Panorama Photo

Coming down from the "Halle des Bergkönigs", described in N.18871 and related stuff, I met two guys coming out straight from the glacier. They had completed a climb of the Aguja Saint Exupéry.
Hearing where I was coming from, they asked me why I did not dare a trip into the basin of the Torre glacier. The answer would have been very straightforward, namely
1) I had no ice gear with me and, moreover,
2) the weather was ominously deteriorating.
However, I fell into temptation and I entered the glacier. I slipped countless many times on the ice that was like glass. However, remaining above strips of dirty ice, with many helpful stones perched on the surface, I managed to reach the feet of the Mocho. Roughly, the place of the now classical campsite Niponino. For those who do not know: the classical base camp for the Fitzroy is called Polacos (outside the frame here) and that for the Torre group is called Noruegos (see label). Niponino means: Ni (neither) Polacos Ni (nor) Noruegos".
I had still some light, so I decided to cross the glacier, and maybe to reach Polacos. Note that now I seem to know a lot of things, but on the spot I did not know anything about the terrain. So, I did not know that Polacos was fairly high on the mountain flank, and I had to invent a bivac place among sheltering stones on the flank of the glacier. I called my campsite "Niponino^2", since it was: ni Polacos, ni Noruegos, ni Niponino.
The following morning there was blue sky over Niponino^2, as can be seen in
http://bit.ly/2KEFBkd
which I do not post here since I think that the perspective is too adventurous for the average Betrachter.
By virtue of such blue sky, I figured out some exploration on the mountain wall in front of me, and the only viable spot for the average Wanderer seemed to be an oblique, left-to-right ramp above (what I now think to be) Polacos. On the ramp there was also some water which allowed me to cook some Tirabuzónes - namely, "corkscrews", a typical pasta of Argentina. This wonderful dish can be seen in
http://bit.ly/2KIBQKL
Of course a photo is a poor rendering of such an experience, corkscrews on an unknown oblique ramp of the Fitzroy.
Now I know the oblique ramp to be the ordinary access to Couloir Juarez, leading to the col between Poincenot and Juarez. It was named Col SUSAT (Sezione Universitara della Società degli Alpinisti Tridentini) in 1958 by its first ascensionists, Cesare Maestri and Luciano Eccher.
Instead of tackling the couloir, which could have been incidentally prone to stonefall, I scrambled leftwards on the granites, reaching the shoulder which I present here. I called it the "Fitzroy of the Poor", it lies right a vertical wall that should belong to Punta Mercedes Sosa, a low gendarme of Aguja Poincenot. The gendarme was christened by its first ascensionists, namely, the authors of the "Tango Viejo" route. Do not confuse Sosa with SOAST or SUSAT. And, more importantly, do not infer anything from route names in the Chaltén region: the authors of "Tango Viejo" happen to be a fully Austrian Gebrüder Gatt! Similarly, diametrically opposite to the "Tango Viejo" on the Poincenot you find a "Fühle dich stark, doch nicht unsterblich": "Let you feel strong, but not immortal". for Latin readers, if any. And then you learn that it was opened by an... Italian guy, although - I guess - perhaps not precisely one from Sicily.
But let us return to the Fitzroy of the Poor. Here, a narrow final ledge led to a slab where it was possible to attempt some panoramic photo. The chronicle of panoramization is given below, among the technical details.
The descent was painful since meanwhile it had began to rain, although very lightly, and the granites readily became very slippery. However, at nightfall I was safely on the margin of Glaciar Grande where I had met the two the previous day. But the worst had yet to come! When I was mounting the tent, it was quietly raining but seemingly with no wind. I was just pitching the tent to the terrain when a completely isolated wind gust of incredible force tore the tent from my hands. I saw it flying away in direction Fitzroy, a dozen of metres above the giant crevasses at the margin of the glacier. Within a few seconds I evaluated my situation: I was alone, in an inhospitable place, it was raining and I was without tent. I was separated from civilization not only by several walking hours, but also by a remarkable obstacle, namely, the tirolesa on Río Fitzroy, no thing to cope with at night:
http://bit.ly/2u3u8R7
But as while I was still formulating these thoughts, a contrary and likewise formidable gust came from the Cerro Torre and I saw the tent pointing down at a foolish speed towards the last, dirty ice, and then to the marshy and muddy terrain at the margin of the glacier. The site was extremely treacherous, but after I while I was unexpectedly able to grab the tent again in my hands. Unfortunately, the adventurous landing perched the precious sheet in many places. Sill today, as a reminder of that memorable evening, I have my Ferrino tent locally patched with duct tape!
I would reach El Chaltén the next morning, which marked the beginning of a remarkable row of beautiful days. Even better than the row of February 12 to 16, which had allowed the full Fitzroy traverse discussed in N.18839.
So, the Fitzroy of the Poor happened to fall under the only miserable day of that month...

Five shots with Canon G1X, 37 mm equiv, f/5.6, 1/1000 sec.
Complemented in the left part by two shots at 28 mm equiv.
Between the two groups of shots there was a gust of wind coming straight from the Hielo Sur - Domo Blanco. I heard a noise like that of a thunder, and few seconds later I had to lay down totally flat, grabbing whatever I could grab.
Hugin has now done the job of bridging over this episode...

-49.28447 -73.05035
Original size: http://bit.ly/2ncwv00