February Travels, Part II: Torres del Paine National Park & Southern Chile

Hello again, family and friends, and happy March!

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here almost two months already. Things are starting to feel more normal, and I’m sure that with the start of the semester (boooo) next Monday, I’ll get into a rhythm here. For now, I’m coping with the depressing realization that my first real backpacking adventure has come to an end. Our week in La Serena and Valparaiso (we ended up modifying our plan a bit and spending the weekend there) was relaxing and wonderful—a great way to end our travel month and ease ourselves back into the swing of things. I’ll write more about that later, though, because I need to resume the February travel journal. I’ll pick up where I left off—we had just overcome a big pile of crappy circumstances and were finally arriving in Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, considered by guide books and many others as Chile’s prize jewel.

February 10^th (Arrival in Torres; first hike from Hostería Las Torres to Refugio Cuernos)

Our 2-hour ride from Puerto Natales into the park wasn’t the most comfortable, but there was an overall sentiment in the bus of nervousness, excitement, and wonder as we approached Torres del Paine. We didn’t know exactly what to expect, and after all of our struggles over the previous 24 hours, we just hoped we were ready for what we had signed up for. Now, before I get into our first day, I’m going to provide a bit of information about this particular “park” (I would never use this word to describe the place if I could think of something else to call it). It needs to be put into perspective before I can detail our various adventures here.

First of all, according to many experienced hikers and climbers, Torres is one of the most intense national parks in the world; my Frommers guidebook says it best: This park is not someplace you visit; it’s something you experience. The park spans a whopping 598,338 acres and is visited by an ever-increasing amount of people from around the world each year. Unfortunately, many Chileans never get to see this incredible place because it’s located, essentially, at the end of the world and isn’t an easy weekend trip. If you want to find it on a map, locate Puerto Natales and then look about 70 miles north for a massive region labeled Torres del Paine, a name that translates to “Towers of Blue.” The word Paine actually comes from a Tehuelche Indian word rather than a Spanish word, just in case anyone’s interested in the origins (perhaps you and your linguistics club, Catí?).

The park is situated next to the Andes Mountains, but it’s actually a separate geological formation “created roughly 3 million years ago when bubbling magma began growing and pushing its way up, taking a thick sedimentary layer with it” (Frommers). All of that pushing action created some breathtaking features—most famously, the Cuernos (“horns”) and the Torres (there are three of these pinkish, spherical towers of granite located alongside each other—the park’s most famous and recognizable landscape) and less well-known, though equally stunning, elements like the deep, lush Valle Francés (French Valley). These unique features, and many others, are part of a huge formation known as the Paine Massif, which was helped along during its creation by lots of weathering and glaciations (for you Wisconsin natives, think Kettle Moraine… times 100,000,000). The park is home to several glaciers coming from the Southern Ice Field, but its most famous is Glacier Grey, a stunning, seemingly endless blanket of bright-blue ice. Fluorescent pieces of the glaciers float around in the impossibly turquoise lakes that surround the massif, making for some incredible views and some delicious drinking water—we filled our bottles directly from waterfalls and rivers.

The landscape constantly changed while we hiked throughout the park, as if someone were showing various slides on a projector. At times, we were trekking over massive rocks or through mud or on sand. Other times, we were deep in the woods, hopping over little rivers and climbing across waterfalls. Our eyes were inundated with an unimaginable variety of ecosystems, ranging from plains and forests to lakes and snow-peaked mountains. It was always a surprise when we turned a corner because we never knew if we’d be peering down at a valley or looking up at a huge, rocky cliff. The park is also home to some 100 species of birds, including flamingos and condors, and the pampas and steppes make for great guanaco habitat. We saw lots of these llama-like animals, which is awesome because, not too long ago, they were on the verge of extinction, and Torres has played a big role in helping them make a comeback. It’s amazing to me how any animals and plants survive in Torres because it is truly a harsh, harsh climate. In the winter, temperatures in the park are dangerously cold, but we were plenty chilly even during the summer as Patagonia offers her fierce and frigid winds at this time, creating plenty of resistance for the hiker.

The park offers a plethora of hiking trails and routes, but the most well-known is a path called the “W,” which is shaped—you guessed it—like a “W” and takes hikers on a 35-mile route past the stars of the park (the aforementioned features). When you look at a map of Torres del Paine (that is, if you manage to find one before entering the park… they really need to work on that, by the way!), you’ll notice that the “W” is a tiny, tiny piece of the massive entity that is Torres del Paine national park, and this discovery, after all of our laborious and challenging trekking, was one of the many ways we were humbled by Mother Nature during our visit to this magnificent place.

We were dropped off at the park entrance, where we paid CH$4,000 (about US $6.50); our fee was reduced because we have Chilean ID cards, so we saved a lot of money there. Oddly enough, while waiting in line, I ran into two students from Marquette’s Santiago program. I had known that they were traveling but I didn’t realize they’d be arriving in Torres del Paine that very same day, so it was pretty amazing to recognize two faces in the crowd. We chatted a bit and I figured we’d see them on the trail (they were doing the “W”, which was also our plan), but we never ran into them. So, here’s a shout-out to Cori and Bradley: are you guys alive?!

Anyway, we paid our dues and then hopped on a “transfer” bus, which took us to Laguna Amarga, the starting point for the “W” if you do it in an east-to-west fashion as we did; it’s also possible to do the hike in the opposite direction, and many people do, in which case you’d begin at Glacier Grey, reached from Laguna Amarga by taking a catamaran across Lago (Lake) Grey. We had altered our original plan to hike to the Torres that day after realizing how impossible it would have been to do that and make it to the refugio (kind of like hostels in the woods) where we had a reservation for that night. So, instead, we had decided we’d spend the first afternoon hiking directly to Refugio Cuernos to spend the night, and we added an extra day at the end of our stay which would be devoted to hiking up to the Torres. On the transfer, I met a man from Cork County, Ireland (where our family is from!). He works for the Irish government and is probably about 45 years old, and he has decided to take a year to travel each continent. What a life, huh?! I am constantly in awe of people who have the money—and the guts—to drop everything and see the world. I envy and desire that opportunity, but I have no idea how they do it without missing their family and friends and home life terribly. I did, however, decide that I WILL go to Ireland in the very near future, and that’s that. Are you ready, Mom?!

Our first hike was pretty easy and fairly flat with a few uphill portions. We took a wrong turn once, which resulted in a steep uphill climb to get back on the trail. Overall, the paths are pretty well marked (with stakes spray-painted orange and with the same orange color sprayed on various rocks and trees), but sometimes it’s a little confusing, especially when you’re first getting accustomed to this system of constantly seeking orange things. We passed over plains and some rocks and saw lots of guanacos (the largest concentration of animals we saw during our visit in the park), so it was a nice introduction to Torres. It took us about four hours of hiking with our heavy backpacks before we arrived at Refugio Cuernos, and we were excited to set our bags down, change clothes, and get a good night’s sleep. The hike hadn’t been too bad, but it had been windy and a little rainy and we were tired after our long day of organizing, traveling, and our first hike. Of course, life threw us another curve—just for good measure.

In short, our reservation wasn’t in the book, despite the fact that I’d received a confirmation email before leaving Santiago, and Cuernos was PACKED with people drinking and partying like they had been there for a year. I was pissed. Liz and I told the man, as assertively as we could, though it’s hard to be demanding in Spanish, that we needed a place to sleep and that they needed to provide a room or, at the very least, a free tent rental. After telling us repeatedly that nothing could be done and that there weren’t enough tents or beds for us, our luck changed and, suddenly, a bed and a mattress on the floor had magically freed up. We agreed to pay for two beds and sleep two-by-two that night, and the men started bustling about, preparing our space.

As it turns out, we kicked some workers out of their beds. We didn’t figure this out at first, but when several different guys in Cuernos uniforms came in looking for their sleeping bags and asking why we were sleeping in these beds, we realized what had happened and began to look more kindly on the Cuernos employees. Then it got ridiculous. After huddling outside, struggling to figure out how to use our tiny camping stove to make our first meal (rice with asparagus and a way-too-salty cream of corn soup), all the while guarding the precious metal bowl from the Patagonian wind, we were ready to go to bed. The guys starting treating us sooo nicely—offering us free snacks, more blankets, their own sleeping bags as “comforters,” and even tucking us in! We all fell in love with one of these particularly kind-hearted (and cute) employees, and we frequently, and fondly, talked of our “Cuernos men” for the rest of the trip.

So, as usual, and despite some bumps along the way, things worked out for us. We couldn’t see, at first, how they would work out, but this is often how life goes, and it was a lesson for us. (This reminds me of a Josh Ritter song called “Rainslicker,” in which he says Behind every cloud there’s a purpose only now we can see… it’s raining for us, raining for us now. That’s for you, Katharine.) In addition to this important lesson, we learned a few other things that first night: first of all, don’t cook in the dark because it just doesn’t work well; secondly, it’s helpful to use one’s amateur hiker status to one’s advantage, especially if it involves acquiring free food and hanging out with charming Chilean males; third, when one such charming Chilean male goes in for the customary goodbye kiss on the cheek, try to linger a bit so that your kiss is longer than everyone else’s, thereby giving you bragging rights forever.

My journal entry, written in the dark while lying next to Lizzie in a single-bed while people screamed and danced outside the refugio, ends with this, my first impression of Torres del Paine: Patagonia is gorgeous and wild and unpredictable and seemingly endless. This certainly will be, and already has been, a grand adventure.

February 11^th (Valle Francés hike, from Refugio Cuernos to Lodge Paine Grande at Lago Pehoé)

Our second day of hiking was the longest day we’d scheduled in terms of actual time hiking. A guide at Erratic Rock had mentioned that hikers should spend about a quarter to a third of their day moving, and we certainly did that, hiking a heaping eight hours to the lookout point over Valle Francés. We made some soupy oatmeal (our skills improved after we made the same breakfast a few more times, but the first batch wasn’t so great) and got on our way at a decent hour. The first section of the hike was from Cuernos to Campamiento (campsite) Italiano, where we left our backpacks, as we’d pass by there on our way back from the Valley. This little stretch was unexpectedly gorgeous, mostly because, while hiking over rocks alongside the massive, stunning Cuernos formation, we were treated to a full rainbow, stretching out across the mountains in front of us before diving into the sparkling Lago Nordenskjold on our left. We couldn’t stop taking pictures and talking about how gorgeous it was. Truly, this was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life—one of those moments I’ll always remember.

After ditching our big bags, we embarked on the 4-hour adventure to and from the Valley, most of which was uphill on the way to the look-out. This was one of my favorite paths, as it wound through the woods, up and down rocky beaches and gritty hillsides, through meadows, alongside stunning, teal lakes, rivers, and waterfalls and all over God’s beautiful creation. It was a tough hike, though, and it started raining and getting pretty chilly just as we arrived at the top, which meant that our view of the Valley wasn’t as good as it should have been. On a clear day, I imagine one can see pretty much everything from as high up as we were, but we weren’t as lucky. Still, it was lovely to see such an expansive patch of green, tucked between huge rock formations and mountains, and the Valle Francés hike, which some people skip, was definitely worth it.

At moments, of course, it was incredibly tough—our legs were exhausted and didn’t want to move anymore, the Patagonian wind nearly knocked us off the mountain, and the incessant drizzling was a pest that we didn’t need. And yet, bodies are meant to move, and there’s something incredibly fulfilling about pushing myself until it feels like I can’t take another step. I told myself this whenever I got tired, and it’s what kept me going—this sense of being so blessed to have this opportunity and feeling so alive out there in the wilderness.

Also, we all had to keep moving to keep up with our fearless leader on the trail, little Laura (whom we refer to as Laurita). She may be short, but she is a machine! She set a great pace for us and hardly ever stopped unless we asked her to. She was also our timekeeper, as she always wears a watch, so she kept track of our progress. We all had our strengths, which made for a good group dynamic. For example, Lizzie, our little jukebox, often provided a song for us to sing or, if we didn’t feel like singing along, she’d belt out some soulful tunes solo-style for our listening pleasure. And the comic moment was definitely provided by Caitlin (whom we shall hereto forth refer to as La Cait; Chileans talk about people using an “El” for men and a “La” for women before their names and this sounds particularly humorous with an abbreviated version of Caitlin in its Chilean form, pronounced like “kite.”). We cooked breakfast outside at Cuernos with our backs to the huge windows, and, because we didn’t realize for a good half hour that Caitlin’s pants were ripped in the butt region, everyone eating inside got a little show at her expense!

It’s interesting doing such intense things with people I hardly know, but there’s something really cool about diving into this grand adventure with strangers—they’re now the only people who have been through the same experiences I’ve been through, and we’re linked by some pretty awesome things. You get to know people pretty well and pretty quickly under such circumstances, and the company one keeps while undertaking such adventurous things can obviously make or break the experience. For me, my travel companions definitely enriched my time in Torres—we kept each other going, kept the mood light and positive whenever possible, and commiserated when there was simply nothing positive in sight. Of course, being in constant company is always a challenge, and we all had moments of short-temperedness and whininess and impatience, but overall, our morale was usually pretty high. At times, we’d hike for a few hours without saying more than a couple of words to each other, which left us all plenty of time to sort through various things in our heads or to simply be—and what an awesome place to just be! We passed people on the trail pretty often and gave them a quick “hola,” but sometimes it felt like it was just the four of us and Patagonia, and that’s a pretty crazy feeling.

We stopped, on our way down from the Valle Francés overlook, to eat “lunch,” which consisted of the same snack series everyday: crackers and peanut butter, dried fruit (another thing I’ve learned to like, though I have no desire to eat it for awhile after having so much of it in the park), some nuts, and some chocolate. The chocolate situation was particularly humorous. We’d purchased two different bars—a Cadbury and a Toblerone, and we rationed it, each eating a small piece after meals and never more, as we would then not have chocolate for the last meals of our adventure. I was obviously not in charge of this rationing business and was often the one being rationed, but we all have our strengths and weaknesses, right?

We descended, got our bags from Italiano, and dragged ourselves through another hour and a half hike to our next refugio. To our pleasant surprise, Lodge Paine Grande, located on a sparkling turquoise lake called Pehoé, is nothing like Cuernos. In fact, the first line in my journal entry from this location is This place is basically Heaven. The Lodge is like a hotel, complete with an over-priced bar and restaurant, hot showers, Internet services (also over-priced), a gazebo in which campers can cook, and cozy common spaces with couches and fireplaces. We had our own room with two sets of bunk beds and, after showering and making ourselves a sub-par pasta (much easier when done in a location sheltered from the elements!), we snuggled inside our sleeping bags and slept like babies, agreeing that the only thing lacking were our adorable friends from Refugio Cuernos.

February 12^th (hike from Lodge Paine Grande to Refugio Grey on Lago Grey)

This was our “rest day,” which was much needed after our intense 8-hour hike the day before. We hiked only three hours, after taking our time getting out of the Lodge and having our oatmeal breakfast, and then we had the afternoon and evening to try to get refreshed at the chilly, rustic refugio located at the foot of the lovely Glacier Grey. I was thankful for the rest day because, as is the case with any prolonged experience, we were in a collective slump.

First of all, meals had become sad times for us. Our little stove and our meager portions and easy-to-make food got old really fast. It was made much worse because we had to watch more experienced hikers creating gourmet meals and on their camping stoves and scarfing down huge portions of hot, delicious food. After this dismal breakfast, it started raining, so our whole hike was done in the rain. It wasn’t that big of a change from the weather we’d been having, but after a few days of rain, it gets a person down. Plus, the trail was incredibly muddy, and because I’d refused to purchase hiking boots and had elected instead to do the “W” in my Keen sandals (which were usually WONDERFUL), my feet did suffer here; it was often impossible to take a path that wasn’t muddy and wet, and I ended up with some soaking socks and filthy feet. Still, the worst part of my wardrobe that day was my backpack. I have a love-hate relationship with this bag that I have lugged for miles, and that day it was pure hatred because something was poking me and a certain spot in my back that repeatedly seems to spasm was really acting up.

The last straw was the fact that, on top of the rain, we encountered the worst wind of our entire adventure. We were out in the open on top of a cliff and couldn’t even walk because the wind was so strong. I was legitimately scared (this was the only time during our stay in Torres) because I thought we were either going to get blown off the mountain or simply die of hypothermia out there in the freezing cold, wide open wilderness. All of the pamphlets and maps from the park warn trekkers that, should an accident occur, we should be prepared to wait awhile for help to arrive as we are in pretty remote locales. (For this reason, it’s imperative to hike with someone, though we saw an amazing amount of solo trekkers of all ages!) We were about an equal distance from our starting point and our destination so we decided to try our best to keep going. Little step by little step, we got ourselves off of that cliff, and then things calmed down, but for awhile there, it was truly frightening and we didn’t emerge unscathed. We were soaking wet and pretty downtrodden, so when we encountered four guys we recognized from the bus ride into the park, we were eager to ask them how much farther we had to go, and we were happy to hear that we were beginning the easier half of the hike to Refugio Grey.

We crossed a waterfall and then found ourselves in a totally different environment, walking through a dewy, flowery meadow and finally experiencing a bit of sunshine. The path was narrow but nowhere near as muddy, and it was mostly flat or downhill. The views were stunning as we approached the glacier and it was so nice that, for once, we weren’t being totally blasted by Mother Nature. We arrived at Refugio Grey ready to relax and, after ditching our bags, we took a little hike to a look-out over the glacier (only fifteen minutes away) and then returned and called it a day. The glacier is massive, and although this view-point is at a bit of a distance and doesn’t allow you to see even 1% of the it, it gave us a good idea of just how enormous it is, and we were excited about this marvelous reward after another day of hiking.

We had hoped that we’d be able to spend the next day hiking on the glacier itself, something I did and LOVED in Alaska, but the tours cost US $140, a price none of us could afford, so we planned to do a different, short hike to a better look-out the next day instead. We settled into the refugio and ate another somewhat depressing meal, which was made worse by the fact that, not once but twice, we dropped our precious noodles in the dirt and had to wash them off by hand in the bathroom sink because throwing them away was simply not an option. In a beautiful twist of fate, a German couple shared half of their box of wine with us and a sweet, solo hiker from Australia gave us some of her bread, so it turned out to be a somewhat-improved dinner, complete with some pleasant conversations with strangers and some unexpected food.

February 13^th (hike to Glacier Grey and back to Lodge Paine Grande, AKA the Palace)

It may have been Friday the 13^th, but we had a lovely day. We made our oatmeal again and ate in the refugio, but I stole a half-pitcher of juice left behind by some of the people who had bought the refugio’s breakfast and had since abandoned their table, so that was a nice change. By this point, I would have given a limb for a vegetable, piece of cheese, glass of milk… OK, basically anything. We constantly talked of food, which is quite sick, really, as it was total torture. We discussed everything from ice cream to refried beans and every single food sounded appetizing because our bodies were so tired of what we were feeding them. I’m positive that we all lost weight in Torres from exercising so much and eating so humbly. I thanked God time and time again for the peanut butter, which I never grew tired of, and the chocolate. By this point, we had whipped out the Toblerone, and when we were permitted to have our daily rations, it was the best thing in the world.

We began the day with the quick hike to the glacier look-out, which is a fun hour-long walk, mostly uphill as the look-out is positioned above the glacier. Laurita’s toe was really bothering her and she wanted to rest a bit more, so she opted out while La Cait, Lizzie, and I headed up to the look-out. We hopped over a few waterfalls and had some really good conversations, and then we arrived at the look-out and were rewarded with a stunning view of the glacier, which stretched out as far as we could see. Its sheer size, along with Glacier Grey’s marvelous, electric blue color, made for a more-than-worthwhile hike. We headed back down after enjoying the view for awhile, met Laura at the refugio, and managed to get ourselves motivated for the 3-hour return trek to Lodge Paine Grande, which we fondly called the Palace. Knowing that our destination was a sure-fire hit helped motivate us, but we also knew that our hike wouldn’t be a cake-walk—all of that downhill we’d finished with the day before was waiting to greet us. We just hoped the wind on the top of the mountain wouldn’t be as fierce as it had been the previous day. After all, how could it possibly be?!

I liked the hike back to the Lodge, though it was indeed challenging. The beginning was mostly uphill, and the climbs were some of the steepest we’d done, but the wind behaved itself and the weather was some of the loveliest we’d had. We arrived in the sunshine at the Palace, overlooking the most turquoise lake ever (Lago Pehoé again), and I reflected on the fact that, in one day, I’d seen flowers in the meadow portion of the hike, mountains and lakes and glaciers, and, at long last, real sunshine. It was a lovely three hours, and we had decided to have a LONG overdue Vino Night that evening, so we were all looking forward to that.

After dinner, we purchased some surprisingly cheap boxed wine from the store at the Lodge (Gato brand, for anyone keeping track, and for Lizzie, Laurita, and La Cait, to whom Gato means a lot). We played some entertaining card games and had some really substantial conversation despite our silly states, but things didn’t end so well. Laurita felt really sick (we accidentally gave her more than her allotted one glass), and I actually TUMBLED down the stairs, head over feet, and sustained some mild injuries. I’m pretty sure both of my ankles twisted, actually, because neither felt that great the next morning. Still, it was a relaxing night and we were celebrating our last night in the Palace and our last night together. The next day, Liz needed to leave the park because her mom was going to be flying into Punta Arenas, where we’d flown into when we first arrived in the south, and the two of them planned to return to Torres for a few days together. Laurita had also decided that she’d had enough of the wilderness and wished to leave with Liz. So, although Caitlin and I planned to spend the following night in a tent and then do the Torres hike the morning after, we wouldn’t be a foursome anymore after that night.

February 14^th (catamaran to Hosteria Las Torres from Refugio Grey and hike to Refugio Chileno on the way to the Torres)

Once an RA, always an RA, I suppose. I’d secretly bought some candy from the store in the Lodge the night before and, before anyone woke up, I sneakily set out a piece for each of my beautiful travel companions, along with a note wishing them all a Happy Valentine’s Day. As if I needed another reason to think about food, I desperately longed for a heart-shaped pizza like I used to get from my Daddy every Valentine’s Day in high school. Instead, we had something new and different: oatmeal. I silently rejoiced in the fact that, because we’d eat granola bars the next day instead, we weren’t going to be making oatmeal anymore for awhile. For the record, though, we peaked at the end; our final batch of oatmeal was definitely the most delicious in terms of texture and temperature, and we garnished it with the last of our raisins and nuts.

The only way to get back to the other side of the park without walking the entire “W” again is to take a half-hour, overpriced catamaran across Lago Grey. Despite getting totally ripped off, there were many advantages to beginning our day on a boat: first of all, we were being moved by something other than our legs, which was a lovely change; secondly, we met up again with the guys from the bus, and we finally found out their story—three of them had been recently laid off from the banks at which they worked, so they decided not to work this year (so very “Office Space”), which gained them major Coolness Points in our book; third, there was free hot chocolate on the boat—enough said; and finally, we were out of the rain and wind and cold, so that was beautiful. The catamaran dropped us off and we thought we’d be getting on a transfer bus immediately only to find out that we actually had to wait about three hours before that happened.

We passed the time by going on a mini-hike to a massive waterfall, which was beautiful. It was SO windy, but this time it was fun, and we let the wind push us around a bit before returning and sitting for an hour before the transfer arrived. Laura and Lizzie left us, which was a sad moment, but Caitlin and I were excited about the fact that, God-willing, we’d finally see the Torres the next day. Our mission was a bit complicated that day, though. We’d heard all sorts of hype about the hike up to the Torres, which is supposedly one of the most difficult in the whole park, and we intended to complete the majority of it that day and camp out about an hour from the look-out point. This was a strategic idea because we’d also heard plenty about the sensational view of the Torres at sunrise when the light turns them a fire red color, so we planned to arise bright and early, complete the hike in the dark, and get ourselves situated at the look-out before sunrise. So, that afternoon, we planned to hike straight uphill for three hours and then camp outside for the first time. We wanted to rent a tent at Refugio Chileno, located two hours up the hill (and thus two hours from the Torres) and them move it to the free campsite at the foot of the final stretch en route to the look-out.

Things never go as planned, and this is particularly true in Chile and even more so in Patagonia, as if we hadn’t learned that lesson by this point. First of all, we arrived at Chileno in 50 minutes instead of two hours, though it wasn’t easy. In fact, the only time during our stay in the park that I ever thought “I can’t do this” was during this hike. While I was thinking this, I was simultaneously telling myself that I would do it, but it was like my body had checked out that day. The hike was muddy and straight uphill and every step was incredibly laborious. Caitlin kept me going and we made amazing time despite my legs’ lack of cooperation. We went into the refugio to ask about renting a tent and found out that, unfortunately, the only option was to rent a tent that was already set up and therefore could not be moved from the premises. Because the campsite doesn’t do tent rental, the only option we had was to stay there, two hours away from the look-out. So, we resigned to get up even earlier, having already committed ourselves to the idea of a sunrise trip to the Torres. We made our final camping dinner (a somewhat tasty mix of cream of mushroom soup and rice) and talked for a few hours with a really sweet Canadian couple. We avoided the cold tent at all costs but eventually it was time to sleep.

Sleep was a joke, actually. We tossed and turned and froze for hours and got up at 3:30a.m. pretty easily since we were so anxious to end our awful, sleepless night. We tried to find the trail, using only the headlamp we had borrowed from the Canadians (thank goodness), but we couldn’t seem to find the trailhead again. We ended up burning a half hour, wandering around trying to find it, which sucked because we didn’t want to miss the sunrise. Eventually, we found it and then hiked in the dark through the woods, which was a bit scary, amazingly making it to the last segment of the trail: 45 minutes of hiking straight uphill on massive boulders. Essentially, this becomes rock climbing. They were slippery, it was dark, and we were tired. It seemed like we were climbing to Heaven because the rocks just kept going, but FINALLY, we arrived at the end of the trail and at the look-out point for the Torres. Here, we discovered we had company—the same four guys we’d seen a million times before! We unpacked the contents of the bag I’d hauled up the rocks: dry clothes to change into, a sleeping bag for coverage, and some granola bars. And then we sat and waited, all the while staring at the huge, cloudy canvas of a sky where the Torres were supposed to be. As it turned out, Patagonia didn’t feel like sharing that part of herself with us that day.

We were discouraged. This was the reason we’d come to the park and the reason we’d gone through hell the night before and that morning, and we didn’t see anything but the base of the Torres. It’s also upsetting now that I’m back in Santiago to look at other people’s photos and see their perfect shots of the Torres, but I’m trying to understand the life lesson here. Basically, we were humbled by nature again. We began the descent, which was obnoxious due to the rocks, the mud, and the rain—at first the typical drizzle and then a torrential downpour. We practically ran down the path, arriving back at Hostería Las Torres in record time, right behind that same group of guys. A woman passed us when we were ascending the last little hill before the Hostería, which we’d decided to run up, and she gave us a really crazy look, which was either awe that we were running or awe that she was walking into whatever hell we’d just escaped. We were soaked to the bone and ready to be DONE with Torres del Paine at this point. It had been a rough last day, and it was only about 10:00a.m.!

Caitlin and I celebrated having completed the “W” for about two seconds and then ran into the luxurious Hostería and monopolized the bathroom, spreading our wet stuff out all over and dripping mud everywhere. We changed into some dirty, but dry, clothes and tried to organize our things and dry some of our stuff a bit under the automatic hand dryer. This was mostly to no avail and we were still filthy when we left the bathroom, but we felt a little better and were finally able to recognize the feat we’d just completed. We saw the guys sitting at a table by the bar and they called us over to join them. We all planned to catch the bus back to Puerto Natales, but we had a few hours to burn, so it was nice that we finally got to get to know these guys we’d been seeing all over the park.

They told us they were super impressed with our hiking abilities, and they were so surprised that this was the first major hiking experience for both of us that they bought us hot chocolate and congratulated us about a million times on being “tough.” Somehow, hot chocolate evolved into three bottles of wine (none of which Caitlin and I purchased!), and over the course of the next couple of hours, we formed a strange friendship with Jeff, Sean, Rob, and John. As it turns out, none of them are younger than 35 years old, and they were as excited to hear that we’d estimated 30 for all of them as we were surprised to find that some of them were our practically our parents’ age. They’re essentially a bunch of bachelors clinging desperately to their youth and resisting “real life” as long as they can. They’re all really nice, and it was a lot of fun hanging out with them for awhile. I even learned a fancy magic trick using two wine corks and got a quarter of a delicious hot ham and cheese sandwich out of the deal. When the bus came, we were all feeling pretty good, due to both the wine and the fact that we were on our way to clean clothes, showers, and warmth.

We more or less passed out on the bus to Puerto Natales, though not before Caitlin decided she needed to use the locked restroom on the bus. She walked up to the front to ask the driver if she could have the key because we’d never been on a bus with a locked restroom before. Suddenly, the bus was stopped on the side of the road and the bus driver, keys dangling in his hand, was walking down the aisle toward the restroom in the back, followed by an incredibly embarrassed Caitlin who’d had no idea that her request would cause such a commotion. Needless to say, we thought it was pretty hysterical, even if she didn’t. When we got to Puerto Natales, we didn’t realize that it would be the last time we’d see our new friends and our goodbye was rushed and incomplete, which has left us feeling guilty since then. We have no idea how to get a hold of any of the guys and we never even thoroughly thanked them for the wine, which is a bummer.

Back at Erratic Rock, we met up with Laura, who had made herself quite comfortable at the hostel, and she helped us settle in. We took warm showers and promptly headed to El Living for our much-anticipated dinner at our favorite Puerto Natales restaurant. It was, obviously, phenomenal.

I’m proud of us. The “W” is not easy, and Torres is a SERIOUS national park. Most people don’t realize what they’re in for when they arrive, and this was true for us too, but we took the surprises in stride (no pun intended) and prevailed without any major disagreements or drama. The weather in Patagonia changes on a dime, and if you’re not prepared, it can be a truly dangerous place. For this reason, it is soooo good that we made the decision, before leaving Puerto Natales on the 10^th, to take our time and get ourselves organized. We saved a lot of money by making our own food, even if it did make us sad and frustrated sometimes, so it was especially good that we’d been able to rent a mess kit and buy food before leaving. And staying in the refugios, although it was expensive, was so worth it.

While it’s a shame that we never really saw the Torres, these things are just not in our control. We saw some absolutely breathtaking things—things so beautiful that I’m still processing them now, a few weeks later. In short, Torres del Paine was an adventure, as I knew it would be. The park is rugged and beautiful and huge and wild and incredible, and I’m so glad we made the trip there, did the “W,” and really experienced Patagonia. Even the fact that it rained so much is a blessing because this—the insane wind, the annoying drizzle, the chilly nights—this is Patagonia, and it was important for us to get a real sense of it and to feel all of it, even the difficult parts. As Bob Dylan said, “Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” We did a bit of both, and it was an incredible experience.

February 16^th (Puerto Natales and Punta Arenas)

This was a slow, recuperation/business day. We had a phenomenal breakfast at Erratic Rock, got our laundry done, checked our email and caught up on world happenings, wrote postcards, and reorganized our bags. My body still seemed to be trying to make sense of whatever I’d just put it through, and I was pretty groggy the whole day, even after more than 8 hours of wonderful sleep. We had lunch at a pizza place called Mesita Grande (literally, Big Little Table), which was really delicious, and then I had to get my ice cream fix—I’d missed it terribly.

We took a 4pm bus to Punta Arenas, arriving at about 7pm, at which point we hunted desperately for a hostel because we hadn’t been able to get our phones to work for any of the numbers in the guide book in order to call and make a reservation before arriving in the town, as was our usual routine. We hunted around for awhile before finally being asked by a nice lady if we wanted to stay at her hospedaje (this is normal—it’s like a family-run hostel, AKA a home-stay). It was cheaper than the only other option we’d found, so we accepted. We were pretty hungry, so we went to the grocery store after unpacking a bit and made ourselves a stir fry, which was pretty good. And that is literally all the excitement there is to report!

February 17^th (Punta Arenas)

Punta Arenas is located at nearly the end of the world, and it’s the capital of the Magellanic region (so named because of its location on the Straits of Magellan). This was an Exploring Day, and we actually packed a lot in, which, unfortunately, left us with nothing to do for the next day!

We made yummy eggs and vegetables at our hostel, something I learned to enjoy, especially given the fact that cooking ourselves saved us a lot of money. Also, cooking with people is a good bonding experience, and there’s something fulfilling about eating something we prepared ourselves. After breakfast, we decided to take our things to a different hostel, where we’d stay for the rest of our time in Punta Arenas. This new place, Backpackers’ Paradise, came highly recommended. It’s a fun little place packed with a few rooms full of bunk beds and separated by flimsy curtains, so it’s nothing elegant, but the vibe is laid-back, young, and social.

Before arriving, though, we meandered through the bustling Plaza de Armas (almost all Chilean cities are set up on grid systems with a European-style plaza in the center). There, we gathered some material from the tourism office and then kissed the statue of Magellan in the middle of the plaza; legend says that anyone who kisses, in particular, the toe of one of the indigenous people in the statue will return to Punta Arenas someday. The toe is shiny from all of the kisses! It was silly and perhaps a bit embarrassing, but we all had to partake in this tradition.

After dropping our bags at Backpackers’ Paradise, we did a little souvenir shopping. I bought a few pieces of jewelry made from a beautiful blue stone called lapis lazuli, which is very special because it’s found only in Afghanistan and in Chile, and the two shades differ, making the Chilean version of the stone truly unique. We then returned to the plaza to look around at some of the things being sold there. I was excited to make another purchase—a cozy grey and black wool sweater with llamas on it! Laura also bought a sweater that afternoon, so it was a pretty successful shopping outing.

Afterwards, we decided to walk four blocks up the hill to a look-out point called Mirador de la Cruz, a spot from which we could see not only the huge cross erected at the top but also the colorful and sprawling city, the Straits of Magellan, and, across the way, Tierra del Fuego, the region at the very end of the Americas. The view was beautiful, and there were these awesome posts with a bunch of colorful signs, each of which had a world city written on it and, alongside the name of the city, the distance from Punta Arenas to that part of the world (in kilometers, of course). It just showed us that we were pretty far from almost everything… except Antarctica!

We made lunch, and it rocked—a fruit salad with apples, grapes, peaches, mango, banana, and yogurt, and also sandwiches with tomato, cheese, and turkey (for me). Then, we went to the cemetery, which doesn’t sound that exciting, but it was really awesome. This cemetery is basically a mini-city, complete with named pathways lined with cypress trees and a wide variety of tombs, ranging from elaborate chapels to modest family plots and these things that looked like giant dressers with each “drawer” being a different person’s tomb. The cemetery is the final resting place of many of the city’s founders as well as various immigrant communities and some of the native people of the region. It’s interesting to me to see how cultures treat their deceased, and in Chile, it seems that a cemetery is not just a place for sadness and death but also a place to remember and celebrate loved ones’ lives. The graves are marked with tons of flowers, candles, pictures of the deceased, and items that he or she loved, and each is a beautiful display of love and remembrance, like a little shrine. It was a pretty powerful afternoon stroll.

That evening, we went to dinner (sub-par), had some hot chocolate with Bailey’s (yum!), and saw a movie for lack of anything else to do. The next day, we planned to kayak on the Straits of Magellan—another new adventure for us!

February 18^th (Punta Arenas)

Our last full day in the south began with breakfast at 8a.m. before we were picked up by the tour company’s transport vehicle and taken to our kayaking location on the Straits. Essentially, we were taken to this guy’s private house on the water, and he equipped us with hideous outfits and gave us a crash course in rowing and steering before we plopped our kayaks into the water and began making our way along the coastline. We were in two-person kayaks—Laura with our guide, Juan, and Caitlin and I together. I had to steer, which was interesting because I’ve never been too great at it (ask my sister, who insists that I’m the worst person she’s ever gone canoeing with). I improved, though, and despite some strong winds, we didn’t fare too badly for our first time kayaking. It was a beautiful day, and the fact that we were kayaking on the Straits of Magellan at the end of the world was pretty incredible. We didn’t get to go too far out into the water, given the fact that we were beginners and the Straits are pretty much like the Ocean, but it was still a good work-out and a really awesome way to spend our morning.

We had a yucky snack at Juan’s house before getting picked up for our ride back into town. We had lunch and then relaxed a bit, trying to figure out what else we could possibly do in Punta Arenas. We ended up being legitimately bored, so we headed to the Plaza de Armas again and walked around for a bit, eventually settling down on a bench to people-watch for awhile. We visited a lame palace, owned by Sara Braun, who was one of the city’s most important pioneers, and then we had some awful pizza (a word to the wise: don’t eat Telepizza if you come to Chile) and went to yet another movie. It wasn’t a very exciting end to our adventures in the South, but that’s alright. We spent the evening playing some cards and drinking some Gato again, and then it was time for bed.

February 19^th (Punta Arenas… and the return to Santiago!)

Our flight left Punta Arenas at 6p.m., so we had another afternoon to fill after sleeping in, enjoying some breakfast, and getting our things organized. We visited the Museo Regional de Magallenes, which was actually pretty interesting. We learned about the history of the region, in particular about its settlement and the relationship between the native populations in the area and the European pioneers. Unfortunately, this story is pretty similar to others of the same theme—the people who “discovered” and “settled” the region were actually the native peoples, though all of that credit goes to the Europeans who more or less destroyed the natives. After the museum, we had another fruit salad and sandwich lunch and then hung out until it was time to go to the airport.

We met up with Liz and her mom, which was great. They had a wonderful time in the park, though the Torres didn’t come out for them either, and it was really cool to meet Liz’s mom. She’s a really precious lady, and I enjoyed seeing the resemblance between her and my new friend. Our plane stopped in Puerto Montt (like a bus!), and we got fed TWICE over the course of the flight before arriving safely in Santiago a bit after 10p.m. We caught a cab home, and that was that—our adventures in the South were over.

All in all, we had a wonderful few weeks touring the Lakes District and the Patagonian region of Chile. I developed a real fondness for my travel companions, with whom I shared some amazing experiences, some terribly funny moments, and some frustrations. It was sad returning to Santiago because it meant that a once-in-a-lifetime adventure had ended. Luckily, though, I came home to a sweet family and my room, which I longed for after many nights in hostels. I spent the next few days relaxing—catching up on correspondence from home, going for a run or two, eating some substantial meals, talking to Gladis, Carolina, and María José about my adventures, getting a dose of world news, and preparing for our next and final February trip to La Serena, seven hours north. Laura left for Argentina with some other people from our program, but Liz, Caitlin, and I left on the 22^nd for a week of relaxation, which was exactly what we needed. I’ll write more about that later, but for now, I need to take a break!

I hope you’ve enjoyed living our adventures with us. I thought of you often, especially during the many hours we spent hiking in Torres del Paine. Know that you’re all missed and loved and that I sent plenty of warm thoughts your way—all the way from the end of the world!

Until soon.

Amanda