Puerto Natales to Torres del Paine, CHILE - 10 january 2003
I would be attempting to do the ‘W’ circuit of Torres del Paine. Allow me to elaborate a little on the ‘W’ circuit.
Starting from right to left of the alphabet ‘W’, the first vertical section up is to view the three famous towering, near-vertical mountains that give the name Torres del Paine the ‘Torres’ bit for they are called Las Torres [The Towers]. This would be, to many, the HIGHLIGHT of their hike here.
Then, one heads west, walking the horizontal bit of the ‘W’. After that, the second vertical section is along Valle de Francés, where one could see beautiful ranges of mountains, including the unique-looking Los Cuernos [The Horns].
Finally, after heading west again and up to the third vertical section of ‘W’, one can see the impressive Glacier Grey. At the bottom of this third vertical section is Refugio Pehoe where one can take a boat ride back to Refugio Pudeto to catch a bus back to Puerto Natales.
As for me, I had no idea which portion I could complete. I just told myself, I would do as much as I could. I knew I had to haul myself to the Refugio Pehoe eventually. That was the promise I made to myself. Hey, this was a vacation for me. Not a race. Not an expedition. I was not one of those Goretex-attired-SuperHikers-on-steroids. I did not need to over-achieve. Just stay alive.
Somehow, three of us single hikers, Koen from Netherlands, Angela from Brazil and I, met on the bus, pitched our tents nearby one another and seemed to have a tacit agreement to try and do the Las Torres section together today.
We were on the wrong track 10 minutes into the trail as we appeared to be heading towards Los Cuernos instead. We had to retrace our steps and follow others heading up a gravel slope. I had been warned that the first 2 hours of this trail was difficult, uphill all the way. We made our way up slowly. I eyed each orange-marked pole as a finishing line, personally congratulating myself whenever I crossed one.
It was slow plodding uphill. I guess the scary thing about Torre del Paine was the WIND. So many times, especially when I had one foot in the air, about to take a step, I would be blown off-track and would stumble off the trail. Then, it got worse as I literally felt like I was being blown away, even with two feet on the ground. After each sudden gust, I ended up standing on tip-toe and flailing my arms around to try to return my heels back to Earth! My jacket flapped around noisily. I felt like a kite, barely held down by the invisible string of gravity and I did not have much confidence in gravity anymore.
We all walked at an angle against the wind. But suddenly, the wind would stop and we would stumble forward in surprise. Good thing we did not fall flat on our faces. Little grains of sand were blown into our eyes all the time. Sometimes, it was best NOT to fight the wind and to just stand there, balance ourselves, have our faces turned away from the flying grains, and wait for the wind to stop.
Upon reaching Refugio Chileno, we had a brief stop and looked up ahead. Las Torres were heavily shrouded in clouds in the background. Koen, Angela and I merely rested half an hour before heading up the next section.
Ooo, fancy-gear alert! Koen had a straw-filter thingie which he could place it in the river and suck up water through it, filtering the water right there and then. If you ask me, why filter glacial water? I joked with him that the straw probably contaminated the water!
This section was easier through sheltered woods and some exposed rocky plains. Still, the wind was relentless. My fingers felt numb from the wind. It did not help that it started to snow and rain hailstones as well.
By the final section, the sign read ‘45 MINUTOS’ to the Mirador. How could anyone turn back now? This was the most difficult part of the trek today as there was a lot of scrambling up rocks which were unsheltered from the woods. Normally, one might rock-hop. But here, imagine, you have one foot on one rock and about to leap to the next and then, a strong gust of wind (here, it might reach more than 100kms/hr, I read) from any direction, arrives, you either crash backwards and crack your skull… or you pitch forward and crack your skull. Either way, you become veggie… if you are lucky.
I tried to keep my centre of gravity low but I could not duck-walk my way up to Las Torres. I crouched forward and kept my hands in front to ensure that I had some cushioning effect. A few times, I was indeed blown against some huge boulders suddenly and barely prevented being a nasty crash-test-dummy subject.
Finally, at the top, pantingly, I looked up and saw… POETRY. Las Torres stood there, waiting for me, and had commanded the clouds to disappear on time. I could not believe the stunning sight before me. The grandeur of it all was surreal. I was speechless. My eyes smarted with tears. (I am getting so emotional now, I know.) I gaped with my jaws open. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” was all I could utter as I stumbled around the remaining rocks. I made eye contact with a few people up there and everyone just grinned and nodded. We made it. It was tremendously awe-inspiring.
I guess, for Mount Fitzroy, throughout the hike, one could see it. One was just getting closer and closer to it. But Las Torres remained half-hidden or totally out-of-sight the entire hike, revealing themselves only to those who made it this far. So, the reward was greater, more mind-blowing. I tottered around at the pass as the wind whipped me around like a rag-doll.
Koen was making his lunch there in a so-called ‘sheltered’ place. I joined him. I could not tear my eyes away from Las Torres. It was snowing all around me. Las Torres are so steep no snow stuck to them. This was the second time I had seen falling snow in my life. Oh, what a special moment!
Too bad I could not stay up there for long because of the wind. My fingers were numblingly ice-cold. I was wearing two fleece jackets and a wind-breaker and yet I was shivering and my teeth were chattering away.
Some people do the ‘W’ circuit from left to right, leaving Las Torres at the end, calling it ‘Saving the BEST for LAST’. For me, not knowing which day of my trek I might perish in Torres del Paine, it was better to save the BEST for FIRST, just to be sure.
We finally returned to our camp-site by 8pm. My tent and Angela’s had been devastated by the wind. Koen’s still stood upright though.
When I studied the wreckage, I realised the savage wind had snapped two of my poles at the pole-connectors! Gosh! Duct-tape, please.
Cooking dinner was an ordeal. I placed a rock on top of the lid of my pot to prevent the lid from flying. The wind still managed to lift the rock and sweep the lid into the far distance. The rock then plunged into my pot of rice.
My tent was higher on one end, enough height for a person to sit and then it tapered down at the other end. I was sleeping with my head at the higher end and yet that night, the wind blew my tent so low, I was kissing it. No kidding.
Torres del Paine, CHILE - 11 january 2003
The first hour or so of the hike today was pretty easy, on flattish plains. But I did not appreciate it then, for I was constantly struggling with and thinking about my full backpack.
We came upon the turqoise-coloured Lake Nordenskjold. It looked so calm and perfect. We took a moment to savour the amazing view before plodding off. Another hour passed before I found an excellent spot under some incredible mountains for a bite of lunch.
As I knew my limitations, whenever I heard noises behind me, I stopped to let the other hikers pass. Everyone overtook me. I overtook no one. It was a nice and peaceful walk along the trails, getting used to my backpack… until we came upon a cascade.
Everyone stopped and puzzled over it. There MUST be a simple way to hop across it. Several headed further up or down the bank to analyse the rocks. Nope, no way out… boots off!
I placed my bare feet in the glacial-cold running water. Gosh, the water forces were strong and the rocks slippery. Again, I realised I could not just walk across the cascade for my centre of gravity was high and any mis-step might tumble me down the river. I decided to crouch low and keep one hand on the boulders with the rushing cold water as I crab-walked my way across.
I numbed my mind and tried not to think of the tiredness, the wobbly legs, the burden behind me. I just focused on the next section of the path I could see before me and targetted at getting there. I kept looking out for a peninsula at the lake, for, from the map, I knew if I passed it, I would have about 1 more hour of walking to get to Refugio Los Cuernos.
Indeed, I finally spotted the peninsula and took another breather there to appreciate the lake before me. The lake appeared to be less calm now, compared to earlier. I saw countless waves generating from the centre of the lake.
I grew really tired. I knew I had to keep it all mental. It was all up here in my head. Just keep telling myself that I could do it and I would be able to do it. I walked slowly around bends of mountains, across shrublands, up and down slopes. I kept my head down most of the time to try and concentrate on conquering each section of the trail.
Suddenly, for no reason, I looked up and gasped. I was nearly floored by the majestically silent Los Cuernos. For how long they had been looking upon me, I had no idea.
This range of mountains was as impressive as Las Torres but more unique. The mountains had three sections of colours. The top and bottom sections are black: sedimentary rocks. The middle section is grey: granite. One fine day, a couple of years (at least) ago, the granite came and thrust up through the sedimentary rock, taking the top bit along. And so, Los Cuernos exist to quicken your pulse-beats just a little. Really Impressive!
The going got tougher after this. The wind was getting more savage and vicious. Once, with my full backpack of tent, sleeping bag, 4 days’ of food, and BOTH feet on the ground, I was blown two inches off towards the drop-off and it was a STEEP drop-off! I was spooked and many cuss words flew.
Many times, I would tumble into bushes or fall on rocks suddenly because of the tossing wind. The lake was perhaps 100 to 150 metres below us and yet, when the wind whipped up the water, I could literally see the sprays fly and twist up from the lake like a tornado and coming down on us as rain.
I was so desperate even ONE SKINNY TREE was considered as a shelter. Whenever I could feel, hear or see the wind coming, I tried to get myself to one of these ‘shelters’. Sometimes, it was not possible and I just had to try and maintain my balance desperately. I was alone and I did not fancy being blown backwards and landing on my backpack, like a turn-turtle for no one would be able to help me! I muttered some Buddhist prayers during these moments.
Oftentimes, around a bend, downslope, on a slippery rocky path, with wobbly legs, I had to wait for the wind to die down momentarily and psyche myself to make the walk round the bend quickly, without being blown off into the abyss. “OK, now! Go!”
Finally, I arrived at Refugio Los Cuernos just as it started to pour. Gosh, at the refugio, even full-grown men were complaining about being blown off the trails! I met up with Koen who had been there for an hour and Angela who arrived just a little after me. Koen left soon in the rain. Angela and I busied ourselves resting.
We left after a while with two Israeli guys. I had put a rain-cover on my backpack to protect it from the rain but I had actually inadvertently just converted my backpack into a SAIL. The wind caught the rain-cover and unable to blow right through, took me along and tossed me repeatedly. It was worse at one section as we were right on the beach, next to the lake. I had to remove it in the end.
The last 2 hours were the toughest for me. Hurben, the guy at my hostel, had pointed out, “You can camp at Refugio Los Cuernos or you can walk a bit more to Camp Italiano, free camping.” A BIT MORE, my foot!! It felt like an eternity! There was a lot more uphill on this section and after so many hours of walking and fighting against the wind, it was not appreciated at all.
I was actually very glad that the two Israeli guys were kind enough to wait for Angela and I and help us along the route, giving us a hand at the steeper portions. I guess, by then, I was quite used to the weight of the backpack and did not think about it anymore. I just concentrated on worrying about the wind.
I finally staggered, into Camp Italiano at 8pm, extremely fatigued… but incredibly relieved. Koen had to help me with my tent for I was just staring into space like a veggie.
Torres del Paine, CHILE - 12 january 2003
It was only today that I took a good look around Camp Italiano and had to agree that this was a great campsite. It was very sheltered, the wind was not as bad as the first campsite. There was a beautiful rushing river in front of us. Behind us were the incredible Los Cuernos. Wonderful locale.
Lots of people at the campsite were now complaining of sore backs, busted knees and twisted ankles. Maybe Torres del Paine is a mis-print. It should have been Torres del PAIN.
Koen and I took an early slow walk up through the Valle de Francés. There was a stunning snow-covered mountain with melting glacier right next to the path. Hence, there were magnificent views throughout as we meandered next to the river on the rocks or through the forests to try and get behind this mountain.
After about 3 hours, we finally arrived at the Mirador. Surrounding us, nearly 300 degrees of view, was a near-continuous range of extra-ordinary mountains. I spun slowly clock-wise, soaking in the amazing view. It was a symphony. What a reward!
There was not much room at the Mirador and when it started to fill up with people, we made our descent.
Now, suddenly, my busted left knee just would not cooperate with me. It was painful to bend it. I had probably twisted it when I was blown around yesterday. It was very, very difficult for me to walk down the valley now. I tried to keep my knee straight as far as possible. I cringed in pain whenever I bent it.
It took me forever to arrive back at the campsite. I had wanted to go on to Refugio Pehoe today, which was reportedly 2½ hours away but Koen suggested I should rest today. Yeah, it had been like a race the last two days, hurrying to the towers and back and then, too windy and freezing cold to enjoy dinner and yesterday… need I say more? This was a holiday for us. Hooray Hooray, it’s a holi-holiday, we reminded ourselves.
We stayed one more night at this great campsite, made tea, cooked dinner, chatted with other hikers. It was a very pleasant evening.
Then, it rained.
Torres del Paine, CHILE - 13 january 2003
It was still raining and rather windy this morning. I got up to pee. Koen, who had wanted to catch the 10am boat from Refugio Pehoe, said he would leave at 8am this morning. I looked. Indeed, his tent was gone. I returned to my tent and made breakfast. Then, with nothing else to do, I returned to sleep.
I woke up at around 1pm and listened. It was still pattering away quietly but there was NO WIND. I peeped out. Several tents were gone now. I knew I had to take advantage of the lack of wind to pack. For if it was windy and I was alone, it would be difficult to pack the tent.
I shoved everything into my backpack in half an hour’s time and left in the rain. The route was muddy and slippery. I realised I still had a little phobia of the wind. But this route was just through undulating, gentle hills and swampy places with board-walks. Nothing as tough as Day 2.
2½ shivering-cold hours of walking in the cold rain with numb fingers and muddy wet boots was just about enough for today. The minute I arrived at Refugio Pehoe, I knew I was not going anywhere anymore. I found a sheltered spot and hurriedly pitched my tent.
Just when I finished it, I realised hoards of tourists, many on guided trips, were arriving at that moment and there was a mad scramble for camping spots. Where did they all come from?
A group of French tourists on a guided trip hovered near my tent and envied my choice-spot. They then pitched their tents all around me. There was even a dining-room tent with tables and chairs inside.
The rain continued incessantly. Everything was wet and cold. After making dinner inside my tent, I just sat there and tried to keep warm while I waited for nightfall. Meanwhile, the French had their four-course dinner served, drank some Bordeaux wine and chatted about bonbons and champignons in the dining-room tent.
That night, I wore my two fleece jackets to sleep. I felt very warm and claustrophobic. In fact, I felt as if I was perspiring profusely. Yet, I was shivering non-stop. WHY? I do not understand COLD! Beam me back to Brazil, Scottie.
Torres del Paine to Puerto Natales, CHILE - 14 january 2003
After nearly 24 hours of rain, I woke up to a beautiful blue sky and a bright sunny day. I even found 5000 Chilean Pesos (about US$7) near my tent. Some discerning readers might think I lost that 5000 Pesos myself last evening. But I could account for all of my pesos. It might be the 5000 Pesos I used to pay for the campsite (3000 Pesos). If so, the guy collecting the payment lost it. Or it might be dropped by one of the French tourists. Viva la France.
It was actually great weather for hiking today. But I just had no inclination to do the last bit to see Glacier Grey. I was exhausted. I had already achieved beyond my wildest expectation and lived to see Refugio Pehoe.
Taking advantage of the bright clear sky, I knew there would be a great view on the boat-ride to Refugio Pudeto and quickly took the 10am boat. Ah, just as I had hoped, Los Cuernos, seen from various angles, remained just as majestic and astounding.
A hiker was transported back on the same boat on a stretcher and in a neck-brace.
Sheesh… Having a neck-brace meant she did not just trip over a rock and fall. She FELL a large distance, probably tumbling down a mountain, I reckoned. The wind… It was indeed dangerous.
I stayed on at Refugio Pudeto until 2:30pm for my bus back to Puerto Natales. There was another boat leaving from Refugio Pehoe at 12:30pm which, by right, I could catch it and still be in time for my bus. But, guess what? By 12:30pm, the entire sky had turned cloudy and there was not a stitch of blue left in the sky. Los Cuernos was lost in the clouds by then. I was lucky.
It started to rain again after I got on my bus. The weather changed so quickly here. I had wanted to take a picture of a guanaco during my hike. I had seen several of them on the bus ride coming into Torres del Paine and now, on the ride out, I spotted them again. Guess they did not do the ‘W’ circuit.
Well, I was mighty pleased that I did the hike by myself and safely too. Can’t wait to rip off my pants and check out my new thigh muscles!
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