Bariloche, Argentina, Backcountry Report: A Patagonian Picnic at Refugio Frey

Trip Report from September 20 through 24, 2026

A group of condors is called a “venue.” One of those venues glided low overhead as our group stopped at snowline to eat cold empanadas after a long, wet, mud-covered hike above the lakes near Bariloche, Argentina, on the way to the famous Refugio Frey mountain hut. I wondered what it meant; in Andean traditions, condors are messengers between the earthly and celestial realms — guides from beyond that represent the cycle of life and death, freedom and renewal, and the mysterious, transformative power of death into something new. I changed out of wet socks and chewed my cold empanadas quietly while a shiver ran down my spine.

We kept on moving and later, after crossing a sketchy wooden bridge that hung over a peaceful creek in the heart of a moss-draped lenga forest, we passed by a boulder with a large stone cross and an old bell next to it that served as a memorial for a priest who lived and died in this area many years ago. Something about it reminded me of the stone laid outside the tomb of Lazarus before Jesus raised him back from the dead. I struck the bell with my ski pole and it let out a loud “ring!” that echoed through the eerily quiet forest. We carried on, the wind starting to pick up as we toured towards the edge of the woods.

After an 11-kilometer, 700-vertical-meter slog to the hut, we arrived at Frey, positioned just above tree line on a frozen lake at 1,750 meters. The wind was pummeling the structure with icy force as we hurried to get inside its stone walls that were built in 1957. Chilco Experencias guides Julían and Benjamín had lead the way brilliantly, who organized this whole trip with Jess from Flowzone Performance and a crew of some of her most stoked ski athletes that had come to do a hut ski trip in Bariloche. Everyone on their team was strong, competent, and eager to send, possessing amongst themselves a delighted attitude towards adversity which allowed them to thoroughly enjoy all the that mountains had to throw at them. The group consisted of:

• Julían, co-founder of Chilco Experiencias and longtime guide and local of the Argentinian Andes, man with the plan, unwavering confidence.
• Benjamín, his co-guide co-pilot, climber, cool and deadly and long-limbed, doesn’t say much, clearly a freak about mountains.
• Jess, fearless leader of Flowzone, entrepreneur, visionary, looks strong, skis stronger, over all mountain crusher baddie.
• Jake, Flowzone Performance Coach and New Yorker, big beard, big heart, immune to the cold, seemingly enjoys himself the more he suffers.
• Audrey, middle school math teacher, mountain biker, and former mogul skier from Colorado with a pretty ski style, freckles, and sharp green eyes.
• Travis, aka “Foki,” Colorado-based professional photographer, chill, focused-operator, quiet and runs around taking photos and videos, working 2x harder than everyone else. 
• Ethan, great hair, loves mountains, kind and sophisticated, likes books and good wine and climbing up mountains with crampons and then skiing down them.
• Becky, Aussie, constantly laughing, permanently stoked, somewhat new to skiing but still hanging with the team in gnarly terrain and probably having more fun than anybody else.
• Taylor, friendly and approachable, everyone’s bro, constantly cracking jokes and putting in zyns, rides smooth on his splitboard, first time traveling outside of America.

And then two new friends at the hut:

• Nicole, blonde, blue-eyed, tough Aussie girl who can play hard in the mountains all day and drink all night, full of stories from her adventures.
• Meg, also blonde hair and blue eyes, splitboarder, Canadian, small and sweet and strong with a big smile.

The wind howled the first night at the hut. We howled louder.

In the morning the sunrise splattered citrus hues of tangerine and lemon across the still-sleepy sky dotted with breaking clouds. The wind relented and it was still — a nice day lay ahead. Julían and Benjamín led the rowdy group of Americans and I up to a low ridge just above the refugio where we found bad snow on the other side before pivoting plans to go ski some steeper, bigger lines in the main drainage we had just come up — lines that were visible from the wide window at Frey where we had eaten our cereal and toast breakfasts and sipped coffee; lines that we were all drooling over since we first showed up to this alpine colosseum.

We toured, then toured with ski crampons, then boot packed with crampons to the ridge while the remaining clouds slipped away and the sky turned bluer. For some of the team it was their first time using crampons, and they all did great. Meanwhile Foki rushed around with his camera like a young splitboard Bjarne Salen, hiking up and down and around and doing whatever it took to get the perfect shot while we climbed up a gorgeous cathedral of snow and rock.

At the top of the ridge sat a large granite spire a hundred meters tall or more — a monolithic keeper of this little zone that was not so little at all, but at the top evidently stretched as far as the eye could see from the north to the south as the greater Andes Mountains Range came into picture. We saw the potential of the area directly near Bariloche and its surrounding lakes and were overwhelmed with the sheer possibility of all the peaks, valleys, and steep line options that existed within our immediate field of view. Inspiration floated in the air amongst the group like a sweet perfume.

By this time the clouds were gone and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze while we devoured sack lunches from the refugio. Then we got to do what we came here for.

Julían opened up the line, a strong skier, clearly enjoying every turn not so much as if he were guiding a group but more so as if he were just enjoying himself. Pick a job you like and you never work a day in…

One by one the rest of the group charged down the variable snow that was both scary and fun; firm and icy at the first two or three turns, then chalky, then crusty, then chalky again, then soft and slushy towards the bottom where it was warmer and the sun was more directly hitting the slope. Due to the infamous wind that circulates around these mountains, Patagonian snow is often a picnic of different consistencies. But everyone skied their best and was totally elated at the bottom of the steep line after many of them had just made turns in South America and skied in the summer for the first time. After a solid hike and ski down no one had seemed tired at all. Crushers.

Next we hiked up to a face getting hit by the sun in order to ski more soft, corn snow like on the bottom half of the previous line, but clouds and wind returned halfway up the climb, firming up the easy-going snow into something not as friendly. Julían made the call to transition before it got too icy and dangerous and we descended back from which we had came, still enjoying a couple of hundred meters of nice skiing down to the frozen lake. Everyone was happy as we walked back to the hut at the edge of this marvelous throne room of couloirs, faces, and steep ski descents.

Back at cozy Frey, the hut girls served us beer, wine, and savory meat, vegetable, and rice alpinist bowls that filled our bellies and warmed our souls. The quality of the food in Argentina is superb, noted by Taylor, who was outside of North America for the first time in his life, declaring that “Even the pepper tastes good here.” And Frey — even with being as remote as it was deep in the alpine of Patagonia — was no exception. We continued eating, drinking, and being merry as we passed around good whiskey and told tales of our adventures. We let the night ride, laughing like wild hyenas while a calm river of stars flowed silently overhead, twinkling above dark peaks and menacing spires.

Julían, a San Martin de Los Andes native and mountain guide of many years, has been to Frey several times, which to him, never loses its magic.

“Frey is much more than just skiing,” Julían says. “There is a certain magic and a deep connection to the history of Argentine mountaineering. Even the mountain hut itself, built from granite, is part of that history; it embodies the spirit of Argentine alpinism and the generation of climbers and mountaineers who have explored these mountains. That’s what makes Frey so special: It’s not just about skiing incredible lines but it’s a place with so much history, character, and soul.”

You feel it in the walls of the hut; countless skiers, climbers, and alpinists have sat here, drunk on life, having experienced the same kind of beautiful days to the fullest, enjoying fine times in the mountains followed by lively conversation that flows like the good Malbec that Argentina is known for. The soul of this little building in the mountains will never die.

We packed our bags heavy the next day, said adios to Frey, and hit the long road home: down a sketchy and icy but pretty lenga forest with tranquil flowing creeks and mossy wood, up above a low-lingering cloud base toward a jagged ridgeline, and then climbing up a steep and consequential pitch of snow to the top with crampons on and ice ax in hand. On the other side, down at the base, where it all began two nights prior, the cheeseburgers never tasted so right. As did the steak dinner later that night.

Over the next couple of days, we again had to pivot plans due to a warm atmospheric river of moisture that dropped tremendous amounts of rain all the way to the tops of the high mountains. We spent a wet day in the forest while Mother Nature slapped us around and reminded us who was in charge before going and enjoying a cozy fireplace in a funny dome hut. All the while the group remained as unbreakable as the peaks themselves. The more the mountain threw at us, the more gratitude washed over me like a warm wave, which was clearly shared amongst all the members of the team. Jess, who created Flowzone and organized the trip with her athletes as a way to meet up for the purpose of “suffering and doing the things that we train for, together,” was happy for the strong leadership and decision-making from Chilco guides Julían and Benjamín and for her fit group of athletes that adapted to the changing conditions of the mountains with nothing but positivity.

“We’re running it back,” Jess told me, saying that she will definitely be returning to Bariloche to do more trips like these. “Flowzone exists to give athletes the confidence and the fitness and the capabilities to execute on what we call ‘BAGS’ — ‘Big Ass Goals’ — and I think this trip was a pretty cool in-person demonstration of that, and seeing people step out of their comfort zones is like my favorite thing. Everyone on this trip had BAGS and BAGS were achieved.”

Or how, as Audrey says, “Things can be beautiful, even when they don’t go according to plan.” Or that, “Everything is a lot easier when everyone is mucho supportive. It’s just super fun,” Becky told me. Because at the end of the day, it’s the people you meet and the experiences you share — those you travel with, crack jokes with, drink wine and try empanadas and get lost in the rain and worm at the discoteca and get matching tattoos and just overall cause a big ruckus with that are what make those very experiences all the more meaningful.

I’d even go as far as to say that that’s the point itself.

Photos