The Glacier Perito Moreno, Ice Giant
Text and Photos: Demian Colman
How do you get yourself moving when you are paralyzed by something so magnificent? How do you talk about something that leaves you entirely at a loss for words? How do you describe the unimaginable?
I close my eyes and recall the glacier: the immense valley of ice carved and slashed into the landscape; the blindingly, painfully white spiked peaks surrounding me; the snow crunching under my feet; the utter silence that somehow sings; feeling my beloved’s warm hand in my own as my eyes water from emotion…This was the experience that had been my dream for twenty-five long years.
The dream began when I was just a child. One day, I noticed my parents absorbed in a TV show and they invited my siblings and me to join them. For the first time ever, a live broadcast was showing a gigantic iceberg calving from the Perito Moreno glacier. No one wanted to miss it. All of us, those of us at home, the hundreds of people on the chilly viewing balconies of Los Glaciares National Park, and a sea of people arriving at El Calafate (in the province of Santa Cruz) for the occasion, listened as the announcer informed us that such an event occurred just once every five years. People from around the world — Japan, Germany, Spain, Chile, Italy, the U.S., and France– awaited a force of nature with a fervor I had previously witnessed only in soccer stadiums or at Argentinean rock concerts, which were bedlam at the time.
I was bored by the many tedious interviews until something on the small screen captured my attention: the camera gave us a condor’s eye view by flying us over a green torrent of trees flowing endlessly into the distance. A small sliver of white on the horizon drew nearer until it was directly beneath us, and we could make out the wondrous pointed shapes that resembled nothing more than a giant meringue.
At that instant I understood what those droning repetitions had been trying to tell us. Though from a distance, I shared the feelings of all those people waiting for the great moment. Smiling, my parents’ arch glances reminded me that something fascinating was in the offing if I had the patience to wait. I promised myself I would travel to that spot some day; I didn’t realize the day would be so long in coming.
The day finally arrived on March 22, 2014, and as soon as the plane touched down in El Calafate, I could see the wait had not been in vain: the runway offered a marvelous view of Lake Argentino—the country’s largest lake with more than 560 square miles of calm waters in an unusual shade of whitish blue.
Our encounter with the glacier had to wait another day, since our arrival time did not coincide with visiting hours. We strolled down the main street and noticed that the low-standing houses had pitched roofs to allow snow to slide off during the cold season. We also discovered that there is an ice museum some four miles outside the city, and we decided to put our free afternoon to good use.
The Glaciarium is one of the few glacier interpretation centers in the world. It is well worth a visit because it explains the formation of glaciers and their movements, as well as describing how Lake Argentino gets its unique color: the lake is not salt water or fresh water, but rather a liquid known as glacier milk, the color of which is a product of glaciers grinding rocky beds into fine particles, which are then sloughed off into the water. The museum uses a variety of educational methods, from traditional photographs to mock-ups, projections, and installations. It also features a tunnel that shows how human-produced pollution is pushing us toward a disastrous, but not yet inevitable, end.
We then dropped into the Glaciobar, where we sipped drinks from ice glasses, sat on ice chairs, admired ice sculptures, and danced until our feet turned to ice, prompting us to go warm up with some delicious coffee as we waited for the return bus.
The long-awaited day finally arrived and our group headed for the bridges and walkways to get an overview of the glacier. We used the two hours allotted to closely study the magnificent panorama: nearly 100 square miles of ice jutting into Lake Argentino. It is like a three-mile wide, super slow motion tsunami, rising almost 200 feet above the water line and plunging some 650 feet below it. Twenty-five years ago, the TV presenter was adamant that the glacier calved only once every five years. The truth is that the glacier is alive; snowmelt feeds the glacier, and pieces of all sizes calve off every day. Blocks of ice thud into the water with a deafening crash like thunder. While it may not be necessary to wait years to witness these events, each instance of calving is a grand and unique sight.
People slowly began to move away and we were left alone to contemplate the vastness. Everything looked like it had looked to me on the small screen so many years ago: the pine forest behind us, the gigantic block of ice before us, and to complete the scene, a small dot soaring over the landscape gradually revealed itself to be a magnificent condor, reminding us that we are visitors to its erstwhile realm of the Andes.
There was still more to come. A boat soon took us across Lake Argentino, and as we glided across the storied waters, we admired the snowy peaks reflected in the water alongside the superb icebergs floating around us. We learned some facts from our guide: Los Glaciares National Park, created in 1937, spreads over some 1.5 million acres and was named a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1981. Although the Perito Moreno is marvelous, it is not a unique phenomenon, as there as are many glaciers in the Patagonian Ice Field, the world’s largest ice sheet outside Antarctica.
It was time to walk on the glacier. That is the moment I now evoke at my computer. I vividly remember fitting my shoes with crampons, an indispensable accessory to keep from slipping and sliding. I also recall the second I raised my eyes and froze, immobilized by the magnificent panorama stretching in front of me. After waiting for this moment for so many years, my mind conjured up the image of Neil Armstrong as he was about to step onto the moon, and I was very much aware of the step I was about to take: a step like any other, yet unlike any other, since it would take me from having a dream to having the dream fulfilled. That is how I began my walk across the glacier, finally being privileged to caress the enormous, perfect white needles pointing toward the sky; I stood in front of ice-gouged caves where the walls glow bright blue, pale blue, opaque white, or blinding white. I admired the deep holes and fissures, intensely black in the depths, and felt like I was part of that boundless, incredible, surreal sculpture that blithely advances along the lake waters, like a living mountain that continuously cycles through death and rebirth. Intensely aware of the twenty-five years that have passed since I set myself this goal, tears, goose bumps, and sheer joy unconsciously transported me from reality to memory. I cannot say how long the reality lasted, but I do know it was exactly what I had always dreamed: marvelous, priceless, and unforgettable.
Now I have a new dream: to return.
How to Get There
Copa Airlines flies to Buenos Aires from North, Central, and South America, and the Caribbean through its Hub of the Americas in Panama City; the airline offers two flights a day Monday through Thursday and three flights a day on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Los Glaciares National Park is located in the southwestern part of the province of Santa Cruz, on the border with Chile. Local airlines provide service from Buenos Aires..
Where to Stay
The city is full of hotels of varying degrees of luxury as well as hostels, cabins, and campsites. There is also a wide range of restaurants, chocolate shops, and nightspots for your entertainment.
Don’t Forget
Any time of the year is a good time to visit, as the landscape is ever-changing. In summer the days are longer and the forest panoramas are outstanding, but there is less snow in the surrounding mountains. In winter the days are short and temperatures are lower, but it is obviously the best season for winter sports.
