2kiwis

A good nights sleep can erase lots of bad memories and this coupled with a nice day turned my mind from the previous days loathing. I wasn’t really physically ready for walking, my legs stiff, my knees aching, but I still managed to hobble down to the lake shore and get some nice morning photos of the mountains. By the time I got back to the truck I was ready to tackle the final stretch of the W walk. Billy drove those who wished to the point where we had caught the bus the previous day and photos were taken while we waited for the van. Antonio and I were joined by Katie, Patrick and Jeanette for our final trek up to the Towers.

The difference a day makes

The previous night a couple of other trucks had arrived and there were lots of people heading up to start the W walk or just trek up to the Towers. The weather was a complete contrast to the previous couple of days. We had sunshine, blue skies and fluffy little clouds. The track was quite steep, taking us up one side of the Valle Ascencio, and we passed a lot of people taking rests. The views at the top were very good, looking back over the lakes to a line of snow covered hills in the distance.

The view along Valle Ascencio

From here the path travelled along the valley, slowly heading down towards the Refugio Chileno. We had to ask which was the correct path at the Refugio as there were two sign posted routes, one on the same side of the valley we had been walking down and another on the other side of the stream. The Refugio was reached by crossing this stream on a wooden bridge and the path we took led away from the Refugio through a forest that hugged the valley floor.

We crossed back over the stream and then headed upwards again, still under cover of the forest. Things got interesting when we left the forest and came to a rocky slope leading up to the towers. The boulders and smaller rocks had a number of different trails all heading upwards and we picked our way slowly up, the distance between rests steadily decreasing. By the time I got to the top it had been three hours since we had set out and my knees and shins were very sore. Still, it was very good to be at the destination and we were lucky enough to be able to see the towers that give the park its name. It was still sunny though the cloud was thicker here. Coming up the valley we had been walking through sunlight and light snow showers, Antonio thought the snow was probably being blown off the higher slopes.

The guys at the top

The Towers dwarf the visiting hiker

We ate lunch and took photos. The Oasis people we passed all turned up over the next hour or so, their tour leader Heinz appeared wearing jandals (thongs/flip-flops) of all things. I couldn’t have done the walk without proper shoes.

The return walk was quicker in the end, being mostly downhill, but was very uncomfortable for me. My knees and shins did not at all like going downhill and I arrived back at Refugio Los Torres the last of our group but thankfully we still had another half hour or so before the vans would be departing. Being a warmer, drier day we didn’t have any problems fitting in at the fancy hotel and we reclined in the plush couches of the hotel reception while we waited for our transport. The return to our truck was uneventful, I slept for a bit of the journey and it seemed to fly by.

Tranquilo and Famoo have a chat (probably something to do with Famoo’s flat battery)

Katie wrapped up at dinner

Back at camp there were more trucks, Tranquilo one of them. We talked to Rhys and Vanessa and I returned the backpack which was now dry after a day pegged up in the wind. The weather at the campsite was wet and windy, quite the contrast to that further into the park. It was again good to relax at the truck and get a descent sleep, preceded by a meal at the campsite restaurant. Tomorrow we would be heading south in Famoo towards the city at the bottom of the world.

I had a restless night’s sleep and woke a little disorientated. From inside the tent it sounded like it was still raining and once I could focus and look at the nearby ceiling of the tent I could see it was lined with a covering of water drips, presumably the result of the heat of our sleeping bodies interacting with the chill and damp outside. Every movement taken while getting ready to venture outside caused a small shower of water as the drips fell. Breakfast was energy bars. Jimmy was still in his tent and Dave was pottering around. They had decided that they had had enough and they would tramp out and head back to the truck rather than spend another night of misery in the little tent.

Antonio and I had other ideas. We figured we’d come this far so we’d walk up the French Valley, our campsite situated at the head. There is only one track up the valley so we left most of our gear at the campsite in the tent and we set off. It was a grey morning, low cloud hanging in the sky but at least there wasn’t any wind or rain.

The rocks of the French Valley

The path followed the stream in the basin of the valley and we walked steadily upwards towards the snow covered peaks ahead. The floor of the valley was a mess of rocks and boulders, the path weaving its way through, over and around the stone. We crossed a number of smaller streams that emptied into the French Valley water course. These streams each came down a waterfall and these falls got larger as we ascended. At the fourth waterfall the path turned and became steep as it left the rock field and headed up into the forest. We were now walking over a dirt trail and soon were winding our way between tree trucks on a narrow ridge. The last waterfall was quite large and the melting snow was adding to the flow of the water which raced down slippery rocks, our path turning to follow this new stream.

The first waterfall

Antonio at the next stream crossing

We eventually came to a higher point and a clearing in the trees where we could see the peaks around us, a point called Mirador Frances. The snow level was a few hundred meters higher than our position and we could see snow melt falling. Every few minutes there would be a resounding crack and if we looked in the right direction we’d see an avalanche tumble towards the rocks below. We met our first fellow walker of the day while watching for avalanches, an American racing to complete the walk from Refuge Pehoé to the end, taking in the French Valley and the Towers walk. He was in a hurry so we didn’t hold him up for long. We looked further up the valley and couldn’t see much above the snow line, the grey clouds seeming to get lower all the time. It was probably another half hour or so to the end of the French Valley but we decided to turn back. We only had so much time in the day and we figured the extra hour (there and back) wasn’t worth it to see nothing different than what we could already see – the clouds hiding the back view of the Towers.

Looking towards the snow from Mirador Frances

Looking down the valley to the lake

Smiling on the outside (actually, at this point everything was good)

The misty mountain top

The walk back to camp was quick and we set about taking down the tent and getting ready to continue. Dave and Jimmy had already gone, I found Jimmy’s sunglasses on the ground as we were walking out of the campsite. We passed a tent that was now in the middle of a stream, the overnight rain turning previously dry areas into water soaked mud. Thankfully we hadn’t had to deal with such things.

We walked for a couple of hours along a good path through more forest, the track running largely parallel to the shore of Lago Nordenskjãd on our right. The next stop was at Refuge Los Cuernos, we arrived as a light rain started to fall. Antonio had a hot chocolate and we relaxed for twenty minutes or so. Outside the rain was a getting slowly heavier and we left all wrapped up in our wet weather gear. We had another stop further along at a point where the track went along the shoreline, a beach of small round rocks following the gentle curve of a bay. It was beautiful and tranquil, the last time we experienced peace that day.

The pleasant bay

The calm lake

The final two hours of the four hour trek from Refuge Los Cuernos to the Las Torres Refuge was as bad an outdoor experience as I’ve ever had. The rain got harder as we left the forest and walked over hills covered in grass and low shrubs. The wind picked up, flashing the rain into our faces and penetrating through all our supposedly wind and waterproof gear, leaving us soaked. I was tired and getting very sore, my knees first aching and then becoming very painful as we pushed through the weather. There was nothing to do other than continue, we didn’t help ourselves by taking the wrong path at one point and taking a thirty minute diversion through sodden fields where horses roamed. The wind was doing its best to stop us getting to our destination, my body had had enough and mentally I was over the whole thing. Before we discussed it I had already decided that I was going to head back to the truck, camping be damned.

We trudged into Refuge Las Torres bent into the wind; cold, tired and hungry. We first stopped at the fancy hotel but were advised to move on to the refuge (all the best not to disturb the guests I guess). The directions were rather vague and we found ourselves walking past the hotel restaurant, a stable and then through the staff accommodation before being pointed onward down a swamped dirt road. We walked for another twenty minutes and passed through a campsite of windblown and wet tents, some nestled in growing pools of water, some half blown over. The horses in the campsite also looked miserable. There was a store which we bypassed and after passing the common room building for the campsite we crossed a swollen stream on a dodgy wooden plank and headed to a warm looking building.

The Refuge was dry, a very good start. We found out the time of the next van out of the park and then each got dry and changed in to dry clothes in the Refuge bathroom. We then went into the restaurant/bar area, dragging our saturated packs and leaving them to puddle on the floor while we warmed ourselves on the most wonderful wood burning heater found in one corner of the room. There were other people there also warming themselves. Antonio amused everyone when he got a little too close for a little too long and singed a hole into his trousers. It was a very hot heater.

The time came to catch the transport out to where the bus would be waiting so we got all packed again and headed back out into the blowy misery outside. We stood next to a sign by the road where the van would be stopping. The sign blocked a lot of the wind and horizontal rain so it was only uncomfortably cold rather than cold, wet and windy. We were joined by a number of other sodden wretches, one Israeli guy looked like he was going to shiver himself to death as he huddled in the lee of the sign. The van arrived and quickly left again as it was full. Thankfully other vans arrived and everyone got transport out of the park.

At the bus stop a half hour drive away we found Jimmy and Dave. Jimmy was hunkered down in the corner of the wooden bus shelter, all wrapped up and doing his best to stay warm. They had got here a few hours before us only to find that the next bus wouldn’t be departing for a long time. It eventually left about fifteen minutes after we arrived.

It was good to get back to Camp Pehoé. Just about everyone was on the truck swaddled in blankets or sleeping bags. They were surprised to see us all but understood once we’d explained the conditions. Keryn and Janet arrived later on, the last ferry coming back later than our bus. They had walked to the Italian Camp and then back to the Refuge.

I had a shower and it was the best shower ever, no doubt about it. They were good showers to start with; lots of pressure, a decent shower head and lots of heat. Given how beaten up I felt it was bliss to stand under pounding hot water, I could have stayed there for hours. We had dinner and I had a beer, more bliss. Heading off to sleep I was grateful for a dry tent, dry clothes and warmth in general. There was no way I was heading back to the W walk; wild horses couldn’t have dragged me.

There are a number of treks in the Torres del Paine national park and the most popular is called the W walk. The walk can be done either clockwise or counter-clockwise and involves walking up three valleys, from above the path making a W shape. Four of us decided we would do the walk, camping overnight for two nights and completing in three days. To start we had to catch a ferry to the starting point at the Refuge Pehoé across the Lago Pehoé. Billy drove us with Keryn and Janet who were also walking some of the W and a bunch of others who were doing a shorter walk from the ferry dock to a waterfall.

Mountains seen from the ferry

Keryn and Janet share a hot drink on the ferry

The ferry ride was pleasant with free tea, coffee and hot chocolate on offer. The mountains we were to be walking around were topped with fluffy clouds in a deep blue sky and looked amazing and there wasn’t much wind as we travelled to the Refuge. Arriving we waited while Keryn and Janet were shown to their tent (pre-pitched and being rented for the night) and once they had it we all put our large bags inside so we wouldn’t have to carry everything as we walked up to the Grey Glacier viewpoint. Keryn and Janet were taking a slower walk, the other four of us (being myself, Jimmy, Antonio and David) set off ahead of them as we had further to walk in the day and would be walking at a faster pace. Actually Dave stayed behind for a while as well, he had gear wet after a night sleeping in a partially wet tent and wanted to see if the growing wind and sun would dry things out before he set off.

Others set off for a walk from the refuge

So that left Me with Jimmy and Antonio and we headed off down the path. We passed a National Park office and they had a weather forecast up for the week. it didn’t look too good, rain and high winds forecast for the next few days. Still, we were only here once so we continued.

The first hour or so was pleasant with nice weather and a fairly flat track leading up a valley. We stopped a few times to fill our water bottles at streams, the water here very much drinkable. As we slowly climbed we walked past a few small lakes and then came out to a point where we could see Lake Grey and a few icebergs that appeared as small blue dots on the water.

The path was now more exposed and the wind was increasing. We came to a point we named windy hill and here we learnt what one of the funny symbols on our map was, it meant high winds. I’ve never really experienced anything like the wind here, it was easily strong enough that we had to lean into it to make progress and it caught at any loose clothing such as the hood on my raincoat. Coupled with the wind there was rain, not strong rain but driven by the wind each drop felt like a tiny stone when it hit exposed skin. All of us were wearing shorts as they would dry quicker if it rained. The final element was the temperature. The wind was being blown from across the glacier so it was naturally icy cold, those little stones becoming ice needles against our legs. I had to put my back to the wind so I could tighten my hood and I struggled to find the draw strings as I could barely feel my fingers. Thankfully I also had gloves so was able to put them on, the others had to make do with pockets. Antonio had to take cover and seek assistance to get his coat out from his bag and put it on and Jimmy hid behind a battered looking bush to change his clothes as well. None of us actually said we should turn back but we all felt like doing so.

But we continued and maybe fifty metres further on the wind died away. The path took us further broadly following parallel to the lake shore. We walked mostly down from here, the weather no longer sunny and it rained infrequently as we passed through forest and over exposed rocks. It took us about three hours to reach the viewpoint, an exposed path leading us too some rocks where we could view the front of the glacier. Unfortunately the wind here was strong enough that the light rain was being driven directly towards us so we couldn’t take a lot of photos, not that the conditions encouraged staying for long anyway.

The Grey Glacier viewpoint

The walk back to the Refuge took less than three hours and we passed first Dave and then Keryn and Janet coming towards us. We swapped driving wind and rain stories and then continued on our way. The wind and rain returned as we came into the refuge and didn’t stop until we had retrieved our bags and then taken cover by the refuge entrance. We took a short rest stop with hot drinks and then it was time to walk again.

Looking back at the Grey Glacier as we walked back to the refuge

In a little under the sign posted two and a half hours we arrived at Camp Italiano, the walk not particularly difficult but we were now all very tired, wet and rather over the irregular rain showers. We walked on a suspension bridge over a river to arrive in camp and we were not impressed. The campsite was set on undulating ground with extensive tree coverage but looked dark, dank and somewhat swampy. There were lots of people and tents already present so we found some mostly flat ground and set about putting up our tents. The truck tents were too large and heavy to carry with us so we had hired tents from the Camping Pehoe office and we hadn’t actually seen them out of their carry bags before so had to (in the end) refer to the instructions to figure out how the poles intertwined. They were two person tents, just. I shared with Antonio and there wasn’t room for our bags in the tent, they had to go outside underneath the fly in what little room was there. Once we had our gear all set up Antonio and I turned in for the evening, too tired to worry about finding a hot meal and eating the remaining sandwiches from our packed lunch.

It rained overnight.