TORRES DEL PAINE

PUERTO NATALES

We left El Calafate at first light on the 5:30am bus to the border; a couple of small huts nestled in the Andean foothills. You can't take any food into Chile and after spotting a sniffer dog we ditched our stash of honey. Porridge would never be the same again. An hour south of the crossing is the tin roofed wind battered town of Puerto Natales. It's a quiet place with a rustic charm, a strong wind and an abundance of trekkers. We quickly realised not booking ahead was risky as everywhere seemed to be full. By sheer luck we found a private room with a large single bed or a small double, it depends on your out look on life. It actually worked out cheaper than two beds in the dorm. The hostel is called Chu-Mango and the guy who runs it is a real character. He could speak English but preferred to take the piss out of us in Spanish. 

The main reason travellers pass through this sleepy town is to get to Chile's famous Torres Del Paine national park, a cluster of Andean peaks that rises up 2850m from the Patagonian steppe. With five different micro climates, many different kinds of landscape and hundreds of kilometres of trails it's a hikers paradise. This year to try and prevent overcrowding you have to book all your campsites in the park weeks if not months in advance, even the free ones. This came as a shock as we only found this out from some guys on a bus a couple of weeks back and apparently the bookings were almost full. We booked what we could, but as the campsites are run by different companies the booking system became a massive headache. Luckily for one of the free sites we couldn't get, we turned to our old friend photoshop. (Thanks Jon).

We gave ourselves two days to prep. First thing we needed was a tent. After comparing prices around town we went for a slightly more premium option at Rental Natales, which opened its doors only two months ago. It's run by a really nice guy called Guillaume who really knew his stuff. We opted for slightly cheaper mats and sleeping bags by getting them from a hostel called Yagan House a few doors down. We already had gas and a stove leftover from our last trek around Fitz Roy.

Next up was food. After wandering the aisles of the local supermarket and a few smaller shops our menu was as follows:

BREAKFAST
Porridge with sugar

-

LUNCH
Soup Selection
Cream of Chicken
Creamy sweetcorn
Chicken with rice
Meat with spaghetti
Chicken with semolina
Veg and pasta ring soup

Nutella and peanut butter wrap
Snickers
Handful of homemade trail mix
A few pieces of dried fruit

-

DINNER
We had two nights worth of each option
Anchovies spaghetti with parmesan
Pesto and chorizo spaghetti with parmesan
Chicken and chorizo in a white sauce with parmesan

The tent wasn't much heavier than all the pasta, Helen instantly shot gunned carrying the pasta knowing full well you can't eat a tent to lighten the load.

Everyday at 3pm Erratic Rock hostel gives free a talk about trekking TDP. A lively American girl did the talking and she obviously had trekked the park a lot and loved it. The main thing we learnt was we would probably get wet and sun burnt, probably within the same hour, and mice would eat their way into our tent to get food so we had to hang it in trees. But then it would be at risk of being eaten by other ill-prepared trekkers. With knowledge acquired, food packed and tent rented we spent our evenings in either Basecamp Bar next to Erratic Rock Hostel or Wild Hostel Bar who make an epic burger served with locally brewed beer.

Whilst in Wild we got talking to Louisa Reeve an English Olympic rower who had competed in two Olympic Games! Another highlight of Wild is their Shaggy Dog called Ejho who can open doors with his paws. There is a nice waterfront at the foot of town and on our last evening before the trek we walked the costal path round sunset.

DAY ONE
Central (Las Torres Hotel) to Base de las Torres Lookout and back - 19km - 8 hours

The 7:30 bus raced out of town and into the Patagonian wilderness, soon the road became a gravel track as we shuddered our way into the Andean foothills kicking up a cloud of dust. After about an hour, three sharp granite towers rose up from the Patagonian steppe surrounded by a cluster of snowy peaks. We had arrived.

At the park entrance we watched a short video on park rules and the dangers of fire. Ten years back a Czech trekker set fire to 7% of the park with a camping stove so now things are a lot more controlled, hence the camping bookings I mentioned earlier. It was so severe that the Czech government got involved to help clear up the mess. We filled in some forms to confirm we understood the rules and the penalties. If you use your stove outside a designated cooking area you could be fined $1500 US and spend three years in prison!

We caught a short shuttle bus to the start of the trails and made for camp. Most people leave the towers until the last day as the headline act. However the unpredictable weather meant many people would walk a very long way just to see some granite footed clouds. We chose to give ourselves two shots at the towers by bookending our trek with them. We wasted no time in setting up the tent, ditching the heavy stuff, then quickly got lost looking for the start of the trail. We were accidentally heading for the staff entrance of the near by Las Torres Hotel, a grand looking place at the foot of the mountains. An employee set us back on the right track. 

It's roughly 9km to reach the towers and it's all up hill. It didn't take long to hit the nuts and snickers supply. Luckily the weather was still fairly warm and clear. The tips of the towers were visible every now and then as we followed the trail up grassy slopes and eventually down through a massive windy valley.

Half way down the valley is a Refugio (simple hotel) called Chileno. It's a pretty place and kind of resembles a Swiss alpine lodge (and is just as expensive as one). As we arrived a gaucho lead a trail of horses carrying supplies across a shallow bubbling river.

We hurried on, the tips of the towers were still clear poking up over a ridge, however a swirling wall of cloud was forming behind them. The final climb out of the woods up to the rocky view point was pretty tough, but as you clamber over the final few boulders and find yourself standing in the Chilean tourist boards money shot it's all worth it. Three colossal granite towers rise up from the frozen icy base. The meltwater flows into an impossibly blue lake which is surrounded by other jagged mountains. We found a comfortable looking rock and just sat and stared whilst sipping hot soup from our thermos. (Best purchase yet)

We could have stayed for hours but we still had a three hour hike back to camp and we had run out of soup. Spurred on by dinner we scrambled down and headed back out of the valley for our first of many pasta dishes.

DAY TWO
Central to Seron - 13km - 4 hours

We were up and out by 9:30. I looked up at the towers in the distance to find them cloaked in thick cloud. I felt sorry for anyone up there for sunrise, especially anyone making the four hour trip from this campsite. The sky was a warm grey and there was a light wind rustling the trees. Camp quickly disappeared behind us as we descended over a wooded ridge revealing a large turquoise river. Many rivers in Patagonia are glacier fed giving them an insanely blue colour. It's the kind of blue I would colour rivers in as a kid only to be disappointed by the murky greenish brown of the River Avon. The trail followed the river round various bits of mountain, cut its way across a grassy lowland and round into a massive valley to its source at Glacier Dickson. It will take us two days to get there at our leisurely pace.

Mid way through our hike, we descending over one of many ridges to an exposed flood plain, where a massive wind caught us off guard. Torres Del Paine is famous for its winds (like Helen). It almost knocked us to the floor at first. I was convinced H was going to become a human flag as she dug in and clung to her walking stick. With the wind came sporadic drizzle, it wouldn't last long, but long enough to stick your trousers to you legs. Luckily every cloud has a silver lining and the winds that were blowing along the clouds would also blow dry our clothes with a few healthy gusts. We eventually disappeared into a thick woodland and out the other side that led to a handful of tents sheltering behind a wooden cabin. We had made it to Seron.

Three horses stared at us from a small paddock as a gaucho in a traditional floppy beret, striped them of reigns and saddle. We spent the evening sitting on the decking outside the cabin talking to the other travellers. It was sheltered from the winds and made a good stadium to see who had put up their tent correctly as frequent strong gusts would flatten ill pegged tents. We chatted to two northerners from Newcastle, a couple of Americans and two girls called Camellia from Israel and Caro from Belgium. Trump and Brexit were often the first topics when Americans and Brits were at the table. However soon we learnt the northerners had recently been trekking in Nepal and the conversation got a whole lot better. We started to wish our pasta was Dal Bhart and wondered if there was anywhere round here we could get a yak burger and snickers roll.

DAY THREE
Seron to Dickson - 18km - 6 hours

By the time we were up and ready, most people had already left camp. We took our time, and left around 9.30 (ish) There was a river crossing soon after the campsite and we were a little unsure of the best way to cross. Luckily some gauchos on their horses turned up and showed us the way.

There was a short sharp climb half an hour into the walk. We turned a corner into a beautiful valley and before we could say anything we again experienced the famous Patagonian winds, twice if not three times stronger than yesterday's. They hit you with such a force, stealing your breath and words from your mouth. Any loose straps on your bag whipped and slapped you, and our hair was everywhere. It was a challenge to stand up and walking in a straight line was out of the question. We didn't hang around for too long up there, and quickly began our descent into the new valley. The wind lessened but every so often an unexpected gust caught you and it would take everything you had to withstand it! In this new section of the walk a huge blue lake flowed below us and some crazy UFO looking clouds drifted above.

For the whole day we were leap frogging with Caro and Camellia, the girls we'd met at dinner the night before. They seemed to be going roughly at our pace and taking nice breaks at approximately the same time as us, we bonded over sharing trail mix.

At 1pm we arrived at the CONAF guard station where we had to show our bookings for the next few nights otherwise we couldn't pass. On the sign in sheet we could see that 43 people from Seron had already passed through that day. We must have been the last, as we had hardly seen anyone.The CONAF guys live in the guard stations around the park for 10 days at a time after hiking in, and then get 5 days off. That was roughly our plan too.

The final three hours of the day were a slow plod along pretty much flat land. An hour in we saw a snow covered mountain come into view and spent the next two hours getting closer as the surroundings revealed more of the ice field, glaciers and massive towers of granite, too steep for snow to cling to.

The view of the campsite was super cool. It was on a peninsular at the foot of Glacier Dickson and was surrounded by a lake complete with a couple of large bobbing icebergs. We could see the Refugio building and the little tents dotted around. We had made it, although so had the rain.

DAY FOUR
Dickson to Los Perros - 12km - 4 hours

It rained all night. We woke up and it was still raining. We made breakfast and it was still raining. We took down the tent, in the rain, and at 11am we finally accepted that it was going to keep on raining all day and left camp - in the rain. It was only a short walk of four hours today but the rain did not let up once. Within minutes our clothes were soaked through. Luckily everything in our bags were safe in bin bags or dry bags, we just had to get through the day! We powered on without any real breaks, eating as we went and only stopping to drink hot soup to keep us warm.

Visibility was almost zero, and we could only guess what the Los Perros valley looked like from its viewpoint, I'm sure it was lovely!

The last half an hour was insane. We climbed higher and the wind and rain intensified, smacking us in the face with fat icy drops. At one point visibility was so poor and there were hardly any markers to show us the way and for a second I thought we were done for. But then we noticed the cairns (piles of stones) showing us the way. We power marched over the rocks and past a raging river and saw the tin roof of a building not too far away shivering in a patch of woodland. We were met by the ranger who let us know there was a big room we could dry off in and make food. However with a broken fireplace and two windows made of flapping plastic sheets, it wasn't going to be the warm cabin in the woods we had hoped for. We went to dump our bags and were greeted by the familiar faces of people we'd met over the last two days. Camellia handed us some hot tea which we gratefully drank. Everyone's wet clothes were hanging everywhere, and sleeping bags that hadn't been safely wrapped up were now dripping from the rafters. We realised we'd better go put up our tent straight away otherwise it would be so much worse to go back out later on. We'd already pulled off our soaking wet gloves so our hands were almost lumps of ice by the time the tent was up. Then it was time to defrost, change and try to get warm. We got through the afternoon by having several thermoses of soup, huddling all together like penguins and putting on all our dry stuff.

We met Chioma when she came over to Will, said "hold this for me" so she could get changed behind a towel. Great first meeting! Then we met Jerren who looked like he was close to hypothermia so we gave him a mug of soup. John and Cameron were a comedy double act from the States who had walked from Seron that day. They were super cold and quickly got in their sleeping bags to warm up as they'd been in the rain for hours.

SHUT THE DOOR!! The door latch was a bit temperamental so you had to keep the door closed with a stone. It felt like we were in the film 'Hateful Eight', as whenever anyone new arrived and couldn't close the door, we all shouted out "CLOSE THE DOOR, THERE'S A GODDAM BLIZZARD OUT THERE, YOU HAVE TO USE THE STONE TO KEEP IT SHUT"

More and more people piled into the room until it resembled a very wet jumble sale of expensive hiking clothes hanging from every possible place. Everyone was cooking, the stoves were dangerously close to the very flammable synthetic jackets and that's how we spent our afternoon.

In a funny sort of way, that is when we got to know most people and in hindsight was an unexpected highlight of the trip.

At about 7pm an excited and overly positive Australian lady oblivious to the cold shivering trekkers trying to warm themselves announced the sky's were clear and we should all hike ten minutes back down the trail to the Glacier "The sun is out and we won't ever be here again" Chioma still shivering next to Helen piped up and said "Damn right I won't". Still everyone hurried to hang their clothes outside in the wind, and we opened up our tent to attempt to dry things off before bedtime. The suns brief appearance lifted everyone's spirits. Will who was a bit miserable from walking a day in the rain and seeing nothing, grabbed the camera and decided to jog back to the glacier. I stayed inside, drinking my way through our soup supplies.

DAY FIVE
Los Perros to Grey - 15km - 11 hours

We awoke at 7:30am to clear skies, just through the trees the tips of the mountains glowed a vibrant orange in the morning light. This was a massive relief. We were up, packed and out by 6ish and were the first on the trail. We very quickly found ourselves slipping and sliding our way through a forest of damp tree roots and muddy streams. It was hard work and I quickly resigned myself to the fact my boots would not be dry any time soon. We squelched our way out of the forest and found ourselves looking up towards the end of the valley, rising up in the distance.

The path became a giant half pipe of baron frosty boulders and loose shale. We crunched on out into the open keeping an eye out for the orange paint splodges and poles that marked the way. The sun was still out and was being magnified by the snowy mountain tops. As we climbed higher we crossed the snow line and the temperature dropped. We found ourselves heading towards a crisp curved line of loose snowy rock connecting the two sides of the valley. This must be the pass. As we scrambled closer the summits of far off mountains and a large white ice field came into view, we were at the pass. It was a fantastic spot to find yourself with the jagged snowy valley behind us and a colossal expanse of ice below, surrounded by more sharp peaks. Heavy clouds concealed the far end of the ice field that we soon realised were heading for the pass too. We didn't hang around too long as a bitter wind was blowing and we wanted to be far from here before those clouds arrived.

I'd have taken the mornings uphill muddy waterfalls and slippery tree roots any day compared to the descent. Firstly a steep zigzagged path lead down towards Glacier Grey and the ice field. This was okay and the view was amazing, but soon we were clambering down ludicrously steep slippery slopes in thick woodland that clung to a steep mountain side. Trees and bushes would grab your bag and poles and if you weren't concentrating the mud would give way and you were a gonner. It seemed to last for ever and the Glacier never seemed to get any closer through the trees. After a few hours we found everyone from the night before shakey kneed having lunch in a open sided corrugated metal shelter at Campamento Paso. This is the first camp after the pass where the rangers sign you in, to make sure everyone has made it over. Apparently in the bad weather yesterday a group of rangers had to head up to the pass to find a lost group. We also met someone who had crossed yesterday in the gloom and had completely walked past the pass and only realised this 10 minutes too late when he started the descent.

We heated soup and then started our shakey kneed plod down the rest of the route to Grey campsite. It was still about five hours worth of walking along side the Glacier, but promised to not be as steep. Grey is run by a private company and has everything from a posh hotel experience to camping. To us this meant there would probably be a bar there, and we felt like celebrating. Spurred on by thoughts of Chilean wine and beer we probably walked the fastest we have since day one. The route was fairly easy except for a couple of bouldery waterfalls that needed some light foot work to cross. We were rewarded shortly after by two massive suspension bridges that hung high above the side of the Glacier with great views of the national park.

We arrived at Grey to find it was super busy, there was hardly a free patch of flat ground for the tent. We then realised by crossing the pass we had completed the quiet side of the mountain circuit and now were at the start of the 'W' trek which is much more popular. We found a flat-ish spot then went in search of friends, a space too cook and beer. Luckily all three were close by. Unluckily we learnt that a bridge had fallen down yesterday in the bad weather, closing a section of the trail between Paine Grande Camp and Italiano Camp. I was glad to be hearing this news after our two high bridge crossings earlier, but at the same time pissed off as we needed to cross that bridge in two days time. Other than confirming it had fallen the staff at Grey and the CONAF park rangers told us nothing. There was no information what-so-ever and after the pain in the arse of being forced to book all camps in advance, the reality of missing some of them was making the atmosphere around camp a little sour. Luckily Me and H had time but I felt sorry for people on tight timings with flights and busses to catch.

In Grey all campers must cook in a hot, stuffy little room next to the shop. Everyone we huddled with last night for warmth, was now stripping off to try and get cool. We spent the remainder of the evening trying to work our what our options were and hoped there would be more info at the next campsite tomorrow. Helen appeared with a few cold beers, after several attempts to use her credit card failed because the communications/internet was down. We had to celebrate, we had completed the pass after all.

DAY SIX
Grey to Paine Grande - 11km - 3.5 hours

Woke up late which was much needed. Even getting out of the tent seemed like a mammoth task for our weary leg muscles. Creaking and moaning we shuffled to the stuffy room for breakfast and were instantly talked into going on a mini hike to a lookout point in front of the Glacier by Camellia. Walking more was the last thing we wanted to do but for some reason we agreed and headed back to the wall of ice. It was actually quite pleasant without the backpack. Huge blue ice sculptures bobbed around in the dark water with a group of smaller exhibits accompanying them. Some of the tones of blue were so bright and unreal plus the sheer size of these floating bergs up-close was hard to comprehend. A tiny red boat and two even tinier kayaks glided slowly along under the Glacier. It really gave the wall some scale. Still at $xx for the boat and $xx for the kayaks our free rock was a good enough view point.

To delay walking with the packs we relaxed with a coffee in the posh bit of the Refugio. It was the first bit of 'nice' we had felt in a few days and as soon as our bums touched the plush leather sofas it was clear we were not moving for a while. We got talking to a film maker who showed us some wild life photos he had shot over the past few days. One was of a mother and two small pumas playing on a ridge above Paine Grande camp.

Eventually we had to get going if we were to reach Paine Grande in good time, we set off at a slow pace keeping our eye out for the infamous Pumas. It wasn't a particularly long walk but there were quite a few steep up and downs which were not welcome. Still the views over the lake and surrounding mountains were worth the effort. We had Camellia and Caro for company which was great, however by now we knew everyone walking in this direction and were never far from a familiar face.

Paine Grande finally revealed itself after a number of ridges and a deep valley. It has a view of some jagged snowy peaks one side and sits on the edge of a large blue lake on the other. It was a very handsome campsite and the room you had to cook in was the best so far. It had massive windows looking out in all directions at the mountains and lake. One by one it filled with everyone from the days before as everyone was stuck here due to the fallen bridge. Despite the situation there was a good atmosphere. We fried up loads of chorizo to add to our pesto pasta which was a camping culinary game changer!

After dinner John, Caro and I climbed the hillside to watch the sunset, it was a cracker. At first it was the vivid blue of the lake that stole the show until it was upstaged by an equally vivid pink and orange sky. The kitchen / common room was closed when we returned and a few of us decamped to the bar where Mani a friendly Canadian bought a round of beers. We stayed till close watching the last of the light leave the mountains which is pretty late down here. 

DAY SEVEN
Paine Grande to Italiano via a catamaran and bus back to Central and walking in as the bridge was down. 17km - 7 hours

We rose early to watch the sunrise with Mani and a group of Germans who kept overtaking us. First light was well before 5am. We shuffled up the hillside and were at the lookout for about 5:10 already the sky was awash with dawn. We sat and watched the colours change then went back to the tent and fell asleep as if nothing had ever happened. As we picked our way down the steep hill path and through the assault course of guide ropes a plump goose waddled by, three grey foxes slyly passed us in formation, and a massive wide eyed hare munches on something. Good morning Patagonia.

With the bridge still down we only had two options, hike for six hours south out of the park on a closed route to the main road. Here we may or may not be able to get a bus to take us to the park entrance. Or we could take the catamaran run by a private company for an extortionate price across the lake, pay for two buses (with no guarantee there would be buses) to take us back to Central camp at the start of the trail. From there we would have to hike back into the park to the other side of the bridge. It would add an extra day and seven to eight hours walking to our trip.

I'm not pissed off with CONAF for the bridge falling down, shit happens, however I am terribly disappointed in the way it was handled. No information was given to anyone and the only solution was pay a fortune to a private company who were obviously loving this opportunity or leave by foot without any promise of a bus or transport out of the park. This is the problem when private companies get involved and nature becomes business. Natural beautiful places like this should be for everyone not just the rich. Both Chile and Argentina do everything they can to squeeze every penny out of their visitors which leaves a slightly bitter taste that taints the overall experience. However what can you do. Not wanting to end it all here we reluctantly paid up and took the boat / bus. One of the bus drivers was trying to drive up the price they could charge us to get back, knowing full well we would have to pay what ever they decided - luckily a second driver took pity on us, undercut the other prick of a driver and took us all back to the start for a slightly over the odds price but not too bad. At least it was a scenic boat and bus ride through the park, all we needed now was the clouds to clear as they were doing nothing to lighten our mood.

We made it back to Central camp for 12ish and started our seven hour hike to the fallen bridge at camp Italiano. The cloud had been replaced with blue sky and there wasn't a breath of wind. Finally things started to look up. A little way along the path two lakes came into view, we think one was Glacier fed and the other normal surface run off. The differences in the two blues was striking. We followed the Glacier lake for hours, the tones of blue it created were incredible, at times it was more blue than the sky.

We followed its edge for hours up and down over small ridges and valleys eventually arriving at Cuernos, a super posh Refugio. Small chalets were nestled into the hillside with lake views, one even had a hot tub, this is glamping at its finest. Further down towards the banks, tents were set up on little platforms in the woodland and a picturesque wooden cabin and balcony housed the campsites restaurant, bar and hotel area. Obviously this was out of our price range and to camp here you had to reserve a platform and pay for full board at about $80 USD per head. Fantistico Sur the company who owns a few hotels in the park has a reputation for trying to phase our backpackers and make the Torres Del Paine experience more upmarket. Still we thought we would be cheeky and enquire anyway as the bar looked super inviting. To our surprise due to the bridge falling they were allowing people to use all the facilities and camp on any flat ground they could find for 3$ USD per head and we could cook our own food ! What a result. We decided we would continue to Italiano a couple more hours along the lake and break up the long day back by spending the following night here.

Just past Cuernos the path becomes a stoney beach at the edge of the lake. It looked more like a lagoon made of glass. It was a stone skimmers heaven !!! We ditched our bags and shoes and lazed about in the sun, it felt like Philippines rather than Patagonia. After a while we heard the crunching of stones then Camellia, Caro, Cameron and John came into view. It was great to see them as we were unsure whether they were going to call it a day or hike back in as they had less time than us. The next few hours consisted of a few cold dips, lazing about in the sunshine and a few thousand skimmed stones (Skipping stones if you ask the yanks). We eventually dragged ourselves off the beach and up into the foot of Frances Valley to Camp Italiano. After such a long day it didn't take long to cook and crash out.

DAY EIGHT
Italiano to Británico Lookout to Cuernos - 16km - 8 hours

We didn't start too early today as the last few days have started cloudy and we wanted to get the best views up in Valley Francés. We had seen a little way into the valley when walking here yesterday evening, so we were super excited as it looked snowy and big. The path led up from camp and wound through the forest. We reached Francés Lookout in about half an hour, which had a great view of a mountain with lots of snow and ice on it. Suddenly a massive crack rumbled around the valley and a waterfall of ice and snow fell from a unstable outcrop creating a plume of white on the opposite side of the valley.

We headed further into the valley to reach Británico Lookout. On the way we saw Chioma and Jarren who were headed back down, apparently it was pretty easy going until a steep boulder scramble at the end. At the top we found Cameron and John and were joined by Caro and Camellia. We spent two glorious hours lying in the sun on the rocks and ate our last boiled egg. Surrounded on three sides by gigantic granite towers and snowy peaks made us feel like we were in an enormous amphitheatre of rock and ice. It was too big a view to take in all at once, like a professional sunbather, you had to sit for a while looking one way then after some time adjust your position to take in more.

The wind started to pick up signalling it was time to leave. We made our way back down, packed up our tent and walked the two hours back to Cuernos. There weren't a lot of flat camp spots left, obviously a lot of people had gotten wind of the deal they were doing or were stuck there while they waited for a boat to be arranged to do the last bit of the W. We found a spot that half hung over the footpath and half hung over an ants nest. It was perfect. Once we ate our fill of pasta, we headed to the bar for a game of Ludo and a bottle of Chilean red - we'd been craving both for days. We had a table by the window overlooking the lake below and stayed there till sunset.

We were kicked out at ten but sat outside until eleven with the three American guys who ran past us on the pass day. One had seriously rolled his ankle earlier today and was using beer and Camellia's magic cream to numb the pain.

DAY NINE
Cuernos to Campamento Torres - 19km - 6 hours

This was always going to be a long day and we were so pleased we had cut off two hours by staying at Cuernos camp last night instead of Italiano as planned. We were walking the same route as a couple of days ago but because of the change in weather, it felt rather different. The once still calm lake was full of white horses, charged up by the wind, and waves were crashing onto the beach we had chilled out on. We had to run across parts to save ourselves from the icy water, which was incredible in itself because our legs didn't have much left to give!

In a few hours we came to the turn off that pointed the way for a shortcut to Chileno. It did not feel like a shortcut and it was here, somewhere in the middle of this bloody shortcut, at a time when it would be impossible to make the bus back to town that day, that I thought why the hell are we going back up to the Torres, we've put ourselves through this already, isn't once enough!! It can be hard to get out of the downtrodden mindset when hiking and although I tried to be upbeat I really felt like I'd finally had enough. A snickers bar did little to help, as did singing attempts. We even tried to have a nap out of the wind in the sun but this ended abruptly when I realised I was laying on an ants nests and the little buggers were nipping my arm. In the end we just slowly shuffled on, until finally we reached the main path and a little while later, saw the unmistakable tin roof of Chileno, which cheered me up no end. It's weird how your mental state can completely change in an instant but this was all I needed to buoy me on.

We practically ran there, and chilled out in the sun for an hour, snoozing and reminiscing. Spurred on by the knowledge that the campsite really wasn't that far away, and snacked up on nuts, we made the final ascent to camp. We had no problem with the CONAF guys, even though our photoshopped reservation was for the day before because of the bridge. Tent pitched for the final time, we made dinner then decided why not go up to the towers right now, why sit around down here when we can sit around up there.

So that's what we did.... even though we also planned to go for sunrise at 5am. An hour later we were at the top. It was bloody freezing already as the sun had dipped behind the towers but we had a clear pale blue sky and the glow of the days sun. It was perfect. One by one, groups started to leave as the cold got too much, until finally we were the only ones there. By eight we were about to head down, when some wispy clouds floated over. You know the type, absolutely perfect sunset clouds, the type that blaze with colour. How could we go down now? It was still an hour and 45 minutes still sunset but we decided to wait it out. We had a sleeping bag and soup to keep us warm and when that didn't work, we ran up and down the hill to warm up. We both freaked out when we heard something that sounded like a wolf howling, but realised it was a human doing a wolf impression about ten minutes later when two people appeared in the distance. We chatted with them and we all decided to stay up there.

Unfortunately, around about the time the sunset should be happening, all of those perfect sunset clouds suddenly disappeared. We had frozen our arses off for nothing! Still it was worth the gamble, and it was amazing to have the towers to ourself for an hour. The way down was a bit hairy as the light faded but we made it down by 10.40pm with the help of our head torches. Time to snatch a few hours sleep before waking at 3.45am to head back up for sunrise.

DAY TEN
Campamento Torres to Base de las Torres Lookout to Central - 11km - 5 hours

We were jolted awake by our alarm and hurriedly left camp with our sleeping bag and hot soup, ready to climb to the towers one last time. The rest of the camp was doing the same and the line of head torches making their way up the rocky hillside reminded us both of 'pass day' on the Annapurna Circuit.

The going was tough, it was dark and we really had such little energy left to give. Still, we made it and found ourselves a rock to sit on with Chioma and Jerren to watch the light show. The three American guys were already in position - an amazing feat as they were camped at central, a three/four hour hike of solid uphill to arrive in time for sunrise! We all got into our sleeping bags and waited. It had been a very cold night because of the zero cloud cover, and as such we hoped we would see the famous sunrise at Torres Del Paine where the sun appears on the tip of the tallest tower and then slowly creeps down, illuminating the towers in a golden glow. We got it - sort of. After the pink glow of dawn the clouds once again formed at the wrong time and meant we didn't see the sun appear until the towers were half in and out of the sun, and it stayed this way for a few minutes before the sun was again covered by distant cloud and the show was over.

It was a beautiful moment to be up here with everyone we had done the O with and it felt like the perfect finale to the adventure we had all been on. With all these things, it's a combination of the physical challenge you put yourself through, the determination you find, the stunning scenery, and of course the many people you meet along the way. That is why I would always recommend doing the O over the W, because you all move as a group along the trek as you are going in the same direction, and so you see familiar faces at every campsite.

The walk back down to the finish line was strange, in that we had such little energy left but we practically ran down. We were definitely running on adrenaline by this point, and the thought of all of the amazing food we were going to devour when we got back to town. At Chileno, we stopped and ventured inside the Refugio, to find the others drinking coffee and eating cake. We spent the last of our cash and joined them, the brownie was otherworldly.

Back on route we had to step aside as a pack of panting horses trotted up hill past us lead by two gauchos. Then just as we got back into our stride a pack of panting tourists trotted past lead by two tour guides. This is the busiest stretch of the park.

Spurred on, we made it down in little over an hour, shouting out holas to everyone we passed, sweating and huffing and puffing their way up the hill. They must have though we were complete dicks. Soon the hotel was in view and suddenly we had finished. We had some hot chocolate to celebrate from our trusty thermos, and then anticlimacticly waited for the shuttle bus to arrive. Once back in the real world, we showered unpacked and put on clean clothes which felt like heaven and then headed out to meet all the people we'd met along the way for beers and dinner at Base Camp.

TOTAL KM WALKED - 150km

BACK IN PUERTO NATALES

We spent a couple of extra nights in town partly to wind down from the trek and get our washing done and partly because we liked it there and were in no rush. Most of the folk from the trek disappeared the following day, so we just meandered the streets and wandered along the coast. We spent the afternoon in a cafe planning the rest of our journey leaving not much left to do but to eat Lamb Asado which Patagonia is famous for and drink beer.

On our last evening walking through town a head popped out a taxi in front of us and started calling our names. It was Hugo the bike tour support driver who we hitched a lift with in El Calafate to the Glacier. We caught up with him at the traffic lights and arranged to go for a beer. What are the chances. After we had our fill of lamb and crab, (our reward to ourselves for completing TDP) we met Hugo and his colleague in a craft beer place round the corner. They were in the process of trying to get ten motorbikes from Ushuaia in the south to somewhere up in central Chile. It was their night off and one beer became many.

The following day with a heavy bag and now even heavier head we are due to catch our bus south across the border to el Fin Del Mundo (The End of the World) in the Argentinian side of Tierra Del Fuego.