- Andorra – Laguna del Caminante – 13km (4hrs 50mins)
- Laguna del Caminante – Canadon de la Oveja 11.4km (5hrs)
- +Detours and breaks (3 hrs)
- Ascent953 m
- Descent1,028 m
- Highest point827 m
- Lowest point138 m
I tackled the hike to Laguna Caminate in a single, continuous day rather than spreading it over two, making it a 13-hour mission with detours, breaks, and some chill time at the lagoon. Fortunately for my feet, I managed to hitch a ride back to town; a perfect end to the day. Though the trails around Ushuaia are often buzzing with folks, this trek reveals quieter spots and unreal views that are truly worth the effort for those seeking solitude and adventure.
The hike begins in the same picturesque meadow as the day before, sharing its trailhead with the Vinciguerra Glacier. For additional details on this hike and directions to the trailhead, click on the link Vinciguerra Glacier and Laguna de los Témpanos Trail – a muddy escapade – Candidrich. Before long, the trail takes you into a serene woodland, where vivid yellow buttercups line the route, their brightness popping against the backdrop of the trees and foliage. Fortunately, the route isn’t very steep and, thankfully, nowhere near as muddy as the previous day’s hiking, which was a brutal muddy quagmire. What a difference a day makes, as the song goes. This change in conditions, along with the buttercup-lined trail and the tranquil woodland setting, put me in such a good mood that I found myself singing—or more accurately, butchering—The Foundations’ ‘Build Me Up Buttercup’ (1969), a song guaranteed to lift spirits. Indeed, there was no reason for a bad mood; the day had started off wonderfully.
As the trail wound deeper into the woods, the ground changed from the yellow of the buttercups to the earthy browns and shades of moss green, typical of woodlands. I came across some wild horses just standing there on the path, their white coats in juxtaposition to the surroundings. Their calm demeanor, unwavering as I approached. I expected them to move, but they didn’t; they remained there nobly, as still as anything. I was mesmerized; my feet rooted to the ground, I stood and stared. It was one of those moments you don’t forget in a hurry. As I walked deeper into the woods, I encountered more and more herds of horses. I even had to step off the trail as a span of horses descended towards me; they calmly walked by.
The path then unveils an eerie lake, its surface disrupted by the haunting dead trees emerging from its water, before opening to lush green meadows, snow-capped mountains, and the striking emerald embrace of Laguna de Caminanta.
From here, there are two options: retrace your steps or take the old sheep’s route, dropping you on the other side of town. I chose the latter for my return, intrigued by the chance to see the ice cave mentioned by locals.
The route took me through a pebbled pass into a valley framed by majestic greens, stones, and snowy mountains. Eventually, to the right of the path, you will see a tiny red sign, way up on the hillside. You would undoubtedly miss it unless you were looking out for it. The sign marks the route that takes you to the ice cave. When you get to the cave, there is another sign close to its entrance, warning you not to go any further. Why? Well, as gorgeous as the cave is, it’s equally dangerous, underscored by the recent fatalities of some Spanish hikers, who were crushed by a falling block of ice. Let’s not forget, rescue services would take a while to get to you, and you’d also need someone to raise the alarm.
Flowing water brings rocks dangerously cascading over the top, peppering the entrance as if in a real-life game of Frogger. It’s stunning but not worth dying over, so I heeded the warnings. I walked over the streams of water pouring out from the cave and stood as close as I dared, gazing into its mouth in a trance, mesmerized by the beauty before me.
The ice cave is huge – a hypnotic crystal spiral that pulls you in. It was one of the most spectacular things I have ever seen and the best moment of my stay in Ushuaia. It was quite simply the best birthday present I could have asked for.
Eventually, I pulled myself away and continued my journey, soon reaching the narrow sheep’s path. This thin trail, halfway up the side of a loose rock and shale embankment, offered stunning vistas of the wooded valley below. Upon crossing over the sheep’s path, I was greeted by a picturesque meadow adorned with pretty white flowering bushes. The view extended towards Ushuaia and the bay beyond, a sight for sore eyes after the long trek. By this point, I’d been on the move for the better part of 12 hours, now feeling the weight of every step yet invigorated by the sheer beauty and diversity of the landscapes I’d witnessed.
Stepping onto a deserted road, I encountered a small building site where the presence of guard dogs and their subsequent chase was quite the welcome back to civilisation.
Walking along the busy main road back into town, thumb outstretched for a hitch, I reflected on the day. Over 54,000 steps, more than 13 hours on the move, and a journey through some of the most spectacular and diverse landscapes of my life – it had all surpassed my expectations. It was just what I needed after a slightly disappointing hike the day before. Thankfully, a local chap pulled over. Initially, he was only going to drop me part of the way, but then, after chatting for a while, he suddenly decided to drop me back at my hostel; the cherry on top of an awesome day. What a legend, what a day!
I had celebrated my 44th birthday with an adventure that would stay with me forever, culminating in a well-earned rest that night. I was one happy birthday boy, feeling every bit of my 44 years, yet rejuvenated by the day’s experiences. Let’s just say, I slept very well that night.
