8 days in Torres del Paine

Puerto Natales is a town beautifully situated on the mountainous fjord Ultima Esperanza in the far south of Chile. The buildings in the town are shielded from the famous patagonian wind by layers of brightly painted, but peeling, sheets of metal hammered on every surface. This town may be a major stop for tourists heading into Torres del Paine National Park but, unlike many other towns in Patagonia which rely on tourism, there is a strong community here based entirely on the port and the surrounding estancias. Puerto Natales cannot match the bustle of Buenos Aires or the tree-lined beauty of Mendoza but there is something in this cold, windy place that just might make it my favourite city in South America.

Torres del Paine National Park, just 100km from Puerto Natales, is one of the most spectacular places that I have ever encountered. We spent 5 days hiking the famous W trek and 3 more days kayaking on the River Serrano up to the Tyndall Glacier. It will go down in memory as one of the best trips I have ever had.

Our photos can be found at:
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Sorry there are so many...it was so hard to leave out pictures!

January 31, 2008

After a hectic day in Puerto Natales organising ourselves for our 5 day trek in Torres del Paine and our 3 day Kayaking trip down the Serrano River we were packed up and waiting for our bus outside our campground by 7 30 am. Our packs, which had been considerably pruned of personal items, were heavy with provisions. We had heard that food was expensive and difficult to obtain in the park so we had gathered dehydrated soups, crackers, pasta, dried fruit and canned tuna from the poorly stocked, hiker-crowded grocery stores of Puerto Natales.


Big marshmallow clouds floated in the sky as we caught our first glimpes of the park. All of the guides that we had read about the W trek advised us to get off the bus at Lago Amarga and walk 7.5km down the road to Hosteria Torres. It was obvious that this was not popular advice. As other hikers hitch-hiked or bought rides, we found ourselves alone, trudging down the dirt road and then completely offtrail (due to dads misreading of the map). The off trail episode triggered a major hayfever attack which left me miserable and sneezing for many hours afterwards.
By the time we reached the trail that meandered up a hot, dusty hillside, we were footsore and discontent. The first refugio, Chileno, appeared, windmill whirring, like a paradisical mirage complete with water, electricity and a small concession. I bought a can of cold Sprite, which was sipped and savoured by the three of us like it was ambrosia.
We stayed at the Chileno Refugio long enough to watch a group of gauchos ford the river on their horses and gallop off down the trail.


The trail flattened and followed the river up the valley. In the trees, the temperature was much more bearable and the walk became pleasant. We set up camp at the free campsite (Campimento Torres) and then walked up to the mirador at the base of the torres. The last 20 minutes was a scramble up a rocky morraine but it was well worth the effort. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, the towers were spectacular and every dusty step with a heavy pack was forgotten.

Coming down, mom was tired from the long hike and off balance in the strong wind. She slipped and had a few scrapes and a bit of a jammed wrist.
For dinner we cooked lentil soup with canned lentils. Dad and I ate voraciously. Every gram eaten was a gram that we would not have to carry the next day.

February 1, 2008


I am well aware that I will not be the first person to comment on the Patagonian wind. Quite the opposite in fact, it is quite uncommon to encounter a piece of writing on this region that does not mention the wind. This is because the wind here is constantly noticible and variable enough to cause notice. The word wind, however, does not fully encompass the multitud of variations in moving air. Today, on our hike from Campimento Torres to Campimento Cuernos we experienced warm gentle wind, wind so strong that you can do nothing but stop and brace against it, sudden gusts, constant blowing rain and dust and even small twisters forming over lakes.

The weather yesterday was hot and clear but this morning the sky was threatening rain and the mountains were partially obscured in cloud. The wind came before the rain and flattened us against the side of the mountain, threatening to pitch us over the side. Then came the rain. Not a pouring rain but a slow, spattering drizzle that left everthing drenched even as the wind dried it. The path flattened out and wound along a hillside of small bushes and ground shrubs reminiscent of the English lake district. It was beautiful but the weather was harsh and more than one person we met on the trail wished us buenos suerte or good luck.
Our lunch of tuna sandwiches was prepared huddled in a clump of bushes where we hid from the storm.
Late in the afternoon, we came to a raging torrent that we had to cross. We had navigated our way across the first arm and were preparing to cross the second when a handsome, bereted gaucho jumped down from his horse waded into the flood, mindless of his personal dryness. He took my hand and my backpack across the river before wading back for mom. His actions were entirely unnecessary but very swashbuckling.

After the river crossing, we became very wet and cold. By the time we reached Campimento Cuernos we were shivering and soaked to the skin. We decided that after already hiking 19 km, the 5.5 more to our intended campsite at Campimento Italiano were too far and we met many more people who had made a similar decision. Mom went into the lodge to warm up while dad and I erected the tent in record time. I was very cold and it took many cups of tea to warm me. Mom stood by the woodstove and tried to dry our clothing. We had a pasta dinner in the tent. By the evening, the worst of the storm had blown away and there was a pink sunset framed by freshly snow-dusted mountains and a circling condor.

February 2, 2008

The wind buffeted and shook the tent all night long but we woke to a morning with bright blue sky and mountains with fresh snow. We walked 5 k.m. to Campamento Italiano and pitched our tent just 2 hours after we had taken it down.

We ate a lunch of canned tuna on crackers and headed up the Valle Frances (sans backpacks) to a mirador. On the way moms back spasmed and we had a bit of an argument on whether she should turn around or not. She didnt and I was a bit annoyed. I was even more annoyed that I was annoyed in such a beautiful place on such a perfect day. The mountains truely were amazing. At the mirador we were completely surrounded by breathtaking peaks. Each day here in Patagonia, the mountains I see are more and more impossibly beautiful.

Dad told me to go down the hill at my own pace and have dinner ready when they returned. I talked with some Aussie friends that we had made for more than half an hour and was worried that I wouldnt have dinner ready in time. I boiled the water and completely cooked the pasta and still they didnt return. I was beginning to get worried when, finally, they came into the campsite, mom nursing a bandaged knee. She had tripped over over a rock (or as dad claims, her shoelaces).

February 3, 2008

After moms apparent tripping, everybody in our little camp became a little preoccupied with shoelaces. Dad got out his scissors and surgically removed several centimetres of lace from both his and moms shoes and any lace that went untied, even for a quick hop out of the tent was commented upon. I thought the whole thing was a bit of an over reaction until the next day when I was walking along a flat bit of trail and the loop of my shoelace got caught on a root. I went face first into some low prickly bushes and couldnt right myself because of the weight of my pack and my unwillingness to put more pressure on the prickles in my hands. I stayed splayed face first on the ground until mom came along and freed my shoelace. Dangerous thing these shoelaces. Maybe my next pair of shoes should be velcro.

We stayed at Campamento Italiano an extra day waiting for mom{s leg to recover and the next day set out for our final camping spot of the trekking portion of our Torres del Paine experience. The ferry and campground at Lago Pehoe was only 7.5 km. from Campamento Italiano but it took us nearly two hours to complete with mom{s leg and the strong winds that threatened to blow us off the trail. At one point in the hike, we had to cross a small stream. Mom didn{t want to get her feet wet and put on her sandals. Before she crossed she tossed her shoes across (one forcing me to step into the water to make the catch and the other going directly into the water causing dad to charge in after it as it floated downstream.) All three of us walked away from that stream with wet feet.

The campsite at Lago Pehoe was rather exposed and we set up our tent wondering how it could possibly stay erect in the strong wind. I was very excited by a small mini food store which augmented our quickly dwindling food supplies with over priced bread, cheese, chocolate, juice and wine. The view from the campsite was a spectacular postcard view of the Paine mountains. Mom and I enjoyed the view, freshly showered, from the cooking gazebo while dad walked up to Glacier Grey and finished the W.



February 4, 2008


The trekking leg of our Torres del Paine experience has been completed and the kayak leg has begun. In the morning, we took a beautiful boat ride across Lago Pehoe and were greeted on the other side by German, our kayaking guide. We drove around 20kms to the River Serrano where we met the other members of our expedition, an Irish couple Anna and Darren. We were outfitted in wetsuits, booties, jackets, gloves, life vests and dry skirts, which felt a little ridiculous at first but soon became quite normal and watched as our stuff was stuffed into drybags and then into the tiny, little holes of the kayak. Mom and dad shared a double Kayak and I had a single to myself. After a safety demonstration (which I helped translate) we got in the water. The first few minutes were spent turning around in circles until I discovered the rudder pedals. We paddled along for about an hour enjoying perfect views of the Paine until we reached a waterfall in the river and had to portage the kayaks. While we ate lunch the wind picked up and made the water looked perilous.

German said that we should wait and finally suggested he would paddle each kayak to a spot that was much more suited to our paddling ability while we walked along the shore. We watched him take the first kayak drag it up on the beach and then walk back and paddle another. Miraculously, the final two kayaks arrived in a zodiac boat which had been passing up the river. They told us that the weather was quite rough further down and we ended up putting all 4 boats and 6 people into the zodiac and blasting along down the river taking air on the big waves. At the estuary of the Tyndall, we waded through knee-deep water, dragging the boats behind us and then began to paddle upstream. It was hard work and a few times we had to get out and drag the kayaks further upstream when the river was too shallow for our skill level.

We camped by the side of the river near Lago Tyndall. We set up our tents and German started to make dinner. None of us were used to going on trips where a guide made us dinner. Once we were in dry clothes, the 5 of us crowded around German while he cooked and offered to help. All we were allowed to do was pour some juice and open a bottle of nice Chilean wine. Our first course was soup, followed by rice and milanesas capped off with canned strawberries for dessert. The amount of food prepared could have fed twice as many people. We definitely are not going to starve on this trip!

The evening turned chilly and by the time we said goodnight at 10pm we were bundled up in all of our clothes.

I am very pleased so far on this tour. The gear appears high quality, the guide experienced, hard-working and trustworthy and the food is very tastey and timely. My shoulders are a bit tired from paddling upstream but I am going to bed very happy.

February 5, 2008

Last night the stars were brilliant. The air in patagonia is so clear and clean (being so far away from any major sources of pollution) and the stars seemed remarkably close. I may never have had such an unobstructed view of the sky before. It was breathtaking, if a bit disorienting with all of the unfamiliar constellations.

We arose at 8 am to a windy day. When German finally emerged from the tent he revealed that he had forgotten his sleeping bag (for only the second time in all of his years of guiding). I doubt that he had had a very comfortable night.



German, our guide is the type of man that you find in romance novels. Handsome, strong, adventurous, owner of his own business and Spanish speaking. 3 years ago he became the first person to kayak solo the more than 1000 kms from Puerto Natales to the tip of Cape Horn. The journey took him 78 days and, since he did not have permission from the Chilean Navy, was completely undercover. I admit I have a bit of a crush (did I mention that his pregnant wife is an absolute sweetheart?) More information on his tours and a photoessay of his adventure can be found at his website (http://www.tutravesia.com/)

The weather was too windy for us to paddle out to the Tyndall glacier so we walked along the shore instead. Then we sat in the camp and waited for the weather to change. Around noon 12 we struck camp and were back in the water by 1 pm. With both the wind and the current behind us we shot down the Tyndall river in a fraction of the time that it took us to paddle up it.

The Serrano river was choppy and treacherous and I thought that my small boat would capsize in the huge troughs of water. But, arms burning, we got through. Then, we had to follow closely behind German to avoid being caught in a strong river current and smashed against the rocks. The river was calm for awhile and we stopped for lunch in a little forest grove. After lunch, we continued on and then suddenly the wind picked up and the water became a mass of white waves. We had to fight to keep from being swamped and then, like a miracle, we pulled into a national park campsite complete with flush toilets a 5 minute walk from the beautiful Serrano glacier. Anna and Darrens kayak went past the beach and German paddled them down and jumped neck deep into the water to get them pointed back in the correct direction. The winds howled and white capped the water but we were safe on shore.

For dinner, German cooked us pasta and sauce and once again there was more than enough. The physical and technical challenges that I faced today in the kayak made me feel that I earned my dinner. I enjoyed the day extremely.

February 6, 2008

I awoke to a windy morning. It was immediately clear that paddling on those choppy seas was out of the question. Maybe an experienced kayaker could make headway but with the wind against us we would have been floating backwards. We took the morning easy and at 12 a tour boat arrived and disembarked passengers. We loaded our kayaks on board and were on the deck when it departed at 1 pm. The scenery it took us through was spectacular and the waves sprayed up around the boat. After about an hour the boat docked at an estancia. Feeling a bit out of place in our grubby clothing, we sat down at a beautifully set table with white linen and were served a parilla of lamb, chicken and sausage. It was delicious. The estancia was a beautiful place and the whole day filled my heart with a deep love for this region and its people that I think will stay with me for life. I do not expect this will be my last trip to the southern edge of the world.

A few more hours brought us into shore in Puerto Natales. We got back all of our bags from Germans office and were all very happy with the experience and completely buzzing about it for the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow, we will run errands in town and we will board the Navimag for our 4 day passage north. A new adventure begins but I am very sad to see this one end.

Off to the Paine

We HAVE CROSSED THE BORDER INTO CHILE!

We are in Puerto Natales and leave at 7 30 am tomorrow for 5 days of hiking and 3 days of kayaking in Torres del Paine National Park. We are very excited and will be back in contact on the 6th of February.

Here are some photos from El Bolson/El Calafate

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Ruta 40 (El Bolson, El Calafate)

Ruta 40 is a mostly gravel road that follows the eastern side of the Andes down through Argentinian Patagonia. The landscape is bleak and desolate with a few glances of the snow covered peaks. There are plenty of sheep but not many settlements or people. We decided to do this 28 hour journey from El Bolson to El Calafate on a semi-cama bus. The journey wasn´t as bad as it could have been because the bus was quite empty on the first night, which meant that mom, dad and I each had a pair of seats to ourselves. The route 40 experience is a fleeting one. There was plenty of evidence of active road paving and straightening. Within a year, the road will be a long balck ribbon of asphalt the whole way south.

We were unceremoniously dumped on a dusty El Chalten street at 4 am in the morning. There was no bus station to speak of. Just a little hut for the bus company. For a moment, we, and the other passengers who had disembarked, were completely befuddled. Where were we supposed to go? What were we supposed to do. There was nothing indicating where we might find accomodation. We asked the bus driver where the campsite was and luckily it was only a few hundred metres away. We walked through the dark dusty streets of the town and stealthily put up our tents in the campground. By 5 am we were asleep.
In the afternoon, we went for a hike to the beautiful Cerro Fitz Roy, a mountain with sides so steep that the snow can´t stick to it. The town of El Chalten is only 22 years old and is built in the haphazzard fashion of a gold rush town. The streets are unpaved and buildings are clustered irrationally and are in various stages of completion. However, the town was hopping with foreigners eager to enjoy the mountains.

On my birthday we hiked out to Lago Torre where we got great views of Cerro Torre and a glacier. The hiking was spectacular and very enjoyable. In the evening, we went out to a parilla restaurant, where they slow roasted lamb on skewers over a hot wood fire. I had lamb, dad, had steak and mom had lamb raviolli. It was the best dinner that we have eaten out so far.

The next day we packed up our tents early and headed for El Calafate (4 hours by bus). El Calafate is a much more developed town, full of tourist stores and crawling with foreigners. The main attraction of El Calafate is the Perito Moreno Glacier 80kms away. In the afternoon we caught a bus to the glacier, which is one of the few advancing glaciers in the world. The glacier is a truely spectacular sight. The front wall of the glacier is 50 meters high and towers over a glacial lake. The ice makes an amazing cracking noise as it moves forward and every few minutes huge chunks of ice fall off of the glacier into the water with a giant crash. We spent three hours watching the glacier before returning to the campsite and drinking some packaged soup prepared with lukewarm water. We are glad that we didn´t bring a stove and pots (because we don´t want to carry them) but it certainly does limit your food options.

Today, we are taking the bus across the border to Chile and Torres del Paine national park.

Travelling South (Mendoza, Neuquen, Bariloche, El Bolson)

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After both an emergency room doctor and a blood/urine test declared that I was perfectly healthy, I was beginning to feel a little embarassed by all of the dramatics surrounding an illness that in Canada I would have treated by heading straight to bed and staying there until I felt better. Instead, I found myself on Monday evening, still tired but feeling much more spritely, in a taxi with my mother, father, and language school teacher heading to a specialist doctor. The taxi stopped infront of a large, suburban house bedecked with big gold name plates announcing the name of the doctor. We were buzzed through a security gate and let into a small waiting room with padded benches. As I sat there looking at the impressive degrees and art on the wall, I began to feel exceedingly ridiculous. I was not suffering from anything that a few days of rest would not solve and my entourage was larger than a common cold warranted. I was probably just exhausted from my time in the jungle and my bus ride to Argentina. I told mom that I wanted to leave but the door opened and a middle aged Argentinian doctor ushered me (and mom and Susanne, the language instructor) inside. The room resembled a personal office with the addition of an examination table. The doctor sat behind his desk and asked questions about my symptoms and medical history while Susanne, translated anything I didn´t understand. When the doctor saw the marks on my stomach and legs that, I had assumed were bug bites, he claimed that they were caused by my illness and within twenty minutes had sent me out the door with two perscriptions and the assurances that I had been right to come.

After being told that my health was good enough for us to continue our journey, we went straight to the bus station and purchased tickets for the next evening to Neuquen, a town 11 hours south from Mendoza. The bus journey passed uneventfully. Mom and dad were pleasantly surprised by the luxury of the Argentinian buses and the amount of food served on them. By the time we arrived in Neuquen at 8 am the next morning, my normal energy level had returned and the marks on my belly had begun to fade. From the bus, Neuquen appeared to be like any large North American prairie city whose main purpose is to support oilfields and agriculture. The road into town was lined with big box stores (including a Wal-mart which looked like it could have been transplanted directly from Idaho), fast food restaurants, and car dealerships. The surrounding countryside consisted of sedimentary river terraces and rolling grasslands. It was not a place that appeared especially inviting to tourism. Our own interest in Neuquen actually lay in the paleological discoveries about 80kms outside of the city. We had been under the impression that it would be an easy matter to take a day trip out to the dinosaur museum and continue on our journey the next morning. However, it quickly became apparent that the tourist route had not been established and that a visit to the museum would require 2 days or the rental of a car. We decided to push on South to Bariloche. We purchased tickets for a bus departing 2 hours later but soon learned that the bus was delayed an indefinite amount of hours. We spent half of the day in the bus station researching Bariloche on the internet (trying to find accomodation, a nearly impossible task), and scrounging for food. In Argentina, it is very difficult to buy anything with the 100 peso notes that are dispensed by the ATM´s. Many places will not accept them and are often unable to provide change for considerably smaller bills. As a result, it is a constant struggle to keep oneself in a steady supply of small bills and coins. One may have several hundred pesos in 100 peso bills and not be able to buy anything. Mom and I went on an expedition to the grocery store 4 blocks away from the bus station to get some small change and almost missed the bus in the process.

The road between Neuquen and Bariloche is a beautiful one. The terrain transitions from dusty, well eroded plains (perfect for the preservation and excavation of dinosaur bones) to lush green river valleys crowned with craggy mountains. We arrived in Bariloche around 8pm (because of Argentina´s daylight savings it is light until nearly 11pm but the sun doesn´t rise until 7 30 am). After 5 months in South America on my own, I was feeling quite frustrated with the pace and strategy of my parents in finding accomodation for the night but luckily, within a few hours we had managed to acquire the last campsite at the Selva Negra Campground and put up our tents (the first time my tent had been put up since I left Vancouver in August). The campsite was nice enough, if a bit dusty, but had the advantage of being close to town.

Bariloche is very similar in function and feeling to Banff in the Canadian Rockies. The mountains in Bariloche are a bit further away and it is situated on a large lake, but it, like Banff, is filled with trendy shops, restaurants and excursion companies and is inhabited by
wealthy vacationers and shoestring backpackers. The setting was undeniably beautiful and the trekking oportunities seemed plentiful, but as soon as the parallel to Banff had been made Dad declared that he ¨was more of a Jasper kind of guy¨and that ¨Bariloche was not his style¨. We spent our one day in Bariloche researching the rest of our trip through Patagonia. We had decided that we wanted to travel south down the famous Ruta 40, a gravel road that hugs the eastern edge of the Argentinian Andes for 3000km, but it seemed that our only travel options were a two day excursion or to rent a car of our own both of which were prohibitively expensive. We were fortunate enough to discover a third option, a small bus company which runs buses the length of the road for a fraction of the price.
The next morning we packed up our tents, ran around town to buy a new pair of hiking shoes (mine had finally become unusable after 3 months in the Bolivian jungle), and took the bus two hours south to El Bolson.

El Bolson is a much smaller town than Bariloche. It has more of a hippy undercurrent and is closer to the mountains. From the bus station we walked across the road to the C.A.P. (Club Andino Piltriquitron) office to get information on treks in the area and half an hour later we found ourselves on the lawn outside of the house stripping our backpacks of everything we didn´t need. By 4pm (with considerably lighter packs, although still heavy because of food) we were off trekking up to a series of refuges in the mountains. At the refuges you can either camp or sleep in the loft and many of them sell meals and basic supplies including home-made bread and beer. We spent 4 nights in the mountains of El Bolson exploring the beautiful forests, glaciers, and crystal clear aquamarine rivers. It was an amazing hike (although a bit dusty in some spots). We were surprised to discover that the Argentinian hiking culture differs greatly from that in Canada. The vast majority of our fellow trekkers were groups of university aged Argentinans, people of my parents´generation were rare, wearing sneakers and jeans and carrying small daypacks stuffed with bulky sleeping bags. This confirmed in Dad´s mind what he already suspected, that he was carrying way too much stuff and resulted in a major purge once we returned to El Bolson.

We are spending the day in El Bolson catching up on the world and buying food before taking the 30 hour bus ride south down Route 40 to El Chalten (Fitzroy) at 11 pm tonight.

The Hospital (Mendoza)

The heat has broken in Mendoza. Since we arrived here a week ago, it has been warm enough to entirely melt popsicles in the short time it takes to walk 100 m from the grocery store and struggle to unlock the two security gates to our apartment (42 C). The heat sapped us of energy and we found it difficult to do much more than take our Spanish lessons or find refuge in an air conditioned movie theatre. When the heat lifted, however, my tiredness did not and we became worried that I might be seriously ill. In the afternoon, while dad attended his Spanish lesson, Mom and Susanne (mom´s Spanish teacher) accompanied me to the emergency room at the local hospital. The waiting room was stark, there was no sign of the standard hospital health posters, and the seats were long, backless benches made with strips of metal. It was impossible to get comfortable but somehow I managed to doze half slumped over with mom´s lap as a pillow. After an hour and a half of observing the ill and infirm stumble, or be accompanied in, to the waiting room, my name was called and I was ushered through the doors into the hospital.
I was met by a doctor in cranberry scrubs who led me to an examination room. The walls were bare and white and there was nothing in the room besides a black examination table. The doctor whisked in and clucked disaprovingly at my healing feet and insect bites. She stared at me uncomprehendingly when she was told that I had just come from 2 and a half months in the Bolivian jungle and seemed even more baffled after learning I had come in close contact with monkeys. But why? Why would you go there? Was all that she could ask. She took my blood pressure and examined my body but could find nothing immediately wrong with me. She commented disapprovingly about my Boca jrs jersey (I tell you. Every time I wear it...) and told me to go to a lab to get some blood and urine tests done in the morning. I thanked the doctor and left the hospital (where I did not have to pay anything)
The people at our language school have been extremely helpful in helping us navigate the medical system here in Mendoza. They have made phone calls, given us advice, and accompanied us to every doctor to make sure that there are no miscommunications and that we are given the best service. This morning at 8am I went to a clinic to have my blood taken and Maru (a teacher from the school whose mother is on her death bed and who does not teach anyone in the family) met us there and tried to arrange a doctor´s appointment for me in the afternoon once my test results come back. My symptoms are nothing more than extreme fatigue and some slight disorientation. At home, would just go to bed and hope that I got better but because I have spent so much time in the jungle and I am travelling we are treating the situation much more seriously. We are so grateful to the wonderful people that we have met here. Their kindness will not be forgotten.