Patagonia: No Paine, No Gain

Our bus ride to Torres del Paine National Park seemed like a bad omen. It picked us up late, drove in the pouring rain and pulled off the side of the road due to what Magge and I initially thought was a flat tire. The bus driver and his assistant got off the bus, took a look around, and came back on board to announce that it was too dangerous to continue and that we would have to wait for another vehicle to come take us the remaining seventy kilometers to the park entrance. We decided to go outside in the rain to get some fresh air, and discovered that the problem with the bus wasn't a flat tire, but that the front axle had somehow disconnected. Back in our seats, I resigned myself to missing our scheduled ferry and wondering if the weather would actually let us see any mountains during our four days in the park.

This can't be good

The bus started rolling again in twenty minutes. I don't know how, and I'm not sure I want to know how, but it got us the final seventy kilometers into the park, and a further thirty kilometers to our ferry just in time. A crowded thirty minute boat ride later, and we were at our lodge and still no mountains in sight. However, by the time we checked in and ate lunch, the clouds had lifted enough to let the sun shine and give glimpses of the mountains around us. We took a walk down to the shore of Lake Pehoé and waited for the clouds to fully reveal Cerro Paine Grande and Los Cuernos ("The Horns"), the two largest mountains from our vantage point. They never did, but the views were still spectacular. I've seen a number of glacial lakes in the Rockies, Peru and now Chile, but their colors amaze me every time, and Lake Pehoé was no different. Knowing we would have a long walk the next day, we cut the hike short at three hours, ate dinner, and went to bed early.

The mysterious Cerro Paine Grande

It's like, how much more blue could this be?  And the answer is none.  None more blue.

Work with us, clouds

Almost there

We got an early start the next morning under incredibly clear skies. Our goal was the lookout point at the end of the French Valley fifteen kilometers (nine miles) away. We kept up a quick pace, passing many hikers on the trail, and made it to the entrance of the valley ahead of schedule. From here, we had a closeup view of the Cerro Paine Grande and the French Glacier descending its slope to the west and Los Cuernos to the east.

Finally, clear views of Cerro Paine Grande and Los Cuernos

French Glacier

French Valley

Five minutes into the valley, we heard a loud rumbling above us. I was worried it was thunder, but when I saw nothing but blue skies above us, I realized it was the glacier moving across the mountain. The glacier continued to groan every few minutes as we spent the next three hours weaving through the forest alongside the river. Emerging from the woods, we could see the viewpoint - a small rock outcrop - a couple hundred meters in the distance. Magge scrambled up first so I could take a picture, and then I joined her. The vista from the rock was simply awesome. The glaciers that have carved the land in this area have stripped many of the mountains of their sedimentary rock, leaving bare granite, and have created a very unique landscape. Neither of us wanted to leave, but we had another fifteen kilometers to walk back to the lodge.

Magge on the French Valley lookout

Clockwise look at the French Valley, starting with Cerro Paine Grande to the east

We weren't admiring the scenery as much on the way back because the distance covered was starting to take its toll on us.  Magge's blisters predictably raised their heads, and with an hour to go, my left achilles began to experience sharp pains and my backpack began to feel much heavier.  We took a few more pictures, then put our heads down and got back to our beds as quickly as we could.

Looking back on Los Cuernos

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had played a football game the previous night.  My upper back, neck and shoulders were very sore from the backpack, my feet felt bruised (especially the left achilles) and my legs took plenty of coercion to move.  Magge didn't look much better.  Did this really happen from hiking?  I felt pathetic.  It was eighteen miles, about half either up or down rough terrain, but I still felt like I was too young to be reduced to feeling like this from merely walking.  "Do we really have to walk again?" I asked Magge, even though I knew we'd feel better once we got going.

The day's site was Grey Glacier, a much larger glacier than the previously visited French, and one that is still in the process of carving out a lake that shares its name.  We'd only have to hike twenty-two kilometers (fourteen miles), we told ourselves.  The first ten minutes were tough, but once the blood started pumping, we both felt better.  My achilles still ached, causing a slight limp and prompting Magge to offer to take the backpack, but we still made good time.  Once we came in view of Grey Lake, my mind was taken off the troublesome tendon.  The weather wasn't as nice as the day before, but the clouds were high enough that they didn't obstruct the view.  Before I saw the glacier itself, I saw numerous icebergs scattered across the surface of the lake, so I at least knew we were on the right path.  Up ahead, we could see the huge ice field, reaching into the water in three channels.  "This is so cool!" Magge kept repeating for the next two hours as we made our way to the end of the lake.  We stopped for lunch at a lookout on a bay close to the glacier and listened to the glaciers bob in the water.  The respite reminded my back that it was sore, and I was dreading putting the backpack back on, but Magge refused to take no for an answer and carried it for the first two hours back to the lodge.  I made her give it back for the last stretch, and we hobbled together to the finish line.  Sleep was good that night.

First sign of the glacier

Grey Glacier comes into view

"This is so cool"

Checking to see if the water was cold... yep, it's cold

Lunch time

I've never seen ice so blue

The original plan for the last day was to catch the first ferry across Pehoé and then do a short two hour hike to kill time for our bus to arrive.  However, after the ferry docked, a bus offered to take our tickets even though they were for a different company, and Magge and I didn't hesitate to take their offer without asking questions.  This bus' parts stayed intact, and we left Torres del Paine sore but captivated with the park.

One last look from the ferry ride back