Our pre-Antarctica journey across Argentina! We explored the history of Buenos Aires (Recoleta, Plaza de Mayo), trekked to Fitz Roy and Laguna Torre in El Chaltén, witnessed the immense Perito Moreno Glacier calve, and reached Ushuaia—the End of the World—to set sail.
Part 1: Buenos Aires: Culture, History & The Reset
We touched down in Buenos Aires after a marathon travel day, traded pyramids for parrillas, and dove straight into Patagonian glaciers and trail days. We landed in BA around 11 pm on January 31 after 30+ hours and two layovers (Istanbul and São Paulo). By the time we cleared the airport and reached our hotel in Palermo, it was 1 am. We crashed instantly.
Palermo is lovely and a bit upscale—great cafés and leafy parks—but a good 50-minute walk from the classic sights. Day one was a write-off: steady rain, jet-lagged bodies. We ventured out only for dinner. The next day, we rallied around 1 pm, set off for the botanical gardens (closed due to fallen branches from the storms), and improvised a Palermo loop of plazas and statues.
Recoleta’s cemetery was the standout—tight lanes of mausoleums, some ornate, others crumbling, several dropping six levels underground. We had twenty minutes before closing, hustled to find Eva Perón’s family vault, and found a modest door with flowers and a small crowd. Understated, considering the legend.
We tried to reach the river (not easy access), then drifted downtown: the Obelisk on 9 de Julio, a giant Evita mural, and the theatre district. Scored same-day discount tickets (saved ~USD 20 each) to a Cirque-style show at 9 pm. The show mixed acrobatics, gymnastics, and diving over a hidden stage-pool. Afterwards, the Metro had closed (ouch), so we trekked home on foot, pausing at a carnival scene before finally collapsing in Palermo. Our legs had logged 12–15 km without trying.
Between the ticket dash and the show, I read a message that my cousin Robert had passed away at 62. I FaceTimed my parents—short but grounding. Holding his family in my thoughts.
We did a free city tour that delivered sobering, essential context: National Congress, Plaza de Mayo, the Pink House, and the Obelisk woven together with Argentina’s heavy chapters. Our guide spoke about the 1976–83 dictatorship, 30,000 disappeared, and how the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo began circling the square in small groups when gatherings of three+ were illegal. Decades on, their symbol—the white headscarf—still marks the plaza.
Post-tour lunch with an Aussie couple, then a quest to solve banking and buses. ATMs limited withdrawals to 1,000 ARS with a ~48 ARS fee (about USD 7) each time—not great. The HSBC branch told us we couldn’t withdraw larger sums at the counter. Meanwhile, we hunted bus options to Patagonia and Chile.
Part 2: El Calafate: Perito Moreno, Asados & Shifting Plans
We had a 5 pm flight, left a stash at the Palermo hotel to meet the 15 kg baggage limit, and flew 3.5 hours to El Calafate (50° S). The airport is 23 km out; a shuttle wound through town dropping everyone else before us, arriving near 11 pm at our hostel.
The next day’s tour took ~1.5 hours through the steppe into the moist Andean forest. Perito Moreno is “stable” (gaining as much ice as it calves), ~250 km² in area, with ~60 m of ice above the lake and ~100 m below. We added the one-hour “Safari Náutica” (totally worth the extra ~USD 11). The catamaran sidled along the south face, maybe 100 m off the ice wall—electric blues and crevasses on display. On the way back, the crew handed out chunks of glacial ice—crisp and perfectly drinkable.
The balcony network on the north face gives layered vantage points. We picked a lower platform to improve our odds of seeing a calving. Luck paid off fast—a big slab thundered off, and I caught the splash on video (missed the first second, classic). The sound hits you in the chest. We lingered, listening to cracks and groans that never quite delivered a second show, then climbed to higher terraces for the glacier-as-river view.
Back in town, we asked the bus to drop us near Pura Vida—El Calafate’s beloved comfort-food spot—only to learn it’s closed Wednesdays (sign in small print, naturally). We bided time at the lakeshore among pink flamingos, geese, ducks, and a rumoured black swan or two, then pivoted to a parrilla off the main strip for an all-you-can-eat grill: platters of beef and chicken, followed by pork and lamb. Carnivore heaven.
We’d planned to hop to Chile for Torres del Paine’s W trek, but package quotes were spinning toward USD 750 pp. We pivoted: fly El Calafate → Ushuaia (1h15m, USD 180) instead of a 30-hour bus, and spend the saved time exploring Tierra del Fuego.
After our trek to El Chaltén, we returned to Calafate and found another hostel called Nakel Yenu, which turned out to be great fun. It had a cozy, social atmosphere and a kitchen where we could cook our own meals—a small but welcome luxury.
One evening, we finally made it to the restaurant we’d tried to visit during our first stay in town. After dinner, we stumbled upon a **gaucho competition** taking place nearby. It was quite a spectacle—riders holding tight as wild young horses bucked furiously beneath them. It was raw, dusty, and completely Argentine.
Another highlight was visiting the local bird reserve, right on the shores of the lake. It’s an easy three-kilometre loop filled with ducks, swans, and flamingos. On our second visit, the calm water created beautiful reflections.
Perhaps the most memorable experience in Calafate was the hostel’s asado night. For 120 pesos—about fifteen dollars—we had an all-you-can-eat feast of grilled meats, salads, and bottomless wine and beer. We shared stories and laughter with fellow travelers long into the night. That night we met Chad and Ashley from Fort St. John, British Columbia. There’s something comforting about familiar accents so far from home.
Part 3: El Chaltén: Fitz Roy and Trail Days
Three hours by bus lands you in Argentina’s trekking capital (the north end of Los Glaciares NP). Rangers welcomed us with a quick briefing: tomorrow is the clearest window for Fitz Roy; the following day looks cloudier—better for Laguna Torre. Also, water here is drinkable straight from streams and lakes. Our hostel felt like climber's base camp.
For **Fitz Roy Day**, we set out around 9 am: 12.5 km one-way, first hour up, last hour really up. Four hours to the lake, windchill on the rocks, perfect picnic views. I napped; Nic stayed put while I dropped to the shore, filled a bottle from the glacier-fed turquoise, and circled to the outlet waterfall. The hike back took 3.5 hours—25 km total, plus town walking. Bed by 9:30 pm. Out cold.
Sore, tempted to rest—but we only had the one day. Hit the trail at 11 am for **Laguna Torre**: 11 km one-way, 45 minutes of steady up, then rolling. The spires stayed in the cloud just as the ranger predicted, but Laguna Torre was moody and beautiful, dotted with ice floes. A carancho hawk swept down and nicked salami from a nearby hiker; later, an Andean condor cruised the cliffs at a distance. We were back by 6 pm, cooked a victory dinner (pasta with meat sauce, salad, crusty bread), and shared leftover tortellini with new friends.
We bussed back the next day. If we’d known, we might have added a day or two to Chaltén—big trails, small-town calm—but we’d booked a night at Schilling in Calafate and needed decent internet to wrangle the next legs.
Part 4: Ushuaia: The End of the World & Setting Sail
We shared a taxi from the airport with Chad and Ashley, who were staying nearby. Our hostel, Patagonia Pais, wasn’t our first choice but was one of the few available for four consecutive nights. When we arrived, however, we discovered a booking issue—the first night wasn’t actually available. We spent one uncomfortable night at Los Lupinos before returning to Patagonia Pais the next morning. Our first night in the dorm was rough. By morning, we were eager to move.
Once we were finally settled into our real hostel, we stopped by to see Daniela, our travel agent from Antarctica Turismo. She had helped us secure our Antarctica cruise months earlier, and it was great to finally meet her in person after so many emails. She was warm, helpful, and full of local advice.
Ushuaia greeted us with a rare gift—blue skies and sunshine. Daniela told us to take advantage of it and head outdoors. So after lunch, we decided to hike to the nearby glacier. The walk was longer and steeper than expected, especially on little sleep, but the views over the town and Beagle Channel were stunning. We didn’t make it all the way to the glacier, but it was still worth the effort.
The next morning, we joined Chad and Ashley for a trip to **Tierra del Fuego National Park**. After a quick run back to grab our forgotten camera, we boarded the bus and set off. The park is breathtaking—dense forests opening onto rugged coastlines with views across the Beagle Channel to Chile. We hiked about eight kilometres along the shoreline, stopping halfway to enjoy our picnic lunch on the rocks overlooking the water.
Later that day, we visited the world’s southernmost golf course—because in Ushuaia, everything is “the southernmost” of something. Playing was too expensive, so instead, we sat in the clubhouse, sipped cold beer, and toasted to our adventures. That evening, we said our goodbyes to Chad and Ashley, promising to visit them in Fort St. John someday.
Our last full day in Ushuaia was a Sunday, and almost everything was closed. We spent the morning catching up on emails and planning for our upcoming cruise. In the afternoon, we went geocaching and managed to find two caches hidden near the port. While exploring, we noticed our ship had already docked—a reassuring sign that the Drake Passage crossing ahead might be smooth. We met a few other travelers who would be joining the same expedition, including an Australian brother and sister. Excitement was definitely building.
On our final day, with embarkation not until late afternoon, we wandered around town gathering last-minute essentials. The most important errand was picking up our rented waterproof pants from Daniela’s office. They turned out to be full snow pants—probably a good thing for what lay ahead. With our gear packed and spirits high, we were ready for the next great adventure.
Our time in Patagonia and Ushuaia felt like both an ending and a beginning. The winds were cold, the food hearty, and the landscapes vast and humbling. Each day seemed to stretch a little longer, as if the world itself was slowing down at its southern tip. Tomorrow, we sail for Antarctica—an adventure that feels as surreal as it does thrilling. From here, everything feels possible.
