The W (part II)

DAY 1

When trekking the W circuit, one can embark from the West and travel East or vice versa. On the East side is the actual Torres del Paine, the triple peaks that offer arguably the park’s best view – the “summit” if you will. It was raining buckets when I arrived so I decided to embark from the West with the hope that I would have clear skies once I reached the East side on the final day. No point summiting without a view to reward me.

I took a ferry to the Paine Grande base camp on the West side. As I pitched my tent, I struck up a conversation with a couple from San Francisco who were setting up their tent nearby, and I wound up spending the entire trek with them. Nivan works for Visa and Sne is a doctor. Awesome people.

We trekked for around 5 hours on the first day, up to the mirador (lookout) of the massive Glacier Grey and back.

Though it rained for some of the day, the weather cleared after a while and the views did not disappoint. The trekking wasn’t particularly challenging either; it was good to start small. We also hiked through a large portion one of the burned sections of the park.

That evening I cooked myself lentils and rice with hot sauce and had a granola bar for desert. A couple of cute French girls sitting nearby considered my meal to be inadequate and offered me some chocolate. I was shocked to see some of the dinners being prepared. It amazed me what people were willing to carry so they could have a proper meal.

Our campsite, which lay next to a massive lake called Lago Pehoé, was treeless and thus totally unprotected from the fierce wind that swept across the lake. That night the wind was as loud and relentless as wind can be. I had to pee in the middle of the night and seriously considered lying awake in pain until morning rather than braving the merciless outdoors.

DAY 2

We set off early the following morning. We were hoping against hope that the Valle de Frances would be open because it had been closed the previous day due to bad weather. When we arrived at Campamento Italiano the route to the valley wasn’t closed but it was raining hard and the visibility was nonexistent. We started climbing but were told by a guide coming in the opposite direction that the climb through the valley was not fun, that the terrain was jagged and unpredictable and generally precarious (we’d need to watch our feet each step), and what’s more there would be no view at the end.

In short – not worth it. Feeling defeated we turned around and headed for Cuernos.

We made it to Cuernos in the late afternoon, totally drenched. I pitched my tent in the rain for the second straight night. Nivan and Sne booked a private cabin and invited me to hang out with them for the evening. We had a drink in the lodge, and then bought a box of wine to drink in the cabin.

If not for Nivan and Sne I would have shivered through the evening in my small tent with my wet backpack and clothing. Instead we passed the evening basking in the warmth of their cabin’s wood-burning stove. We cooked our dinner (again I had lentils and rice with hot sauce), drank tea and wine and merrily chatted the evening away. I slept in my own tent but was able to dry some of my clothes by their stove. It was raining and cold and windy in the morning and I felt eternally grateful to have dry clothes to wear.

DAY 3

The third day of trekking was the longest; around 14 km and the vast majority of it uphill. Gorgeous though. We saw remnants of burned sections of the park along the way. My pace was much quicker than my trekking companions so I was on my own for the most of the day.

The final 1 hour push to the Chileno lodge (not our final destination but a rest stop) was the most physically challenging and dangerous portion of the trek. This was where my ski poles came in handy. The wind in the late afternoon (official reports confirmed) averaged around 90 km/hr, and gusts were routinely north of 120 km/hr.

During this leg of the journey I was trekking straight into the wind. Not only that, but the path was very narrow and to my right was a drop off of several hundred meters with no barrier whatsoever and few trees along the way to break the fall. Keep in mind I was totally alone, not another trekker in sight. Had a gust caught me off guard and pushed me over the edge, no one would have seen it and there would have been no one to call for help. Needless to say I was very nervous during this stretch. There were a few instances where my ski poles literally saved my life. It was a true test of character – to be totally exhausted, carrying a lot of weight, walking uphill into 100 km/hr winds while constantly bracing against a fatal plummet. (No worries Mom I’m OK!)

At last I reached the Chileno lodge. Whilst waiting for Nivan and Sne to arrive I met a group of elderly British trekkers who made me question what the hell I was complaining about. Very impressive to see retirees vacation like this. And they were in such good spirits!

When Sne and Nivan arrived we had some hot cocoa, played a rousing game of Jenga (which Nivan lost), and then begrudgingly left the warmth of the lodge for the final climb to Campamento Torres where we would spend the night. This campsite was only a 1 hour trek from the Torres del Paine peaks, perfect for a 4am wakeup and sunrise summit.

The trek to the campsite was nice, especially because it was entirely through the woods which shielded us from much of the wind and rain. When we arrived I pitched my tent in the rain for the third night in a row.

Believe me when I say that there are more fun ways to conclude a grueling 8 hour trek than pitching your tent in the rain. And what’s worse, you then have to store all of your soaking wet gear inside the small shelter where you are hoping to sleep, which are not ideal conditions for drying your stuff nor for enjoying a warm, dry night’s sleep.

As I unpacked my bag I was greeted by a most unpleasant discovery: the hot sauce that I had packed (a brilliant addition which would add flavor to otherwise bland food) had exploded in my bag. Most of my belongings had been spared from a spicy red demise, with the exception of my most treasured possession: my journal. Devastating. My journal was totally soaked with pungent salsa piquante.

I languished up to the small makeshift shelter in the center of the campsite to hang a few of my wet articles, attempt to dry my journal, and cook a dinner of mashed potatoes with a side of mashed potatoes.

This evening was easily the low point of the trek. Not only was I despondent by the fate of my precious collection of handwritten adventures, but I was very wet and very cold and knew I would remain so for quite some time. Now that there was no more trekking to do, all I could do was sit and shiver. I tried in vein to warm my hands by the flame of my mini stove.

I had packed one set of dry clothes, which I had wisely wrapped in a plastic bag for protection, yet I didn’t dare put them on until the moment before I got into my sleeping bag lest I expose them to the elements. It was fine to suffer during the day as long as I could sleep in relative warmth.

I went to bed early, not so much because I was tired but because every moment I spent outside of my sleeping bag was torturous. I slipped into my dry clothes, set my alarm for 4am, took a short documentary (audio available below), and shivered myself to sleep while listening to Radiohead’s Amnesiac.

This evening was obviously an especially trying experience for me, but I felt it was something I had to go through – a test of endurance or manhood or something to that effect. The following evening when I sat in a warm restaurant eating artisan pizza and drinking good beer I felt newfound appreciation for the privilege of enjoying such cultural riches. One of the many wonderful things that rugged experiences in nature offers us is perspective.

DAY 4

The next morning my alarm sounded at 4 and I awoke as I had fallen asleep: shivering. I did 50 pushups to warm up. I struggled to get out of my tent because the zipper was frozen shut. When I was finally able to pry myself out, the light from my headlamp revealed a campsite covered in several inches of snow. This was true winter camping, and bare in mind I was not equipped for such an endeavor. I didn’t even have thermal underwear. It just goes to show that it’s possible to endure remarkably rough conditions with the right combination of perseverance and stupidity.

Nivan, Sne, and I left most of our stuff at the campsite. We trudged in the dark through the snow up the steep bank to the summit. I was tired and cold and wet and exhausted but so, so close. I willed myself on.

Just ten more steps. Now ten more.

When we finally summited, it was immediately apparent that it had all been worth it. We had had terrible luck with weather, but on our final day, the day when we most needed clear skies, our prayers were answered. We were rewarded with views of outrageous beauty.

We couldn’t spend too much time up there because, guess what, it was freezing. We returned to the campsite, packed up, and then continued on to the Chileno lodge. We hung out there for a bit, finished off our snacks, had some tea, then embarked on the final descent.

The weather at this point was absolutely perfect – no more need for hats or gloves or thick layers. After difficult conditions for the whole trek it was a real treat to have an easy finish. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t have appreciated the summit that morning or the rest of the final day’s trek if not for the tough elements we had already endured. Indeed, you don’t appreciate the sun as much without some rain.

When we reached Las Torres base camp, the end of my first multiday trek without a guide, I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. I had been 100% self-sufficient in the wilderness, carrying my tent, cooking supplies, and food. I had battled harsh conditions with inferior equipment, and did so with a (reasonably) good attitude even in the darkest, wettest, coldest moments.

That night, as I spent nearly an hour cleaning hot sauce out of my bag, I was reminded how important it is to test yourself, because it is only in the midst of experiences that extend far beyond your comfort zone can you truly see what you’re made of. This is all very cliché, I know, but true nonetheless, and I am thrilled that I had the wherewithal to come to Chile and plunge into the wilderness, because I learned something about myself. And what I learned (or confirmed, rather) is that our limitations, even physical ones, are self-imposed. It is a magnificent thing to discover that you are capable of more than previously imagined.

I feel confident that this trekking experience will change the remaining trajectory of this trip and trips to come. Rough trekking and camping is obviously challenging but also inevitably rewarding and a terrific way to build character and make the most of your time on earth. Morale o’ the story: find nature and get in it!