Living in Neverland: Torres del Paine aka "Tour de Pain"

“Holy s*@!, this was a mistake. I can’t even find the trail to start, my back pack weighs 100 lbs., these walking sticks are completely useless, and I am drenched in sweat. And, everyone else around me looks way more legit than I do. What if I just skipped this part of my trip? My mom is the only one who knows that I was going to do it, and I can handle her teasing.”

These were the thoughts occupying my mind as I wandered around looking for the trailhead to Campamento Seron. Everyone said that the trail was obvious; am I an idiot? This does not bode well for the rest of the trek, the next 8 days. Eventually, I found a group of people who were also searching for the trailhead and that greatly reassured me that I was in fact, not totally hopeless. So with two South Africans, two Brits, an American, and a Netherlander, I began my 8 day trek through Torres del Paine National Park in southern Chile.

Day 1: Lake Amarga à Campamento Seron (11km; 5 hours)

fake it 'til you make it

I am soaked with sweat (so much for moisture wicking shirts!), being devoured by mosquitos, and being crushed by my ~40 pound back pack; what the heck was I thinking?! Adding to these physical discomforts was my dismay with the trail. Spoiled by the unbelievable hikes that I had just done in El Chalten, this walk back to Camp Seron was a massive let down. As I reached the park entrance and began my hike, I had visions of wild grandeur in my mind: hiking through remote, rugged, inaccessible areas that you could only reach on foot, or maybe by horseback…and then a car came flying by me, spewing gravel and choking me in a cloud of dingy brown dust. The ‘trail’ was basically a road. At times it ran parallel to the road and was a footpath, but most of the time we shared the gravel road with the park rangers and camp coordinators that came flying by in their trucks, laughing as they passed by. My lofty dreams of a once in a lifetime adventure deflated with each car that passed by, with each step that I took alongside the well-worn road. So, with the trail situation combined with my pack digging into my shoulders and rubbing my back, I was not the happiest camper there ever was. I was also irritated by the stupid walking sticks that I had rented, because everyone insisted that I ‘would need’ them. False. While they may be helpful for others, they were merely a hindrance to me and I was annoyed that I not only paid to rent them, but now had to carry them around for 8 days, adding a few extra pounds to my pack.

I kept trying to shake my pessimistic attitude and appreciate where I was. This trek is world-renowned; surely it earned that reputation for a reason. Surely, there was something that I was missing and things would get better. About an hour outside of camp, the trail finally detoured from the road and I could pretend that I was in the middle of nowhere. Still, the walk fell way below the overeager expectations that I had formed. It was flat. It was wide open. There were no mountains in sight. I felt like I was walking through a wheat field in one of those non-descript mid-western states back home. The only break in the monotony was the river laconically winding its way through the tall grasses. Arriving to camp was a much welcomed relief. Dump the pack, set up the tent, hide inside from the mosquitos, strip off my sweaty clothes. That was my only thought process. It was only about 2:30 in the afternoon, so I had a ton of time to kill, but little entertainment (stupidly, I had not brought a book, convinced that the extra pound might kill me). Instead, I tried to take a nap in my tent, but the breeze had stilled and the sun was high and hot overhead. Laying in a pool of my own sweat, I again questioned my decision to go on this trek.

Day 2: Campamento Seron à Campamento Dickson (19km; 6h 15m)

The morning announced itself with harsh rays of sunshine piercing the shell of my tent and bringing me back to consciousness. Stumbling out of my tent, I stretched out my sore muscles, then gathered my supplies and headed to the cook tent for breakfast, oatmeal with nuts and dried fruit. After breakfast, I began to pack up my things and break down my tent, the process of which proved to be a bit of a struggle for me. Not yet having any kind of system, and managing to fully unpack my bag the night before, the contents of which were scattered on the floor of my oversized tent, caused me to take over 90 minutes to get myself organized and ready to hit the trail. Grudgingly, I sling the pack onto my back and wince as the discomfort from yesterday returns. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.” This was my mantra as I shuffled off down the trail.

I started in the Iowa wheat fields again, but gradually the landscape transformed into the more rugged, interesting terrain that I had been hoping for. Following a grueling uphill climb, I am treated to vista of a massive lake, filling the valley and ending at the base of the mountains in the distance. It is at this point that I get a glimpse of the first glacier of many that I encountered on the trek. Brilliant white, and blinding to look at, the glacier seems to hover between the peaks. Now this is what I was hoping for! Immediately my spirits lift and my excitement about this adventure revives itself. Atop the lookout, I encountered two other Americans and after enjoying a snack together and taking a few photos, we each moved on at our pace, occasionally leapfrogging each other along the trail. This was the case for most of the trek: there was a group of about 25 of us doing the O Circtui Trek , and while I enjoyed hiking by myself and setting my own pace (aka, turtle pace), I always looked forward to getting to camp and hanging out with the other trekkers while cooking our meals and relaxing after the day’s hike.

Unlike yesterday, where the highlight was getting to camp and dumping my gear, the highlight today was the stunning hike. We were finally in the mountains and our trail wound its way alongside a small river, providing a continuous soundtrack for the day’s adventure. Ups and downs, forests and fields, vast views and screens of trees, today had a bit of everything. And when I did reach the camp, the day only got better: this camp was incredible! Situated on the tip of a peninsula which protruded into the calm waters of the lake, the camp was idyllic and scenic. The ridgeline that surround the western side of the camp made for an interesting silhouette against the royal blue sky. To the east was the lake, and just beyond that, more mountains with snow piled haphazardly in the crevices and valleys. Within the camp were grazing horses, used to pack supplies in and out to various camps – no more cars back here! Sitting on the rocky lake shore, then meandering back to camp to enjoy the sunset provided the perfect ending to the day.

Day 3: Campamento Dickson à Campamento Los Perros (12km; 4 hours)

I started the day where I left off yesterday: sitting on the shore watching the sunrise, and enjoying the stillness before others awoke and brought the camp to life. Once the color show was over, I began preparations for the day. Much more efficient this go round, I had eaten breakfast, and packed my bag, and made my PBJ for lunch, and was on the trail within an hour. Also, when I picked up my pack and slung it onto my back, it actually felt lighter! It did not make me cringe to have that weight settle on my back and I was feeling much more comfortable! It may have actually been noticeably lighter, but was more likely due to the fact that I fidgeted with the straps and finally found the best setting for myself. I was no longer having to use my butt as a shelf to keep the pack up, and my left arm was no longer going tingly with shots of pain after an hour of carrying the weight. Life was good! And I felt slightly more confident in my pursuit.

Today’s trail was also right up my alley. It weaved through the forest, along a river, and over rocky expanses; it was constantly changing and it was interesting. Walking through the forest, it was musty and damp, filled with moss covered trees with twisted, gnarled limbs, arising from a bed of emerald-colored ferns. Through the trees, the sound of running water trickled into my ears and I could occasionally catch glimpses of its source as I meandered along. For whatever reason, I saw way less people today as I hiked – I was not constantly playing leap frog with other hikers and could completely immerse myself in the solitude of the woods. When I stopped for my lunch break – PBJ and some nuts – there was not another soul in sight and it was amazing.

During the hike, you would encounter some swamp-like areas, where, in a vain effort to keep hiers’ boots from getting muddy (heaven forbid peoples’ brand new, state of the art, brand name hiking boots actually get dirty!), some ambitious souls laid planks across the swamps to form walkways. While these ‘bridges’ were formed with the best of intentions, they actually created an obstacle course for those of us lacking balance. Trying to cross the balance beam of planks while fighting the wind and lugging 30 pounds on your back, and also trying to enjoy the scenery, is a major feat. More often than not, I would get blown off (fall off) the walkway and end up in the spongy swamp, where the mud and water flooded through my ripped boots and soaked my socks. On other occasions, the planks were arranged to actually form a proper bridge, but they always looked like something out of a Dr. Suess book – planks of different sizes, nailed together seemingly without regard to any measurement or layout, which created a roller coaster of a bridge. Although these bridges required extra attention, they were actually kind of charming and added a little something extra to the hike.

Up to this point, we had been blessed with amazing weather: sunny days with only light breezes. However, during the last hour of this hike, Patagonia felt the need to defend her reputation and remind us of what she can do. The wind picked up, out of nowhere clouds converged to blot out the blue sky, and rain began to fall. Trying to climb up a 30 degree rocky slope is difficult enough; doing it on wet, slippery rocks with the wind constantly throwing you off balance is a whole different matter. Upon reaching the top of this slope, I used only a few minutes to take in the lake and glacier in front of me before directing my steps towards camp. As I walked the rest of the way, I was wondering on earth I was going to set up my tent in this wind?! Long story short, it required lots of rocks and every part of my body. I felt like I was playing a game of Twister, having to strategically place my hands and feet in various locations to hold the tent down and myself up. Of course, as soon as I had my tent staked down, the wind calmed and the blue skies banished the clouds. Pre-dinner, I walked back out to the lake to fully enjoy the glacial scene, but as soon as I plopped down on a rock, the wind returned with a vengeance and I was doused with a spray of cold lake water. That was all the urging that I needed to return to camp, eat dinner, hang out with other hikers, and snuggle into my sleeping bag.

Day 4: (Glacier Day!!!!) Campamento Perros à Campamento Grey (23km; 10 hours)

The anticipation of today’s hike kept me from having the most restful night of sleep. I kept waking up, thinking it was time to pack up and hit the road. This was the biggest day of the entire trek, and I had been simultaneously dreading and anticipating it. Today was the day that we would make the brutal crawl up to a mountain pass and get to see Grey Glacier, a mind-blowingly large ice field! We had been informed that we needed to be walking by 6 or 7 am in order to improve our chances of having cooperative weather. In the afternoons, the wind picks up and it is not uncommon for rain or mist to obscure your vision. We were warned of the importance of following the trial markers and not straying from the trail and not trying to walk onto the glacier – apparently, two people have already died this season for those reasons, and only one of the bodies was ever recovered. So, with all this in mind, you can understand why I had a restless night’s sleep and woke up before my 5am alarm.

Fumbling for my headlamp, I began the morning processes of breakfast, packing, and breaking down the tent. By this time, I had become quite adept at it and I was ahead of schedule! In fact, I was the first one to hit the trail, but that only lasted about 5 minutes as a group of four passed me as I shed some layers of clothing. (That was the worst; if you had too many clothes on then got sweaty, because when you stopped for a break or when the wind picked up, you would be freezing). For the next 15 minutes or so, I was chasing the light from their headlamps, watching them to make sure that I was on the right track. And then, my headlamp died. I still had about an hour of darkness to cope with, so I slowed my pace to be more cautions and watched their lights fade into blackness. Luckily, I maintained a slow and steady pace and caught up with them about 20 minutes later. I was grateful to be with them, for both the company and the bit of illumination.

The swampy areas from the previous day extended to this territory as well, and you occasionally felt your foot being sucked down with an ill-placed step. My poor boots had seen better days and with holes in each, my socks were soon soaked and lined with muck. As gross as it was, it added a humorous element to hear the various yelps as we each fell prey to the swamp. I loved this part of the hike. Creeping through the forest in the dark added to the adventure and created an aura of mystery and anticipation. I was almost bummed when the sun broke the horizon and colored the sky with its fiery hues, but the vibrant display assuafed my disappointment that the night hiking was over.

The downside to having natural light illuminate our path was that we could now look ahead and see all that we had to conquer. As far as the eye could see were rocks and boulders forming a steep incline up, up, up, until it met with the sky. Slow and steady was the name of the game; we plugged on and stopped only for short breaks, never letting ourselves get too comfortable and loose our momentum. It helped that we had incredible views as we climbed up. On our right was a glacier, basking in the golden glow of sunrise; behind us the sun was coming up and filling the valley below with soft light; directly in front of us was the promise of terrific views, we just had to get there. So on we continued, always up, many times thinking that we couldn’t go any higher only to find a false summit. Luckily for us, we were given another gorgeous day. The blue sky was decorated with clouds – some wisps, others like cotton candy, and other forming striations across the sky – and sunshine added a warmth to the entire scene. The wind was present, but not overpowering. Everything was in our favor and we cheerfully made our way up the pass.

When we finally topped out, we were stopped in our tracks by the scene that lay below us. “I can’t even; I just can’t even…” I don’t know what on earth I was trying to say, but I clearly could not express it. In front of us Grey Glacier dominated the scene, stretching to fill my entire field of vision. Its blue ripples were accented by the sunlight and the shadows of the clouds added another dimension to this already beautiful scene. With the sun behind us our shadows were elongated towards the glacier, and made for a pretty amazing picture. As I stood there, I could barely take it all in: the glacier, the clouds, the mountains, the lake in the distance. It was a total sensory overload. For days after, I looked back at these pictures and noticed something new every time. Eventually the strong, cold winds brought an end to our gaping and we bagn our descent. And holy cow, was it a descent. The trail down was so steep and difficult to navigate in some places, that I found myself being grateful for the few short uphill sections. After just two hours of going downhill, my knees were aching and my thigh muscles shaking. Despite the pain, I was in heaven. We were walking next to a freaking glacier! Between the trees, we could see it towering over us as we descended to its base.

An unbelievable glacier, a gorgeous trail, and good company; could this day get any better?! Yep. The improvement came in the form of three massive suspension bridges spanning deep avalanche chutes in the mountainside. As you walked onto the bridges, you could feel them bounce and sway beneath you. Each footstep reverberated the length of the bridge, sending vibrations through your own body. From these bridges, we had incredible views of the glacier and waterfalls coming off the mountain; you just had to be brave enough to stop and look and ignore the moving bridge beneath you. Ahhh, it was so cool! Crossing these bridges allowed you to have your own Indiana Jones moment and feel like an explorer! Of course, I giggled the entire time, laughing out loud at my good fortune and incredulous at how I ended up in this part of the world.

In a haze of wonder, I completed the rest of the hike with our little group. At every look out point we stopped to observe the glacier from a new angle; we never tired of gazing out at its expanse and marveling at its sheer size. As we reached the end of the glacier, we watched chunks break off and plunge into the lake, then slowly drift away to join the collection of orphaned icebergs that had gathered in a sheltered bay of the lake. We took some extra time here to really soak in what we had accomplished and enjoy the last bit of exclusivity that we had been experiencing; we knew that once we got to Camp Grey, there would be infinitely more people since it was part of the W Trek. As we came into camp, our assumptions were affirmed. No more tiny little guard house and a small patch of land to hold 25 tents. This was a compound, complete with a little store, dining room, dorms, showers, and a ton of people. On the back side it was always easy to find a sheltered spot to pitch your tent, but here, all those spots were taken, and we were forced to make camp in the middle of a field, with no protection from the ferocious winds that had been building throughout the day. Noticing the gathering rain clouds, I hustled to pitch my tent and get my stuff inside before the rain arrived. As I lay in my tent listening to the rain and wind, I had the feeling that this might be a bit of a scary night. And I was not wrong…

PHOTO GALLERY

Day 1: Lake Amara to Seron

none - can you tell how little I enjoyed this first day??

Day 2: Seron to Dickson