Patagonia

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There are places in our world where the sheer beauty of the landscape instills within you a sense of awe, wonderment, contentment and unabashed happiness. Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia is such a place.

After arriving in the southern Chilean city of Punta Arenas we set off in search of some penguins on the beaches of the Straits of Magellan, who are breeding at this time of the year. As is the way with penguins, they were highly entertaining to watch as they waddled and interacted with each other. However, this was just a prelude to seeing the real jewel of Patagonia: Torres del Paine, which translates to ‘The Blue Towers’ in a mix of Spanish and the now extinct indigenous dialect.

Upon first entering the park I was constantly drawn to the milky blue lakes that sprawled throughout the numerous green valleys of the region, before averting my gaze to the eternal snow adorning the peaks of the impressive mountain peaks that surrounded me. I took a short stroll to see a waterfall, which soon fell into insignificance as I saw my first ever condor gliding in the near distance. Another interesting sight that arrested my eyes was the various peaks of the range which consist of three distinct rock layers. They are topped by dark sedimentary rock, under which you can clearly define towering walls of granite, supported in turn by another layer of sedimentary rock. This is a unique formation, due to surging magma activity eons ago, also serving to clearly define this range as distinct from the nearby Andes.

The first real day of trekking consisted of an afternoon hike to see the rapidly retreating Grey Glacier, which made me appreciate the biting winds of the region, so cold that I swear they even made my bones shiver. What astounded me later that day though was the light in the sky at 11:30pm, which indicated to me that I had never been this far south in my travels. Being awoken by blazing sunlight illuminating my tent at 5am further reinforced this notion. Another aspect of the skies that had me pondering matters was the distance to the horizon. To me, the horizon seemed further away than it has ever been, with the clouds extending to the furthest reaches of my vision. I wondered whether this was due to being so far south with the sphere closing in towards the pole, or whether it was simply my mind playing fanciful tricks on me.

The 25km trek up and down the French Valley the following day was one of the many highlights of my time in Patagonia. The varied terrain and breathtaking views left me searching for words that I don’t possess on many an occasion. Hiking up the valley, I was constantly gazing at the rising peaks of the range, marvelling at the brightness of the fresh snow and even witnessing my first avalanche as the snow and ice tumbled indiscriminately down the mountainside, with a roar akin to a jumbo jet flying overhead. Then I would pause to peer behind me and see lush greenery, dark freshwater lakes, serene glacial lakes and the far off snow covered Andes. This all then paled in comparison to the view afforded us at the peak of the valley. We were blessed with incredible good fortune, as upon our arrival at the lookout point, the snow stopped falling, the clouds evaporated into the bright blue of the sky and we were entirely surrounded by snowy and jagged peaks.<span> All I could do was lay flat on a slab of granite and marvel at the pristine and singular beauty of my surroundings.

The last serious hike that we did was completing the final valley of what is known as the ‘W’ Trek. This was a beautiful hike through wooded hillsides, crossing over rapidly running rivers upon quaint wooden bridges and finally clambering up a boulder field in an effort to see the towers that lend the park its name. Even though I had seen their summits for days now, nothing could have prepared me for the precise moment when I clambered over a ridge which then dropped down to the unmistakable blue of a lake filled by melting snow and ice, which lay at the base of these sentinel-like towers. It was a view and moment that no photograph or written description could ever truly capture. As I stood there, stricken with awe, other hikers arrived at the same point, where I heard exclamations like, “Oh. My. God.” and “Wow!” whilst others just made gasping sounds or unintelligible beginnings of words that died away as they realised their own inadequacy. I lunched on a slab of granite where the lake became a tumbling river and not for a single moment did I tire of the view before me. Even when I did eventually leave, I scrambled back up to the ridge to take it all in one last time. A few hours later as I was nearing camp, I was gazing at the surrounding mountains, valleys and lakes and had a moment of clarity whereupon I realised that I was entirely content and happy. Whilst hiking for days on end and sleeping in a tent may not be everyone’s idea of how to have a good time, for me it unfailingly brings about a sense of calm connectedness and acceptance of my place in the world.

Other memorable moments from my time in Patagonia consisted of seeing a 6,000 year old rock painting whilst a condor arced before me, turning onto its side and showing off its remarkable three metre wingspan, all only a stone’s throw from my vantage point; seeing red and grey foxes in the wild who were curious about these two legged creatures in their midst; having a guanaco bat its long eyelashes before nuzzling into me and planting a kiss on my cheek (a guanaco is from the same family as llama and alpaca); and, of course, spending Christmas Day marvelling at the irrepressible Perito Merino Glacier, one of the few advancing glaciers in the world today. This glacier makes its way down from the mountains and puts on a continuous show of icebergs thunderously calving off into the expansive lakes that it is attempting to gobble up. Standing in front of the wall of ice is a mesmerising experience. It was like being confronted by a trillion bared teeth, spiralling up from the icy mass, revealing their cavities where the play of light seemed to indicate that there were ultraviolet bulbs turned on within its core. When combined with eating empanadas and drinking mate (pronounced mar-teh, which is a bitter tea that many local people drink), it certainly was a unique way for an Australian to experience Christmas!

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[Alan Valpied]

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