Ten years ago, my future wife lived in Argentina, in the lakeside town of Bariloche. She has several pictures from her time there, but the most important was taken of her standing on the frozen lake next to Refugio Frey. A few years later, I saw that picture via a mutual friend in Costa Rica, and asked her about it. I was curious about the location and what she was doing there, since Costa Rica has no frozen lakes, and no mountains that look like the Andes. That was our introduction. We got married in 2021, and our son was born the following year.
Because of her pregnancy, my wife had to delay the research component of her biology license program. But in 2024, she found a way to return to Argentina to complete her thesis, via an organization in Bariloche. We moved there in October, and she completed her project in December. During that time, she never wanted to revisit Refugio Frey because of the distance and the challenge of getting there and back with our young son. But I wanted to see the place that had triggered the existence of our relationship. So after we drove around Patagonia for a couple of weeks to see the glaciers and penguins, I decided to do the hike myself.
Thus, on the morning of our flight out of Bariloche, I woke just after midnight and drove to the parking lot at the base of the trail to Refugio Frey. Equipped with a headlamp and gumption, I set out toward the refuge. The first few kilometers were familiar even in the dark, since I had attempted the hike with my son previously, but because of the heat and exposure during the day I had decided not to continue with him all the way. Fortunately, the entire trail is marked by reflectors on trees and rock faces so that my headlamp could keep me on the path. I passed signs and landmarks that were mentioned in trail descriptions, and then encountered the steeper, rockier section near the end that my wife had prepared me to expect. It was not as challenging as she made it seem, although I would certainly have had an easier experience with some daylight.
In the final few hundred meters, I could see the lights on at the refuge above me. The trees receded, and I scrambled across the rocks to the refuge entrance, where I stopped my timer. Sunrise was still about an hour away, so I entered the refuge and had a simple breakfast of sweet croissants (they are called media luna) with peanut butter and waited for sunrise.
One of the campers helped me get pictures in the pre-dawn light, and then I descended to my car and headed home to pack. Hopefully, next time my wife and I will make the climb together with our son, so that I can subject him to all of these stories.