Torres del Paine

I spent 4 days and 3 nights camping through Torres del Paine National Park in Chile's southern Patagonia. I've trekked a vast array of scenic scapes over the years, but was particularly taken by these four days.

First of all, its currently the tail end of winter down here and the trails were empty. Quite honestly, sparse. I saw a grand total of 8 other pairs meandering the famous 'W' hike; 5 of those pairs arrived on our last night. Thus, I passed by 3 other pairs over the first 3 days of hiking. Praise be for 'off-season' travel. 

Was shuttled up to the park from the very small port town of Puerto Natales; essentially, just the stepping stone into the park. Arrived at the gates at 9am, paid admission and was instructed that fires were strictly prohibited after a Czech camper accidentally burned down 10% of the forest to the ground after his small camping stove tipped over and ignited the tinder.  Opps! The evidence of charred stumps could be spotted along the trails edge; however, by no means did it detract from the vistas. To be honest, if anything, the blackened tree trunks added to the gnarly, barren space of Torres del Pain.

The first day started with a crisp sun and winter chill. Made for great hiking weather. Arrived at the campsite, dropped off my pack and pitched the tent before setting off for the Torres Base. I was keen to make the 2hr hike up to the mirador before the afternoon fog came in. I successfully failed. Winds began to howl and snow started to dust the top section of the trail. Made for a fun scramble up the skree face, but could only see the outlines of massive peaks from the look out. The three Towers of Pain, in all their glory, appeared as shadows of themselves. I was still impressed. 

Froze my nards off through the night. Was rented a summer tent with mesh vents at the base of all four corners. The fly was no cover for the night wind. Woke up to 2" of fresh snow outside the tent after that first night. I'm officially counting it as a winter camping trip.

The second day will remain with me for a long while. Hiked from Campo Chileno all the way to Refugio Pehoe (about 25km). I realize that means virtually nothing if you've never been there, but its essentially the top right of the 'W' to the bottom left; if that makes sense. Most of the day was spent traversing along the upper shore of Lago Nordenskjol, a long moraine green mountain lake. Once again, fierce winds started howling at midday. The breeze was surprisingly warm, but violent in strength. Twisters danced across the lake and the waves built in size before crashing against the shore we travelled. Wild winds whipped up thick clouds of mist, which fell as snow on the peaks. 

Even with a small pack I was tossed like a ragdoll as branches broke over head. Blown water soaked me through on any shore crossings and running was the only option on these stretches; granted only 150m jaunts at any time. Arrived at camp and set up tent up on the lake's north edge. Grey's glacier was just beyond the range's edge.

By 9:30am we met the trail's entrance up to the glacier. Quite honestly, after booking it the day prior, I would have been fine with a sleep-in. Wind and sun in any tent will wake you up. Plus, we were fueled on smoked salmon that we bought in Puerto Montt! Bought it 5 days earlier, prior to the NaviMag. Thank you vacuum sealer. For that matter, thank you to the refreshing vacuum cut of the 'FlowBee.'

Sorry. After a couple hours of, yes, random hiking thoughts we reached Greys Glacier. It could be seen from so very far away. From its first vista, all the way at the southern end of the lake, where we first spotted icebergs, the glacier looked impressive. It was. It never ceased being impressive. 'For such a long time.' That is all I could think. For such a long time this Mammoth

has broken apart and crushed the landscape into its current form. Yet, after all it has scribed, it still remains so present and impressive. Who am I to say if it's melting expediently. It chiseled it's surrounding environment. Certainly we agree, neither happened shortly. Perhaps it is supposed to melt in its current path. But again I don't have a clue. I didn't have a clue when I approached this striking, etched blue. Layers upon settled layers of freeze. I sat on the opposite edge of the lake it melted for. 

Sitting at its edge was simple. The rock was often cut in square wedges, making perfect ledges and seats. Across the moraine bay was Grey. It was a steady squeak of shifting glacier. A groaning roar of uncertainty. As I said, it was impressive. 

The sky was overcast with clouds by the time we reached the glacier. Nonetheless, each crack of light through a cloud flashed brilliance. Sun on ice, deep ice, makes for special viewing. 

After an hour at its edge the wind approached. Knowing the distance back and the food in my bag, 4 day old honey on bun and chocolate, I put on my wind breaker and made a move. Well two: Bundy & High-Kick.

That evening was a celebratory shower, soup, pasta and full bottle of red wine. What up? Our hike out the following morning was a steep up hill followed by a  long, very long, highland prairie. Lasted for 4 straight hours. Toby had sore traps. We saw a horse carcass. Pretty bizarre. 

Four days. Three nights. Many wind swept steps. Humbled. Reflective. 

A link to a selection of my pictures.