I was hesitant to do the Cerro Huemel trek. I was hesitant because I wanted to do it. It sounded challenging, remote and fun. It’s in El Chalten, the magical name in my head in the past few years. I already assumed it’s the town for me even though I didn’t remember how I first learned about its name. That’s where hikers are, climbers are and mountain people are. In my head, it’s a place built for mountains and treks and only people who truly love the nature stay there longer. Here I started hesitating. I was tired, or I assumed I was tried and told myself I needed the rest. Mentally I didn’t know if I wanted to go back to the mountains, re-experience the cold, wind, snow and ever changing weathers. Part of me was not sure if I wanted to again put on the heavy backpack and walk my way in the wilderness. I felt my legs cramping when thinking about it. I was also worried about the river crossings, how to use harness, etc, and most importantly, doing it solo. With all of these thoughts running in my mind, I walked towards the visitor center, where you could get the permit for the trek and learn about the weather window to go.
Then I decided to go on Thursday, when the weather would finally clear up after a few days of winds and rain. When I told a guy I met in the hostel about this trek yesterday, he seemed interested. I could check with him again to have him onboard, then I wouldn’t be not solo, which would make me feel better. I didn’t know if I actually needed someone to go together. But he seemed cool. When I first saw him, he wore a yellow hoodie and yellow pants with brown yellowish long hair down on his shoulder. The hair was just as crazy as mine, hard, rigid and not in one place. Maybe that was why I thought we could connect. We had a good conversation the night before with two sisters from Chile. So I asked, and he said yes. We became a team. The day before the trek, we went to rent the harness together, then got trail food and ice cream. I was happy to have a friend. At the last, I learned his name is Mathieu.
Day 1
Maybe I’m always this messy. I had lost the Chilean PDI and my debit card in the first two weeks of travel. Then 5am in the morning of the Huemel trek, I couldn’t find the key for the hostel locker anywhere. The backpack was outside thank god, and only the wallet and camera were in the locker. I left a message to the hostel and told them to break the locker as they like and just please keep my stuff. Then Mathieu and I left.
He was excited, so was I. We walked in the dark. There was a thin layer of ice on the ground as we walk. Both of us almost flipped over with the heavy backpacks. We didn’t bother to have the headlamp knowing the sun was going up in one hour. I looked hard in the dark that my eyes hurt and tried to figure out the way to the trailhead. The other girl wearing blue jacket walked towards us. “Are you guys doing Huemul?”
“Yes. You?”
“Me too.”
So I saw this girl was going to do this trek on her own and thought if I should have done it solo as well. Mathieu’s backpack turned to be too heavy. He started being a bit upset. He had told me he didn’t think he was at his best physically in the past year and he got a cold a few days ago when camping. He had injuries on his right ankle as well. I became a little worried. I didn’t know how strong he could be with the extra heavy backpack for the next four days if the first day was this hard for him, which was supposed to be the easiest day. The girl with the blue jackets was now in front of us. The sun was almost up. I saw her sitting on a rock on the side of the trail, eating breakfast.
“The sun is about to come up. Did you see the red?” She said to us.
“What red? I saw red in the sky.” I answered with sort of passion. That’s how I felt always on the trail.
“Fitz. Fitz Roy is supposed to turn to red with the sunrise. It’s almost there.”
I looked to the right side of the trek. Hell yes, Fitz Roy was there. From a different direction of the trail when I hiked up the other day.
Mathieu turned to me. “Take a break and watch sunrise?”
I nodded, knowing I would not take a break for it if I had been alone. I would have watched the sunrise while walking. But I was with a friend. It sounded like something to do when you were not alone.
He pointed to a big piece of flat rock and we went up there.
Fitz Roy was still white. I looked up. Not sure if that was true it would turn red. Not sure why it would turn red. Mathieu took out the gas and stove, and started making hot water. I looked at the cooking pot and the white jacket he just put on. Maybe this was something I had been lacking in the past years – relax and drink a cup of hot water. I hadn’t allowed myself to take any breaks. If I was hungry or thirsty, I would do it while I was walking. I would not wear white on the trek either – too unpractical for my mindset.
“Would you like some?” He asked with his gaze still on the boiling water.
“No thank you. I typically don’t drink or eat too much during the hike.”
I looked up to Fitz Roy. The top of the mountain turned red. I almost cried. I watched it and did’t dare to move my gaze fearing I would miss a single inch of red that started dropping down from the tip of Fits. Oh, I need videos, photos. I started recording. I knew Mathieu was judging me. He had told me he didn’t use electronics in the wild and didn’t want to be distracted while connecting to the nature. But I wanted the video. I wanted this moment to be recorded.
A guy with a smaller backpack passed us with clean, easy walking steps. Probably a pro. One more solo trekker. Again I questioned my decision to not going alone. At this moment, Fitz Roy had fully turned red, and started losing its hues. We started walking again while the sun was now rising above. It was a slight uphill. I felt my backpack heavier than normal, because I followed Mathieu’s idea and brought cheese, bread and fruits, which I would not have taken with me if I was alone. But that was ok. I know I could handle the weights. Then I noticed he became even more tired. He leaned forward, reached the arms back to support the bottom of the backpack, slowly moving. I let myself calm down, but inside of me started complaining. “What the hell, this is just the start.” I started questioning if I was with the right partner on this trail, but I kept my politeness. I told myself we would be fine. So I raised the conversation, talking about our families, neighbors, different things and opinions about this world. We took a few breaks before Mathieu said we might be at a good spot for lunch. Again, I wouldn’t have lunch if it was just me. I would run to the campground all the way. But here we were, and the view was beautiful. “Let’s have lunch.” The lunch was nice indeed and I was glad we took the real food. Fresh baked bread with avocados. Warm winds, mountain view, blue sky, blue lake. “I’m so happy. And I’m not alone. All the weight is worth it. Now I’m experiencing this trek on my non-traditional way. I’m happy!” I cheered to myself.
There were a few more groups catching up. Three English guys, a group of two guys and two girls, a few couples. We kept passing each other and kept saying hi. Then the first river crossing came up. It was probably an easy cross, but with the rain in the past two days, the water was rising high and moving fast. Mathieu threw a rock into the river. It got washed away. Then he threw a big piece of wood, it too got washed away. He stared at the river for a minute, and turned to me. “I’m gonna jump, stepping on this rock.” I looked to the only rock that was entirely covered by the water but stable in the stream.
“You will get wet.”
“No, I will do it quick”
“I will do it too”
“I’m doing it first, let me use your hiking poles, then I give it to you and help.”
He crossed. And he started picking up a bigger piece of branch and threw it into the river. It stayed!
“Thank you for building me a bridge.” I said thankfully.
I stepped one foot on the wood. “Shit, this is not stable.” I need to move quick. Apparently the river is faster than me. My left foot was buried by the river completely. I jumped out of the river. I crossed it too, with one wet shoe. Not too bad.
The group of four came, three boys, one girl. The girl decided to follow my path. Before I stopped her, she already stepped in. However, the wood already got washed away and she got stuck. Nicolas started throwing the rocks and more branches into the river. I realized how he worked hard to help this girl and suddenly had a lot of respect for him. I joined him to build a bridge, and hoped it could be used for later groups as well. After she crossed, we both sat on the rocky ground to relax. He took over my wet shoe, put one hand inside.
“Ohhhh, I’m so sorry. We will make you a fire later.”
“Fire is not allowed here.”
“We will hide the fire.”
“I’m okay. But, thank you.” I meant it, for the thanks. I saw this stranger who just became my friend two days ago helped others crossed the river and put his hand in my dirty shoe. I knew I was at the right place. All the questions about his slow start was gone by now. Mathieu now started walking fast. Here was him. Finally warmed up.
3pm. We got to the camp. Setting up tents. It got cold quick. Nicolas took out the stove again, starting making hot water. I couldn’t believe how many times he made hot water on the trail. Maybe he was a grandma from china in the past life. I made fun of him only to myself. Then I saw a half pumpkin on the table, which he just built with a piece of wood and rocks.
“What? You brought pumpkin??”
“Yes. I had this left over and didn’t feel like leaving it in the hostel”
“No wonder you backpack is heavy.”
“Yes, we need to eat as much as we can today so tomorrow I can carry lighter. Shall we have some wine?”
I realized I carried a bottle of wine we bought yesterday as well. Actually, Mathieu got it for us. But I carried it since his backpack was too heavy.
We ate pumpkin, carrots, potatoes, all from his backpack, and then used the same bowl, drinking wine. I was cold. It was so cold and I put all my layers on. Then I started noticing Nicolas became less attentive on the conversation.
“My mind is tired” He said finally.
“Take a break, maybe go meditate.” I answered casually.
“I don’t like people force me meditate. I do it sometimes but not always.” He looked at me. I didn’t realize something was wrong and kept going. “Was there someone who forced you to meditate in the past?” I didn’t understand, why someone would force you to meditate? Were we all on our free will?
“Yes. In this temple in Himalayas.” Then he told me a story. I did not fully understand. He is French and I am Chinese. I suddenly felt some language barriers when using English to communicate deeper. But I nodded and said. “ Yes, no one should force you to do it.” I started realizing if he was saying I was forcing him to meditate, but let that thought go away immediately, since it was not what I meant. I didn’t want to be over sensitive. “Meditation is very personal. Do you meditate?” He finally said.
“Not really. I haven’t done as much as I should. I do yoga, and meditate in the movement. Or running. It cleans up my mind.”
“That’s good. Yoga is good.”
I thought we made up on the little conflict. But from that point, he stopped getting into any conversations with me unless necessary. When it came to necessarity. About one hour later, he called my name while I was in the tent reading and offered me a bowl of wine. “Have the last piece of it.” He handed it to me and then he started.
“I’m wondering… you know, I need cigarettes. I don’t have any. I saw those German guys have it. You know, I’m French, a guy. But you are Asian, the only Asian girl on this camp. They probably wouldn’t give it to me. But if an asian girl asks, they might be willing to give some cigarettes.” He cleaned up the cooking ware while talking to me unwillingly, without meeting my gaze.
I was not sure how comfortable I was with this. I dont’t smoke and I didn’t want to ask cigarettes from other people. I replied still, though. “Which German guys?” He pointed to the group behind us.
“ I could try. How many do you want?”
“Any is ok. Here. Take the cheese and peanuts to trade if they want it”
I was really uncomfortable by then. Again I lost some respect to this new friend in front of me. Or, I was judging. I knew deeply I looked down a guy who asked a girl to get him cigarettes, especially when he refused to talk to me since the meditation talk but now managed to ask for cigarettes. “Maybe he really wants it. I can try. Challenge myself to do something different.” I said to myself. I disobeyed my feeling and walked to the Germans he pointed. A girl walked to me. I made a conversation, asked if she had cigars. “No, our group don’t smoke.” “ That’s ok. Just ask for a friend.” I liked this girl, maybe she could be my friend. She was happy, outgoing. But I was now asking her a cigarette. I felt ashamed a little. Then I turned to a few other groups. None of them had cigars or only had limited volume for themselves. I felt relieved when I went back and told Mathieu no. He murmured that was okay. That was our last conversation of the day. He then handled me the wine bottle with hot water in it. I had mentioned to him having hot water in the sleeping bag can keep you warm. “No. You have it.” I said directly. But he just gave it to me and went into his tent. I didn’t know if I should feel thankful or resent with my hiking partner. I didn’t want to overthink about it.
Night. The night was cold. I was reading ACOST in the tent and felt content. Suddenly, I wanted to pee. Maybe drinking too much wine. It was 9pm. Quiet outside. I started remembering this mice story from others. They said there were mice here to eat your food at night. No, I didnt want to go out. I didn’t want to see mice or any other animals. As I was debating. Here came a scream, so loud, that I froze. “Out, out, out, out, out….” The tone went higher and higher and then with some words in another language I didn’t understand. I was still frozen. The scream was so close to me. I didn’t know if it’s Mathieu. What’s more, I didn’t know if it was mice coming into someone’s tent so he yelled out. No, I didn’t want to go out of tent. I felt so stiff and scared by the scream. It was horrible. I didn’t know what this person experienced. After 20mins of debating. I jumped out of the tent and peed close by. I felt guilty to pee so close to the camp but I was also so scared, scared of mice, this scream, the night, and somehow, my hiking partner. I ran back to the tent as fast as I could and fell asleep immediately. I wanted the night to be over, now.