Walking in the lenga forest

Up with whatever the Patagonian equivalent of a lark is - we've seen a wonderful woodpeckerlike bird with a long curved bill which makes a loud, piercing call, not at all like a lark, but it will do - and onto the minibus for today's trip to El Chalten, founded in 1986 purely to service the tourism generated by its proximity to some fantastic hiking country. The driver was tearing about, and in such a rush that he banged his head on the door when jumping back in,and gave it a nasty gash. Blood all over the place, driver on his knees, and wrinklitourist to the rescue with antiseptic wipes and words of comfort. Some indecision, followed by a change of driver, before setting off on the 3-hour drive through the foothills of the Andes, passing estancias, rivers and llamas (which are actually known as "guanacos".) There are so many types of grasses, green, sage, red, yellow and brown, and it is so colourful under a wide sky, with mountains in the distance, that it is not, as I expected, at all a barren landscape. So many different shapes and textures of clouds; some fluffy, some smooth and long, some almost like a classic UFO shape, some thin and wispy, and all somehow much more three-dimensional than I'm used to. Perhaps it's the scale and the quality of the light that gives them an individual character, standing out against the sky. It is so beautiful, boundless and vast, this place could really get under your skin. A walk through lenga forest up to a perfect mountain lake (Lake Capri) under Mount Fitzroy, which determinedly hid its peak from us within the cloud, sparkling waters and a peaceful packed lunch, before making our way back down. Views of a lazy, winding, wide river valley with brown, snow-streaked mountains in the distance and on the other side the blue of Lake Viedma. Today we also had our first experience of Patagonian wind, no, not that sort, the sort which comes in strong gusts...oh, never mind. Classic dust swirls, creaking rooves and clanking wires in the one street town, whistling and whooshing about and blowing you over. Tough stuff. Today, the Brother saw, but did not take photos of: an old rusty engine, some buses, a burnt out car, and other sundry machinery. Perhaps his finest hour was when one of the guides handed him a pair of huge binoculars so that he could look at the landscape on the drive back. He took them and held them up to his eyes, and fiddled around with the focus and spacing with a slightly puzzled expreession until it was pointed out to him that the lens caps were still on.