BUENOS AIRES to USHUAIA, ARGENTINA - 28 December, 2002
Pablo and I had yet another farewell hug at yet another airport. The last time was in Moscow, Russia when I saw him off at the airport and then, I had made my way to the nothernmost town of my entire trip - St. Petersburg.

Now, in turn, he saw me off at the airport and I would be making my way to the southernmost town of my entire trip - Ushuaia.

As the plane flew over Ushuaia, getting ready to land, I saw before me the most beautiful landscape I could ever recall from the air.

The snowy and craggy mountains stretched nearly to the edge of the bay. The mountains were simply awesome and I was lost for words. I gaped from my window, stupefied. The lady from my next seat had to ask me to sit back so that she could partake of the view too. The pretty little town of Ushuaia sat at the bottom of the mountains, in front of the bay. I kept thinking where exactly I was on the map and I just could not get used to it.

I got off the plane and looked around at the people. I figured that this was probably the closest I ever got to rubbing shoulders with polar explorers, research biologists and people rich enough to afford the Antarctica cruises.

The air was absolutely fresh and cool. I left a 35°Celsius Buenos Aires and arrived at a 7°Celsius Ushuaia. I was absolutely enchanted by the colourful flowers all over town. I later learnt that they are called 'chochos', they look like ears of corns in purple, pink, orange, etc... Delightful.

The sun was shining but the wind vicious. Many Argentinian flags had tattered ends as they probably had been subjected to the relentless wind for ages.

Taking out my wind-breaker, I nearly lost it to oblivion. Standing by the dock, I nearly got tossed into the Beagle Channel. I tried to enjoy the outdoors and the sunshine by walking around but it was a tad difficult when you imagined your eye-lashes could be swept out to Antarctica any moment.

As I had just rejoined the 'backpackers' circuit after a two-month hiatus, frankly, I needed some time to get used to it again. I was not in the mood to chat with anybody, you know, the usual backpackers' talk... "So, where are you from?", "Are you just doing South America?", "How long are you travelling for?", "Where are you heading off next?"... In fact, listening to English being spoken in the next table of the cafe I was in already disorientated me.

Here in Ushuaia, the sun set at around 10:30pm or 11pm. Yet another near 'White Night'. I remember writing about this phenomenon when I was in St. Petersburg in summer. I had giggled from my bed when I looked out of the window at midnight and could still see the after-sunset blue. Now, nearly half a year later, I was in Ushuaia, in summer again, and experiencing the same phenomenon.

Two near 'White Nights' in one year. For someone whose natural habitat is at the Equator where the sun rises and sets at the same time everyday of the year, this was really fantastic!

USHUAIA, ARGENTINA - 29 December, 2002
I headed to Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego in the morning. I had wanted to do this trek alone. I figured it would be a nice walk in the woods, totally immersed with nature.

I got off at the start of the trail with Paul, from England. He had just returned from a US$4000 10-day Antarctica cruise. See, I told you I would be rubbing shoulders with one of these luminaries.

We did the first 2km or so of the Coastal Path together. He didn't mind doing this stretch of the trail with me but I feared I was slowing him down as he still wanted to conquer other more strenuous trails later. I kept urging him to feel free to move on ahead. In the end, he disappeared into the woods, never to be spotted by me again.

As I made my way through the woods by myself, I realised THIS was the way to enjoy nature. Every so often, I stopped dead in my tracks and listened. The gentle lapping of the waves from the bay... the occasional distant songs from birds... the rustling of the leaves as the shifting wind blew over... the soft pecking of the trunks by invisible woodpeckers. I would miss all these if I had been walking with someone. We would be chatting away, totally clueless. Even if we did not talk and I had stopped in my track, the sound of the other person's movements, the rubbing of his pants as he walked, his footsteps, would drown these gentle, natural melodies.

I finished the Coastal Path and sat in front of the Lapataia Bay and had a sandwich. There were two possible trails from here and I tried to decide which one I would take. I decided to walk the Lago Roca trail to the border of Chile-Argentina. Hmmm... to walk through the woods to the border of two countries... Yep, there was a nice frontier ring to it.

I made my way along the lake and at some point, got myself a little lost. When you start having to turn away from sheer drops, or crawling through very narrow gaps between huge boulders, or getting pricked every so often, you could pretty much guess you had strayed from the required trail.

I could see no yellow poles for a while now. Either I turned back or I persevered on, hoping the yellow pole was just around the corner. In the end, to my relief, I spotted the '3km' sign some distance away and I had to clamber on top of huge boulders and slide down a little slope unglamourously to reach it.

At the end of the trail, there was an orange obelisk-thingie and a sign 'LIMITE INTERNACIONAL - NO PASAR / NO TRESPASSING'. I was naughty, I crossed into Chile illegally and did a wander around to test if there were hidden snipers or laser-triggered machine guns. Nope.

I sat by the lake and stared ahead of me at the mountains opposite. The wind was extremely strong by the lake. I stood up, put on my Peruvian 'alpaca, baby alpaca' woolly cap and my Langmusi (Tibetan town in China) fashion-challenged gloves. Then, I re-sat by the lake and stared ahead of me at the mountains opposite.

I mentally noted my geographical location on the globe. This was a moment to treasure, to savour.

USHUAIA, ARGENTINA - 30 December, 2002
I had complained about the high cost of sending mail from Argentina but I made an exception today. I wrote a postcard to myself, a 'Happy New Year' greeting and sent it from 'el fin del mundo' (the end of the world). I wonder what I would make of it when I return home in a few months and read this postcard.

I took a boat ride down the Beagle Channel to veer near islands with resting cormorants and lounging sea-lions.

The way cormorants fly was great. They fluttered their wings desperately ever so close to the water as they tried to gain height and swoop away. I loved watching them take off. If I was not misinformed, their wings were not waterproof, hence, they needed to stand around the island and dry their wings after that... which was what they were doing most of the time on the islands.

The sea-lions dozed away and lumbered around sleepily and grumpily. A few babies clustered together near their mommies.

On the boat was this guy with a Texan drawl from my hostel, Regi. He told me he had been doing some research to see how he could get to the Antarctica cheaply. He claimed that he always wanted to head out there because it was the last continent he had not set foot on. He was not too keen on those 10-day cruises, he just wanted to set foot on Antarctica.

Oh, sigh... I guess, all sorts of travellers exist. I did not agree with what he was saying but I exercised supreme self-control by clamming up, not saying a word and simply nodding away politely. Unsolicited, he went on to fortify my knowledge with his past trips and adventures. Well, once everything was out of the way, I guess I should be nice to say he was NOT THAT BAD a company.

USHUAIA, ARGENTINA to PUNTA ARENAS, CHILE - 31 December, 2002
I had been warned by Carolyn and Lydia (who had visited me in Buenos Aires) that I ought to try and buy my bus-ticket out of Ushuaia as soon as I arrived as they were hard to come by.

For novelty, I had wanted to spend New Year's Eve at the 'end of the world' but it was either a bus out of Ushuaia today or a bus out of Ushuaia many many days later. So, I would be spending New Year's Eve in Punta Arenas, Chile later this evening.

I got the last but one seat on the bus, next to the onboard toilet. My neighbour (who got the last seat) was another American but a more mature guy, i.e. grey hair and he smoked a pipe.

Guess what, he had also just returned from a 10-day Antarctica cruise. OK, here I go again... rubbed shoulders one more time. And that was not all, he was going to Punta Arenas to fly to the Falkland Islands. Gee, Grey Piper was going places!

He then proceeded to ask me which countries I had ever been to in my LIFE. Er... I found this question awkward to answer. I hate being a lister. To rattle off the countries that I had been to? That was so boring! Since this was what he asked, I guess I had to answer something. But I just knew that he was actually not interested in listening. So I replied sparingly.

Grey Piper selected some countries and zoomed in further. Which cities? This was beyond weird. As I gingerly made my sparing replies again, he interrupted ever so often to say "I've been there, in '76," "Oh, been there, 12 years ago," "Uh-huh, was there, summer of '83"...

As this was a long, boring bus journey through bleak, desolate landscape, I shall interrupt to give my observations of the myriad travellers around that make up this weird and wonderful world.

The below are all true examples, I swear.

TYPE: THE WAITING-TO-EXHALE

Example 1
Someone: "How long did you travel?"
Guy: "I went to 26 countries in 21 months."
Someone: "Wow.... how much did you spend?"

The Guy actually proceeded to reply an amount, right up to the CENTS!

It was like this guy had had all his answers prepared in his mind, just waiting WAITING for someone to ask him those questions.

Example 2
Then, there were those like Grey Piper who sought for the chance to interrupt and drop hints of where HE had been to, in the disguise that he was interested in knowing where YOU had been to. At the merest hint or flicker from your eyes or sometimes, even utterly unsolicited, he would proceed to extrapolate on his travels, furnishing you with details and anecdotes. He shoved everything down your throat the first five minutes of meeting you.

TYPE: THE ANYTHING-YOU-DID-I-DID-IT-BETTER

Example 1
The below conversation actually happened to me and I write it now, verbatim. Note that there was no pause between each question.

2 points - win, 0 point - lose, 1 point - draw.

Guy: "Have you been to Jordan?"
Me: "Yes"

Score, Me vs Guy - 1 : 1

Guy: "Did you go to Petra?"
Me: "Er... Yes."

Score, Me vs Guy - 2 : 2

Guy: "How many days did you spend there?"
Me: "4 days."

Score, Me vs Guy - 3 : 3
(OK, if I was this TYPE of traveller, I would argue that the guy did not proffer HIS number of days spent at Petra, and hence we could not verify if this was indeed a DRAW situation. But since I was not this TYPE of traveller, I let it slide, ha ha.)

Guy: "Did you go to Wadi Rum?"
Me: "Wadi Rum? No..."
Guy, with a flourish: "I spent ONE NIGHT in the Wadi Rum desert under the stars."

Score, Me vs Guy - 3 : 5

Stand back, we have a winner...

Example 2
Pablo and I were sitting behind a guy at the National Stadium of Ulaan Baator, watching the wrestling match during Naadam Festival. Guy turned around and started a conversation with Pablo. He finally asked, "So, how many days have you been in Mongolia?"

Pablo racked his brain, "Er... I think, 8... 10 days?"
Guy: "For me, three months."

With a flourish (this type usually ended with flourishes), he swung his bag and strode out of our lives. Pablo and I looked at each other. Like, what JUST happened?

TYPE : THE LIST-BUILDER

Example 1
Guy: "I just crossed the border to Argentina to go to the Iguacu Falls. Does that mean I have entered my 31st country?..... Yeah, I think it counts."

This would also be someone like Regi who was planning on going to Antarctica because that was the last continent he had not set foot on. It was those who wanted to be able to say that they had been there, done that, to put a 'tick' against that country or continent.

Example 2
Then there are those who simply rattled off the countries they had been to, whether called for or not. They can sometimes be confused with the WAITING-TO-EXHALE but that specimen usually provided more details while this just go for IMPACT and love to bask in the awe-struck after-effect of the listener.

The bleak, desolate landscape of southern Patagonia continued in front of me. For the next few hours, I dozed and woke, read and stared out of the window.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Grey Piper proclaimed, "It would be great to be able to go to Spitzburgen."

We were not talking about anything prior to this for hours. It was not a case of talking about the north, south, east or west of some places that triggered him to be reminded of Spitzburgen.

I knew he was saying this for IMPACT. He must have calculated that the listener had an 80% chance of not knowing where or what Spitzburgen was and that the listener would get all flustered and would implore, "Huh?? Spitzburgen?? Where's that? What's that?" And he would then proceed, with swollen ego, to enlighten the pitiful listener.

The above thought processed in my head in a few micro-seconds. He had also miscalculated the percentage, for I knew where Spitzburgen was. I refused to grant him the pleasure.

"Spitzburgen? North of Norway? That's an idea..." I smiled nonchalantly, unimpressed, and returned to the wonderfully bleak and desolate landscape of southern Patagonia.

Don't get me wrong, I admire well-travelled people and love to hear their stories. But there are just some who... irk me.

We paused by the Magallanes Straits to await the vehicle-ferry to transport us across. The tortured Chilean flag fluttering nearby had been thoroughly abused, harshly blown. The flag now remained half the length of what it used to be, its ends totally in shreds.

I guess, this was how it was like in Southern Patagonia, always cold, rainy and windy. What a place to live in...

There were a few hostel touters at the bus-station when we arrived at Punta Arenas. I followed a guy named Caco back to his hostel. The hostel had four other guests, all Germans. Guess who's the odd one out?

Oh, I didn't mind them speaking in German among themselves. I just love listening to another language other than English. It sounded beautiful. Occasionally, one of them would do me the favour by explaining what they were saying to me. The joke was usually lost by then.

A few minutes before midnight, the Germans, Kai, Udo, Thomas and Nadia, and I headed to the Plaza de Armas to look for a party. Amazingly, the entire town was dead. No lights appeared in the houses we passed by. When we arrived at the Plaza, there were a few sparse groups loitering around. I counted about 15 of us, perhaps all tourists.

We all had different times. Someone quipped, "3 minutes left!" Others argued, "No, 1 minute!" In the end, when our 'New Year celebrations' began was dependent on when the corks of our respective champagne bottles popped out into the air. There were waves of 'FELIZ ANO NEUVO' (Happy New Year) called out at different times.

We hopped up and down the square, trying to make as much noise as possible in this dead town. We all agreed this was the weirdest and most silent New Year we had had in a while. We hugged strangers, wished one another well, took swigs out of the cheap champagne. Then... the town clock struck '12' and chimed away. Oops, we were a tad early. Alas, no fireworks either.

A party was held in one of the buildings facing the square and the people started calling out to us, throwing streamers down and yelling at us to run up and join them. We did, only to be turned away by the waiters!

The tourists hung around the square and figured, well, we just had to move on, for NOTHING was happening down there. The Germans and I walked to another hostel. This was also quiet but it had more people in the hostel and there was music.

We invited ourselves in and the drunk and cheery lady-in-charge placed five bottles of wine on our table. We later took their plates of leftover pear crumble and chocolate cake and scraped up everything with our fingers.

We talked and drank until 4:30am when the sky became blue again. It turned dark at 10:30pm last year, just six hours ago and now, a brand new year begins...

PUNTA ARENAS, CHILE - 1 January, 2003
Punta Arenas looked wind-swept and desolate today as well. No cars passed by our hostel. No one walked by either.

I curled up on the sofa, and spent New Year's Day reading Argentina's most incredible writer Jorge Luis Borges' Labyrinths.

I realised, a little giddily, Borges and I shared the same birthdate. But, I am the living proof that sharing the same birthdate had absolutely nothing whatsoever related to sharing similar intellectual levels.

I needed full concentration to read his book. I pored over it, studiously. All the stories touched on somewhat magical themes that took you far away from reality and yet, seemingly and confusingly so real. Magical words like 'infinity', 'cyclical', 'limitless', 'eternity' and of course, 'labyrinth' featured in all the stories.

There are many ways to travel and I had just been exposed to yet another way by Borges... travelling of the mind to magical places.

PUNTA ARENAS, CHILE - 2 January, 2003
I paid my visit to the Penguin's Colony near Punta Arenas in the afternoon. It was about one and a half hour's drive through more wind-swept plains, dotted with the occasional rheas, to arrive at Seno Otway, some 70 or so km out of Punta Arenas.

The Magellanic Penguins returned to this site from October to March to breed and raise their babies. And January was the month to see the baby penguins.

We walked on boardwalks through the nature reserve. I hurried along as I figured the penguins would be near to the coast. Suddenly, I spied a penguin casually standing outside a burrow. Then, a few more steps took me merely one metre from two penguins, lying huddled together on the grass. I was totally amazed by how close we could be to them and yet, they did not seem to be spooked by us.

Near the coast, there were many families standing and lying outside their burrows. The babies were still in baby fur, but they looked as big as their parents. Some were cleaning their wings. Some appeared to be dozing. Others just standing around.

Groups of three or four were toddling their way up from or down to the coast. At the coast, which we could peer out from a hide, tonnes of them were standing around or plunging into the water. It was wonderful, wonderful!!

The last time I saw penguins was in Krakow, Poland when the penguin-nuns flocked to Krakow to await the arrival of the Pope Mobile, back in August. So, this was an incredible experience for me. Penguins just crack me up. They look so cute and funny. I guess it was from all 'The Far Side' comics I had read.

Maybe the persistent wind blew and stretched the two ends of my mouth to the sides, but I had a permanent grin fixated on my face for the rest of the walk around the reserve. I was freezing cold, blown senseless by the southern wind, but I guess I was more dizzy with the euphoric feeling of being present in such a location to see a colony of penguins.

PUNTA ARENAS to PUERTO NATALES, CHILE - 3 January, 2003
The Germans were heading to Ushuaia today and I, to Puerto Natales. Kai and Udo had been in Punta Arenas for two weeks, waiting for Kai's new passport. He had left it on a bus, 2 weeks into their trip. They were here so long, they seemed to be running the hostel, for the hostel guys, Caco and Jorge, were hardly ever around.

The hostel guys would appear suddenly to fetch something from their rooms, exchange a few quick words with us and disappear. They would return at perhaps 10+pm and ask us to wake them up at 12 midnight so that they could go out to party. They were supposed to be at the bus-station all day, hoping to bait a tourist, like what they did me. Only last night did we have new guests but they were walk-ins.

We all seriously wondered if Caco could manage the hostel with the Germans gone. Just after they left for the bus-station, I asked Caco if he took the keys back from them. He then screamed and ran out to chase after the Germans. Later, he returned with the keys and pantingly told me that when the hostel was opened two months ago, he had 12 keys, and now, only three left. Yeah, we shouldn't worry, they would do a good job running their hostel.

I arrived at a yet another very windy and cold Chilean town, Puerto Natales. Maybe even windier and colder than what I remembered of Punta Arenas. And this was supposed to be SUMMER!

I made arrangements for my boat trip to Puerto Montt by ferry in two weeks' time and had a discussion with Hurben, my hostel owner, about the Torres del Paine hike. He suggested I do it alone by renting a tent and a stove and bringing my own food. Urrmmm... I was not sure if I could do it but I would worry about that later. Tomorrow, I wanted to cross back into Argentina to visit a few places first, before returning to do the Torres del Paine trek.

When I was out about in town, I could not really go far for the wind was really very strong. It was better to stay huddled in a cafe or the hostel. At a cafe, I overheard a group of Western tourists, very seriously and studiously discussing the Torres del Paine hike, commenting about '4 hours on this trail', and 'the contours looked steep here'.

Actually, for a while now, since I got to Punta Arenas, I had already began to feel that the backpackers here appeared to be all out for an expedition, very equipped for trekking. Most had gigantic 2-metre-tall backpacks, with rolled tents, mattresses and sleeping bags tied to them. Many also had the mean-looking walking poles, which if not used properly, could take an eye or two out. At every free time, they could be spotted poring over hiking maps, mapping out trails and discussing their routes. All very SERIOUS.

I bit into my bread and considered about ME. Gee... I, thoroughly ill-equipped, seemed to be heading off to do some trekking with nothing but a backpack of optimism.

PUERTO NATALES, CHILE to EL CHALTEN, ARGENTINA - 4 January, 2003
Long day of travel today as I crossed the border back to Argentina. Strange that after the border, the clouds disappeared and the sky was beautifully blue. A huge difference from Puerto Natales.

We stopped at a toilet / snack stop in the middle of nowhere. I know I am repeating myself but the wind was really, really strong. I did not walk back to the bus later. I kinda floated-landed-floated-landed.

As I looked out of the window and saw the whipping wind thrashing the scrublands, I realised this must be the part of the world where the locals had 20 different names for 'wind' and if I mentioned 'arbol' (tree) to them, they would need to look it up in the dictionary for they had long forgotten that 'trees' exist on this planet.

We arrived at El Calafate, near the famous Argentinian glaciers, 7.5 hours later. I bought another bus-ticket out to El Chalten, later this evening. Again, the journey to El Chalten was through barren, wind-swept moonscape. However, the sky was so clear that day that when we were perhaps more than 100 km from El Chalten, we were able to spot some sudden pointy intrusions from the plains - the mountains of Cerre Torres and Fitzroy in the distance.

Gosh, they were just breath-taking, even from such a distance. Amidst the flatlands, it was weird to see such sharp peaks jutting out suddenly. That was why some mountains were named after impressive figures of our past and others simply known as 'mere mountains'.

EL CHALTEN, ARGENTINA - 5 January, 2003
Such was my luck that today, the selected day for my hike to view Mount Fitzroy, it was cloudy the entire morning.

The clouds nested around Mount Fitzroy the entire time I was heading towards it, never quite lifting away. I was walking with Britta, a Canadian, who did not mind some company. The majority of the hike was through rather easy flattish woods. It was gorgeous all around, with pine trees and reddish shrubs and glaciers and snowy mountains in the distance.

The last bit of the hike, about one hour or so, was up a hill, rather steep and stony the entire way. I got really winded in a while. Seriously, can I do the Torres del Paine hike by myself?

But, naturally, once you reached the top, the reward was stupendous and you forgot all the pains and troubles at once. Mount Fitzroy and company were picture-perfect behind Lago a los Tres, a glacier lake. OK, they would be picture-perfect if the clouds would lift. We stayed up there for more than an hour, basking in the radiant beauty of the surrounding mountains and the icy lake, waiting and waiting for the clouds.

Finally, we did a snappie, filled up our bottles with glacier water and embarked on the walk down.

On the way back, we kept turning around to see Mount Fitzroy. Slowly, the clouds WERE lifting! At each strategic spot, we took a picture, just in case this was the BEST Mount Fitzroy we could get. Actually, by then, I thought, with the clouds almost floating away, some parts of it clinging to the mountain, the tail-ends of it fluttering in the wind, somewhat caressing the sky... it actually made Mount Fitzroy look alive!

In the end, we probably had enough Mount Fitzroy photos to last a lifetime. Well, I was thoroughly impressed by the immense beauty of the park. Gosh, how can you NOT LOVE this country!!! No wonder they make great calendars.

EL CHALTEN to EL CALAFATE, ARGENTINA - 6 January, 2003
Today, heading out of El Chalten, the sky was once again cloudless and wondrously blue. Oh well. Mount Fitzroy posed eternally and stoically in the background as I departed.

Back in El Calafate that afternoon, I walked around the touristy little town and poked my nose into those touristy little shops selling touristy little souvenirs.

Now back in Argentina, which was cheaper than Chile, I decided to purchase some grocery supplies for my Torres del Paine hike which I was still not sure if I could do it.

EL CALAFATE, ARGENTINA - 7 January, 2003
I joined an excursion to do a minitrekking on Perito Moreno Glacier today. We were all bundled into a huge tourist bus and it spun through the woods and mountains for about two hours before turning a corner and lo and behold, the VERY IMPRESSIVE Perito Moreno Glacier stretched out ahead of us! What a view!

Then, we were transported to a ferry that brought us to the western end of the glacier.

We were met by dashing-looking glacier-trekking guides. All of them were wearing cool sun-shades, were dressed in cool blue jackets, were slightly unshaven. They were just posing by the rocks, muttering 'Buen dia' (Good morning) and 'Hola' (Hello) and looking dashing.

They reminded me of the dashing-looking abseiling guides I had in Bonito, Brazil. Guess it came with the job description... Only the dashing-lookings need apply.

Luki, our English-speaking and dashing-looking guide, proceeded to explain how glaciers were formed to us English-speakers. The group of ice here in Southern Patagonia was the third largest in the world, after Antarctica and Greenland. The ice here was not very old, perhaps four or five centuries old, but it was difficult to estimate. See? Despite being slightly distracted, I paid attention.

Just then, we heard a crack and a groan and some ice fell off round the corner. It created a series of waves that washed up to our feet.

We donned crampons and followed Jose, another dashing-looking dude, up the undulating ice. It was not very difficult to walk on ice, with crampons. Just stomp around. It was better to walk with feet apart and flat-down. Occasionally, there were deep, blue, beautiful crevices or holes inside the glacier. The 'blueness' was an optical illusion caused by the lack of oxygen in the ice further below.

When we were done, we were brought to another viewpoint right in front of the HUGE glacier. It was really very impressive. How blue it looked. I had long since run out of adjectives. I waited for the chance to see a whole wall of ice fall off. So, whenever there was a crack and a groan, we all looked around desperately, "Where? Where?" It was a great excursion. I probably had enough glacier photos to last two lifetimes.

EL CALAFATE, ARGENTINA to PUERTO NATALES, CHILE - 8 January, 2003
We crossed the border back to Chile. The Customs guys at the Chilean border wanted to check our bags. Ooops. We were not supposed to bring in fruits, meat and some stuff. I was not sure if the groceries I picked up were alright. He rummaged through my bag, fondled my cans of pate and my packet of rice and said nothing. He missed my carton of Dulce de Leche (but of course!). Phew.

PUERTO NATALES, CHILE - 9 January, 2003
I bought more groceries, rented a one-man tent and a stove, shopped around and found a cheap canister of gas and shoved everything into my backpack.

By evening, I chatted with a Swiss couple, Thomas and Silvie and a Dutch girl, Hannake, in the hostel. Thomas and Silvie were also heading to Torres del Paine (TDP) tomorrow. Hanna was waiting for some more Dutch to show up tonight and they would hit TDP the day after.

Thomas: "Do you have rain gear?"
Me: "Just a jacket."
Silvie: "Nothing for your pants??"
Me: "No..."
Thomas: "Oh, everyone on the trip had told me it will definitely RAIN and RAIN!"

Silvie: "How about thermal underwear?"
Me: "Nope, I don't have that."
Silvie, concerned: "But it will be VERY COLD..."

Thomas: "What temperature can your sleeping bag take?"
Me: "It said on the label 1°C to 8°C."
Thomas, now very concerned: "Oh no... That means you will only be barely comfortable at 8°C. It is not enough."

Hanna: "WHAT? You don't even have a map???"
Me: "Well. No. I suppose I can borrow, if I want."

The three were very sweet and very kind and very concerned for me. I knew I was ill-equipped but I just did not possess the fancy gear that Europeans do and I could not BUY everything.

They had this stuff because they were experienced hikers and they come from cold countries and use them anyway. For my tropical country, sarong? Yes... cute spaghetti-straped sundresses? Yes... thermal underwear? Afraid not.

I knew they probably said a silent prayer for me that evening.

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