Perito Moreno

New Journal 6 – No words

Sniffling and slightly feverish, Rachel and I dragged ourselves to a local doctor in El Calafete on Tuesday. We knew it wasn’t anything serious. Hiking in the snow and rain and sleeping in a damp tent probably left us with a cold. We were looking for alleviation. Being sick on the road is particularly displeasing. You have a tendency to think you may have picked up some foreign, tropical disease. I didn’t think our illness was deadly but we may lose a limb or two. It was impossible to know, really.

Our doctor, a Freddie Mercury look-alike, with moustache-and-all, confirmed our suspicions. We had a viral infection. Rest, liquid and light medication were his recommendations. We were due to visit Perito Moreno, a famous glacier, the next day. We hoped we would be of the right frame of mind to enjoy it.

We made our way to the bus terminal at 8:30am with our Japanese friend, Wataru. The sun rises late at this time of year. We were walking in near blackness. The town was quiet apart from the chorus of dog barking that is a constant sound track to this region.

We didn’t manage to sleep during the hour and a half journey. The scenery out of the window was too spectacular to miss. When the bus finally pulled up, we could see some of the glacier but trees blocked our view. We slowly walked the designated pathways until we came to the first balcony and the full scale of the beast opened up before us.

All three of us stood still, shaking our heads, illnesses forgotten. We couldn’t conceptualise what it was we were looking at. So vast was the structure that even from hundreds of metres away we could hear the monstrous cracks made from movement within the glacier.

When what looked like a small chunk of ice fell from the glacier, we saw it hit the water and waited for the sound. None came. But then, a second later, a loud bang, like a gun shot, echoed around the balcony. We realised we were further than a few hundred metres away and that the glacier was in fact, much larger than we thought.

The front part that you see in the picture is 70 metres tall from water level to top, with another 170 metres below the water. It extends for 33kms. Looking beyond the glacier to the mountains that stand guard above, you feel like you’ve reached the end of the world – no man’s land exists thereafter.

We visited various balconies for around an hour. At the quietest one we sat down and relaxed. The sun, despite being Autumn, warmed the balcony. A moment or two later Rachel and I were asleep. We woke up some time later and realised we were surrounded by a group of German retirees. One persistent fella had a video camera pointed at the glacier for 20 minutes, waiting to capture a falling chunk.

His patience finally gave up and he passed his camera to his wife who was sitting next to us. Rachel looked at me. I knew what she was thinking. Just then, as if reading our minds, a large chunk fell off the glacier right in front of us, sending the man into a frenzy. He grabbed his camera and tried to capture the tail end of the fall. Sadly, it wasn’t to be for him.

At this moment, we’re preparing to leave Argentina tomorrow for the mountainous region of Torres Del Paine in Chile. We can catch up on the rest that Freddie insisted we take advantage of.

Today’s Photo – Perito Moreno

This image, for me, was all about attaining true perspective. Rather than using a wide angle to show the width of the glacier, which would shrink the glacier in its entirety, I chose the to shoot at 55mm. This way I was able to give a comparison of size by framing the shot with the front part of the glacier which can then be measured against the mountains at the back. I minimised, as much as possible, the details in the centre part of the glacier, while choosing only to draw out details and colour in the front wall. There would have been too much going on throughout the image, otherwise.

Before the Joys of Post-Processing