Patagonia

What a cool place..I mean that literally, its cold down here! Every trek I have been on, every mountain climbed, came with its weather worries. At Huyana Patosi, in Bolivia it was snow, it just so happened that we were dumped on the night before we summitted, and during the climb as well. In Peru, at both Machu Pichu and the Santa Cruz trek in Huraz, it was rain. Leaking tents, and consistent rain each day made for a lethal combination.

In Patagonia, its wind. There have been reports of people actually being blown off the side of a the trail to fall to their deaths. Specifically, from our information session, the leader spoke of a time when someone was breaking down their tent, a big gust of wind came, he or she held on, and it took them 20 feet off the ground. It is serious stuff, and you need to prepare accordingly. Indeed, the day we checked into Torres de Plaines national park, the forecast called for 85 km/hr winds that day, and 75 the next. I don´t know how many miles an hour that is, but I can tell you from experience, it is a lot!

A truly action packed hike, there were highlights on everyday of the trip. The first big one was glacier grey, situated just above lake grey, we spent the day fighting the wind for a campsite shouldering the glacier. Just a 5 hour hike ahead, this would be our easiest day, and fittingly so since your packs are the heaviest at the beginning. On the way, we were gifted with the sights of many icebergs floating along in the grey lake, and when we finally got our close up encounter with glacier grey...well it was breathtaking. First of all, at the shear size of this thing, but later at its intricate beauty. It looked like a chef had chopped and diced up some onions, then froze them together, adding blue food coloring, and then sprinkling some pepper on top of it all. Some of the slices had intense blue color, it was really cool. And you could almost feel the pressure and impact this giant piece of ice was having on the area. Can you imagine the amount of pressure that this thing had?? several miles long (as far as I could see) and maybe 50 ft high at its base (again where I could see)....that has to be thousands of tons of ice moving down the mountainside! Oh, and did I mention the effect on the weather?? Because, yes, it has one. This is part of the 3rd largest ice shelf in the world, and it impacts the climate all over the world...making it colder of course, so, can you imagine sleeping next to it?? It was a cold night.

But, we were happy to be seeing it, and ate up every minute of the 15 hours of sunlight this place offers. Once we managed to crawl out of our sleeping bags the next day, we realized we had slept in, and were now on the clock to make it to our next campsite. The whole trek was in the shape of a W and waking on the first morning we were at the top of the first point of the W, the goal was to make it to the next top point for camp that night, then again at the final top for the last. Day two was spent hiking up the ¨French Vally¨which was equally amazing. It offered high mountain peaks, literally surrounding you. Meanwhile, you walk through this lush valley occupied by dense forest one minute, then a rock scape remaining from a landslide the next. It was constantly changing. In fact, we saw at least 5 giant pieces of glacier break off from the mountains above to come crashing down the mountainside...usually landing on other glaciers. Again, I couldn't stop thinking about how cool this place is, and how many of my friends and family would love this spot as well.

But Allan was struggling. He has made all of the aforementioned treks with me, and always dealt with some pain in his knees, which he knows are bad. But this time it was getting the best of him. Each step was getting more painful, and he knew that for everyone he went up, he would have to get down the next day...the real tough part on the knees. The next day, after a trying 7 hour hike, and getting down the valley we had previously conquered...he was ready to call it a day. I don´t blame him, especially since the park offers ´refugios´along the way where they are serving people nice dinners with wine and coffee and cake...and all inside a heated cabin. These were tough to walk by on the trail and pass up. But, I always felt more hard core camping and cooking outside on my own...that, I feel, is a more realistic outdoors experience. But, to each their own.

He went in, and I went up. The last day, was easily the longest. I spent a solid 10 hours of hiking that day, but I had to make it to a certain point. Specifically, the Torres Campsite. The Torres, (or towers in English) were what everyone visited the park for. They are 3 amazingly unusual tall skinny mountain peaks sticking out of this already unique mountain range- giving it its namesake Torres de Plaines, or Towers of the Plains. You see, Patagonia is normally a flat place, this park is really the exception more than the rule. Usually it is long plains filled with grasses, shrubs...and wind! What makes these 3 towers even more special though, is that at sunrise, when the lighting is just right, they light up like the red rocks in southern Utah, or Arizona- you picture this among the snow sitting at their base, and the blue grey lake below that, and you truly have a terrific feast for the eyes.

This was the goal. Now, you can´t do anything about the weather, but- I´m going to be damn sure I will be up there at sunrise- just in case I luck out and see the unforgettable. The idea then, is to get to the closest campsite (Torres Campsite) so that your hiking in the dark early the next morning is minimized. Trying to adhere to this plan is now difficult, I have lost my travel companion, which now means I am carrying the whole tent and all of the food myself. The hardest day of the trip isn't usually when you need to add 5 or 10 pounds to your pack. Determined as I was though, I made it to the camp around 8:30, I had been hiking for 9 and a half hours...and made it in an hour before sunset. I quickly set up my tent and prepared supper...pasta...of course. But I knew I would need to wake up at 5 am to get there in time for the 7 o´clock sunrise. I was so excited I could hardly sleep!

Up and about at 4:45, I was out and hiking, alone, and with only my headlamp to light the way...I was reveling in the adventure of it all. Around each corner I questioned my step, and every trail marker I found was a small triumph. Crossing rivers on makeshift tree-trunk bridges was of specific adventure in the dark. However, after 30 minutes or so of this, when I am really starting to question where the hell I am going...I catch a glimpse of some other headlamps in the distance behind me. A bit disappointed, I immediately set out at a highlighted pace...no one is catching me!! But, a bit later, I see someone getting close...so I wait up, hoping to talk when he or she gets close. It was another American! He was from Montana, and luckily this was his third time up (so he knew where the hell he was going), and his third attempt at seeing a good sunrise...he first two were unlucky. The accent started, and didn't stop for an hour- at least, and after he realized I was going to keep up with him, he slowed his pace just a little. We ended up passing quite a few people together (turns out I was not the first one awake). And later, as we were getting towards the top, I passed him up. I was the first one to the view point, and the sun was just peaking out from the eastern sky. I looked back down the rocky mountain trail, and noticed an army of headlamps coming my way. Oh great, here comes another Machu Pichu I thought, but it wasn't as bad. There were maybe 50 of us up there, and we were rewarded with a great sunrise.

The towers were indeed illuminated with a fiery dark red, amongst a dark dark grey blue sky...it was a wonderful sight, but it didn't last long. Many, including me, were waiting for it to get better, when I looked the other way to take in the beauty of the actual sunrise, I looked back, and the towers were grey. They turned to stone! OK, they were already stone, but for a minute they looked different, and if you weren't looking, or didn't make it up in time, then you are SOL! I did manage a few good pictures though. Especially good, are the ones of me, bundled into my sleeping bag, using my fleece bag as a giant scarf, freezing my ass off waiting for this sunrise! That, in fact, this along with the lone star nighttime hike, were my favorite moments of this trip. Alone, in my bag, fighting off the cold winds, and waiting for the sight of a lifetime.

I came down, and rubbed it in as much as I could to Allan...but he wasn't having it...going on simply wasn't an option for him. I feel bad he missed out, but I took some good photos for him...and you, to see!

Now, I am enjoying the wonderful small town of Puerto Natales. Deep into Patagonia, they feel pride to their area, not necessarily always for Chile. They sell fresh clams on the street here, 20 clams for a dollar, but otherwise the town is expensive for its size. There are a lot of tourist here, and the cold windy streets cater to our needs. I leave here tonight, making a probably slow journey north to Buenos Aries. Until then, Choa!