Torres Del Paines' Little Brother

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After my night on the Malbec, I woke up feeling pretty grotty the next day, it was 6.30 and I had to go and get the bus to El Chalten. Normally bus rides are simple affairs, you sit in the seat you have been assigned and the driver drives. But not today, apparently the people in the ticket office had told people, not everyone, that they can sit anywhere they wanted. So the bus was full of a mix of people who were sitting where they pleased coupled with those going by the ticket numbers and arguing with people who were “in their seats”. You would think all being adults it would be easily resolved, but for some reason it was like being back at primary school. To make matters worse, they had overbooked the bus and two people couldn’t even get on. As I had got to the bus stop so early, I hate being late, I was sat in my assigned seat and just went to sleep.
The bus ride to El Chalten could be such a quick and simple route, the town is less than 50km from El Calafate, but there are big mountains stuck right between them. The result is the bus back tracking around Lake Argentina and taking some 3 hours. En route it stops at La Leona, a hotel famous for its cakes and pies, judging by the depth of the lemon meringue I could clearly see why. Outside of this hotel was a signpost with all the distances to various cities around the world, I was 14,000km from home, and 14,000km from my next destination, Australia. After sleeping for another hour, I woke up to see the skies were totally clear, we were later told this happens about 10 days a year here. Just before we entered the town of El Chalten the bus pulled over into a viewing point so we could take some photos, the view of Cerro Fitz Roy and Torre were stunning. At the base, sandwiched between mountains and rivers on all sides, was the small town of El Chalten. If El Calafate was set up to serve as a tourist trap for the glaciers, El Chalten’s only purpose was to serve hikers. There is one main street and during the winter the town totally closes and most people move out, it consists solely of accommodation, places to eat, a few supermarkets and a few gear shops with tour centers attached. So when the snow comes in and people stop coming, there is nothing left for the locals to stay for. Strangely, the locals that do live there are gorgeous. Maybe it’s a local rule, no ugly people. But after a hard days hike it’s nice to roll into a bar and be served by a hot barmaid.
The day I arrived I was eager to get out on the trails and make the most of the weather, but I was in desperate need of clean clothes so had to settle for a few short hikes while my washing was done. I walked up the mountain at the entrance into town and had gorgeous views back over the town and of the peaks of Fitz Roy and Torre. Walking slightly further up the trail gave me amazing views of where we had come from back over the lake. The weather was so nice and warm; I found a perfect spot on the rocks and just laid there for an hour enjoying the view. On the way back into town I grabbed some supplies and headed back to pack my bag for the next 3 nights camping. I was sharing a room with 3 girls and they were very impressed with how heavy my bag was, needless to say, I was not impressed. I had some dinner with the girls, who were from Ireland, and then retired for an early night as I wanted to hit the trail before 7 to get a full days hiking in.

6.15 am, the alarm goes off; I pull my clothes on, hoist my pack onto my back and head for the door. Fuck, it’s raining, not hard, but that fine drizzle you get that soaks you without realizing. What the hell, I’m going for it anyway, so off I went. The start of the trail was 100 metres up the road from the hostel and the first hour lf the trail was all uphill, my legs felt totally empty and I was struggling already. I knew I was getting wet, I had decided to hike in shorts and my fleece, but I didn’t realize just how wet I was getting. The hike up the hill was mostly sheltered by forest, but when I reached flat ground and had to walk along the river for an hour, I realized just how bad the weather was. The rain was now pouring down, the wind was fierce and rain was hitting me in the face sideways, I had to stop and put my waterproof coat on, being totally focused on knocking the miles off I hadn’t realized my fleece was totally soaked. I knew I had 30 more minutes until I reached the first campsite, I looked down and my legs were just red raw, totally frozen and battered by the weather. It was then it also struck me how bad the washing services are out here, with all the walking in the rain; my shorts had started to foam where they hadn’t rinsed the detergent out properly!

I finally reached the first campsite and had no option but to put my tent up for some protection. I was frozen and trying to seat the poles and put the pegs in was a struggle. Once it was up I just launched my rucksack inside and jumped in, stripped out of my wet clothes and got in my sleeping bag to get warm. What would have happened if there was no campsite I dread to think about, I couldn’t have carried on at that point if I wanted to. Thankfully, after a few hours the rain eased off and the sun appeared to be coming out. I took this as a good sign, finally grabbed some breakfast, which was chocolate bread/cake, and headed off for the lookout point at Fitz Roy.

I had left all my gear in the tent apart from the essentials, my water bottle, camera and some food. 20 minutes up the trail I reached another campsite where the park ranger was waiting for people. She told me that I had no chance of seeing the peak of Fitz Roy and that the lake was totally frozen over and covered in snow. Despite this, I still wanted to go so she told me to be careful on the trail and to stick to the markers. After minutes I realized why, the trail in front of me went straight up the side of the mountain and got steeper and steeper as you got higher and higher. My legs were not feeling much better at this point and it seemed to take forever to reach the top, I had to stop many times on the way up, it was just too steep to do in one go. To make things worse, the weather had also decided to change. The small rays of sunshine that forced me from my tent were long gone; instead it had started to rain again. As I got higher up the mountain the rain turned into hail stones, which were massive and coming sideways at me in the strong winds. Then the crowning moment was when I reached the top, the hail stones gave way to a full out blizzard of snow. It was insane; I was at the top of a mountain being battered by this blizzard with only a few rocks to hide behind for protection. I found myself a fairly sheltered place and sat there for 20 minutes hoping the weather would clear a bit. It’s the way things are up here, if you are in bad weather, wait 20 minutes and it has usually cleared. However, today was not my lucky day; the weather didn’t clear at all. So after finishing my breakfast bread/cake, I took some pictures and went back down. The weather followed the same pattern, snow turned to hail stones which turned to rain. The only difference was the difficulty of the path. On the way up the rocks could be treated as steps, but on the way down the rocks had to be treated like ice, they were lethal. One wrong step on a loose rock, and you were a goner. To make things that little bit worse, this was probably the most damaged trail in Patagonia and the ground was just loose dirt which made you slide down hill with no control at all.

Near the bottom of the mountain I bumped into an American man who asked me if I had seen his daughter up the mountain, she had headed up with a group of Dutch people and after I told him what the weather was like he was very concerned she may be getting hypothermia! Yes, this is how bad the weather was, and a clear indication that some people were not dressed to be out here. After my bad experience in the morning, I had put trousers on and gone for as many layers that felt comfortable. When I finally saw the man again later on with his daughter, she was in trainers, thin pants and not many upper body layers. Turns out she didn’t even get half way up as the weather was so bad and she was struggling. Why do people come to Patagonia unprepared? It reminded me of the Aussie girl in Torres Del Paine who was attempting to hike in Ugg boots! Anyway, they both turned out to be really nice people and I hiked with them for a few hours after I had dropped my tent. My original plan had been to camp where my tent already sat, but as I had hit the trail so early, there was plenty of time to make it to the next camp ground over at the base of Cerro Torre. By this stage my legs were feeling fine and I quickly dropped the Americans behind, but decided to stop and wait for them so I could have some company on the trail. The man’s daughter lived in Buenos Aires working and studying in market research. The father had come down for a vacation and they had decided to go trekking. Luckily for them, they were on an organized trek whereby all their gear got carried for them, meals were prepared for them and all they had to do was make it from A to B on their own accord. Now I fully appreciate this kind of tour, as this is what I had on the Inca Trail, but there you needed the assistance, here you really didn’t.

My campsite that night was next to a river just before Lago Torre. When I got there I put the tent up and walked up to Lago Torre to try and see Cerro Torre, no chance. The valley where these impressive peaks lay was totally covered by dark clouds which looked very menacing. The lake was still beautiful, with a glacier at the end and small ice bergs dotted over the lake; I sat on the rocks for an hour or so just chilling out. I consulted my map; I had hiked 30km today, not too bad considering the weather conditions and the way my legs felt. Most people out here would never hike 30km in one day in their lives, so I felt quite proud of my accomplishments. Back at base camp Hogben, I prepared the usual dinner of pasta with sauce before hitting the tent and chilling out with my iPod. Given my rapid progress, I had decided to cut my 3 night trip into a 2 night trip, so I knew tomorrow would be just as rough as today.

Come morning, the weather had perked up and it looked as though the peaks of Cerro Torre were going to break through the one cloud hanging over them, so I grabbed breakfast and sat on the lake shore for almost 2 hours waiting. Much to my annoyance, the one cloud just wouldn’t shift, at one point the highest peak became visible, but it wasn’t the picture I was after. I had 27km to hike today, and the first 12km back into town was on fairly flat ground with a steep descent just before you hit town. Having sat by the lake for so long, I was a bit nervous on time so really put the hammer down, my legs felt great and I knocked off the 12km in well under 2 hours. My destination was the park’s visitor centre, I had decided to hike one of the lesser known routes and they required that you sign in with them before going. On signing in they asked my name, where I was staying, how long I intended on being out there etc etc. I was warned that the trail markings are a bit sketchy along this path and that when you hit the bog, just keep walking straight, and don’t try to stay dry otherwise you will lose the trail and get lost! Before I set off I asked if anyone else was out on the trail, they said one other person had registered but he was doing a day hike there and not camping. Great, I was going to be on the most remote path out here, and I was going to be alone, it sounded perfect, if not slightly scary.

Looking at my map, the trail was 15km long and seemed to skirt round the edge of a mountain before following the river bed. From my day hike on the first day, I knew the beginning of the trail was uphill, but holy shit I didn’t realize how far uphill. After knocking off the first 12km of the morning so quickly, my legs were feeling it, had I made a mistake in going so fast I asked myself? The answer would turn out to be yes. The trail not only went uphill, it went uphill for 2 and half hours, and where the map shows it skirts around the mountain, fuck me it literally took you over the mountain. The vertical gain was well over 1000 metres, which is hard enough on well prepared decently marked trails. In all fairness the beginning of this trail was clearly marked and in good shape, but when it veers off from a shorter trail things take a turn for the worse. The ground which had been hard and even turned into bog, soft grass and mud that was just waiting to swallow your hiking boots. And like I was told in the visitor centre, I kept to a straight line and followed the path. Well actually, there were so many bushes surrounding the path you couldn’t take a different route even you wanted to. Was this what they were referring too? Oh no, the worst was yet to come. After walking through this bog the path entered a forest, it was lovely, back on hard ground, relatively easy to follow. Then the path climbed a steep hill and all hell broke loose, the trail had ended, what lay in front of me was a woods full of small streams and mud. Bearing in mind I was still going uphill at this point, I was tired, hungry and ready to collapse; I was quite startled to find no path. It took me a minute or so to figure it out, the small river flowing through the woods was the path, so I gave it a go. Thankfully I could see other peoples footsteps and in particular lama footsteps. I had seen a sign a way back saying that lama farmers use this trail, so I turned into Ray Mears and literally tracked these god damn footprints through the woods. I lost count of how many times I almost fell over and had a face full of mud, but I eventually came to the end of the woods and was faced with a clear open field in front of me, this was it, this was the bog. Just as they had said, there were no signs, and every step I took resulted in my entire hiking boot being swallowed up in the mud and water, by the time I reached the end of the bog, my boots were ruined, totally trashed.
A short walk after the bog I reached the top of my climb, it had 2 and half hours of walking uphill to be here, but boy was it worth it. Despite small snowflakes falling on me, the views were incredible. A few hundred metres down the path I was stuck with an incredible sight, I could finally see the river bed down in the valley with Lago Toro and the glacier at the end with huge mountains rising from behind them. It was typical of Patagonia, right when you are down and ready to give up, it throws something like this in your face which knocks you for six, and it was gorgeous. The bad part, I could now see where I had to walk to, and even worse, I could see the hill I would have to climb back up the next day. A sign post told me it was 2 hours 30 minutes to the campsite, so I headed off in hot pursuit, the reason being the hill was so steep I had no option but to go down it quickly. On the way down I kept encountering small rivers which had flooded the grass and made small bogs, but seeming as my boots were already trashed I just went straight through them. 30 minutes after starting my descent, I stumbled across the other guy who was supposed to be out here, god he looked totally fucked. His face was dark red, he was sweating as though it was 50 degrees and he told me he was totally spent. How he planned on making it back to town that night I had no idea.

Once I reached the bottom of the hill and finally made it to the river bed, I realized why he looked so buggered, the final few hundred metres of descent was as steep as you could never imagine, I literally had to slide down the final part in fear of toppling over and being crushed by my pack on the rocks. I should have been scared of what I faced the next day, but I was so tired I couldn’t actually think at all. The next 2 hours I spent walking along the river bed, struggling to get myself over the many river crossings, which were only 5 metres across but very deep. The rocks always looked so loose and slippery I had to walk upstream until I found shallow water. On some of the nicer crossings, there was a thin log you could walk over, which I gingerly tested by jumping up and down before committing my whole body weight onto it, the last thing I wanted was for the log to break and me and my entire pack to get soaked.

I finally rolled into the campsite after almost 7 hours of walking that day, my legs were totally gone. But much to my surprise, I was not the only one there. An organized group, who were using lamas to carry the gear that I had ultimately been following all day, was there before me. Luckily, it was only the gear men there putting up the food tents and preparing dinner. I grabbed the best campsite just in time, as 30 minutes later a large group of people came strolling in all of who had to put their own tents up. The campsite was barely large enough due to large tree routes making it impossible to pitch a tent in most of it, some of the group literally had to suffer sleeping on rather steep slopes, and I meanwhile sat there chilling with a bowl of soup watching them struggle.

Before dinner I took a walk and went to Lago Toro and sat and looked at the glacier, it had looked so much prettier when I first saw it from way back down the valley, but maybe it was sheer exhaustion taking the pleasure away from me. It was time to head for dinner, once again pasta and sauce. While I was washing up some of the group came over and chatted with me, now considering the were all English, every single one was shocked when I told them I was from Kent, they were convinced in was from Australia, what is wrong with these people!! They were telling me how the chefs have cooked them all a nice steak for dinner and had even laid on bottles of Malbec, I didn’t know whether to hit them or cry when one of them said we could have brought you some over! Then it got even worse, they told me how they had camped where I had last night and taken a side trail over the mountain today, thereby cutting off well over 10km of what I had hiked. I couldn’t believe it, I had walked all that way, through all those bogs, trashed my boots, and it turns out there was an easy alternative. I guess that’s what you get when you pay good money for a local guide. Not to worry, I slept like a log after having hiked 57km in 2 days up and over mountains and through crazy bogs.

In the morning I treated myself to a lay in as I knew I only had around 16km to hike that day and knew what was to come. After a lazy breakfast I dropped my tent and finally hit the trail home at around 10. Much to my surprise my legs felt good, I made great time walking back up the valley along the river bed and was then faced with the ridiculous climb back up the mountain. I didn’t bother to rest before I set off up the mountain as I thought my legs would get cold and start to cease up so I just went for it. It was amazing, I was like a Billy goat, I managed to power my way back up to the top of the mountain in no time. What was happening to me? Had two weeks of constant trekking finally taken hold and transformed me into a fitter, leaner version of my former self? Closer inspection in the mirror later that night revealed yes, I was looking good, not meaning to sound big headed or arrogant, but you know what I mean. So when I reached the top of the hill it was plane sailing, I knew my way back down through the bogs and woods, and it was downhill all the way home. I even treated myself to a long lunch laying in a meadow; I was hoping to spot a dear but no such luck.

When I got back to the visitor centre, I told them I was fine, how much I had enjoyed the challenge but it was much harder than I had anticipated and then headed back to the hostel for a well deserved shower. I was exhausted when I got there; I showered and then slept for a few hours. I literally woke up, grabbed a burger from the bar in the hostel, and went back to bed. I was totally spent, and like normal, I had a 7.30am bus ride out of there.

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