Mirador: Torres del Paine
Las Torres
Everyone has a favorite word in their non-native language. Jack´s was ¨hardcore¨. Jack was a solo world-traveler from Amsterdam, who has been traveling since August 2009. He recounted stories of his travels in southeast Asia and South America, while I took note for my own future aspirations. We shared itineraries.
¨So why did you choose to visit Patagonia?¨
¨Well, it was number 2 of my top 3 places to visit before I turn 30… or die. (Whichever may come first.) I try to pick remote places with lots of outdoor activities… and as few Americans as possible. I´ve already done New Zealand and now Patagonia. Now that´s left is Mongolia.¨
¨I´m glad you said Mongolia. It´s also on my list,¨ Jack smiled. He probably had a penchant for even more ¨hardcore¨places than I did.
My favorite phrase in Spanish was ¨No Importa¨. It means: ¨No matter. No problem.¨
The hut doesn´t have blankets: No importa.
We can´t refund your bus ticket: No importa.
The river water may give you diarrhea: No importa.
This hike may kill you: No importa. The narrow trail staddled a very steep slope, then meandered through a forest, before heading almost directly upwards to the ¨mirador¨ – the viewpoint of Las Torres, iconic granite towers in Torres del Paine national park. I was back in the park one more time to finish the segment of the W-route that I cut short due to rain just a few days ago. Now it was shining brightly with blue skies. My calves, however, also screamed: ¨No importa!¨ They didn´t care about the scenery, but only the lactic acid that instilled burning sensations in my legs. Despite 3 days of straight hiking, I was surprisingly fatigued.
We reached the summit in no more than three hours total rewarded with an amazing view, to which one of the other visitors at the mirador remarked: ¨Maybe only once or twice a month do you get this kind of weather up here.¨
On the way back down, I ran into Gan and Simyan – I good and awesome pair of hikers that I met on my first day in Torres del Paine while riding the catamaran across Lake Pehoe. It was good to see familiar faces again, and we met again the following morning on our return to Puerto Natales.
Thanks to Jack, Gan and Simyan for all the funny stories. I´ll write more when I arrive in Bariloche. Surprise!
Flat Stanley
Flat Stanley in his travel pod, in front of Las Torres in Chile´s Torres del Paine National Park
Today, I took Flat Stanley with me in his ¨travel pod¨on a day hike to Mirador de Las Torres (viewpoint of the towers). Pictured here is Flat Stanley in front of Las Torres.
Mirador Las Torres in Torres del Paine National Park
Flat Stanley says hi to Mrs Bogomolny´s class 5-506 of Brooklyn´s Public School 177!
What are the ¨Torres¨? According to Moon Handbooks: ¨Some 10 million years ago, a magma intrusion failed to reach the earth’s surface, cooling underground into resistant granite; in the interim, water, ice, and snow have eroded softer surrounding terrain to liberate these spires into one of South America’s most dramatic landscapes.¨
o the Mrs Bogomolny´s class 5-506 of Brooklyn´s PS 177
Lluvia: Escaping the Rain
I layed in the top bunk staring at the ceiling. The hut roof was slanted allowing not only winter snow to slide down but for 2 three-tier bunk beds and another two-tier bunk to fill the room. It was 11:30 pm and the wind roared outside. It shook the entire hut with its fifty or so occupants. The two Coloradan girls and I were betting who would die first if the wind ripped the roof off from its frame. Given my position closest to the ceiling, I bet I would be the first to go.
There was a 2 foot x 3 foot plexi-glass panel in the ceiling that let in some sunshine into the room during the day. I stared through it, and realized the stars were out again. The rain had stopped, but the wind raged on.
The forecast for the third day of the trek was grim – rain for another two days. Although I was confident I could finish the W route accordingly to my original five-day plan, it was unlikely I would even see the famed Las Torres.
(next morning)
¨Why is my entire torso soaked?¨ It was raining and no more than 45 F. I wore a cheap plastic navy blue poncho with a hood over my soft-shell jacket. It fit like a poofy dress and covered everything but my forearms. There was no obvious reason for my jacket to be the least bit wet. I was wishing I had not lost my high-tech rain jacket during the hike to Mount Fitzroy.
I looked down. There was a giant tear near the collar of the poncho. Water collected on the hood and was dripping down my chest. I still had two more hours and 5km more to hike, and it appeared useless to continue wearing the poncho. I wanted to look like the blue, wet, ugly mess I already was and kept the poncho on anyways. At least it would give passing hikers some amusement on this cloudy day. I was a banner proclaiming: ¨Yes, it really is raining and miserable! Viva Patagonia!¨
My boots were surprisingly dry, I thought. Then I stepped into a bog. Water plus gravity equates to hiking trails turning into temporal streams. Where the trail reaches a low point, especially surrounded by bare dirt and grass, the water pools and creates a short-lived mini-swamp. My socks for the first time in three days was wet. This only fueled my legs to press on faster than before.
I waited at another refugio for the shuttle to transfer to the bus back into Puerto Natales. My wet bare feet balanced on the cold bathroom floor, but I was thankful to be changing into drier clothes. I was edging towards hypothermia as the warmth from hiking started to subside.
I´ll return in sunnier days. I got an updated forecast for the entire peninsula – Patagonia including Tierra del Fuego. Snow. Rain. Sleet. Clouds. Now I just have to figure out how to kill 10 days in Patagonia.
Torres del Paine: Los Cuernos
"Los Cuernos" near Lago Pehoe in Torres del Paine National Park
Today is the first day of the W-route multi-day hike in Chile´s Torres del Paine National Park. The route can take up to 5 days and abbreviates the normally 8-day Paine Circuit that circles the mountains of Torres del Paine. The route can be done in either east-bound or west-bound directions: Night 1 at Las Torres, Night 2 at Los Cuernos, Night 3 at Lago Pehoe, Night 4 at Lago Grey and finishing back at Lago Pehoe to catch the cataraman across the lake and then to connect to a bus back into Puerto Natales – the nearest town.
Given the grim forecast in later days, I prioritized my hike to focus on Los Cuernos, which lies in the middle section of the route. When sunnier days return, I would come back to finish the Grey Glacier segment in the west, from where I can already see clouds start to roll in from the Pacific.
I hike the 12 km to Refugio Los Cuernos from the dock at the western end of Lago Pehoe, with a late start at 1pm. I´ll be sleeping and eating at the refugios – also known as mountain huts, where there are beds and warm meals available.
Border Crossing to Puerto Natales
¨Egils. EGILS! Wake up.¨ I shook Egil´s shoulder after his phone alarm played One Republic´s song Apologize for the fourth time. It was 7:15 am. ¨You have a bus to catch for El Chalten at 8:00 am. Don´t miss it.¨
I was already packing up to catch my own bus to Puerto Natales. Even though it was just a 10 minute walk to the bus terminal, we shared decided to share a cab. Egils slipped a beer out of his daypack. He tried opening it using the edge of a nearby dumpster. The lip of the bottle shattered. It foamed. He examined the contents of the bottle to see if any glass fell into the beer.
¨I need a cup,¨ Egils said longingly as he looked at the beer in his hand. We got into the cab, with the open bottle still in hand. He really needed the morning beer to recover from his six or so Long Island´s from last night.
¨Are you on facebook?¨ Yes, Latvia uses facebook. I shook his hand and we parted ways. He was going to join some french girls on a hike to El Chalten. I would continue on to Chile on the eve of the big W-trek in Torres del Paine.
I passed out immediately after sitting on the bus. Two and a half hours later, I awoke at the only rest stop on our trip. The gas station had a small snack bar, where everything was marked up 200%. I spun in a circle looking into the distance. Nothing but desert, this gas station, two long-distance buses, and 40 turistas queued up to buy snacks and drinks.
¨Vamos!¨ the driver said after 15 minutes.
We approached the first border crossing station – the Agentinian side. They simply processed our passports to check who was leaving the country. While we queued up, border control had dogs sniff our bags. The process wasn´t too bad, and took place in a small old building.
Thirty minutes later, we approached the second border control station – the Chilean side. Everyone had to carry their luggages and backpacks into the office for inspection. We were greeted by a nice woman taking mandatory surveys on our H1N1 status. I marked on the paper, ¨No.¨ As far as I knew, I did not have swine flu. I don´t remember the last time I saw a pig, for that matter. I glanced at the passports held in various hands. Almost all of the passports were maroon. No familiar navy blue of an American. I realized I haven´t met another American in a very long time.
After thirty minutes, everyone was back aboard the bus. We pass through dry hill country covered in native grasses. Yellow. Sheep and cattle grazed casually, and sometimes you would see a wild guanaco running away from the sound of the bus.
Suddenly, a mass of blue came into picture. We finally arrived in Puerto Natales, and on the other side of the body water were the mountains and behind them Torres del Paine.
Today is not a photo day. Today I would only speak Spanish. Not that I haven´t already been. Withdraw Chilean pesos? Check. Check into the hostel? Check. Drop off laundry? Check. Get a haircut from Julio? Check.
The host at the hostel gave be directions to a peluqueria (barber/haircutter) just a few blocks away and near the laundry service place. Julio was smoking outside when I arrived. He had euro-tight jeans, a white denim shirt, and Zohan-esque hair… but Chilean, of course.
I asked simply for short. In a flurry of scissor-happy hands, he gave me a conventionally short haircut. The days of shag also known as the asian afro was over.
Not that you really care, but I spent a few more hours updating the blog. The mocha here is good, but I´m ready to take a walk to the shore.
This will be the last post until October 21st, when I finish the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. If you don´t hear from me after then, you can contact the authorities here in Puerto Natales. I intend to check back into Hostel Natales the night of Oct 20.
Ciao and wish me luck.
Viña San Esteban
The Grand Wine Cellar at Viña San Esteban in Chile's Aconcagua Valley
Cabernet. Merlot.Carménère? Neither Jenica nor I have ever heard of such a type of wine. Yet even Chileans were not aware of this variety growing in their own vineyards until 1994 when a oenologist from France confirmed that the vine was indeed Carménère. Carménère was practically obliterated from Europe during a plague in 1867. Since then it was believed to have disappeared completely, but unknowingly survived in Chile where it was cultivated and marketed as Merlot. So explains our guide Maria-Jose at the Viña San Esteban vineyard.
Jenica – our cultural-experience coordinator on this trip – insisted that we do a wine tour. I obliged since Chile has become world-renowned for their wines in recent decades. The lovely and bilingual Maria-Jose takes us on a private tour of the vineyard, the grand wine cellar and their production line. Viña San Esteban employs a staff of approximately sixty workers throughout the year, with an additional sixty seasonal workers during harvest season.
Viña San Esteban is situated in Chile’s Aconcagua Valley, making it the highest-altitude winery in all of Chile. The region’s warmer and drier climate makes it ideal for table grapes (the kind you buy to eat from the store), but not ideal of white wine varieties. However, the hillside vines of white wine varieties such as Chardonnay are cooled by the adjacent Aconcagua River.
We end the tour with a taste of their Chardonnay and their Carménère. Their tastes tempted a purchase of an entire case, but the logistical challenges downgraded the souvenir to a bottle of their Carménère. We’ll be enjoying this during our last few days in Chile.
The Packers in Chile?
It never occurred to me that there would be an NFL following in Santiago, but here we are. At the California Cantina an American-owned bar 5 miles from our hostel in a very cosmopolitan part of town, we sit inside a surf-inspired room watching the Packers vs Vikings game on a large projection screen. Everyone here – either expats or students – is from the states, including the owners. It should have been no surprise then that we were greeted by a guy with a clear Californian accent. “Hey Jenica, I think they speak your language here,” I joke with her.
To those who know about my effort to lose weight on this trip, be assured I took the verbal abuse in the room for ordering the Ranchero salad while watching the game.
For those of you still working on the project in Princeton, know that Jenica kept the Monday On the Border tradition alive with Mexican food and beer.
Good call by Jenica for finding this place with her iPhone. Thanks to the iPhone for allowing us to give the cab driver directions to the bar. 
This blog post and LoFi photo posted to you live from my iPhone with full Chilean 3G.
Map & Itinerary
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