From Punta Arenas we take a bus 250 km north across the Patagonian pampa. On our right, across the Strait (at 30 km wide it looks the sea), Tierra del Fuego; on our left, vast fincas; showers coming and coming. Excitement as we have our first views of guanacos (Patagonian "camel") and ñandú (huge birds a bit like bustards); and condors.
Three hours later we enter Puerto Natales, a small, sprawling town that looks largely unchanged since its meat- and wool-processing days a century ago. Colourful lines of brightly painted wooden houses run down to a shore surrounded by peaks. The centre, dominated by outdoor gear shops and restaurants, is set back several blocks; perhaps protection from the incessant wind. In the side streets delightfully old fashioned stores - food, toys, ironmongery - cater to locals' needs. Stray dogs hang out at every corner.
We potter around, intending to stroll around the shore but quickly defeated by the wind. Our hotel is an odd place: it has the feel of a cheap hostal: at breakfast the idea of coffee is to add a Nescafé sachet to a cup of hot water; but it has the tarif of a 3-star hotel.
10 December
In the morning the bus station is organized chaos as several hundred backpackers climb into buses run by four different companies to travel the two hours to Torres del Paine National Park. I'm starting to feel uneasy as I look at everyone's state-of-the-art gear; am I adequately equipped? (No, but I get away with it because we have incredibly lucky weather.)
Twenty kilometres before the park entrance we suddenly look to our left and see the whole range looming ahead. And then the Torres peaks - the "towers" that give the park its name. (See Facebook photo.) Lit up against grey and uncertain skies they are an imposing and dramatic site. At the gateway to the park it's compulsory to listen to a video presentation of Do's and Don'ts. A zero-tolerance policy has been instigated following the calamitous forest fire in 2011 (caused by a walker burning some rubbish and the wind spreading it like... er... wildfire). Amongst the usual regulations one might expect in a national park are a couple that will cause us some stress in future days: the need to stay on paths at all times (Juan specialises in going off piste in search of botanic specimens), and encouragement to report on anyone seen breaking the rules (the paths will be very busy - the park receives over 100,000 visitors per year - and we will rarely be out of sight of fellow trekkers). Penalties for infringing the rules range from being expelled from the park to fines of many thousand dollars.
One further stretch on the bus brings us to Pudeto, from where a catamaran hurtles us across sunny, turquoise Lake Pehoé. The wind is insane. But we choose the upper deck, dodging spray as the iconic Cuernos reveal themselves, followed by Cerro Paine Grande. A thrilling approach to the starting point of our 5-day walk.
We land at Paine Grande refuge on the north-west shore, a fabulous spot with views to the surrounding peaks and lake. From there we will do the classic "W" trek, so called because it involves three valley walks (the vertical bits of the "W") connected by lakeside routes. The first section is to Refugio Grey. We walk up a glen and then contour alongside Lago Grey. The wind, in places, is spectacularly strong - virtually throwing us to the ground; the sense of wilderness intoxicating. We walk through fire-ravaged forest that looks permanently destroyed, testimony to that thoughtless moment three years ago - but at least shrubs and flowers seem to be recovering well.
Sighting three "new" orchids ensures we take 5 hours to do the 3.5 hour walk. As we descend towards the refuge we see distant views of Grey Glacier spewing around La Isla, at the head of the lake. The forest in this later part of the walk is untouched by fire; charred skeletons give way to healthy green. A relief to see this.
The original plan had been to stay inside the refuge but there was no availability when we tried to book 4 months previously, so we are camping, with all equipment rented from the refuge. (We quickly get used to a different smell with each sleeping bag we use!) Arriving in drizzle, the wind driving hard, and with tents squished so close the guy ropes are overlapping, the refuge looks alluringly luxurious: a bar, sofas, chilled background music. But the camping spot is well sheltered. During the night we can hear the wind battling high in the trees above but all is calm in our tent.
Although camping, we eat breakfast and supper in the refuge. The standard start to the day in all the refuges will be orange squash (!), cereal, scrambled egg, bread and jam, with tea or Nescafé. On a couple of occasions we time our walks to have lunch at the refuge, also. At Refugio Grey we have the strangest meal of the holiday: mussel and "meat" soup served with orange squash. Chilean refuges could learn a lot from their European counterparts in terms of hygiene, table and service organization, food. But the half bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon we buy each evening are very welcome. On our table this first evening are four French guys, for whom this is a first trek. What a baptism. I am intrigued by their lack of commitment. It sounds as though the trek is an impulse affair - they say they'll see how it goes tonight before making a decision about continuing.
11 December
The reason for coming to this part of the Park is Grey Glacier. The first indications of ice ahead are chunks of blue icebergs floating in Lago Grey. From the refuge we walk half a kilometre to the edge of the forest and suddenly see the glacier tongue ahead, the lake at its base. It's a magnificent sight, and so strange for us - familiar with high-level Alpine contexts - to be virtually at sea level, and approaching via temperate forest. We spend several hours exploring the lookout points. We don't get the close-up views you gain with a boat trip. But our semi-aerial perspective, showing the glacier in the context of the much larger ice field of which it is a part, together with the solitude, count for more. Not restricted to a viewing platform or tour-guide schedule we drink it in, the desolation feeding our psyches in some strange way.
Retracing our steps we arrive back at Paine Grande where a couple of dozen red and orange tents are huddled like sheep against the flank of the hill adjacent to the refuge. We follow our evening routine: hot shower (yes!), diary/note-writing, supper, early bed. As we approach the mid-summer solstice the evenings are deliciously long, and this one particularly entrancing as the last rays of sun like up Cerro Paine Grande and the hills to the north of Lake Pehoe. The refuge's huge windows allow us to watch in comfort - the wind chill is way too much to do so outside. As we retreat to our tent there are no arguments about when to switch off the light - Mother Nature decides.
12 December
The next section, from Paine Grande to Refugio Los Cuernos, is stunning - perhaps my favourite day of the walk. The track skirts the base of Cerro Paine Grande, passing along Lago Skottsberg - and through a massive area of fire-blasted forest. Continuing anti-clockwise around the mountain, Glaciar Francés comes into view high above the Rio del Francés. There's an option to walk up and down the Francés valley but we decide in favour of a slower walking pace to enjoy the many views over Lago Nordenskjöld. In full sun we relish the novel sensation of feeling hot.
Refugio del Cuernos lies at the foot of the "Cuernos", the distinctive jagged horns on the north shore of Lago Nordenskjöld. Run by the company Fantastico Sur, house rules are a little different from Grey and Paine: we have to leave our boots at the door (normal practice in a refuge) and walk inside in socks (not normal - in Europe slippers or Crocs are provided). A trip to the loo wearing socks, with water from hand basins spilling liberally onto the floor, not to mention the situation adjacent to the loo, is an ordeal for the next three refuges!
In hilly, forested terrain not well suited to camping the ingenious solution is to build wooden platforms. Tents are then pitched directly onto these, anchored by hooks rather than pegs. Wood being no harder than the ground we stand an even chance of sleeping, subject to the bed time of our ever-close neighbours, how well we tolerate the thin sleeping mats - and ourselves! There is the bonus, here, of fantastic bird life. Strange that we haven't seen a single pair of binocs so far. Perhaps, as for us, they didn't survive the final re-pack. In my case I also threw out my inflatable pillow (mistake), suntan lotion (big mistake), gaiters (good decision), change of trousers (I was lucky - no rain).
At supper many faces are familiar. Walkers travel virtually in convoy from one hut to the next, either west to east (as we are doing) or the reverse. Conversations revolve around itineraries past and future. Before coming to Patagonia I had never met anyone who'd been to Antarctica; here, every other trekker has been. Everyone may look the same but backpackers come in all shades, from the 20-somethings on extended travels, striking up friendships and hiking mates, talking about places they've "still gotta do", to hedge-fund managers on one week's annual leave. Juan quickly tires of eavesdropping and disappears off piste up a hill; I bask on the refuge terrace.
13 December
We continue east along Lago Nordenskjöld, with huge views to the south that fit our image of Norway. The vast horizons allow us to feel in the heart of the wilderness, despite continuous "hola-ing" of fellow trekkers. But the requirement to stay on the track is beginning to be irksome and we are starting to misbehave...
By the end of the afternoon we have clear blue skies and red noses. Summer at last. At the end of the lake we swing north east around Cerro Almirante Nieto and can see our destination - the Torres complex: $500 per night hotel, refuge, campsite. Set in light woodland away from the tourist hub, with views to Cerro Almirante and the Torres themselves, the campsite is idyllic. I test my Rohan shirt's claim to dry in 3 hours; it passes.
14 December
The Torres complex is road accessible, so trekker traffic on paths to and from it, and the variety of walkers (equipped/in shape or not), is extreme. We walk up a seriously eroded trail towards Refugio Chileno. The view is very reminiscent of our alpine stomping ground: steeply glaciated with a snowy peak at the head of the valley.
We drop off some of our gear at the refuge, where we'll be spending the night, and plod upwards. Some people are walking with a guide - the first time we've seen this and not really necessary if you're capable of putting one foot in front of the other; there is only one path. But as I run out of puff near the top I "surf" on the energy of a passing group to get me up the final 100 m. And then the sudden view of the giant Torres, with their massive vertical walls plunging down to a ledge where melting ice created striated patterns on the rock, is jaw-dropping. A suitable climax to this exceptional walk. We spend a couple of hours investigating the sparse flora (Juan) and snoozing (Rebecca).
15 December
After a second night in a "tent on stilts" we walk back down to Torres. Hikers are already gathering at the bus stop 2 hours before departure, tanking up on Corona beer. It's an easy wait on yet another sunny day. From the bus we see the countryside between Torres and Puerto Natales at its best: Scotland meets South Africa meets Australia meets (Spanish) León. It's clear that there is so, so much more to Patagonia than Torres del Paine, astounding though that is.
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