My first glimpses of Mount Fitz Roy were breathtaking. Seeing the great peak in the early morning light left me invigorated, and the long hike in the darkness was forgotten. I wanted to see more of the mountain before the frost melted, and I was acutely aware of the sun rising higher above me.
This is the kind of place that beckons. The wind was bracing and the temperature was only beginning to rise, but the cold didn’t deter me. I was exhilarated by the environment and the feeling that I had stumbled on an unknown treasure, a secret place laced with silver and hidden away from view. I wanted to capture as much of it as possible before the sun is too high and the light is too harsh for photography.
A river courses through this area, with small cascades breaking over rocks. Following the course of the river, your eyes naturally focus on Mount Fitz Roy, and I wanted photographs that captured this — the icy splendor of Patagonia and the lordly presence of the mountain. I put on rubber boots and waded out into the stream, positioning myself so that Mount Fitz Roy was the focus and stood my tripod in the water. I hardly felt the cold now; I was fixated on the scene before me: the water, the frost, and the jagged peaks of Mount Fitz Roy.
I’ve had this feeling before in my travels, the feeling of seeing a landscape so magical that it might have been the creation of child’s imaginings. I felt it in the dunes and salt pans of Namibia, and now, in a very different environment — a landscape of ice and water — I felt it again.
There was more of Patagonia to explore.