Trekking in Patagonia - Torres del Paine
The Torres del Paine Circuit – the O - is a 140km circular trail through the Paine Massif in Chilean Patagonia. A UNESCO Biosphere Reserve since 1978, this is mountain walking with terrain varying from marshland to forest to scree. You will rack up 5,000m in elevation change on the route (including scrambles up and down a couple of metal ladders), with views over milky blue lakes, mountain valleys and spectacular glaciers.
The end of the earth, Tierra del Fuego, the sailor’s graveyard of Cape Horn, Patagonia ... wild, remote, rugged, beautiful and about as far away from Blighty as one could get. (Well to the West anyway; New Zealand’s further but that spoils my point). Patagonia has held my fascination for as long as I can remember, and Sam and I had been daydreaming about and planning this trip for a few years before we actually hit the trail in November 2014 … it was worth the wait! To get a taste of the trail, read my journal below. For more practical information, read how to make it happen! The 'Ways to die ...' list is something I do for fun when I'm trekking. That said, our bus driver informed us they’d found a body of a hiker who’d been missing, just the week before we arrived. So, you know, take care :) |
Ways to die in Torres del Paine
Get mauled to death by a puma Stab yourself with your walking pole and bleed out Hypothermia Tree blows over onto your tent while you sleep Your fingers get so fat they explode and the shock kills you Stampeded by a herd of guanaco Stabbed to death by your friend for snoring Crushed by rock slide (or landslide) Get blown off the trail into a ravine Fall off a ladder into a ravine Buckle under the weight of your pack and drown in a boggy marsh Stumble down a steep slippery descent and impale yourself on a tree branch Strangled by a random stranger stealing their cheese Hunger ... or scurvy Carried off and drowned by a raging river Getting lost in the snow and developing severe frost bite Over consumption at first refugio that serves food Black widow spider bite – not strictly lethal, but shock could kill you |
Day 1 - London to Buenos Aires (Travel Day)
Many years ago, I read Robert Kull’s ‘Solitude: Seeking Wisdom in Extremes’. With his cat and one false leg he set out with supplies (of food, clothing and materials to build a hut) for the ends of the earth; to spend a year in the remotest part of Patagonia, to study the effects of deep solitude on the body and mind.
And that was it, the yearning to spend time in the wilds of Patagonia took hold. Fast forward however many years and here I was, finally about to realise that particular dream. And … you know when you’ve dreamt of a place for so long, and enjoyed planning an adventure for a couple of years, how when it finally comes around you have a little meltdown … I woke feeling fuzzy, stressed, nervous, weird and like I didn’t actually want to go after all! A combination of just an hour’s sleep (working till 2am to leave everything in good shape and up at 3am to head to the airport), a respectful nervousness of the challenge ahead and the overwhelming realisation that such a long-held dream was about to become reality.
Though the plane (Iberia) had odd little seats, stank of farts, and had the constant distraction of a nun doing laps of the aisles, the flight was unexpectedly smooth. Unexpected because they used the threat of turbulence to keep us strapped in our seats to save them the bother of having to bring round drinks. Some neck strain was incurred whilst flying over Brazil, peering through the clouds trying to spot the Amazon.
There was no bag interrogation at Buenos Aires airport, so although our mini cheddars had been crushed to dust in transit, all our food and supplies were still in our possession. We enjoyed a warm evening at our hotel near the airport - not in 5-star luxury but in good comfort - and caught up on some sleep.
And that was it, the yearning to spend time in the wilds of Patagonia took hold. Fast forward however many years and here I was, finally about to realise that particular dream. And … you know when you’ve dreamt of a place for so long, and enjoyed planning an adventure for a couple of years, how when it finally comes around you have a little meltdown … I woke feeling fuzzy, stressed, nervous, weird and like I didn’t actually want to go after all! A combination of just an hour’s sleep (working till 2am to leave everything in good shape and up at 3am to head to the airport), a respectful nervousness of the challenge ahead and the overwhelming realisation that such a long-held dream was about to become reality.
Though the plane (Iberia) had odd little seats, stank of farts, and had the constant distraction of a nun doing laps of the aisles, the flight was unexpectedly smooth. Unexpected because they used the threat of turbulence to keep us strapped in our seats to save them the bother of having to bring round drinks. Some neck strain was incurred whilst flying over Brazil, peering through the clouds trying to spot the Amazon.
There was no bag interrogation at Buenos Aires airport, so although our mini cheddars had been crushed to dust in transit, all our food and supplies were still in our possession. We enjoyed a warm evening at our hotel near the airport - not in 5-star luxury but in good comfort - and caught up on some sleep.
Day 2 – Buenos Aires to El Calafate (Travel Day)
Caught up in a fun run in El Calafate
Most of our fellow travellers waiting to fly from Buenos Aires to El Calafate appeared to be local, rather than tourists; there were just a couple of others with walking boots and packs. We spent our time on the flight building useful Spanish phrases from the guide book:
- Ayuda, mi amigo está flotando por los rápidos - Help, my friend is floating down the rapids
- ¿Donde estan todos los flamencos? - Where are all the flamingos?
- Ayuda, me he caído por el barranco - Help, I’ve fallen down the ravine
- Por el amor de Dios, ¿dónde puedo obtener un poco de queso? - For the love of God, where can I get some cheese?
- Está un poco ventoso, ¿no? - It’s a bit windy isn’t it
Librobar, El Calafate
Wide open spaces make me happy. I love to see nature just being nature, without the taint of so-called civilisation. Great expanses of Argentina seem devoid of human population. From the plane we saw endless miles of flat, desert landscape. I thought about the Welsh population that migrated to Patagonia in the mid-1800s with hope to protect their language and their culture and dreaming of a new utopia … they were down there somewhere, still speaking Welsh and living in harmony with the land. I’m of Welsh descent, maybe they’d let me visit! The coastline snakes on forever, the Atlantic crashing at its shores uninterrupted. Some turbulence and clouds obscured the transition from vast, flat desert to snowy mountain peaks, shortly before we landed alongside a milky blue lake, made a u-turn on the landing strip and arrived in El Calafate.
A short transfer took us through tundra like landscape, with the view of mountains and lakes opening up before us, as the sun came out to shine and chase away the drizzle. El Calafate is a mish-mosh of a town; mismatched buildings with corrugated tin rooves, colourful houses and an alpine feel, despite the anything but alpine architecture.
The afternoon in El Calafate allowed us time to almost steal some lip balm and chewing gum from the supermarket (packed directly in my bag rather than the shopping bags before we realised we could only pay cash), fail to draw any cash from any ATM to go back and pay for the shopping, get caught up in a family fun run, pick up a few stray dogs and sample empanadas and local beer in the fabulous Librobar, before being shown the way home by the stray dog who’d earlier that day taken a break from chasing cars to chase us into town.
We ate our last good pre-walk supper in a local restaurant – delicious traditional lamb stew – and enjoyed a bottle of Malbec before realising that this too was cash only. There ensued an interesting 20 minutes as one of the staff who spoke no English, ushered us into his car with my credit card in his hand and drove us off at speed in a cloud of dust. Some tense moments later we came to another restaurant, apparently owned by the same family, that did take cards, and paid there. We walked back to the hostel. I generally never bother to get local currency in advance of travelling; this is one occasion when that might have been a good idea!
A short transfer took us through tundra like landscape, with the view of mountains and lakes opening up before us, as the sun came out to shine and chase away the drizzle. El Calafate is a mish-mosh of a town; mismatched buildings with corrugated tin rooves, colourful houses and an alpine feel, despite the anything but alpine architecture.
The afternoon in El Calafate allowed us time to almost steal some lip balm and chewing gum from the supermarket (packed directly in my bag rather than the shopping bags before we realised we could only pay cash), fail to draw any cash from any ATM to go back and pay for the shopping, get caught up in a family fun run, pick up a few stray dogs and sample empanadas and local beer in the fabulous Librobar, before being shown the way home by the stray dog who’d earlier that day taken a break from chasing cars to chase us into town.
We ate our last good pre-walk supper in a local restaurant – delicious traditional lamb stew – and enjoyed a bottle of Malbec before realising that this too was cash only. There ensued an interesting 20 minutes as one of the staff who spoke no English, ushered us into his car with my credit card in his hand and drove us off at speed in a cloud of dust. Some tense moments later we came to another restaurant, apparently owned by the same family, that did take cards, and paid there. We walked back to the hostel. I generally never bother to get local currency in advance of travelling; this is one occasion when that might have been a good idea!
Day 3 – El Calafate to Laguna Amargo to Camp Seron
16km / 5 hours walking
16km / 5 hours walking
Somewhere on the border between Argentina and Chile
In the middle of absolutely nowhere was a gas station with two fuel pumps, a tiny shop, two toilets (soon to feature a long line of people crossing their legs), and one gaucho sitting casually on a fence. This was the first building we’d encountered in miles; the next being the Argentinian border control at the end of a gravel track. We left Argentina at 10.45am, and entered Chile at 12.05pm, some miles later. Who knows what’s in between ... no man’s land. The Chileans are keen to keep anything out of the country that might damage their agriculture (or other trades!) so we were advised to declare anything meat, seed or vegetable based, or face a fine. During the miles approaching border control, we watched a fellow traveller consume 3 ham and cheese sandwiches, 3 apples and 4 oranges that she’d brought with her, rather than lose it. She can’t have felt that great later.
The border crossing successfully cleared we walked, buckled over into the wind, and transferred now onto a much smaller bus (the other one taking people onwards to Puerto Natales). We’d been on the coach since 6.00am and the view from the window on the 5-hour drive South comprised tundra, plains and open scrubland. The sparse and subtle features that punctuated this vast land included the occasional roadside shrine, little perfectly round bushes, yellow gorse, and little shrubs that look like Trolls’ hair in varying shades of green, yellow and brown. Aside from the fuel station gaucho and border officers, we saw not one human soul! Plenty of sheep, guanaco, emu, even a fox but no people. The only evidence of life was the odd copse of tall fir trees that are grown to act as a wind break, hiding estancias and homes and their human inhabitants.
The border crossing successfully cleared we walked, buckled over into the wind, and transferred now onto a much smaller bus (the other one taking people onwards to Puerto Natales). We’d been on the coach since 6.00am and the view from the window on the 5-hour drive South comprised tundra, plains and open scrubland. The sparse and subtle features that punctuated this vast land included the occasional roadside shrine, little perfectly round bushes, yellow gorse, and little shrubs that look like Trolls’ hair in varying shades of green, yellow and brown. Aside from the fuel station gaucho and border officers, we saw not one human soul! Plenty of sheep, guanaco, emu, even a fox but no people. The only evidence of life was the odd copse of tall fir trees that are grown to act as a wind break, hiding estancias and homes and their human inhabitants.
Two hours after entering Chile, we arrived in Torres del Paine, signed in at the administration office and, after 2 ½ days of travel, hit the trail. Nerves kicked in as we lifted our heavy packs, in the strong wind, with five hours of walking still ahead of us. Sam, loaded up on adrenalin, set the pace and charged off at a lick. I function better over long distances if I start at a steady pace and build up steam but in the interests of arriving before nightfall and securing a tent for the night, I resigned myself to the route march.
Crossing the first of many bridges we quickly rounded a corner and got our first glimpse of the Torres off in the distance, which made our spirits soar. The going was initially flat, through a tree graveyard – serene grey remains of tree trunks following a wild fire caused by careless tourists in 2011. Fires are not permitted in the park for good reason. On we marched, through 3 successive stream crossings; each one deeper, faster flowing, and trickier to cross without getting drenched and swept away than the last.
Crossing the first of many bridges we quickly rounded a corner and got our first glimpse of the Torres off in the distance, which made our spirits soar. The going was initially flat, through a tree graveyard – serene grey remains of tree trunks following a wild fire caused by careless tourists in 2011. Fires are not permitted in the park for good reason. On we marched, through 3 successive stream crossings; each one deeper, faster flowing, and trickier to cross without getting drenched and swept away than the last.
These stream crossings – with the ritual swapping of boots for sandals before wading gingerly through rushing water – and the feeling of gaining no ground at times as we ploughed head on into the wind, combined with the adrenalin that had built up over the last few days, and the impact of finally arriving at a place so familiar from all our research and yet so unknown. The resulting hallucinations included several mirages of the longed-for campsite.
Following a hypnotic green, grassy path through trees we saw massive rabbits and a condor that actually wasn’t a condor, and plenty of spots that would have made a perfect campsite but weren’t. Our fingers got fat, knees and shoulders began to ache with the 18kg weight of our packs, and strap whip became a constant annoyance.
Narrow paths, no more than a foot’s width, snaked high along the River Paine, following the flow of its rapids. Flowing high and fast, it commands respect. I had a wobble when I stopped to get my water bottle out and the wind took me unawares. A frightening thought to be blown into the torrent of the River Paine and be swept away … but happily I wasn’t.
You hear about the Patagonian wind but experiencing it is something else. It knocked us sideways at times! We struggled a bit for the first 2 hours, mentally as much as anything, slightly panicking at having set out so late in the day. But we arrived in camp before dark, just before the blazing sunshine transformed to drizzle, unpacked our kit into our tent, hung our food supplies in a tree (out of reach of local fauna) and made the first of many bowls of noodles for supper.
Narrow paths, no more than a foot’s width, snaked high along the River Paine, following the flow of its rapids. Flowing high and fast, it commands respect. I had a wobble when I stopped to get my water bottle out and the wind took me unawares. A frightening thought to be blown into the torrent of the River Paine and be swept away … but happily I wasn’t.
You hear about the Patagonian wind but experiencing it is something else. It knocked us sideways at times! We struggled a bit for the first 2 hours, mentally as much as anything, slightly panicking at having set out so late in the day. But we arrived in camp before dark, just before the blazing sunshine transformed to drizzle, unpacked our kit into our tent, hung our food supplies in a tree (out of reach of local fauna) and made the first of many bowls of noodles for supper.
Tree graveyard in a wildflower meadow
Day 4 – Camp Seron to Camp Dickson
19km / 6 hours walking
19km / 6 hours walking
The mighty Rio Paine
Do not make porridge in a jetboil; you will burn both the porridge and the jetboil, which you will then have a horrible time trying to clean, and the porridge will taste revolting. Even more revolting than usual. Not even condensed milk and nuts will save it. No, boil the water in the jet boil, then pour it on the porridge and hope that it will cook the oats before the wind chill cools it down.
But do eat the porridge, however revolting, because its good fuel and you’ll need it! We set off on a flat start which quickly became steep as we climbed over the shoulder of the mountains. Up and down, up and down, forest, flat, forest, marshland. The forest we love hiking through. Bog and marshland not so much, though some sections at least had boardwalks.
Glorious round bushes with orange flowers, purple sweet pea, and calafate berries - which are edible but by no means delicious - were among the spring flora that decorated the landscape. Local folklore has it that those who eat the calafate berry are sure to return to Patagonia … I hope so! A pack has started to form, and we walked with Tom (from Holland), Adam (Sydney) and Zoe (Hong Kong) for much of the day. The wind is ever present (to be expected) but sometimes it is so strong you can barely move. We were treated to views of spectacular high waterfalls, which blow upwards – or any direction but down – when the winds are particularly strong.
But do eat the porridge, however revolting, because its good fuel and you’ll need it! We set off on a flat start which quickly became steep as we climbed over the shoulder of the mountains. Up and down, up and down, forest, flat, forest, marshland. The forest we love hiking through. Bog and marshland not so much, though some sections at least had boardwalks.
Glorious round bushes with orange flowers, purple sweet pea, and calafate berries - which are edible but by no means delicious - were among the spring flora that decorated the landscape. Local folklore has it that those who eat the calafate berry are sure to return to Patagonia … I hope so! A pack has started to form, and we walked with Tom (from Holland), Adam (Sydney) and Zoe (Hong Kong) for much of the day. The wind is ever present (to be expected) but sometimes it is so strong you can barely move. We were treated to views of spectacular high waterfalls, which blow upwards – or any direction but down – when the winds are particularly strong.
About an hour into to our trek, we stopped to put coats on and Sam doubled over in pain; her back had gone. As she crammed ibuprofen into her mouth we just looked at each other fearing a long wait for rescue; but the pain eased – whatever trapped nerve quickly released – and we continued. Before hitting the trail it’s easy to underestimate the effects of an 18kg pack and how a slight twist can jar a nerve. After an hour or two walking, your pack becomes part of you. You don’t notice it so much. Then an hour or two before the end of a day’s walking you start to notice it again; weighing heavy, digging in. Every fibre of your being starts to absorb this discomfort.
Lunch comprised a cereal bar, pork scratchings and some nuts on the go, after which we got a sprint on. We had to take it slower climbing the mountain, but it was good walking and the views down to Lago Dickson and its glacier guided us in to camp, which perches on the shore of the lake.
We arrived just as it started to rain, having enjoyed a mostly sunny day. This is the time we are most thankful we are hiring tents and they are ready pitched. We cooked our noodles on the porch of the refugio, then sat inside and watched the (mesmerizingly stoned) staff make pizza dough, while we warmed up by the log burner, chatting to Chilean, French Canadian, Russian and Dutch walking companions. Noodles polished off, we had a cup of Horlicks and retreated inside our cocoon for the night, at 6.05pm. Yep, hardcore party animals we! My final observation before falling asleep was how filthy my fingernails were.
Lunch comprised a cereal bar, pork scratchings and some nuts on the go, after which we got a sprint on. We had to take it slower climbing the mountain, but it was good walking and the views down to Lago Dickson and its glacier guided us in to camp, which perches on the shore of the lake.
We arrived just as it started to rain, having enjoyed a mostly sunny day. This is the time we are most thankful we are hiring tents and they are ready pitched. We cooked our noodles on the porch of the refugio, then sat inside and watched the (mesmerizingly stoned) staff make pizza dough, while we warmed up by the log burner, chatting to Chilean, French Canadian, Russian and Dutch walking companions. Noodles polished off, we had a cup of Horlicks and retreated inside our cocoon for the night, at 6.05pm. Yep, hardcore party animals we! My final observation before falling asleep was how filthy my fingernails were.
Cooking noodles on the porch of Refugio Dickson
Day 5 – Camp Dickson to Camp Los Perros
9km / 5 hours walking
9km / 5 hours walking
Today we broke open the jelly. What an inspired snack that was - makes a delicious fruity, gelatinous textured change from bloody porridge, cereal bars and noodles. We’re climbing higher and it’s getting colder. Though sunny at times, we experienced snow flurries as we tackled a very uphill kind of day. At times we enjoyed a leisurely stroll through forest, occasionally following Rio Perros, crossing 5 or so lovely bridges. At times it was a rocky mountain climb.
The Paine Massif comprises granite peaks formed originally by cooling volcanic magma and shaped over time by glacial erosion. The Torres del Paine circuit, named for the three ‘blue towers’ that rise 2,500m above sea level, is punctuated by narrow sweeping valleys, turquoise lakes, forests and glaciers. Down here at the end of the earth, there is magic carved by nature and it has a power greater than us.
Around lunchtime we spotted Tom sat on a fallen tree in the forest enjoying a snack of bread, meat and cheese. He almost became the victim of a rabid mugging; the cravings for cheese and meat were verging on obsessive. We stopped a short while to fuel up on another bloody cereal bar and twiglets, another inspired snack but still no substitute for cheese.
The Paine Massif comprises granite peaks formed originally by cooling volcanic magma and shaped over time by glacial erosion. The Torres del Paine circuit, named for the three ‘blue towers’ that rise 2,500m above sea level, is punctuated by narrow sweeping valleys, turquoise lakes, forests and glaciers. Down here at the end of the earth, there is magic carved by nature and it has a power greater than us.
Around lunchtime we spotted Tom sat on a fallen tree in the forest enjoying a snack of bread, meat and cheese. He almost became the victim of a rabid mugging; the cravings for cheese and meat were verging on obsessive. We stopped a short while to fuel up on another bloody cereal bar and twiglets, another inspired snack but still no substitute for cheese.
Onwards, and the beautiful milky blue river raging over rocks and fallen branches that we walked alongside beguiled us, before the forest opened out to mountain scree; a rocky terrain with little pools, a glacier and a lake just sitting there on the mountain as we reached the top. This collection of geological wonder sits here looking gorgeous, whether anyone sees it or not. I feel very lucky to have seen it. I know our existence on earth can be scientifically explained by a chance sequence of cosmic events, but I sometimes I like to think we were put on Earth just to admire Mother Nature’s work.
After a thoroughly enjoyable day, we arrived at a large, basic campsite in the forest with a wooden mess hut where we enjoyed the company of our fellow walkers. This was our starting point to attempt Paso John Gardner the next morning. The pass is named after British mountaineer John Gardner who pioneered the Circuit trail in 1976. It is impassable in heavy snow or if the wind is particularly strong. You are advised not to attempt the pass alone or in bad conditions as lives have been lost doing so.
After a thoroughly enjoyable day, we arrived at a large, basic campsite in the forest with a wooden mess hut where we enjoyed the company of our fellow walkers. This was our starting point to attempt Paso John Gardner the next morning. The pass is named after British mountaineer John Gardner who pioneered the Circuit trail in 1976. It is impassable in heavy snow or if the wind is particularly strong. You are advised not to attempt the pass alone or in bad conditions as lives have been lost doing so.
All feeling a bit nervous and anticipating a long hard steep climb the next day, we discussed tactics: what time to leave; sticking together as a group; whether to wear plastic bags over our socks inside our boots; how to layer up; and whether we’d get any sleep. It was the coldest night we experienced, but the hot water bottles Sam made for us with the Nalgene bottles helped!
Camp Los Perros
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Day 6 – Camp Los Perros to Ref. Grey
22km / 11 hours walking
22km / 11 hours walking
The snout of Glacier Grey looking over Lago Grey
Insignificant dots next to Glacier Grey
The harder you work the better the view … and today this has never been truer! When that view of Glacier Grey opened up before me, having climbed for hours through forest, up scree and through snow … I was stopped in my tracks and I cried. It is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Fed by the Southern Patagonian icefield, Glacier Grey is part of what’s left of a much larger ice sheet that reached its maximum size about 18,000 years ago. Though still one of the largest expanses of ice in the Southern Hemisphere, the Patagonian icefield is melting at one of the highest rates on the planet. Which is too, too sad! I am privileged to have experienced a portion of its beauty.
We stayed and gazed for some time. The topaz blue of the ice in the fissures of the glacier is intense. The thunder roar of icefall as chunks of the glacier face come away and crash into the water is startling. When we could tear ourselves away, we walked alongside the glacier for a while, away from its snout, until descending very steeply into a forest.
Fed by the Southern Patagonian icefield, Glacier Grey is part of what’s left of a much larger ice sheet that reached its maximum size about 18,000 years ago. Though still one of the largest expanses of ice in the Southern Hemisphere, the Patagonian icefield is melting at one of the highest rates on the planet. Which is too, too sad! I am privileged to have experienced a portion of its beauty.
We stayed and gazed for some time. The topaz blue of the ice in the fissures of the glacier is intense. The thunder roar of icefall as chunks of the glacier face come away and crash into the water is startling. When we could tear ourselves away, we walked alongside the glacier for a while, away from its snout, until descending very steeply into a forest.
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Ultimately the Paso wasn’t as bad as imagined but there’s a lot of steep, slippery climbing to be done. I slipped and fell on my arse or knees at least four times today. This is the most spectacular, most intense, most exciting and most rewarding day on the trail. Not content with traversing the Paso, this section of the O also throws some nasty ladders at you and a bouncy suspension bridge.
Reaching the top of Paso John Gardner
I knew they were coming but despite having time to psyche myself up for it, those ladders got the better of me. Right until I came to the top of the first ladder down I was determined to just get on with it and get them done. Sam went first before she had time to let the fear creep in. But I hesitated and couldn’t get the idea out of my head that while clambering over the top and twisting myself round to climb down onto the first rung, the significant weight of my pack would pull me backwards. Despite almost being mugged for his cheese, Tom gallantly offered to take my pack for me, so he made the trip twice. Hopping down the ladder facing forwards like an insane mountain goat to relieve me. I climbed down, crossed the gully, then gripped onto the second ladder, wedging my feet against each rung to climb back up the other side. I whimpered the whole way and had to sit down at the top until the tears and the shaking stopped. Quite ridiculous, but on the plus side, it’s good for you to be scared every now and again and to challenge yourself.
That ordeal accomplished, we stopped for lunch at Camp Paso, before completing a lovely afternoon walking alongside Lago Grey. We saw two condors, various fungi, flowers, and birds evoking feelings of Spring. Our discovery, on arrival at Refugio Grey, that they had a shop which sold wine caused great joy and we drank lots of it.
That ordeal accomplished, we stopped for lunch at Camp Paso, before completing a lovely afternoon walking alongside Lago Grey. We saw two condors, various fungi, flowers, and birds evoking feelings of Spring. Our discovery, on arrival at Refugio Grey, that they had a shop which sold wine caused great joy and we drank lots of it.
Day 7 – Ref. Grey to Ref. Paine Grande
11km / 4 hours walking
11km / 4 hours walking
One last look at Lago Grey
Maybe it was the after effects of the long, challenging day coming over the Pass, or maybe it was the after effects of the red wine we guzzled, but we had a very lazy start and despite this being our shortest day on the trail, it was the hardest.
Our stiff, aching muscles; our tired, poorly nourished bodies; and our throbbing heads fuelled an unapologetic moan fest. We moaned about our bruised feet, we moaned about our fat fingers and the pain in our knees, we moaned about our sunburnt noses, we moaned about walking on uncomfortable rubble paths, and we moaned that we kept stubbing our toes - a proper, cathartic, self-indulgent moan fest.
Treks like this are mentally demanding at times; one of the reasons they make such great meditation. There are sections where you can’t take your eyes off the path for too long or it will (a) disappear and you’ll find yourself disoriented, or (b) it will try to kill you. Sometimes the path is clearly identifiable, wide smooth gravel; sometimes it is just a foot’s width sliver of path precariously following the edge of a mountain side. Sometimes the path resembles stairs made of tree roots, sometimes marshland, sometimes you’re just balancing on logs across a body of boggy water. It occasionally just disappears, and you find yourself rock climbing.
Our stiff, aching muscles; our tired, poorly nourished bodies; and our throbbing heads fuelled an unapologetic moan fest. We moaned about our bruised feet, we moaned about our fat fingers and the pain in our knees, we moaned about our sunburnt noses, we moaned about walking on uncomfortable rubble paths, and we moaned that we kept stubbing our toes - a proper, cathartic, self-indulgent moan fest.
Treks like this are mentally demanding at times; one of the reasons they make such great meditation. There are sections where you can’t take your eyes off the path for too long or it will (a) disappear and you’ll find yourself disoriented, or (b) it will try to kill you. Sometimes the path is clearly identifiable, wide smooth gravel; sometimes it is just a foot’s width sliver of path precariously following the edge of a mountain side. Sometimes the path resembles stairs made of tree roots, sometimes marshland, sometimes you’re just balancing on logs across a body of boggy water. It occasionally just disappears, and you find yourself rock climbing.
Crazy alien spaceship clouds over Lago Pehoe
But despite our moaning, which amused us no end, it was a gorgeous, warm day. The sun shone, butterflies and bees buzzed around us and bird song accompanied us. Reluctantly leaving Lago Grey behind us, we walked through picturesque valleys of long grasses, lined with wind shaped trees until we reached Refugio Paine Grande on the shores of Lago Pehoe. This is the largest and most visited of the refugios, accessible via catamaran from Pudeto, a gateway point to the park. Tom, Adam and Zoe were already there when we rolled in. They’d left early to get here and catch the catamaran out of the park, their circuit of Torres del Paine complete. We enjoyed the last remnants of the afternoon resting up and chatting with a couple of Chilean girls. We stocked up on pate and bread in the small shop to vary our lunch options and watched the crazy cloud formations play across the sky before the sun set on them.
Day 8 – Ref. Paine Grande to Camp Los Cuernos
13km / 6 hours walking
13km / 6 hours walking
I lay in our tent, at the day’s end, gazing out at a waterfall gushing down the mountain opposite us, framed with fire bushes. An idyllic milky blue lake laps its shores just behind us. It is a little piece of paradise.
While this trip didn’t provide the prolonged deep solitude achieved by Robert Kull (that aspiration persists) these walks provide moments, if not hours of peace and freedom. That idyllic lake - Lago Nordenskjold - was in sight for most of the afternoon, guiding us down the steep switchbacks towards it. Our reward for the seemingly endless descent under the searing sun, was to sit for a while beside the lake. To remove our packs and boots, soothe our feet in the icy cold water and listen to its gentle lapping whilst contemplating what life that lake supports.
While this trip didn’t provide the prolonged deep solitude achieved by Robert Kull (that aspiration persists) these walks provide moments, if not hours of peace and freedom. That idyllic lake - Lago Nordenskjold - was in sight for most of the afternoon, guiding us down the steep switchbacks towards it. Our reward for the seemingly endless descent under the searing sun, was to sit for a while beside the lake. To remove our packs and boots, soothe our feet in the icy cold water and listen to its gentle lapping whilst contemplating what life that lake supports.
The morning’s walking had us crossing a few bridges, including one over the Rio Frances, leading to a picturesque lunch spot at Campamento Italiano and the side trail up Vallee Francis. Sam’s knees were causing her some pain so I left her wrapping the pate up with some duct tape and set off alone in search of yet more spectacular sweeping views. The whole detour to the top of the valley would take 3 hours and I didn’t want to leave Sam festering in the forest for too long so I turned back about 2/3 of the way. We carried on, climbing up in the knowledge an inevitable knee battering descent was approaching. As we approached the descent, a gaucho on horseback surprised us as he trotted past. This is how they get supplies to the refugios!
Vallee Francis frozen waterfalls
He would of course beat us down to Los Cuernos. Like Paine Grande, this refugio is on one of the most accessible parts of the W trail, so has the irritating feature of more people! But as our gaucho friend testified … easier to get to means better stocked with supplies. We arrived at around 4.30, in time to enjoy a couple of beers in the sunshine and eat cheese and avocado tostadillas; our first meal on the trail that hasn’t been porridge or noodles. Cheese has never tasted so good! And if I never eat porridge again it will be too soon.
It’s our penultimate night on the trail, and though we are a little bit broken and our bodies wouldn’t want to take much more battering, it seems to have gone so quickly and I want time to slow down a little bit.
The beautiful milky blue glacial waters of Lago Nordenskjold
Day 9 – Camp Los Cuernos to Camp El Chileno
11km / 5 hours walking
11km / 5 hours walking
Today’s the day I woke up and didn’t fancy going for a walk, despite having the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had in a tent. On every long distance trek or bike ride, there is always one day when I experience this feeling of just not wanting to do it.
This is the point at which we’re noticing the effects of our noodle based diet. The downside of not feeling so hungry when we walk is that we probably don’t take on enough calories with enough nutritional content. We climbed a lot today and felt it hard going at times.
This is the point at which we’re noticing the effects of our noodle based diet. The downside of not feeling so hungry when we walk is that we probably don’t take on enough calories with enough nutritional content. We climbed a lot today and felt it hard going at times.
But then, I don’t want these challenges to be easy. I like to test my limits, to feel my muscles ache, and my feet burn. I like the fear of dangerous passes. I like the sense of vulnerability. Stripping back any bullshit, any sense of overinflated ego that might have crept in and just pitching myself against nature. These walking adventures I enjoy are purely selfish. I wish I could tell you there were altruistic motivations or benefits. Perhaps I can claim they make me a slightly better human; more aware, inspired and with a smidge more humility.
Being outdoors energises me, and soaking up incredible views vitalises my spirit. Mountains are my favourite place to walk. It’s something about the pure force of Mother Nature winning out over human materialism that is tonic to my soul. I love being somewhere that feels almost untouched by human hands. Walking allows me time and space to breathe, to let my thoughts run wild or just stop altogether.
So the feeling I awoke with didn’t stay for long, as we crossed more streams, spotted condors circling high above, then followed the course of the river into El Chileno.
Being outdoors energises me, and soaking up incredible views vitalises my spirit. Mountains are my favourite place to walk. It’s something about the pure force of Mother Nature winning out over human materialism that is tonic to my soul. I love being somewhere that feels almost untouched by human hands. Walking allows me time and space to breathe, to let my thoughts run wild or just stop altogether.
So the feeling I awoke with didn’t stay for long, as we crossed more streams, spotted condors circling high above, then followed the course of the river into El Chileno.
Day 10 – Camp El Chileno - Mirador de Las Torres - Refugio Torres
6km / 3 hours walking
6km / 3 hours walking
The sights you behold in the Paine Massif impact on you at times a sense of insignificance. I love these moments of perspective that an expansive stunning vista can give you. Even in the dark, the sounds of the mountains are equal reminder that certain forces of nature are uncontrollable. Anne-Marie joined Sam and I at 2am, and we climbed up to the Torres by the light of our head torches to wait for the sunrise. We made 11 bridge crossings in the dark, the sound of unseen waterfalls, streams and the river a constant symphony. It was cold, but we’d taken our sleeping bags, a flask of coffee and snacks, and we chatted and laughed as we waited – our extremities becoming more numb with each passing minute – for the sun to rise to cast its glow across the peaks.
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You take your chance with the weather in Torres del Paine. It really is 4 seasons in one day. And while the cloud obscured the peaks of the Torres, it was a spectacular sight to see them light up orange as the sun rose once more.
Buoyed by this shared experience, we clambered back down in the dawn light with a spring in our step, ready for breakfast, and to make our final push to the end of the trail. We arrived at Las Torres Hotel at 12.15 to find numerous hikers splayed on the grass outside, waiting for a shuttle back to the park entrance. It felt strange and somewhat disappointing to see motorised vehicles. We ate pringles, chocolate and jelly for lunch while we waited and contemplated the journey we’d just made. It was everything I had anticipated and more. I felt euphoric, slightly delirious from the 2am start, and that I couldn’t possibly walk another day. I was to prove myself wrong on that last point as 2 days later we walked about 15km in one day exploring Buenos Aires.
My one regret is that we didn’t visit the Perito Moreno glacier. After getting back to the hostel in El Calafate, we just didn’t have the energy the next day to do anything much except eat steak and drink Malbec. Both of which we did exceptionally well. So that glacier will have to wait until next time. For I’ve eaten the calafate berry, so there will be a next time!
Buoyed by this shared experience, we clambered back down in the dawn light with a spring in our step, ready for breakfast, and to make our final push to the end of the trail. We arrived at Las Torres Hotel at 12.15 to find numerous hikers splayed on the grass outside, waiting for a shuttle back to the park entrance. It felt strange and somewhat disappointing to see motorised vehicles. We ate pringles, chocolate and jelly for lunch while we waited and contemplated the journey we’d just made. It was everything I had anticipated and more. I felt euphoric, slightly delirious from the 2am start, and that I couldn’t possibly walk another day. I was to prove myself wrong on that last point as 2 days later we walked about 15km in one day exploring Buenos Aires.
My one regret is that we didn’t visit the Perito Moreno glacier. After getting back to the hostel in El Calafate, we just didn’t have the energy the next day to do anything much except eat steak and drink Malbec. Both of which we did exceptionally well. So that glacier will have to wait until next time. For I’ve eaten the calafate berry, so there will be a next time!
Calafate berries ... I've eaten one, which means I will return to Patagonia!
