The Day the Condor Didn't Show

Kiersten's portfolio from our trip is already overflowing with
marvellous bird images. But one kingly absence remained: a close-up of
the legendary Andean Condor. We were determined to fill that void.
Yesterday was to be our "Day of the Condor."

Our mission began with a scramble up the low rocks on the east side of
Cerro Paredon, joining a ridge that feels like the spine of the world.
To our west, the cliff face plummeted, a sheer drop straight down to the
turquoise line of the Río de las Vueltas.

The day was perfect, sun-drenched, warm, with only a gentle breeze.
Below us, El Chalten lay like a miniature model village. Across the
horizon, the entire Fitzroy and Torre massifs stood stark against a
brilliant blue sky, their snowy caps gleaming. Conditions were, in a
word, perfect.

We knew these crags housed condor nests; we’d seen them here on past
visits. Hearts full of hope, we picked our way north along the line of
cliffs, pausing to watch tiny, heroic figures of rock climbers clinging
to the granite.

But guess what? Not a single condor darkened the sky. Not a speck. Not a
shadow.

Undaunted, we hiked to a prominent headland that offered a commanding
360-degree view and did the only thing one can do: we settled in to
wait. Patience is a virtue, so they say.

We waited. And then we waited some more.

Then, a flicker of excitement! A distant pair of black specks, growing
larger, heading our way. Our hearts leapt. Was this the moment? No. As
if on a whim, they banked eastward and sailed away towards the endless
pampas, shrinking back into specks and then into memory.

The late afternoon light, the "golden hour," began to wash over the
peaks. This was the time we’d often look up from the streets of town to
see them, mere pinpricks from that distance,  joyously riding the
thermals high on Cerro Paredon. Today, the sky was empty. A vast,
beautiful, and utterly condor-less blue.

We had drawn a blank. Our quest had ended not with a majestic flap of
wings, but with a quiet sigh.

We retreated back to town, where the solution to such problems is
well-documented: a couple of Happy Hour cold beers, followed by a hearty
plate of fresh pasta.

So, it wasn't our "Day of the Condor" after all. It was our "Day of the
Condor's Absence." And as for patience being a virtue? Well, they
certainly say that. I suppose we're more virtuous than ever.