Patagonia isn’t the kind of place you choose because it’s easy.
It’s the kind of place you choose because something in you already knows it’s the only place.
I had dreamed of Patagonia since I was a little girl — watching a documentary late at night, completely mesmerized by a place that looked like it belonged inside a screensaver, not on the same planet I was living on. Wide open sky. Mountains that touched the clouds. A wildness that couldn’t be tamed. I didn’t know then that I would one day stand inside that landscape and say I do. But somewhere deep down I think I always hoped I would.
This is the story of how we planned a Patagonia elopement in 79 days, hiked through the dark with headlamps and hiking poles, read our vows in the snow at sunrise above Laguna de los Tres — and somehow ended the night dancing in an empty restaurant to Marvin Gaye with tiramisu we didn’t order and a hotel room we didn’t plan on.
It was nothing like we expected. It was better than we ever could have dreamed.
Watch Our Patagonia Elopement Film Below
How It All Started — The Most Spontaneous Yes of Our Lives
We were somewhere in Texas, driving home from filming a wedding, when our best friend called.
He was putting his condo up for rent, throwing his stuff in storage, and heading to South America to backpack. Half joking, he asked if we wanted to come.
He didn’t know that eloping in Patagonia had been on my heart for years.
I looked at Derrick. Derrick looked at me. And before we had time to talk ourselves out of it — we said yes.
That was October 18th, 2023. We got engaged in August. We were now planning an elopement AND a two month backpacking trip to Chile and Argentina with zero backpacking experience, a full time recruiting job, a wedding film business to run, and an 11 year old son doing virtual school.
We had 79 days.
I read every blog. Watched every YouTube video. Slid into the DMs of every person I could find who had ever eloped in Patagonia. I was completely in the dark and completely on fire at the same time. That’s the thing about a dream that finally has a green light — it doesn’t wait for you to feel ready.
We called our best friend Sam — shoutout to Sam Savat — who photographs the most incredible work. He had made the decision a few years prior to stop doing video entirely and focus only on photography. But he is one of our closest people. And for us, just this once, he came out of retirement.
Our other best friend — the one who started all of this — became our officiant. His name is also Derek, just spelled differently from my Derrick. Which felt exactly right.
Getting There — Flights, Logistics & What We’d Do Differently
We flew Chicago → Chile, spent two weeks getting settled, then flew Buenos Aires → El Calafate, Argentina where we picked up a rental car and stocked up on supplies.
What I’d tell you to do differently: Skip the extra nights in El Calafate if your main goal is the Fitz Roy hike. El Calafate is beautiful and worth a day or two — but El Chaltén is where you want to be. It’s a tiny trail town right at the base of the mountain with hostels, eco lodges, little restaurants, and everything you need. Drive the 2.5 hours from El Calafate, get your supplies, check into your accommodation, and start the hike early the next morning.
We drove the 2.5 hours from El Calafate on the day of our hike which — in hindsight — was a lot. But it also meant that the moment we started driving into El Chaltén and the mountains appeared in front of us, we were fully present for it.
I was not prepared for that moment.
The road into El Chaltén curves and opens and suddenly Fitz Roy is just there — enormous and ancient and more real than anything I had ever seen. I had watched documentaries about this place since I was a little girl. I had dreamed about it in a quiet corner of my heart for years. And here I was, driving toward it, about to get married at the top of it.
I pulled over on the side of the road and cried.
The kind of cry that comes from somewhere you can’t always reach. The kind that says — little Stephanie, look where you are.
The Hike — What To Actually Expect on the Fitz Roy Trail
Trail: Laguna de los Tres via Monte Fitz Roy Trail Distance: 14 miles out and back Elevation gain: 3,458 ft Difficulty: Hard Location: Los Glaciares National Park, El Chaltén, Argentina
The trail starts right at the edge of town — no car needed to reach the trailhead, it is literally walkable from where you are staying. It is well marked the entire way and the water flowing from streams along the trail is safe to drink, which is a gift on a hike this long.
We started hiking around 5pm on January 21st. In January the sun stays up until almost 11pm in Patagonia, so hiking in the late afternoon meant cooler temperatures and almost no crowds on the trail. It was genuinely one of the best decisions we made. We reached Campamento Poincenot — the main basecamp — around 9:30pm, found a good spot, set up our tent, ate the empanadas we had grabbed in town, and went to sleep.
A word about the campsite: Poincenot is beautiful and basic. Simple toilets. Fresh water from the river. That’s it. Pack in, pack out — every piece of trash, every scrap of food comes back with you. Mice are a real issue at camp and will chew through gear to get to food — hang everything or store it carefully.
What it costs now:
Park entry: ~$42 USD per person per day (50% discount on day two) for international visitors
Camping: ~$14 USD per person per night, reserved in advance at amigospnlosglaciares.org
Parking at the trailhead: free
No ceremony permit required — just pay the park entry and go say your vows at the edge of the world
When we went in January 2024, camping was free and first come first served. That has since changed, so book your spot before you go.
3:30am — The Hardest and Most Alive We Have Ever Felt
We set our alarms for 3:30am.
The final push from Poincenot to Laguna de los Tres is only 1.25 miles. But it is the hardest 1.25 miles you will ever do — a relentless, rocky, steep climb straight up into the dark that takes you above the snowline. You need two hours minimum to make it to the top in time for sunrise. We had headlamps, hiking poles, and ankle boots because the terrain is all sharp rock.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it. There were moments on that climb — wet, cold, windy, dark — where the adrenaline was mixed with something that felt a lot like fear. You can only see the glow of other headlamps above you on the mountain. You can’t always tell where the trail ends and the rock begins. At one point my flowers — ordered from Etsy, carried all the way from Chicago — flew straight off the mountain in the wind.
And then my 11 year old son, Hunter, looked at all of us — a group of grown adults who hike and climb for fun — and gave us a full pep talk.
Come on guys. We’ve got this!
He was the only one without a backpack slowing him down and he absolutely carried us up that mountain. I will never let him forget it.
We reached the top around 5:30am. It was snowing. The wind was something else entirely. We huddled in the rocks with the other hikers who had all made the same crazy decision to be exactly here at exactly this moment, and we waited for the sun.
About 30 minutes before sunrise — in the soft blue of early morning — I started doing my makeup in the dark. Just a little. Enough to feel like myself.
Then the sun came.
Fitz Roy lit up like something out of a dream you wake up from and spend the whole day trying to get back to. And Derrick and I stood together at the top of the world and read each other our vows.
I want every person who has ever loved someone to have a moment like that one.
The world stopped. Time stopped. There were other hikers around us — strangers who had become something like family overnight — and I didn’t notice any of them. It was just us. Just our words. Just this mountain holding us up while we promised each other everything.
Our photographer cried. Our officiant cried. Hikers we had never met before cheered for us from across the lagoon.
We hiked down to the water, did more photos, watched our officiant go skinny dipping in the glacier lagoon — because of course he did — and laughed until our cheeks hurt.
Then we changed back into our hiking clothes, hiked back up, and started the long descent back to camp.
By the time we crawled back into our tent it was early afternoon and we were completely spent. We dragged our sleeping pads out under a tree and slept for four hours in the Patagonian sun.
The Night Nobody Planned — And The One We’ll Never Forget
We had originally planned to drive back to El Calafate after the hike.
We were too tired. Too sun-kissed. Too happy.
So we drove into El Chaltén instead — and as we reached the car, we realized we had left the lights on. Dead battery. We flagged down a van lifer for a jump, drove into town covered in dust and elevation and joy, and wandered until a little restaurant on a quiet side street called our name.
Diadema.
Empty inside. Soft music. The kind of place that feels like it was waiting for you.
Hunter fell asleep before his food arrived. He had ordered a huge glass of orange juice and we couldn’t let it go to waste, so we divided it between our wine glasses and made a toast. To friendship. To love. To adventure. To the wild and crazy beautiful life we are somehow lucky enough to be living.
Derrick and I had our first dance right there in that empty restaurant to Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye. Laughing. Silly. Completely ours.
And then I wandered into what I thought was the bathroom — and discovered it was a whole hotel attached to the restaurant. The woman working asked where we were from, what we had done that day. I told her we had just eloped on top of Fitz Roy.
She ran to the kitchen.
The staff came out singing. They brought us the most incredible tiramisu we had ever eaten in our lives. We sat there — the five of us — eating cake and laughing until the sun finally went down.
They had two rooms left. They gave us a deal.
We showered the mountain off, tucked ourselves into clean beds, and slept like people who had just lived one of the best days of their lives.
Because we had.
What To Pack — The Honest List
The guy at REI told us: Whatever you think you need — half it. Then half it again.
He was so right.
Essentials:
40L backpack (not 65L — you do not need it)
Packing cubes — your best friend
Broken-in hiking boots — do not wear new ones
Hiking poles — non-negotiable on the final climb
Headlamp with fresh batteries
Warm layers — hat, gloves, base layers, a good jacket
Skin-toned thermal tights for under your outfit — they saved my life
Sunscreen — the sun here is intense, you are close to the edge of the world
Sun hat and sunglasses
Electrolytes and protein bars — ProBars or similar meal replacements
Blister kit — always
Reusable water bottle — the stream water is safe to drink on the trail
For the elopement outfit specifically: Skip the heels. I brought cute shoes and wore my hiking boots the whole time. Skip the elaborate floral arrangements too — mine flew off the mountain. A simple bouquet or nothing at all is perfect here. The landscape is your backdrop. You don’t need to compete with it.
My skirt was from Etsy. My top was vintage. Derrick had a custom suit and hat. Keep it light, keep it warm, keep it you.
What We Learned About Patagonia Weather
You cannot predict it. You cannot control it. You can only suit up and trust it.
In one day we had sunshine, rain, snow, and wind strong enough to blow flowers off a mountain. The weather radar for this region is notoriously unreliable. The peaks of Fitz Roy are hidden in clouds more often than they are visible — we were lucky enough to see them twice during our trip and we did not take a single second of that for granted.
If you are the kind of person who needs a rigid timeline and a checklist of shots — Patagonia will humble you fast. And that is actually the gift of it.
Because this is what marriage is too. Life throws curveballs constantly. Plans fall apart. Batteries die. Flowers blow away. And somehow it all turns into the best story you have ever told.
Trust the mountain. Trust each other. Let it unfold.
Why We Filmed Our Own Elopement — And Why You Should Too
We are wedding filmmakers. And we were completely present for our own wedding because someone else held the camera.
We didn’t direct a single shot. We didn’t think about angles or lighting or whether we were in frame. We just lived it. And when we got our film back — we cried watching it. We watched it a hundred times. We are still watching it.
An elopement is intimate by nature. It is just you and the people you love most in the most sacred moment of your life. But a film means you get to share that with everyone else too. Your families. Your friends. Your kids someday, and their kids after that.
It is not just a memory. It is a memory you can press play on.
That is why we do what we do. And experiencing it ourselves — as the couple instead of the filmmakers — changed everything about how we show up for our clients.
For The Couple Reading This Who Is Scared To Take The Leap
Do it.
Not because it will be easy or perfectly planned or go exactly how you imagined. But because the version of it that actually happens — the unexpected, the unplanned, the wild and real and completely yours version — will be better than anything you could have written out on paper.
Little Stephanie used to watch documentaries about Patagonia and dream of a day like this. She had no idea it would come with dead car batteries and flying flowers and a tiramisu she didn’t order and a first dance in an empty restaurant and an 11 year old boy giving a pep talk on a mountain at 3:30 in the morning.
She would have loved every single second of it.
So would you.
Stephanie & Derrick are the husband and wife team behind Diamond Peak Films — a cinematic wedding film company based in Colorado. If you are dreaming of an adventure elopement and want a team who has actually lived it, we would love to hear from you.
📍 Fitz Roy | El Chaltén, Patagonia, Argentina | January 2024📸🎥 Sam | Sam Savat
