CHILE, Patagonia, Monday 1st October

It is easy, when travelling, to become a little nonchalant about your destinations after a while. You are constantly on the move and constantly being impressed. You can take it for granted. Touching down in Patagonia, however, brought home to me the true magnitude of my trip. From deserts to ice bergs. I had made it to Patagonia! I was beside myself with excitement and trundled along the long, deserted road from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales grinning stupidly out at the greyish-brown expanse of scrubby nothingness, dotted with the occasional sheep. I felt extremely pleased with myself.
Puerto Natales is a small, boxy town with pastel corrugated tin houses. It has been forced to scrub up its act since it became the last port of call for hikers on their way to Parque National Torres del Paine. The streets are a gortex and fleece hub of trekkers, tour shops and equipment rentals. I knew I wanted to see Torres del Paine but wasn´t sure how I was supposed to go about it; so I did what I normally do and just turned up.
I checked into a cosy hostel and spent the remainder of the day quizzing the owner and other hikers re. suggested routes, stocking up on dried fruit, nuts and chocolate and generally readying myself for the off the next day. In the evening I went out for dinner with 2 nice Chileans and a Cambridge boy, ate an huge amount of lamb and went early to bed.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, our bus picked us up and took us off to Torres del Paine. It was a spectacular drive through the valleys, the giant, craggy Torres looming above us, past grazing herds of lamas and along breath-taking turquoise lakes of icy glacier water. This looked promising.
I had adopted 2 boys (are there no female travellers in South America?) who were doing a similar route to me and so, laden with gear, we set off in the direction of our first ´refugio´ set on the banks of Largo Pehoe. The sun was shining but the wind was brutal. Leaning into it we struggled through open grass land, along rivers and up hills, stopping every so often to refuel on chocolate. Our last couple of hours were spent traversing the hillside that overlooked the lake, which was stunning. I have never seen water that blue, almost luminous. Apparently it has something to do with the fine sediment that reflects the light in a certain way... Whatever, it is beautiful.
We arrived at the refugio late in the afternoon to find it expensive, cold and seriously lacking in hot water. It was very smart though, with big windows over looking the lake, just not quite up and running yet being so early in the season. Shared hardship united us hikers and we all snuggled around the fire, swapping stories and comparing notes, blisters and muscle ache. Quite a little comunity.
We were up early the next day and soon swish-swishing in our waterproofs through a damp, grey morning towards Largo Grey and the Glacier. It was a long day walking through woods and scrambling up and down stoney mountain sides, the peaks of which where hidden from us in thick grey cloud. Still, it was worth it. The Glacier lay there enticingly in the distance, appearing closer than it was due to sheer size. Like a great white tongue pertruding down the mountain side, its ragged edges glowing blue like the crystals we used to make in science class. We scrambled about by the waters edge, posing for photos and attempting arty shots before the long walk back to the refugio. We returned to find that there had been an uprising among the guests and we had all been bribed into silence with a free dinner. Splendid. So we all ate a hearty 3 course meal, rounded off by a much applauded chocolate flan from one of the hikers (who received almost celeb status for this generous act) and followed by stretching lessons from an Adonis-like Italian physiotherapist. Very amusing.
Up again at an early hour and our longest walk yet to refugio Las Torres, 24kms away. It was a beautiful day and we spent most of it walking alongside Largo Nordenskjold. We had sparkling blue water to our right and snow capped mountains above us to our left. In the sunshine it was hot and we ambled along in t-shirts, stopping to take photos, eat toffee and fill up our water bottles from the icy, pure mountain streams.
Exhausted we arrived at the refugio which was in better working order. We chatted to a nice couple who assured us that the Torres, our final venture and climax of our trip was beautiful and well worth the pain of getting there. It turned out that the guy is my friend´s boss in London (small world) so we gossiped about him (sorry Alan!) while waiting for dinner. Another 3 course meal and another early night.
At 5.50am I was shaken awake and we bleerily stepped into a grey, drizzally morning. We had to catch a shuttle back to town at 2.00 so we had to haul ass up Las Torres in order to make it back down on tie. Half awake and with indignant, overworked muscles screaming at us, we plodded doggedly uphill for 2 hours. It was hard workd and our energy was at a very low ebb. That is why people climb Las Torres first, they have the strength... But it was the weather that did it. Driving, slanted rain, fierce winds and no sign of Las Torres buried deeply in the clounds. The path took us along a narrow ledge over a gorge and the wind was such that I was worried that I would get blown off. Half way up we sheltered in the doorway of a closed refugio and took stock. We were cold, wet and exhausted. The weather was relentless and unchanging so we took an executive desicion to return to base where it was warm. There was tea and the liklihood of being whisked off a mountain by a gust of wind was more remote. We laboured back down to the refugio dissppointed but a little relieved. I tucked myself into a corner by the fire and thawed out. Nevermind. Next time.
Back in Puerto Natales for laundry, internet and another good dinner. We bumped into a few of our fellow hikers and had a nice evening drinking well deserved beer.
What a wonderful few days. I am much appriciative of my 2 escorts Matt and Mike, who kept me going on bribes of toffee, made sure I was heading in the right direction (thankfully) and pulled me out of bogs. I hope that the photos and endless stream of entertainment I provided made it all worhtwhile...
I am now back in Puerto Montt and awaiting a pick up that will take me back in the direction of Santiago. Goodbye Southern Chile and Patagonia, it has been an adventure.