When dusk falls in Patagonia: the flight that redefines perspective

In El Calafate, during February, sunset begins around 7:30 PM. It is precisely during this time that it is most spectacular to observe the sun’s descent from 1,600 meters above sea level. At the Comandante Armando Tola Airport, as the surroundings are tinged with orange hues, we prepare for an experience that transforms the way we understand the Patagonian landscape. The flight over the area is not just a transfer: it is an act of landscape reading.

The small plane awaits: engineering for extreme terrains

The steppe vegetation surrounds the runway, shaken by a constant wind. Eight passengers walk toward a machine that looks like a toy but has never been fragile: the Cessna Grand Caravan EX. This aircraft has flown over Alaska, Africa, and Australia. The pilots — Lucas, Juan Manuel, and Agustín — wait dressed in classic aviation attire. The first to speak is Agustín. His message is clear: “This is very safe. We fly low, with constant visibility, and every maneuver is explained.” The information dispels fears more effectively than any epic story.

As soon as we board, we put on headsets with microphones. The cabin is not pressurized, but the intercom system works perfectly. The seats are surprisingly comfortable. The engine begins to roar. The plane lines up on the runway. After an unexpectedly brief taxi, we take off. The wind barely shakes the aircraft.

Takeoff at sunset: the moment when the land reveals itself

What appears before our eyes makes us forget any worries. The turquoise of Lake Argentino contrasts with the irregular outline of the shoreline. The image is hypnotic. This lake contains waters from the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, a visible trace of millennia-old sediments. From the air, Patagonia presents itself as a readable whole. Everything that from the ground takes days of effort is layered: lakes, steppe, forest, mountain range. The small plane becomes a tool for reading. It allows adjusting course, delaying the gaze, choosing angles. At about 300 kilometers per hour, the landscape unfolds slowly. We glide among clouds, lights, and shadows.

Glaciers seen from the sky: the geometry of frozen time

The first target is approaching Torres del Paine, the Chilean massif shrouded in clouds. Its presence imposes itself as a border. Going deeper into the mountain range would mean greater turbulence, but the flight remains serene as the sun slowly descends. The mountains reveal their folds. The flight allows for almost cartographic observation of the Patagonian Andes, a transitional territory where forest and steppe vie for space.

Within this landscape appears the Perito Moreno Glacier. Covering nearly 250 square kilometers, it is one of the few glaciers in the world that until recently remained unaffected by widespread retreat. But now it has begun to decline. From the air, its depth toward the Southern Patagonian Ice Field demonstrates its intrinsic connection to a larger system: a freshwater reserve that continues to shape the landscape.

The course shifts eastward. We now head toward the Viedma Glacier and its eponymous lake. The low, oblique sun accentuates the reliefs. The Viedma Glacier is the largest in the Los Glaciares National Park: about 1,000 square kilometers of ice descending from the ice field into a lake of similar size. The milky color of Viedma Lake contrasts with the ochre tones of the steppe. Valleys and ravines follow one after another without pause. The geography spares no resource. Patagonia, seen from the air, is as dazzling as it is traversed on foot.

Fitz Roy, the Patagonian summit: where the land rises to the sky

The final image is the awaited Fitz Roy. Lucas signals when it begins to appear at the edge of the visual field. It is partially covered by clouds. This peak, at 3,405 meters, attracts mountaineers and pilgrims from around the world. From the air, it looks perfect: the receding profile, the granite needles, hanging glaciers, forests at the base. It is a protected area, where overflights must maintain a safe distance. Still, it leaves an indelible image: a mental photograph that no cellphone can fully capture.

The return: when the land becomes experience

Juan Manuel announces the return. After just over an hour of flight, we head back toward El Calafate. The trip between El Chaltén and the airport takes less than half an hour; by land, it would take more than three hours. The sun finally sets. The runway reappears in shadows. The Cessna lands gently. The experience comes to an end.

On the ground, as we taxi toward the terminal, the airport’s name appears on the signs: Armando Tola. A pioneer of Argentine aviation, a Santa Cruz native, and a protagonist of exploration flights in southern Patagonia. He flew for Aerolíneas Argentinas, KLM, and LADE, when these skies were still almost virgin. In this place, flying was never just a way to arrive. It was also a way to understand the land.

Contact information:

• Phone: +54 9 2966 273023
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• Web: hznexplorer.travel

Horizon Explorer Travel’s photographic safari is custom-designed. It can start from El Calafate Airport or from the El Chaltén airfield, lasting one and a half hours.