21: (Nearly) Gone With the Wind – The Year of Living Differently …

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(Nearly) Gone With the Wind

PUERTO NATALES to TORRES DEL PAINE, CHILE – 10 January, 2003
I would be attempting to do the ‘W’ circuit of Torres del Paine (TDP). Allow me to explain a little of the ‘W’ circuit.

Starting from right to left of the alphabet ‘W’, the first vertical section up was to view the three famous towering, near-vertical mountains that gave the name ‘Torres del Paine’ the ‘Torres’ (towers) bit for they are called Las Torres (The Towers). This would be, to many, the HIGHLIGHT of their hike here.

Then, one had to head west, walking the horizontal bit of the ‘W’. After that, the second vertical section was along Valle de Frances, where one could see beautiful ranges of mountains, including the unique-looking Los Cuernos (The Horns).

Finally, after heading west again and up to the third vertical section of ‘W’, one could see the impressive Glacier Grey. At the bottom of this third vertical section was Refugio Pehoe where one could take a very expensive boat ride back to Refugio Pudeto to catch a bus back to Puerto Natales.

As for me, I had no idea what portion I could complete. I just told myself, I would do as much as I could. I knew I had to haul myself to the Refugio Pehoe eventually. That was the promise I made to myself. Hey, this was a vacation for me. Not a race. Not an expedition. I was not one of those Goretex-attired-SuperHikers-on-steroids. I did not need to over-achieve. Just stay alive.

Somehow, three of us single hikers, Koen from Netherlands, Angela from Brazil and I, met on the bus, pitched our tents nearby one another and seemed to have a tacit agreement to try and do the ‘Las Torres’ section together today.

We were on the wrong track 10 minutes into the trail as we appeared to be heading towards Los Cuernos instead. We had to retrace our steps and follow others heading up a slope. I had been warned that the first two hours of this trail was difficult, uphill all the way. We made our way up slowly. I eyed each orange marked pole as a finishing line, personally congratulating myself when I crossed it.

It was slow plodding uphill. I guess the scary thing about TDP was the WIND. So many times, especially when I had one foot in the air, about to take a step, I would be blown off-track and would stumble off the trail a little. Then, it got worse as I literally felt like I was being blown away, even with two feet on the ground. After each sudden gust, I ended up standing on tip-toe and trying to return my heels back to Earth! My jacket flapped around noisily. I felt like a kite, barely held down by the invisible string of gravity and I did not have much confidence in gravity suddenly.

We all walked at an angle against the wind. But suddenly, the wind would stop and we would stumble forward in surprise. Good thing we did not fall flat on our faces. Little grains of stone were blown into our eyes all the time. Sometimes, it was best NOT to fight the wind and to just stand there, balance ourselves, have our faces turned away from the flying grains, and wait for the wind to stop.

Upon reaching Refugio Chileno, we had a brief stop and looked up ahead. Las Torres were heavily shrouded in clouds in the background. Koen, Angela and I merely rested half an hour before heading up the next section.

Ooo, fancy-gear alert! Koen had a straw-filter thingie which he could place it in the river and suck up water through it, filtering the water right there. If you ask me, why filter glacial water? I joked with him that the straw probably contaminated the water!

This section was easier through woods and some exposed rocky plains. Still, the wind was relentless. My fingers felt ice cold from the wind. It did not help that it started to snow and rain hailstones as well. By the final section, the sign read ‘45 MINUTOS’ to the Mirador. How could anyone turn back now?

This was the most difficult part of the trek today as there was a lot of scrambling up rocks which were unsheltered from the woods. Normally, one might rock-hop. But here, imagine, you have one foot on one rock and about to leap to the next and then, a strong gust of wind (here, it might reach more than 100kms/hr, I read) arrives, you might crash backwards and crack your skull… or you might pitch forward and crack your skull. Either way, you become veggie.

I tried to keep my centre of gravity low but I could not duck-walk my way up to Las Torres. I crouched forward and kept my hands in front to ensure that I had some cushioning effect. A few times, I was indeed blown against some huge boulders suddenly and barely prevented being a nasty crash-test-dummy subject.

Finally, at the top, pantingly, I looked up and saw… POETRY. Las Torres stood there, waiting for me, and had commanded the clouds to disappear on time. I could not believe the sight. I was speechless. My eyes smarted with tears. (I am getting so emotional, I know.) I gaped with my jaws open. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” was all I could utter as I stumbled around the remaining rocks. I made eye contact with a few people up there and everyone just smiled and nodded. We made it. It was tremendously awe-inspiring.

I guess, for Fitzroy, throughout the hike, one could see it. One was just getting closer and closer to it. But Las Torres remained half-hidden or totally out-of-sight the entire hike, revealing themselves only to those who made it this far. So, the reward was greater, more mind-blowing. I tottered around at the pass as the wind whipped me around like a rag-doll.

Koen was making his lunch there in a ’sheltered’ place. I joined him. I could not tear my eyes away from Las Torres. And it was snowing all around me. Las Torres were so steep no snow stuck to them. This was the second time I had seen falling snow in my life. Oh, what a special moment!

Too bad I could not stay up there for long because of the wind. My fingers were numb. I was wearing two fleece jackets and a wind-breaker and still my teeth was chattering away.

Some people did the ‘W’ circuit from left to right, leaving Las Torres at the end, calling it ‘Saving the BEST for LAST’. For me, not knowing which day of my trek I might perish in TDP, it was better to save the BEST for FIRST, just to be sure.

We finally returned to our camp-site by 8pm. My tent and Angela’s had been devastated by the wind. Koen’s still stood upright though.

When I looked closely at the wreckage, I realised the savage wind had snapped two of my poles at the pole-connectors! Gosh! Duct-tape, please.

My tent was higher on one end, enough height for a person to sit and then it tapered down at the other end. I was sleeping with my head at the higher end and yet that night, the wind blew my tent so low, I was kissing it. No kidding.

TORRES DEL PAINE, CHILE – 11 January, 2003
The first hour or so of the hike today was pretty easy, on flattish plains. But I did not appreciate it then, for I was constantly struggling with and thinking about my full backpack.

We came upon the turqoise-coloured Lake Nordenskjold. It looked so calm and perfect. We took a moment to savour the amazing view before plodding off. Another hour passed before I found an excellent spot under some incredible mountains for a bite of lunch.

As I knew my limitations, whenever I heard noises behind me, I stopped to let the other hikers pass. Everyone overtook me. I overtook no one. It was a nice and peaceful walk along the trails, getting used to my backpack… until we came upon a cascade.

Everyone stopped short and puzzled over it. There MUST be a simple way to hop across it. Several headed further up or down the bank to analyse the rocks. Nope, no way out… boots off!

I placed my bare feet in the glacial-cold running water. Gosh, the water forces were strong and the rocks slippery. Again, I realised I could not just walk across the cascade for my centre of gravity was high and any mis-step might tumble me down the river. I decided to crouch low and keep one hand on the boulders with the rushing cold water as I crab-walked my way across.

I numbed my mind and tried not to think of the tiredness, the wobbly legs, the burden behind me. I just focused on the next section of the path I could see before me and targetted at getting there. I kept looking out for a peninsula at the lake, for, from the map, I knew if I passed it, I would have about one hour more of walking to get to Refugio Los Cuernos.

Indeed, I finally spotted the peninsula and took another breather there to appreciate the lake before me. The lake appeared to be less calm now, compared to earlier. I saw many waves generating from the centre of the lake.

I grew tired. I knew I had to keep it all mental. It’s all up here in my head. Just keep telling myself that I could do it and I would be able to do it. I walked slowly around bends of mountains, across shrublands, up and down slopes. I kept my head down most of the time to try and concentrate on conquering each section of the trail.

Suddenly, for no reason, I looked up and gasped. I was nearly floored by the majestically silent Los Cuernos. For how long they had been looking upon me, I had no idea.

This range of mountains was as impressive as Las Torres but more unique. The mountains had three sections of colours. The top and bottom sections were black: sedimentary rocks. The middle section was grey: granite. One fine day, a couple of years (at least) ago, the granite came and thrust up through the sedimentary rock, taking the top bit along. And so, Los Cuernos exist to quicken your pulse-beats just a little. Impressive.

The going got tougher after this. The wind was getting more savage and vicious. Once, with my full backpack of tent, sleeping bag, 4 days’ of food, and BOTH feet on the ground, I was blown two inches off towards the drop-off and it was a STEEP drop-off! I was spooked and many cuss words flew.

Many times, I would fall into bushes or sit on rocks suddenly because the wind tossed me around. The lake was perhaps 100 to 150 metres below us and yet, when the wind whipped up the water, I could literally see the sprays fly and twist up from the lake like a tornado and coming down on us as rain.

I was so desperate even ONE SKINNY tree was considered as a SHELTER and whenever I could feel, hear or see the wind coming, I tried to get myself to one of these ’shelters’. Sometimes, it was not possible and I just had to try and maintain my balance desperately. I was alone and I did not fancy being blown backwards and landing on my backpack, like a turn-turtle for no one would be able to help me! I did mutter some Buddhist prayers during these moments.

Oftentimes, around a bend, downslope, on a slippery rocky path, with wobbly legs, I had to wait for the wind to die down momentarily and psyche myself to make the walk round the bend quickly, without being blown off into the abyss. “OK, now! Go!”

Finally, I arrived at Refugio Los Cuernos just as it started to pour. Gosh, at the refugio, even full-grown men were complaining about being blown off the trails! I met up with Koen who had been there for an hour and Angela who arrived just a little after me. Koen left soon in the rain. Angela and I busied ourselves resting.

We left after some rest with two Israeli guys. I had put a rain-cover on my backpack to protect it from the rain but I had actually inadvertently just converted my backpack into a SAIL. The wind caught the rain-cover and unable to blow right through, took me along and tossed me repeatedly. It was worse at one section as we were right on the beach, next to the lake. I had to remove it in the end.

The last two hours were the toughest for me. Hurben, the guy at my hostel, had said, “You can camp at Refugio Los Cuernos or you can walk a bit more to Camp Italiano, free camping.” A BIT MORE, my foot!! It felt like eternity! There was a lot more uphill on this section and after so many hours of walking and fighting against the wind, it was not very appreciated now.

I was actually very glad that the two Israeli guys were kind enough to wait for Angela and I and help us along the route, giving us a hand at the steeper portions. I guess by then, I was very used to the backpack and did not think about it anymore. I just concentrated on worrying about the wind.

I finally stumbled into Camp Italiano at 8pm, thoroughly exhausted but incredibly relieved. Koen had to help me with my tent for I was just staring into space like a veggie for a long while.

TORRES DEL PAINE, CHILE – 12 January, 2003
It was only today that I took a good look at Camp Italiano and had to agree this was a great campsite. It was very sheltered, the wind was not as bad as the first campsite. There was a wonderful rushing river in front of us. Behind us were Los Cuernos. Wonderful locale.

Lots of people at the campsite were now complaining of sore backs, busted knees and twisted ankles. Maybe Torres del Paine was a mis-print. It should have been Torres del PAIN.

Koen and I took an early slow walk up through the Valle de Frances. There was a snow-covered mountain with some glacier right next to the path so there was a magnificent view throughout as we walked next to the river on the rocks or through the forests to try and get behind this mountain.

After about three hours, we finally arrived at the Mirador. Surrounding us, nearly 300 degrees of view, were a near continuous range of extraordinary mountains. I spun slowly clock-wise, soaking in the view. It was a symphony. Excellent. What a reward!

There was not much room at the Mirador and when it started to fill up with people, we made our descent.

Now, suddenly, my busted left knee just would not cooperate with me. It was painful to bend it. I probably twisted it when I was blown down yesterday. It was very, very difficult for me to walk down the valley now. I tried to keep it straight and cringed whenever I bent it.

Took me forever to arrive back at the campsite. I had wanted to go on to Refugio Pehoe today, which was reportedly two and a half hours away but Koen suggested I should rest today. Yeah, it had been like a race the last two days, hurrying to the towers and back and then, too windy and cold to enjoy dinner and yesterday… need I say more? This was a holiday for us. Hooray Hooray, it’s a holi-holiday, we reminded ourselves.

We stayed one more night at this great campsite, made tea, cooked dinner, chatted with other hikers. It was great.

Then, it rained.

TORRES DEL PAINE, CHILE – 13 January, 2003
It was still raining and rather windy this morning. I got up to pee. Koen, who had wanted to catch the 10am boat from Refugio Pehoe, said he would leave at 8am this morning. I looked. Indeed, his tent was gone. I returned to my tent and made breakfast. Then, with nothing else to do, I went back to sleep.

I woke up at around 1pm and listened. It was still pattering away quietly but there was NO WIND. I looked out. Several tents were gone. I knew I had to take advantage of the lack of wind to pack now. For if it was windy and I was alone, it would be difficult to pack the tent.

I shoved everything into my backpack in half an hour and left in the rain. The route was muddy and slippery now. I realised I still had a little phobia of the wind. But this time was just through undulating hills and swampy places with board-walks. Nothing as bad as Day 2.

Two and a half hours of walking in the cold rain with numb fingers and muddy boots was just about enough for today. The minute I arrived at Refugio Pehoe, I knew I was not going anywhere anymore. I found a sheltered spot and pitched my tent.

Just when I finished it, I realised hoards of tourists, many on guided trips, were also arriving at that moment and there was a mad scramble for camping spots. Where did they all come from?

A group of French tourists on a guided trip hovered near my tent and envied my choice-spot. They then pitched their tents all around me. There was even a dining-room tent with tables and chairs inside.

The rain continued incessantly. Everything was wet and cold. After making dinner inside my tent, I just sat there and tried to keep warm while I waited for nightfall. Meanwhile, the French had their four-course dinner served, drank some Bordeaux wine and chatted about ‘bonbons’ and ‘champignons’ in the dining-room tent.

That night, I wore my two fleece jackets to sleep. I felt very warm. In fact, I felt as if I was perspiring. Yet, I was shivering non-stop. Why? I don’t understand COLD! Beam me back to Brazil, Scottie.

TORRES DEL PAINE to PUERTO NATALES, CHILE – 14 January, 2003
After nearly twenty-four hours of rain, I woke up to a beautiful blue sky and a bright sunny day. I even found 5000 Chilean pesos (about US$7) near my tent. Some discerning readers might think I lost that 5000 pesos myself last evening. But I could account for all of my pesos. It might be the 5000 pesos that I used to pay for the campsite (3000 pesos) last night. If so, the guy collecting the payment lost it. Or it might be dropped by one of the French tourists. Viva la France.

It was actually great weather for hiking today. But I just had no inclination to do the last bit to see Glacier Grey. I was tired. I had already achieved beyond my expectation and lived to see Refugio Pehoe.

Taking advantage of the bright clear sky, I knew there would be a great view on the boat-ride to Refugio Pudeto and quickly took the 10am boat. Ah, as I had hoped, Los Cuernos, seen from various angles, remained just as majestic and astounding.

A hiker was transported back on the same boat on a stretcher and in a neck-brace. Sheesh…. Having a neck-brace meant she did not just trip over a rock and fall. She FELL a large distance, probably down a mountain, I reckoned. The wind… It was indeed dangerous.

I stayed on at Refugio Pudeto until 2:30pm for my bus back to Puerto Natales. There was another boat leaving from Refugio Pehoe at 12:30pm which, by right, I could catch it and still be in time for my bus. But, guess what? By 12:30pm, the entire sky had turned cloudy and there was not a stitch of blue left in the sky. Los Cuernos was lost in the clouds by then. I was lucky.

It started to rain again after I got on my bus. The weather changed so quickly here. I had wanted to take a picture of a guanaco during my hike. I had seen several of them on the bus ride coming into TDP and now, on the ride out, I spotted them again. Guess they did not do the ‘W’ circuit.

Well, I was mighty pleased that I did the hike by myself and safely too. Can’t wait to rip off my pants and check out my new thigh muscles!

PUERTO NATALES, CHILE – 15 January, 2003
Thigh muscles or no, they remained covered up, tucked behind, layered in the cold and windy Puerto Natales. But after the wind in TDP, nonono… I shall not complain about the wind in Puerto Natales.

My pants, unwashed since a few weeks before I left Buenos Aires, could probably stand on their own now. My socks… dare I admit they are mine? I left them to the professionals.

I had some leftover bread from my hike. I remembered there were many stray dogs all over Puerto Natales, hiding from the wind and searching for food. I would feed them with my bread. But it was always the case, wasn’t it? Now, armed with bread, I could not find the dogs.

PUERTO NATALES to PUERTO MONTT, CHILE – 16 January, 2003
I made another attempt covering more blocks to find the dogs and managed to toss them the bread today.

I would take the Navimag ferry this evening. It would be a three-night cruise through the Chilean fjords, arriving at Puerto Montt on Monday morning. Coincidentally, Koen and his girlfriend (who had skipped the TDP) would also be taking the same ferry. He had told me, “I heard it would be cold on the cruise.”

R-E-A-L-L-Y????? COLD in PATAGONIA?? Who would have imagined THAT???

We were told we could board by 9pm. But, it was later dragged to 11:30pm. And finally, at 12:30am, we climbed onboard the ferry.

There was some mayhem at the storage area as a long truck had overturned. This was going to take a while…

We were all booked for Cabin ‘C’. ‘C’ for CONTAINER?, we feared. Nah, we had a little comfortable bed with curtains for privacy and a locker for our bag. Nice. We wondered if we would get a chance to dine at the captain’s table though.

I explored the ferry. Dining room was self-service and utilitarian, with plastic chairs and tables. No freaky chandeliers. No thick-woven Persian carpets. No Greek naked statues. No gold-guilded curved stairways. No stupid fountains. Wait, I was unable to locate the sun-deck, swimming pool and the mini golf-course as well.

A middle-aged tourist was verbally abusing a hapless crew-member and passing snide, sarcastic remarks. “Where’s my baggage?? Can I get it tonight? Tomorrow? This year??? Huh?? I WANT TO GET TO BED! Hey! Hey! That’s MY CABIN! What do YOU want?!!”

I re-entered my 22-man ‘C’ cabin and another middle-aged tourist asked me in a tired but worried tone, “Do you know WHEN we can get our baggage?”

Paradigm shift, geezers. Who is the one going to bed? You or your baggage? If you are here, the bed is here… GO TO BED!

PUERTO MONTT, CHILE – 17 January, 2003
We awoke this morning and found that we were still tethered to Puerto Natales. We did not awake voluntarily. We had all slept late last night but the breakfast announcement said that breakfast was only served between 8 and 9am. Just one hour. So, we all dragged ourselves up to chomp down some food, and headed back to bed.

We finally left at around 10+am. Gisela, another middle-aged tourist sleeping below me totally missed breakfast. She claimed she did not hear the announcement because of her GOOD ear-plugs. OK, another fancy-gear alert.

We passed by the narrowest strait today. The crew tried to get us all excited about it. This section was 80m wide and could only be attempted at daylight. It was thoroughly COLD standing at the deck to witness this ‘memorable’ moment. We later passed by a glacier that came nearly down to the fjords too.

Somehow, I had expected the scenery to be with deeper fjords and more dramatic gorges, maybe even with ice-bergs floating around. But it was generally flattish and roundish green islands scattered here and there along the channels. Well, if you have watched Titanic, maybe having no ice-bergs around is a GOOD thing.

PUERTO MONTT, CHILE – 18 January, 2003
Gisela’s alarm clock beeped for an eternity. Guess she did not want to miss breakfast today. But, what happens when you pitch a GOOD alarm clock against GOOD ear-plugs? The whole cabin woke up except the intended.

We passed by Puerto Eden today. This is a port-town with a population of about 200 people and their only contact with the outside world is via the Navimag ferries.

This bleak port-town, located in this icy-cold, wind-swept, impossible channels of the Chilean fjords contained the last few remaining people (about 10) of the Kawascar indigeneous race. It was so sad to hear that a particular human race was about to be extinct. Actually, there are several other races down south in Tierra del Fuego which are extinct or on the verge of disappearing too.

The Navimag ferries provided them with some supplies and took those in need of medical help to Puerto Natales or Puerto Montt. Many boats rowed out towards the ferry to meet us. With pattering rain on my face and my frozen nose about to fall off, I could only stand there and admire the resilience and adaptability of the people living out here.

Later, we passed by an abandoned rusty ship which had run aground 30 or 40 years ago. Again, this was another moment the crew got us all excited about. I stood inside by the window and waited for the rusty ship. Then, I got impatient and went out.

It was so easy to type ‘went out’ but it took a lot of force, heaving and shoving, to push the door open against the wind. I was out there for less than one minute and had to force the door (the handle outside was barely held in place) open again. I re-entered ungraciously and now looked like a soaked chicken.

We would cross the aptly named Golf de Penas (Gulf of Pains) tonight. This was the only section where we had to sail around a peninsula, across a gulf and then on open sea around the peninsula before heading back into the channels. This was the legendary bit of the cruise. The pukability meter would rank high tonight.

We were watching The Matrix when IT began. The slow, continuous swaying of the boat, the special high-tech effects of the movie as we traversed through wormholes and into virtual reality and the ‘charm’ of Keanu Reeves, one got nauseous really quickly. Many left before the movie ended.

To PUERTO MONTT, CHILE – 19 January, 2003
There was a loud crash in the middle of the night and everyone woke up. The swaying and rocking had gotten worse through the night. Some people feared the worst. Gisela started to panic and demanded to know from a crew-member if a truck tied to the ferry had fallen down. No, it’s probably much worse, dear. Then, she insisted that if there was a fire on the ferry, they MUST sound the alarm and let us know. OK, but if you continue to wear those GOOD ear-plugs…

By breakfast, I staggered, held onto beams and walls and made my way to the dining-room. A section of the ceiling was on the floor. All the tables and chairs were tied up. We were getting sandwiches today, nothing of the sumptuous breakfast we had had yesterday.

I looked at the window. The view showed the entire sea one moment and then, the entire sky the next. I felt woozy and headed back to bed. By lying down, one seemed to cope better.

By lunch, in order not to let my new muscles waste away, I again made my way to the dining-room for some exercise. At one point, a surreal scene happened in front of me that seemed to be in slow-motion… it looked so unreal. Tables skidded and people fell off their chairs. Food flew. Beets spattered, oranges rolled, beef-steaks slid across the room, rice scattered. Even after it was over, I still could not register this scene properly. It felt like all of us were in orbit, floating around.

After lunch, I stared out of the window. Everything indeed was in slow-motion. The swelling and troughing of the waves, the breaking of the waves, the spreading of the waves, the rocking of the ferry… everything took its time and appeared to be placid and peaceful. So surreal. But, now that they had fed me, maybe I should not be staring at the waves.

We finally re-entered the channels late afternoon.

PUERTO MONTT to CASTRO, CHILE – 20 January, 2003
Miyako, a Japanese lady travelling alone, joined me at lunch again. She was very sweet and nice but we could not really communicate for her English was rather bad and my Japanese was limited to ‘Arigato’ and ‘Sayorana’. Half the time, she gave me blank looks and I was never sure if she understood what I said. Most of the time, she did not talk to me but when she did, she used sporadic words and some noises disguised as words and I usually did not understand her.

With her, came an elderly Japanese man surgically attached to his Sony digi-cam. This one spoke no English or Spanish.

With him, came another Japanese young guy who now lived in London. He could speak English but was rather shy and did not have much to say in English to me.

So, together, we formed ‘little Asia’ at the dining-room. As the three chatted away in Japanese, nodded earnestly and took photographs, I ate up my lunch in silence. Next to me were two Mexicans, conversing in Spanish. This was so funny. I looked like the Japanese but I could not understand a word. Yet, I could understand 80% of what the Mexicans were talking about and I wanted very much to join in their conversation. However, they were trying their best to ignore ‘little Asia’, especially Grandpa Sony who was filming his lunch for the third time.

We finally docked at Puerto Montt around 4pm. We bid farewells to those we got to know on the boat and everyone headed to the bus terminal to catch a bus out rightaway. I journeyed straight to Castro, a town in the middle of a nearby island, Chiloe. The rain continued…

Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our South America Insiders page.

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