Trekking in wild Patagonia...

When Darren initially told me that he wanted to go trekking in Patagonia on our honeymoon, I readily agreed, thinking that we would base ourselves at a comfortable hotel and set out on leisurely day-hikes for as long or as short as we wanted. I like to hike and I can hardly imagine a more exotic locale than Patagonia. However, when we arrived in Chile, and began to work out the details of our trek, I realized that I had completely misunderstood the concept of "trekking." As I soon learned, trekking is characterized by picking a particular route and heading out for days on end! In our case, we decided on the "W trek" in Torres del Paine National Park, which takes several days to complete, and involves a distinct lack of personal hygiene. Apparently this just adds to the experience...

Because two of the "refugios" (dorms for hikers with showers and food service) had availability on our first two nights, we decided to stay in them and then camp out the other nights. Our first couple days on the trail were fantastic- the weather was sunny and clear, so we were able to enjoy great views of the mountains, lakes and valleys (which are often hidden when it's cloudy and rainy). The first day we hiked to Las Torres, the spiraling, narrow mountain peaks for which the park is named. In order to get the benefit of the view, the last leg of the hike required us to climb over boulders in winds strong enough to blow us right off of the mountain (as we hiked, I thought that this would be a disastrous end to our honeymoon). Upon arriving at the top, we stood over a small lake created by run-off from the mountains and marveled at the four awe-inspiring peaks reaching towards the sky. We were glad that we had braved the winds and treacherous hiking conditions to view this prize.

On our second day of trekking, between Las Torres and Los Cuernos (mountain peaks which look like the horns on a bull), we enjoyed spectacular views of the turquoise waters of Lake Nordenskjold, lush green valleys and snowcapped mountains. The abundant wildlife in the park amazed us: llamas grazing, condors soaring overhead and wild horses running through a valley were unlike anything we had ever seen.

The only downside was the food in the refugios, which we had decided to rely on rather than bring our own and increase the weight of our packs. On our first night, we were served some sort of mystery meat which neither Darren nor I could identify. When I asked one of our fellow hikers what type of meat it was, a man from Austria replied, "Good meat!" as he shoveled it in. Having no other options, we reluctantly ate it, and Darren later decided we had been served mutton for dinner, though we weren't sure. The next night's food was equally horrible (again, some sort of unidentifiable meat product), and I woke up on our third morning sick to my stomach, vowing not to eat another meal from a refugio. Fortunately, the next two refugios also sold snacks, so we were able to survive on crackers, juice and cookies for the rest of the time (not nutritious, but better than mutton).

Our third day of hiking was the longest (about ten hours), and not only was my belly in poor shape, but my muscles were sore and the blisters on my feet throbbed. At one point, I sat down on a rock and began to sob out of exhaustion and complete despair at how much farther we had to go before we arrived at our campsite. Poor Darren tried to comfort me, but there was nothing we could do other than take a break, drink some water and press on.

That was the low point, and after my "breakdown" on the rock, I experienced a slight change in mentality. I no longer worried about showering (which wasn't an option at the campsites), but instead took a great amount of joy in washing my feet with a Purell handwipe and putting on clean socks at the end of the day. Rather than changing into clean clothes (also no longer an option), I reveled in washing my underwear by hand and did not care that I hung them out to dry at the campsite. When it started to rain, I brought my underwear into our tent and hung them inside, which caused Darren to express shock and horror at the Blair-witch like objects hanging overhead.

Our increasing pain was not in vain, however, which we realized upon reaching the base of Glacier Gray at the end of our trek. Prior to seeing the actual glacier, we were given a glimpse of what lay ahead as chunks of bluish white ice floated in the lake alongside us as we walked. When we finally reached the glacier on the fourth day, the mound of snow and ice, tinted blue for some scientific reason I can't explain, extended as far as we could see. We felt as though we had reached the end of the earth. Simply an awe-inspiring sight!

As I think back over the past five days, I'd say the trek ended up being a pretty remarkable experience. The exercise and vistas, combined with the interesting people we met along the way made the painful moments worthwhile (no pain, no gain, right?). On our last day, we hiked for four hours in the freezing rain before taking a ferry to Hosteria las Torres, a "real" lodge at the end of the W trek (and our pre-arranged reward). We peeled off our cold, wet clothes and huddled by the radiator, and no shower has ever felt better or more deserved than the one at this wonderful little hotel. Now that we have recovered a bit, I can say without a doubt that I would do it all over again (though I would bring more Advil this time around).

In order to catch our flight the next morning, we made our way from Las Torres to the town of Punta Arenas, which, according to Chileans, is the world's southernmost city. It sits on the Strait of Magellan and feels a lot like a Northern European town. It's certainly a pleasant place to visit but seems to primarily act as a launching point for tours of Patagonia, Tierra del Fuego and Antarctica. While there we stayed at a great little hotel right on the main square called Hotel Cabo de Hornos. While the entire property was quite attractive, we found the bar and restaurant areas to be particularly so (and worth a drink!). Overall, an excellent way to say goodbye to southern Chile! More to come from an entirely different type of destination next…

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