Report from September 19, 20, 21, 2025

The Fitzroy Towers drew us back for one more camping trip under their sky scraper shadows.

The 55-pound pack crushed me the first hour of the trip and doubts started swirling in my head.

The only saving grace was that I knew there was no way this adventure was gonna be as brutal as Cerro Solo the week before…

6,594′ Punta Velluda

El Chalten

Argentina, Patagonia

• Summit:  6,594feet 
• Car:  1,469 feet
• Camp:  2021 feet
• Vertical From Car:  5,125 feet 
• Vertical From Camp:  4,573 feet
• Vertical skied:  2,736 feet
  
• Max Pitch:  42?º
• Average Pitch:  38?º
• Aspect:  East Southeast
• Distance: 18 miles round trip, car to car, 6 miles round trip, camp to camp on summit day (we did an extra 1.5 miles looking for drone, not added into these numbers)
• Hiking Time From Camp to Summit:  5 hours & 40 minutes
• Car to Car Time: 15 hours & 37 minutes (we did an extra 2 hours and 10 minutes looking for the drone, not added into these numbers)
• Camp to Camp Time on Summit Day:  9 hours & 37 minutes
• Recommended Equipment:  camping gear, crampons, ice axe, skins, ropes, crevasse rescue kit 

Up and outta the house around 10 am.

Hiking by 11 am.

The first hour was strained for me.

My pack dug into my soul and helped me question my existence in this place.

Thankfully, after the first rest break, I felt spry, and Greggy entertained me with his overreaching knowledge of geopolitics.

We rolled into camp after 2 hours and 55 minutes, jovial and laughing.

After setting up camp, I literally lay on the ground for 4 hours and just stared at the towers.

No music, no phone, no book, just staring.

I watched the light dance and tickle the spires in ways I’ll never understand.

Greggy came down with a vicious headache and spent the afternoon recovering and sleeping.

We ate dinner early and were snuggled into our Big Agnes tent, sleeping bags, and sleeping pads by 8:30.

Fumbling around in our tent at 5 am, we slowly pulled off packing, eating, and gearing up by 6:50 am.

I hustled, hoping we’d catch a bit of the sunrise at the amazing viewpoint Laguna De Los Tres.

The towers were imposing up close in the dawn light.

We struggled into our boots and slid across the lake towards our goal.

Punta Velluda – a nipple of sumptuous snow hovering above a sharky cliffband stacked upon the cracked up Glacier De Los Tres.

We started zigzagging up to the looker’s left shoulder.

I spotted an open hole in the mini lake next to Laguna De Los Tres, where I calculated we could grab some water on the way home.

This meant I could finish all my water on the summit.

Great news.

On the shoulder, we roped up and dug a pit.

Extended Column Test – X, meaning the snow tested was very stable.

We both instantly felt better.

The snow nipple we were destined to pinch was exposed, unsupported, and hanging above a jagged cliff band.

It was a no-go in unstable or sluffy snow.

We traversed the glacier to the looker’s right shoulder, where we had to put in a steep, ridgeline bootpack to avoid skinning an overly exposed section.

The thigh-deep bootpack humbled me and briefly halted our march.

The final nipple skin was exposed and scary.

We both felt nervous on top.

• How steep is that choke?
• How strong is the snow bridge over the bergshrund?
• Is the choke sharky?
• Can we find the choke through the cliff band?
• How crusty is the snow down low?

We lingered not.

I dropped first with big nerves and deep breaths.

I dug into the snow nipple with glee.

The snow was dense, supple, and responsive.

3 turns in, I could tell the snow was locked onto the mountain – it wasn’t even sluffing.

I decided not to even look over my shoulder.

I snuck a quick peek at the base of the nipple, just in case.

Zero sluff, just roller balls as I drifted left searching out the choke through the cliffs below.

The narrow break in the rocks was easily found, and I greedily dropped in, feeling relief set in.

I leaned on the throttle, but you never wanna lean into it too hard in Patagonia.

Micro changes in aspect can dramatically change snow quality here.

The snow in the chute was good.

Below the choke, the snow was sweet.

As the aspect rolled a touch north, the snow got crusty but not bad.

Speed helped.

As I surmounted the 2 rollovers in the lower glacial pitch, I sincerely hoped I’d remembered the route correctly.

It would not be very pleasant to launch full speed into a cracked-up glacier labriynth…

I’d chosen wisely and glided to a stop just above the lakes.

I let a scream, a holler, and a gurgle-howl rip outta me as I drifted back to reality.

I called Greggy on the radio and let him know it was all good.

My anxiety turned to pure joy and I spent the next few minutes recording love letter videos to my wife, parents, and siblings.

The trip felt complete.

We’d done it.

We’d skied everything we wanted to ski, not gotten hurt, stayed friends, and savored all of it.

Greggy shredded the line as per usual, and after a brief celebration of embraces and exclamations of love, we starting moving back towards camp.

I grabbed one of Greggy’s water bottles and detoured to the mini lake hole for a quick water top-up.

I was parched.

I skied right to the hole and lazily stopped on the edge of the ice.

Greggy’s bottle filled nicely.

My bottle too.

Right when I finished filling mine, the edge of the ice gave way, and a sinking feeling engulfed me.

Idiot…

I fell in to my knees.

I threw myself onto the ice and started clawing out of the water.

I assure you that skis move terribly underwater…

So much surface area in there!

I eventually thrashed the awkward propellers out of the water and flopped onto the ice.

I laughed at myself as my body brought awareness to the incredible amount of water in my ski boots.

I refilled my bottle and skated over to the bigger lake.

Once I had a visual with Greggy again, I stopped and drained my boots.

About a pint of dirty water gushed from each boot.

I couldn’t stop laughing at myself.

I was lucky, as we were almost off snow, back in sneakers, and it was a very warm day.

We finished the lake and popped over to the trail, where I gladly removed my soaked boots and donned shoes.

We bounced down the trail back to camp in about 1.5 hours and enjoyed the flat parts.

Back at camp, we ate, lounged, and drank in the 90 minutes of sunlight left in camp.

We socialized with some cool Yanquis and local guide Martin after dinner, staying up to the ungodly hour of 9:30 pm.

A truly special day in one of the most unique places on Earth.

And I fell in a lake!

The next day, we woke up late, packed up, and headed home.

15 minutes into our walk, we stopped to get some drone footage of the Piedras Blancas Glacier.

Greggy decided to crash his drone into a tree 1,000 feet above us…

I was already pretty smoked.

We hiked for an hour up 1,000 feet of off-trail Patagonian terrain.

We got to the spot the controller said the drone would be and began our search.

It took about 30 minutes, and I don’t know how, but Greggy found the grey drone on the ground, tangled in some tree roots.

He was ecstatic!

We celebrated the win, took in the astonishing view, and headed down.

The detour added 2 hours and 10 minutes, 1.5 miles, and 1,000 vertical feet to our 3-hour hike.

I was destroyed by the end.

The heavy pack slowly ground me into dust.

The last 2 hours found me using breath work and the promise of gelato ice cream to get through.

We arrived at the car after 5 hours and 30 minutes, and Malvadisco looked lovely.

We drove directly to Domo Blanco, the gelato shop in town.

We just happened to arrive in the first hour of the first day they were open for the season.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had.” – Greggy

I chose Chocolate Andino + Mascarpone and delighted in every bite.

We were home.

We were safe.

We’d pulled it off and gotten the shots.

Ahead of us were at least 2 down days and maybe more.

It felt glorious to be on flat, level ground.

¡Gracias, Patagonia!

Photos in Chronological Order