Nature enthusiasts around the world, unable to resist the appeal of Torres Del Paine, descend upon this national park in Patagonia, Chile to live out their once in a lifetime dream. Many come to explore the drastic features of the landscape carved by moving glaciers into this spur of the Andean Mountains tens of thousands of years ago. Others come to conquer the world-renowned backpacker’s circuits, the W and the O. We came to test our physical and mental limits as neither Lyle nor I have backpacked for more than a couple days at any time. This leg of our trip required us to carry our food and homes on our backs for six days covering around 36 miles as we attempted to complete a modified version of the W circuit.
Las Torres, looming magnificantly over the park, was our first goal and one of the main highlights of the park.
Good luck with the weather seemed to follow us here. Although we were prepared for the downpours that were common to Patagonia, we were tremendously grateful that it only rained twice during our trip, both times at night. Our first night, the rain began around midnight and poured relentlessly upon our little tent until after noon the next day. Fortunately, we had climbed to the foot of Las Torres, the giant granite massif that is a prominent figure of the park the day before, so it did not dampen our plans too much. The second time, the rain was accompanied by howling winds that harassed our campsite all night long but quietly receded as day broke, and we were able to begin our last leg without getting wet.
At our first camp, the ranger pointed to the stream running through the campground and explained that is where we should get our drinking water. From then on, we collected water straight from the streams that flowed down the mountains from the glaciers. The water was cold, refreshing, and sweet. Better than any bottled or tap water we’ve ever had. And it was free!
Long days with sixteen-hours of natural light gave us enough time to walk the trails at a comfortable pace, to stop for snack breaks and enjoy the view, to take as long as we needed to compose the photograph. Hiking among one of the world’s most picturesque backdrops, it was easy to forget about the heavy packs on our backs even as we covered as much as twelve miles a day. Everywhere we turned, there was something interesting to observe. Combined with their surroundings, the lakes all took on different personalities. The colors of the lakes ranged from a serious navy blue to a cheerful baby blue, from an elegant teal to a chilly gray. One lake wore a murky coat the color of sage; its still waters and lifeless banks emanated doom. Yet another crystal-clear lake flawlessly captured the deep blue skies and snow-capped mountains above. As we entered one of the four different terrains that make up Torres Del Paine, there was a noticeable change in the geography and vegetation. New plants and flowers would dot the countryside, perking our curiosity. Even the trails themselves changed every mile or so. One minute we were walking on packed dirt and the next minute, our step sank into sandy soil. Around one bend, we would be confronted with a steep climb on a gravel path. But once at the top, the gravel gave way to criss-cross patterns of tree roots partly sticking up from below ground. At some junctions we had to scramble over giant boulders and at other places we crossed streams maneuvering from rock to rock. Hiking these trails was anything but dull and boring
On our way to Camp Grey, we passed through a section of burnt forest. Just last year, an Israeli hiker decided to burn his toilet paper instead of just carrying it out with him. It was a bad decision because this area happens to be one of the windiest places in the world. Unfortunately his little fire got out of control. The park was closed down for a few months in order to battle the blaze. The destruction was glaring as we walked through a forest of broken black stalks that used to be trees. However, nature is resilient. We witnessed small plants and flowers bursting into life here and there against all odds in this barren landscape. Their colors were such a stark contrast to their environment.
At the campgrounds and especially around the cooking shed, we came to understand that Torres Del Paine was more of an international destination. It seemed as if more foreigners come here yearly than Chileans themselves. We encountered people from all over Europe, the Americas and Asia. Once, we were surpassed by a group of giant Germans. With legs like tree trunks, they conquered treacherous rocky terrains in leaps and bounds as if they were skipping across a grassy meadow. In contrast, a couple from China had trouble making their way up the mountain even with the help of two hiking poles each. At the end of a tiring day, a mélange of languages mingled in the air as hungry hikers shared and compared their experiences. During our conversations with others, we realized how limited we were when it came to languages. At first, others would try to engage us in Spanish. Quickly, they would switch to English once they knew we didn’t speak Spanish. We felt embarrassed at how arrogant English speakers are. We travel to other countries and expect the natives there to communicate with us in our language. How dare us! It seems as if most people outside of the United States and United Kingdom were fluent in two, three and even more languages.
Our first look at Glacier Grey
Our last camp was right next to Glacier Grey. We stayed here for two days. On the second day, we went kayaking around ice floes and in front of the glacier. Initially we had wanted to do a trek on the glacier and some ice climbing, but the weather had been "too warm" and conditions deemed too dangerous for being on the glacier.
Kayaking turned out to be the perfect activity. Our group of six kayaks was the only one in the water at this time. Remaining quiet, we were able to hear the ice cracking and the water dripping into the lake, like a slow rain, as the icebergs melted. The lake’s temperature was so cold that as the water droplets fell into the lake, some actually turned into ice. At some places, we were paddling our kayaks right over a field of ice, crunching it beneath us. We just dipped our hands into the surface of the water and picked up a piece of sweet, crunchy naturally made ice-cube. I felt like we were floating in an enormous cooler.
The glacier and icebergs glow blue from deep inside, like there's an iridescent light in the center of each one. It’s like at the beginning of the world, the lakes had captured the vibrant sky in their embrace. And when the world turned cold, the lakes froze over, and the sky remained a captive. And then as the world began to warm, the ice slowly melted returning to its original form, and a little bit of the blue sky trapped for so long in the ice was released at the same time creating that mystical glistening blue. Watching the unusual iceberg formations and the glacier behind them was like looking into the past. How many thousands of years have they been here, and here they still are, still alive, still moving inch by inch. We wanted to get closer to this 60 ft. colossal, but our guide reminded us that the glacier might break apart at any moment. It's such a humbling feeling to know how small and vulnerable we are as humans against these beautiful, giant, natural entities. Being so close to nature, you sense that each element does have its own sense of being. You even begin to talk to them...or at least I did.
The windiest spot we’ve ever been!
While backpacking in the park, we didn’t come across many indigenous animals. But as we left the park, they were everywhere. At first we were so excited when we saw a singular guanaco grazing midway up on the grassy hillside. When we rounded the bend in the road, there they were, everywhere. The baby ones looked so delicate and soft. They are pretty timid cousins of the llamas. They’re even afraid of a bossy ostrich and would run away from him when he began to strut his wings.
Growing wild along the road were beautiful “lupinas” in various shades of purple and blue. They were so beautiful, and we decided to plant some lupines of our own back in the states. They have yet to blossom.
Sheep were another common sight moving among the vast fields stretching endlessly in the Chilean countryside. About an hour away from Punta Arenas, our vehicle’s progress was obstructed by a stampede of sheep. 14,000 of them to be more exact. Further away, a cowboy mounted on a horse was directing his sheep dogs to round up the herd in a circular formation. Those sheep kept coming. They ran almost blindly following the ones in front of them. At one point, they streamed across the road in front of our car to get to the other side of the road and then made a beeline back to the side they had just come from right after they’d cleared our car. They came in all shapes and sizes, but all of them had green markings on their wool. It was time to shear the wool. This last parade lasted for about ten minutes. The road was spotted with poop everywhere.
