Torres del Paine – Day 4: Scorched Earth and High Spires
TORRES DEL PAINE
Day 4: Scorched Earth & High Spires
April 04, 2023
PART I
I was all set and ready to go just before the sun started to rise. Knowing I’d have a long day ahead of me, I wanted to start as early as possible. The plan for the day would be to get to a viewpoint at an altitude of around a thousand metres above sea level, then go all the way down and walk a few more kilometres to the next campsite.
Since I’d be facing a lot of uphills, I had braced myself right from the very start. A few minutes away from the refuge was Campo Italiano – another lodge where we could leave our stuff prior to the climb ahead before collecting it again on the way down. This, of course, lightened the load considerably and made the climb ahead way easier than it would have otherwise been. And just like that, I was on my way to yet another mirador. The way up was classic Patagonia – going through woodlands and valleys and crossing over rivers and streams, all the while accompanied by superb views of lenga-covered mountains, icy peaks and glaciers.
Pursued by the Uruk-hai
As awe-inspiring as the landscapes were, I have to admit I was concerned with something else throughout most of the climb.
Carlos and Martin, two Mexican lads, had been following me since I had left Campo Italiano. Whilst Martin lagged behind, Carlos was intent on keeping up with me, no matter how fast I seemed to go. I’d shake him off for a few minutes and by the time I’d stop to take a photo or drink some water, there he’d be once again – the sound of his trekking poles giving him away. Try as I might, I couldn’t get rid of him. It wasn’t the fact that he could keep up that irked me, rather the very act of wanting to walk alone and being unable to do so.
Instead, I found myself angrily stomping forwards with my hands on my hips much like a school principal on their way to admonish a miscreant kid. It felt exactly as if I were Frodo being pursued by Sauron’s minions (funny how we can’t use this word without thinking of those little yellow buggers now…) in the middle of the forest – only the Uruk-hai were two overly competitive Mexicans who seemed unable to mind their own business and give me some freaking space.
Whilst during trekking I find myself thinking about all kinds of things, this time round, I guess my philosophical aspirations were somewhat stifled by my pursuers. However, I did realise a couple of things as I rushed from one point to another without a single break. First of all, by the time I had gotten to the very top, I hadn’t even stopped once. As steep as it was, it seemed that by now my body had gotten used to climbing up and that my mind had grown used to the challenge. Actually, I kinda looked forward to uphills by that point. After having overcome so many despite thinking I’d be unable to, I figured I could pretty much do anything.
Which leads me to my second point. As I jumped from one rock to another and scrambled over the loose gravel on the path, I found myself thinking how far I’ve come in life. You see, in hindsight, it felt as if I was stuck in this coma, a deep slumber, all throughout my adolescence, with no one – myself included – so much as realising that I had potential, that I had value, that I might have been destined for greatness. I knew I’d do great academically, but that was just about it. That was it for me. Nothing more, nothing less.
Fast forward by a few years and not only had I reached an academic goal I had never even dreamed of, but I had become an entirely different person throughout. One who likes adventure, one who likes to push himself to his limits, one who seeks thrill and excitement. Hell, I’d climbed mountains and volcanoes, trekked through tropical jungles and temperate woodlands, I’d surfed and dived and, most importantly, I survived and overcame things I never thought I’d even want to try. What I’m trying to say is that yes, I’m a freaking badass. Tell that to Adolescent Marius who’d dismiss all kinds of physical activity on account of him not being the best at football!
Mirador Británico
Before I had even realised, I was at the second highest point in Torres del Paine – Mirador Británico. After having sped through the mirador and Valle Francés, the views leaving me breathless, I can say that the view atop the British Viewpoint was by far better.
In a way, it was something I’d already seen time and time again – especially on the same trail as I made my way up. The autumnal red-coloured lengas on the mountainside, the wintry snow-capped peaks and the light blue glaciers on the mountains. Vistas I had seen so many times since I had started trekking in Ushuaia. But this time round, I stood atop a mountain surrounded by other mountains in every single direction. The last time I was in such a place was in the Ciudad Perdida back in Colombia. Once again, I felt small, inconsequential. Compared to the greatness of all there is out there, I felt like I was nothing and, at the same time, also part of that greatness.
I could’ve probably had more revelations were it not for Carlos and Martin joining me at the top after a few minutes of solitude. Then, after a quick snack and a few snaps, I started on my way down to try and outrun them. Guess who joined me on the way down? Yup. No use in trying to run away. They were stuck to me like leeches. And so I figured that if I couldn’t beat them, I should join them. Better than having to run all the way down instead of enjoying all the views and the beauty of such a place.
PART II
The Murdered Forest
In no time at all, we were right back at Campo Italiano, once again victualled with all our belongings and ready to start the second part of our day.
And by “our,” I mean mine. With Martin being slower than Carlos and me, the latter would wait at the checkpoint for the other to catch up. I, on the other hand, made it a point to go on with my hike. I craved being on my own with no one else hovering behind my shoulder or telling me about their lives or asking me about mine. I just wanted to walk and climb and think and not think and sing and hop and do whatever the hell I wanted with no interference – just like I had planned all along. Also, I had no one yelling “¡Cuidate!” behind me every time I’d trip and lose my balance, despite never managing to actually fall. I swear, I’ve come to appreciate that walking is an art form, and that I’m as creative as they come with my two left feet.
The rest of the trail was a similar one to the previous day’s – a 7.5-kilometre walk along the banks of yet another lagoon, that of Skottsberg. This trail, however, was much flatter, there were catwalks along the way and, most fascinating of all, a large section of it went through a dead forest. Dead, or rather, murdered. Unfortunately, the irresponsible behaviour of some tourists caused multiple huge fires that destroyed a great portion of native forests, and, with the slow-growing endemic trees of Patagonia, the damage is still very noticeable. Apart from the thousands of hectares of trees that were lost in these fires, thousands of animals were also killed.
As I walked on, I couldn’t help but imagine all the chaos and destruction that must’ve ravaged the land at the time – the scorched and singed grey tree trunks the only remnant that remains of the virgin forest.
Buffets and Liquid Gold
The dead forest and the Skottsberg lagoon then gave way to an open valley overlooking Laguna Pehoé. Another bridge over the Rio Injuv and I was at my final destination for the day – Refugio Paine Grande.
Overlooking the same lake, the lodge looked more like a hotel, with comfy lounge areas, burning stoves and a huge dining hall where a buffet would be served. Yep, that’s right – a buffet! After four days of eating twigs and leaves, I’d finally have my fair share of food. I could hardly believe it really, especially when I asked for thirds and fourths and the attendant just smiled and served. That said, I could also hardly believe the price of coffee at the bar – with $5 a pop making it feel like I was drinking liquid gold. Granted, it was the best coffee I had had in Chile thus far to be completely fair.
After getting my affairs in order (laundry, of course), I spent some time chatting with Carlos, Martin, Jimena and Roman, all of us agreeing that the previous day’s hike was definitely harder than the alleged difficult one we were faced with on the same day. We wondered whether this might have been due to conditions changing over the year – or maybe the person in charge just has a skewed world-view.
Gotta Let it Happen
Before heading to bed, I went outside for the routine coffee and cigarette. As I stood on the bench with the stunning lake right in front of me, I couldn’t believe I had just nine days of this left. Nine days. I put on my earphones and played my favourite song: Last Hope by Paramore – specifically the live version. As Hayley poured her heart out in the “gotta let it happen” lines, I found myself crying, smiling and nodding in agreement. I’d have to let go of control and just let it all happen. As the sun set over the stunning mountains of Patagonia, so too it would set on my journey. And I, for one, was slowly starting to accept it.
Before heading to bed, I went outside for my routine coffee and cigarette. The air at Paine Grande was biting, but I barely felt it as I stood on the bench with the stunning expanse of Laguna Pehoé reflecting the dying light right in front of me. It was there, in the silence of the twilight, that it finally hit me: I had just nine days of this left. Nine days. In a trip that had spanned eight months of chaos, beauty, and border crossings, nine days felt like a heartbeat. It felt like the final pages of a book I wasn’t ready to put down.
I reached for my phone, put on my earphones, and played my favourite song: “Last Hope” by Paramore – specifically the live version. As the bridge built up and Hayley poured her heart out in those “gotta let it happen” lines, the dam finally broke. I found myself standing there in the Patagonian wind, crying, smiling, and nodding in agreement.
For so long, I had been the architect of my own adventure, obsessively planning every bus, every hostel, and every trail to ensure I didn’t miss a thing. But as the song peaked, I realized that the best parts of the last eight months – the “pure dumb luck” moments – were the ones I hadn’t planned at all. I knew then that I’d have to let go of the steering wheel. I’d have to let go of the control I clung to so tightly and just let the rest of it happen.
As the sun dipped behind the jagged granite teeth of the mountains, painting the sky in a final, defiant violet, I saw the metaphor for what it was. The sun was setting over the stunning peaks of Patagonia, and so too it would soon set on this chapter of my life. The fear of going back was still there, but as the last notes of the song faded into the sound of the lake’s ripples, I realized I was finally starting to accept it. I wasn’t just finishing a trip – I was going to start a new one.
Day four:
- Weather:
- Overcast and sunny
- Wind: SE 4kts
- Temperature: 6°C
- Weather:
- Position:
- 51°04’21.5″S
- 73°05’39.9″W
- Position:
- Trek Profile:
- Distance: 20.5km
- Elevation gain: 700m
- Time: 6.5hrs (average 9hrs)
- Trek Profile: