Musing Practice

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 6

Day 6 – One Last Challenge
11km Campamento Las Torres to Hosteria Las Torres

One final challenge. That involved getting up at 4:30am.

I kid you not. We have turned into hardcore masochists or something.

The hot tip that we received before venturing into the park, was that should our final morning present itself as clear… No rain. No clouds… Then it was an absolute must that we do the trek to the Mirador (lookout in esp.) to see sunrise.

When our little alarm clock sounded its bell at 4:30am, I begged, hoped and prayed for some sign of foul weather, but would you believe it (worst February in seasons my arse) the sky over Torres del Paine had not a cloud or drop of rain in sight. Sigh.

With one backpack filled with sleeping bags and breakfast goods we set off, in the dark, with only the fading lights of two headlamps to guide us. Conveniently, the beginning of the trail was marked with little reflectors, on a tree branch here, on a rock there, but very soon they petered out and we were forced to guesstimate our way. (Even though the trail was only supposed to take an hour, we had not thought of testing it out the afternoon before, in the light!).

No surprises. We got lost a couple of times and at one stage even walked all the way back to the camp we were so disorientated. Cue jess enjoying pre-sunrise trek less and less.

Thankfully, we caught up with a group of young, Chilean students and they seemed to have a bit more of an idea between them (there was more of them, that’s all…).  This did not increase my enjoyment for long though, as the darkness, coldness (oh yeah, the night before was the one where it got down to 1 bloody degree!) and exponentially increasing difficulty really started to get me down.

After what seemed like ages and completely vertical trekking (might I add we had to use a rope to get up one point!), we approached a small wall of rocks, on the other side of which were Las Torres. (That link is not my photo… sorry, adding photos to this blog requires to much technicality to interrupt my travels! Mine will be on crackbook).

And this is where we sat, for an hour, watching the sunrise. I must admit, it was a pretty majestic sight. The light slides over the cliff behind where you sit and slowly seeps onto the Torres. It’s like the slow gradual soak coffee down a page.

Mike whipped up the last of our gourmet porridge and we sat, wrapped as tightly as possible in our sleeping bags, as the sun completed its ascent. Once up though, the moment was obliterated. It was like the final drop of sunlight stirred every possible gust of wind and sent them on their way, rattling through the valleys towards us. The wind whipped our faces and threatened to steal sleeping bags and where before it was uncomfortably cold, now it was scarily wild and freezing.

One last glance at the Torres and we gathered our bags, pots and bowls and quickly made the descent down.

Tent packing was uneventful and I really hoped I could just end this blog here with a quick and we walked back down. But I fell over.

How frustrating. Sure I’d had a couple of stumbles throughout the trek, but nothing to write home about. As though this just wasn’t enough I took a tumble enough to make me want to relay the story of Lauren Ingram. Quickly now.

One day in Year 7 I was walking with a group of girls from my year. The bell had rung and it was time to go back to class. We picked up our bags and walked down the stairs from the Pig Pen (special space for Year seveners to prevent big kids picking on us… it was revoked when big kids kept coming to our area to fight out of the view of supervising teachers. Anyway…). Not many stairs, maybe only seven or eight, but poor Lauren Ingram took a tumble and fell forward with such force that her backpack flung over her head and prevented her from getting up. We probably should have helped her straight away, but fuck it was funny to see her struggling to stand as her backpack pulled her down.

Falling karma catches up with jess:

My backpack didn’t fall over my head. How could it? I have these funky seatbelt things to keep it in place. But on the last stream crossing before Refugio Chileno, my left foot slid off the spine of a stepping stone rock needed to cross over a fairly gushing stream. Rather than just slide into the water (a result that wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest) my left foot bumped into more rocks, my right was nowhere to be seen and my backpacked self lurched into the water, totally smashing both knees on boulders and scraping my left wrist on more.

Mike did his best to assist, but as he was too late to catch me, all he really did was hold my backpack in a way that somehow made it more difficult to stand up. Man it was a bummer. It wasn’t like I broke anything, but I was just so bummed to have come all this way without huring myself properly!

Two bruised knees later, we exited the park, sat on a mound of grass, bought two beers and waited for the shuttle back to Puerto Natales.

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 5

Day 5 – It’s Going to get Difficult Before it gets Easy
19.7km Refugion Cuernos to Campamento Torres

It’s our last really hard day and in an effort to get ahead we’re up at 8am. Try as I might to move quickly and efficiently, I am just not a morning person. It’s difficult enough for me to co-ordinate a shower, breakfast and getting dressed before going to work normally. But combine this inability in normal life with other curve-balls such as rolling up stubborn sleeping bags, packing down tents, packing up bags, keeping all of the cooking stuff together, dishes, hat, sunblock… Well I struggle.

I earn myself a hiss of “For Christ’s sake, can we just GO!” and we’re on the trail by 9:30am (I maintain this is good!).

You may have noticed an absence of musing/complaining/worrying about the weather. Apart from the first day when it shitted down with rain, we’ve actually been blessed. We’ve only had to contend with some blustery days and a few light showers in the afternoons. But today was to be a test.

If you remember the original weather prediction, today was to be the day for Viento Fuerte. This has been upgraded to 70km/h winds. Within five minutes of walking I’ve been blown over and banged my knee on a big boulder. Added to the effect of the earlier hiss, I’m now trekking with a frown.

We’re trekking on a headland that skirts Lago Nordenskjold, giving the wind plenty of opportunity to push us along, and so surprisingly, despite sad-trekking, the first four hours pass fairly easily and we stop for lunch.

CONTRABAND LUNCH!!

Listen, don’t tell anybody, but we stole eggs from the Refugio last night. We hid them in the grass near our tent, swaddled them in toilet paper the next morning and had been treating my bag ever so gingerly during the morning until lunchtime. They were so good!!

Our pre-cut veges for lunch tortillas had since given up, so lunch was gooey goodness, egg, ham and cheese on tortillas.

In an act of karma, I was forced to walk the rest of the afternoon with a protein balloon in my stomach, but it was worth it.

Post-protein-bar-in-a-tortilla-lunch, we had what we thought would be the most challenging (wrong! wait for Day 6!) trek of the W. In 2 hours we would walk about 5km… UP. And only UP. Walking back down it the next day I was completely flawed as to how we did it. To be honest, I don’t even remember it. I’ve repressed it.

With our life on our backs, we made it to Campamento Torres I don’t know how, but we did it.

I must say, my one main complaint about trekking the W is that I want more at the finish of each day. You round a headland, see a roof in the distance or cross the last stream to arrive at your campsite. But there’s no welcome.

I was hoping it would be more like running the cross country at primary school. You round the last corner and whether you’re coming 1st or 21st, all of the teachers are there clapping and smiling.

“Come on Jess!”

“Good girl!”

“Almost there. A big run for the finish.”

Nothing. Oh well. At least there’s only one day to go.

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 4

Day 4 – The Master Stroke/ Mike Carries the Bag
12km Back to Campamento Italiano and up into Valle Frances then back to Refugio Cuernos.

So the trekking puritans may scoff at our decision. As I admit, it did mean that we walked the Italiano to Cuernos route a whopping three times in two days. But despite the complete and utter exhaustion that it caused on Day 3… the decision was a master stroke.

We slept in. Enjoyed a slow, warming breakfast and although we felt tired and sore our energy levels rallied due to the understanding that we wouldn’t be carrying our life on our backs that day. Woooo!

I had to strap my ankle in the morning before we left. I’d just been wearing my Standard Issue Beijing 2008 Joggers, which were great for skipping around the Water Cube, but when it comes to ankle support whilst trekking over Patagonian mountainous regions… forget it (as for water-proofing… ditto).

We laughed as this was the first time I’d used this one roll of strapping tape that I’d carried with me, not just on the W trek, but for my entire travels (going on 2 years now). This even outdoes the swimming goggles that I have used only four times since leaving Sydney (twice in London; twice in Beijing).

So despite my (weak) protests Mike did carry the bag today. And now forgive me if I may do a little swooning.

I definitely pushed the hardest to trek the W, but I must say, Mike has pulled once being here. His bag is significantly heavier than mine. He is the camp master chef … although I admit I pushed for him to take this position so he would have less room to complain about what we were eating He’s quite a bit more organised than I am. I am ALWAYS the last to be ready in the morning. We get puffed pretty equally and neither of us complain too much. I’m allowed to walk first (so as to set the pace). This is a major one. Along the trek we’ve seen quite a number of couples and more often than not, there’s this inconsiderate dude pounding out the front, with a puffed, sad looking girl lagging a few metres behind. And so… even though I’m better at sport and Mike’s skinnier than me… he’s been a wonderful trekking partner and I’m really happy to have been able to make the journey with him. Sorry… swoon finished

Mike carried the bag with our lunch, we stopped in a gorgeous clearing bathed in sunlight and had our tortilla frappes. Then UP into the Valle Frances to meet another glacier, this time a land glacier on the side of a mountain. Ice that cracked off with thunderous applause rushed down the valley into gushing rapids (that we had to cross the day before on a very sketchy rope bridge).

Back along the Italiano to Cuernos route (for the third time!) and we settled in for an early night, in preparation for a BIG day tomorrow.

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 3

Day 3 – Change of plans
24.1km – Refugio Grey to Paine Grande Lodge to Refugio Cuernos

I unzip the tent and peer out to the lake. A chiseled iceberg floats calmly (cooly – ha!) past. Breakfast is slow and relaxed. Foodies that we are, not only do we have this gourmet porridge every morning, we have brought along coffee that you need to filter. City-trekkers.

Mike is enthused that his kitchen is so picturesque. We pack the stuff and it’s 11am. Already we see improvements in our packing up efficiency.

As the ‘W’ isn’t a circuit (it’s the shape of a W if you haven’t guessed), it’s necessary to rewalk some parts. Today we rewalk down the first arm of the W. It’s funny what things you remember from the day before. Some weird coloured animal poo with undigested berries in it. The spot where Mike tumbled backwards while filling up his drinkbottle. Two rocks sitting in a certain way. But other parts of the trail seem completely new. As if you’ve never walked them before.

A stream that runs on a path (or part of the path that goes where a stream goes… it’s one of those what came first questions) that we stepped carefully downhill yesterday is even more fraught with danger today. I think ‘you’re on a slippery slope’ should refer to walking UPHILL. One false step and you’re nose down in sharp rocks and clay. Much more painful than bum down. Well don’t worry, we didn’t fall, but anyway…

Journeying back to Paine Grande was a touch easier and after lunch although not thinking ourselves master-trekkers we were feeling strongish and so would make a decision that was either going to be a master stroke… or our complete and utter undoing.

If we could make it all the way to the next campspot, it would give us a spare day, allowing us to explore Valle Frances without our packs (are you seeing a theme? Let me spell it out for you. Trekking with backpacks sucks). Being the beginner trekkers that we are, we decided early on that decisions like these may need to be made every now and then. Although challenging to begin with, one would hope they would make things easier in the long run. 13.1 more kilometres it would be.

The first stretch of our ‘stretch’ to Campamento Italiano was marched with excellent pace. We were even overtaking some people. As we stopped for some trail mix and an installment of emergency halva (I tried this for the first time in Buenos Aires – it’s delicious!) we were in good spirits.

But an hour into the final leg (of approximately 2 1/2 hours… eek) fatigue had well and truly set in. And not just feeling a bit tired. Fatigue like droopy eyelids, not lifting your feet, stumbling on the simplest of terrain and where a stretch of difficult terrain presented itself – wanting to sit in protest.

At some point Mike even asserted that he should carry my pack, he was worried I was stumbling so much. Please. He’s much skinner than me. And I’m better at sport.

But despite having to negotiate sand, mud, rocks, slate, dust, boulders, the shore of the lake and fatigue hallucinations… we made it. And although I dismissed the idea that Mike carry the bag, I was more than happy to collapse into the tent while he fixed dinner. Completely shattered, we ate our rice, carrot and cabbage mixture in the tent, didn’t do the dishes (gasp!) and went to uncomfortable bed.

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 2

Day 2 – Maybe we can do this
11km – Paine Grande Lodge to Refugio Grey

I woke several times during the first night. Not because of the cold. Because it’s uncomfortable. Because I have a roll-mat that might as well be made of one sheath of plastic. But once you’re awake, then you realise that it’s ‘effing cold.

The alarm goes off at 7am. I step out of the tent, sock and thonged for a quick wee break then snooze until 9am. Even Mike sleeps in! We must need it.

Breakfast (which will turn out to be our best camp-meal) is served by Mike. We scoff down porridge mixed with juicy sultanas, nectarine and jam (good huh?). I faff about ALOT and once all the bits are packed in the bag it’s already 11:30am. Not too huge a day ahead of us though so it’s okay.

The weather is more friendly today. No rain on the horizon, but the wind hasn’t really died down too much. It’s ferociousness combined with my huffing and puffing and expending of energy turn my body into a phlegm factory. I sniff with such frequency that would I have been instead in Year 7 maths, Mrs Oates would have sent me out long ago.

And I sweat. Like I’ve never encountered in myself. It’s cold enough to be wearing a thermal, T-shirt, fleece & waterproof, but the physicality of it all just turns me into a sweat smoothie. This is only really a problem when we stop and the wind turns my saturated clothes into mobile air-condititioning units. Chilly!

Upon waking at 7am with aching hamstrings, stiff body from sleeping on cold, hard ground, and a sniffing nose I admit I considered that this wasn’t for me, wasn’t for us. Do we even like trekking?

But once walking, although sore, this W seems possible. The scenery is breathtaking. The terrain varies more than I thought possible in only one national park… After yellow plains yesterday, we are on rolling, green hills and valleys today and in the distance an enormous glacier that we are slowly making our way towards.

After four hours we arrive at Refugio Grey and plonk down for lunch. Again the pre-cut stuff looking more frappe like.

Satisfied from tortilla lunch, we pitch our tent and leave our stuff to venture closer to Glacier Grey WITHOUT our backpacks. The sensation couldn’t be more like taking your snowboard boots off after a big day on the mountain. Like you’re walking without part of your body.

About an hour away from camp we choose a spot on a rocky headland, treat ourselves to handfuls of dried fruit and nuts. We gaze out over the lake, just watching the glacial beast groaning in the sunlight and dropping off icebergs when a crack becomes a pain. The sun trumps what wind remains this afternoon and this whole trekking thing might be pleasant. Maybe we can do this.

Trekking the W – for beginners: Day 1

Day 1 – This is going to be Fun (with a capital F for what the F**k are we doing here?)
17.5km – Visitor Centre/Administration to Paine Grande Lodge

The pundits tell us that this has been the wettest February that Patagonia has seen in seasons.

We wake at 6:30am in our hostel in Puerto Natales. I set the alarm the night before, but made the crucial error of not turning it on. Luckily we slept as if it was Christmas Eve, waking every few minutes to see if Santa had made his call yet.

A deep red sky is seeping through the dorm window. Does the proverbial shepherd’s warning hold in Patagonia? We hope not and decide that it must just mean watch out for sheep… we are venturing into the wild you know.

After a great brekky (we’re staying at Erratic Rock and the homemade bread is killler!) we’re on the bus for the 2 1/2 hour journey to Torres del Paine National Park. I doze on and off, my eyes rolling over the increasingly attractive scenery, the closer we get to the park.

While organising the formalities (maps, fees etc) at the entrance I spy a weather report. We’ve been checking the weather with Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets like compulsiveness. And it changes hourly. The whiteboard this morning outlines the following possibilities for the next five days: Viento (wind), Viento Fuerte (strong wind), Viento Debil (weak wind), Viento 50km/h NE (50km/h NE … etc etc etc), Rain and one night to get down to only one freaking degree!

As we stand in line waiting to pay our 15,000 Chilean pesos (love a currency in the thousands) the sun is shining. But back on the bus as it shuttles us to our starting point the clouds unzip and let out the wet. Slow drizzling rain. Kind of like London.

Mike and I were about to embark on our first ever proper trek. The W in Torres del Paine. We would be carrying everything we needed to survive on our backs. Tent, sleeping bags, food, camping stove. Over six long days. Maybe just north of Antarctica was to be a bit adventurous for our first time. Our goal was the ‘Extended W’. So the first day was 17.5km over low Patagonian plains to where most people begin the ‘W’.

After a couple of nervous wees at the Visitor Centre and zipping up the waterproof jackets we’re ready to start. A friendly, solo, German hiker with a slight lisp joins himself to our party and we depart.

The rain wasn’t so bad and soon cleared up anyway. Only then did we just have to contend with (only!) the 50km/h headwind. Right in your face, whooshing gusts that void any attempt at conversation. The words are snatched away as soon as they leave your lips. The hood of my jacket stood up like a parachute, assisting the wind further in slowing down our progress.

Small birds that attempt flying lift off the ground, take three flaps on the spot and then thinking better of it, allow the wind to pull them away to wherever it deems. To touch my tongue to my lips is what I guess it would feel like to touch it to a freezer wall. Dry, cracked and adhesive.

But the light is golden. Sun streaming through grey clouds onto dry, yellow-y, wispy grass that crunches underfoot. The wind is a regular here, stripping the trees bare to their trunks and spidery branches. You never knew a bare tree could be so striking in its nudity. And the colours are pale. Yellow and white and nothing yet green.

We stop for lunch and realise that our food preparation (or should I say over-preparation) may not be the best for trekking mode. A realisation like this on the first day is a bit worrying. The pre-chopped tomatoes and cucumber have already started to look like mush (pre-chopped… what were we thinking!). The cheese is doing something funky to its plastic bag, making it disintegrate. But the tortillas, salami and avocado in peanut-butter container are looking fine.

We start again after lunch and as predicted/unpredicted/assumed the weather changed again.

I’m soaked. The rain is pissing down now and combined with the still-howling headwind, I’m soaked and Torres del Paine is seeming like a choice we could have made would we be super-hikers looking for some overtly challenging masochistic pain-like experience.

I can’t look up for fear of catching to much rain in my face and drowning. The highest I can see is my cap collecting drop after drop. Bringing these drops to the middle of the peak and dropping them down in gulps to splash on my already saturated jeans.

Three hours later it stops raining and we round the curve of a headland to see bold turquoise water. Paine Grande Lodge and camping ground sits on Lago Pehoe, a grand mass of colour I would expect to see in a ring on the finger of an over-dressed older lady of more money than fashion sense. We finally arrive. The tent is pitched, we eat the first ration of five for dinner. I’m exhausted. It’s cold. I snuggle down inside the sleeping bag, hugging my towel like a security blanket. This is going to be tough.