a one-hour flight to El Calafate, Argentina. Our hosteria, the Estancia Alice, is a sheep ranch. It has sixteen simple rooms and a beautiful view of flocks of sheep in fields that stretch directly down to the aquamarine waters of the Beagle Channel. Arriving at the estancia in mid-afternoon, we hurried outside to witness sheep herders put on a remarkable display of prowess: one herder sheered an entire coat of wool from one sheep in a single piece, taking just a minute and a half for the process.
Later, we hiked over the dune to the sandy beach to view flamingoes and a variety of other birds. That evening at the estancia's barbeque dinner, a spectacular Argentine tango show topped off this great day. The next day would bring us on an expedition to view the Perito Merino Glacier.
Leaving the hosteria almost at dawn, we hopped into an eight-person van. Our destination was the Lago Argentina. There we were to board an excursion boat for an all-day journey to view the glacier. Hopefully, we would arrive in time to witness one or more of its glacial calvings.
Boarding the excursion boat, we checked out the top deck. The day was bitter cold. A constant wind chilled the already frigid air that blew across the huge lake. Most of the passengers decided to camp inside, sipping coffee or hot chocolate. Jean and I weren't about to sacrifice this special experience because of the chill wind. Bundled up in windbreakers, hats and gloves, we sheltered ourselves against an outer deck wall. We kept a lookout for the Andean condor, buff necked ibis, and buzzard eagles that inhabited the park. Great gusts of wind pushed us against the railing and intermittent rain chilled us. But looming ahead we viewed the towering blue-tinted walls of the Perito Merino, and we didn't want to miss a moment when a calving might take place.
We weren't disappointed.
Four times that afternoon, huge perforated chunks of blue and white ice crashed down from several sections of the massive glacier wall. It happened at intermittent intervals. You couldn't anticipate when the next calving would take place. You had to listen intently for a sudden staccato explosion of noise. Then you would scan your eyes quickly over the glacier's enormous wall to pick out the telltale signs—a spattering of huge jagged slabs of falling ice that signified another calving was taking place We could decipher no rhyme or reason to where the next spectacle would take place, but we were lucky enough to watch four dramatic calvings that afternoon.
We disembarked in late afternoon. A small bus transported us to the top of the glacier for a land view. Rain was pouring down. We trudged along a muddy path enduring a typical Tierra del Fuego day, but we sat outdoors at a picnic table under the trees, enjoying hot chocolate and a sandwich. A good ending to an exceptional day.
One of our most relaxing glacier viewings took place while we were still aboard the Via Australis. The third evening we sailed through "the Avenue of the Glaciers." Gliding quietly through a narrow fjord, we had a perfect evening of panoramic navigation. Gathered in the glass enclosed observation lounge, we viewed in succession, the Espana, Romanche, Italia and Hollandia glaciers. As each country's glacier was announced, we munched on hors d'oeuvres and sipped the traditional drink of the nation—as many as we wanted. I preferred to stick with my favorite-- pisco sour. With each serving, the upcoming glacier took on added interest.
[Go to Patagonia Part Nine]
