Of Glaciers and Hearts That Will Go On and On

Little white things fluttered onto the tour bus windscreen as it trundled towards Los Glaciares National Park. Snow! At last! But a sense of foreboding took hold as Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" played on the bus radio; we would soon be on a boat to see a glacier surrounded by icebergs. The boat, it turned out, was a catamaran christened a name that could only increase anxieties of boat patrons in iceberg-filled waters: Impacto.

Large chunks of floating ship-sinkers obstructed the catamaran's path as it pulled away from the dock, and the deck crew dutifully took up long, purpose-built poles with which to nudge the little bergs. Once free, Impacto set a course for the face of Perito Moreno, where the air was appreciably colder than in town. A fine water spray that would have been a comfort during a summer vacation froze into snowflakes shaped like ninja stars, and lashed cruelly at our faces.

The pain was temporary, the memory permanent. The glacier was a stunning display of nature. The impressive cracks in the ice were a blue that I'd never seen before. The balcony walk  nearby boasted indescribable views of the glacier; frozen pillars of ice as far as the eye can see. We stood in awe, listening to the ice shifting in the distance. The surrounding mountains echoed the thunderclaps, allowing the rumble to go on and on.