“Can I ask a question?” he said in Spanish (that much I knew, though my traveller’s Spanish is all but gone). “Is this the path to Ojo del Albino?”
I looked at Barcelona. Barcelona looked at me. We both shrugged at the guy we would come to know as France. There were no names on this mission, no background stories. Just three guys from three places, brought together by fate for one purpose – to find the Eye of the Albino.
I heard him coming before he spoke. Footsteps behind me on the muddy route to Laguna Esmerelda, a popular and easy day hiking route from Ushuaia, Argentina. It was Barcelona. “Hello, my friend”, he said. Back in town at the bus station, he’d pointedly named a city, not a country, as his place of origin. I told him Australia, which was simple enough for me. We’d chatted about this hike, and I’d revealed my plans to find the Ojo del Albino glacier high on the ridge above the Laguna. I’d drawn a map with my finger on my hiking pants, a convenient rip standing in for Laguna Esmerelda. I explained what I’d found on Google Earth, after thinking there had to be more to the valley than just that Laguna. Then we took separate busses. Now, as I had a feeling would happen, he’d caught me up and we silently agreed to tackle it together.
 Potani Glacier |
 Wheeler Peak |
 Tarfala |
The route from the highway to Laguna Esmerelda was easy, though very muddy. Not long after we teamed up, I made a memorable if momentary fool of myself by badly misreading the terrain. Skipping skilfully across some boggy sections of inch-deep mud, I made a graceful leap towards a nice firm patch of ground.
Except it wasn’t. Schloop! I went in knee deep with both legs, right in front of my new friend who’d literally moments ago remarked upon my speed in the mud. I managed to stick the landing, at least, and luckily my gaiters were an inch higher than the quicksand was deep. Somehow I squelched out and we continued uphill.
Laguna Esmerelda was undeniably pretty. No wonder it was a very popular hiking route for day-tripping from Ushuaia. The trail wasn’t crowded but there was a steady flow of people up and down. I’d studied the route on Google Earth before I came and figured the easiest way was to head northwards on the westward shore until the end of the valley, then push straight up the rocky slope to the glacial lake – the Ojo del Albino. Barcelona hadn’t even heard of the place until this morning so he readily agreed.
There was a path at first but the going was progressively tougher. It was then we met France. “Is this the path to Ojo del Albino?” came the question in Spanish from out of nowhere behind us. After our ignorant shrugging, we agreed to continue looking for a route, and pushed further into the boggy fringe of the forest. Finally an old trail carried us closer to the river, and when we crossed it we discovered a much better path. Had we circled the lake on the eastern shore, we’d have had a much simpler time. Still, now we knew the way out.
But the hardest part was still to come. At the end of the valley, there was only one way – straight up. I spotted a cairn – a “fita” in Catalan, Barcelona told me – and we crossed the bubbling river on some rocks before striking uphill. The climb here got quite steep and we were on all fours for much of it.
Time was getting away from us, especially me with a 3:30pm return bus at the trailhead far below. It was already well past noon and we weren’t yet at the top. The three of us barely exchanged any words – there was just the silent encouragement that came from some unspoken agreement that had we each been alone, we’d probably have turned back, but as a group we could probably do it. The weather held for us, with just the faintest breeze and no rain. The rock was mostly dry and mostly robust, though I tested every handhold carefully before committing to it.
Finally, Barcelona yelled down from about thirty meters ahead. “It’s here”! A few moments of scrambling later, I was there too. France was another minute behind us.
The Eye of the Albino – Ojo del Albino. A small glacial lake, milky white, at the head of a cirque glacier high above Laguna Esmerelda in Tierra del Fuego. It was hard to believe that just 24 hours earlier, I was still at my desk in Washington, DC.
There was just enough time to catch our breath and look around. This was a serene place, on that day at least, though I could easily imagine a howling wind coming down off that icy glacier and whipping across the little lake. Beautiful, yes, but not a place to linger. There were barely any plants and no other sign of life in this otherworldly place. Our raid was over, and a success. It was time to leave.
France and Barcelona took the lead on the way down. I felt it was actually easier to descend than it had been to climb up, though it was hard on the knees. With one eye almost permanently on my watch, I hustled down from cairn (or fita) to cairn towards the river crossing at the fringe of the forest. I knew we could probably rely on the east shore trail to be faster than the west shore approach had been, but even so, there was still the four kilometers from the lake back to the carpark.
Sadly, I didn’t really have time to stop and enjoy Laguna Esmerelda which was, by now, crowded with hikers lolling about on the little beaches in the sun. I’d have liked to join them for half an hour, but I didn’t want to miss my ride back to Ushuaia. France peeled off because his bus wasn’t until five – sunshine and lolling for him! But Barcelona and I picked up the pace once past the lake and then we ran the final two kilometers.
I was close to spent when we got into the muddy forest. I could hear cars on the highway. I’d hustled 13 kilometers, climbed up and down a steep rocky slope, and just run two kilometers in hiking boots, all on top of a 24 hour journey from Washington which included a red-eye flight. I really wanted to get that bus.
And there was the friendly bus driver, standing by the full bus. It was 3:31 pm, and I said, “hey, I’m with you!”. She laughed as she recognised me and ushered me over to the idling, and full, mini bus. Barcelona gave me a big grin and a firm handshake, and we wished each other farewell, we, the Raiders of Ojo del Albino.
