Torres del Paine (Chile)

“Everyone builds it up in their heads that Patagonia is one of the most extreme places in the world. Well, I hate to break it to you, but the only thing extreme about Patagonia is the weather.” A local guide told us.

He was right. We were expecting Himalayas and steep trails but the elevation is near sea level and plenty of people hike the popular Torres Del Paines loop. But the lack of difficulty made it no less wonderful.

I was constantly stuck by moments of awe in such magnanimous and unapologetic beauty. Nature is to me what church is to the religious, and lets just say, Patagonia is quite the temple.
It’s a good thing it wasn’t too difficult to hike either because my epic foot issues continue and, long story short, I was hiking in sandals almost the whole time. Never once did I see anyone in anything less than hiking boots.

The best part of Torres is the stunning natural beauty. The worst part is the weather. The wind was some of the most horrendous I have ever experienced, the cold made camping not so fun and made me not want to leave my sleeping bag or tent, and the rain spoiled some of the views. But still, it’s Patagonia and I am out in nature, my favorite place to be so I can hardly complain.

I saw my first glacier. I found a back path, twisting along the lake. Grey’s glacier is caught by land, but spills down on either side. The lake it runs into is an ethereal blue that only glaciers can attain. Icebergs float in the water, massive chunks of ice- ice cubes for giant’s margaritas. I could hear only my own breath and footsteps over the roaring wind as I twisted my way around the path, overgrown with roots and green shrubs, pediatric trees.
I couldn’t fathom how big the glacier was. I broke around the corner and saw it full out, unobstructed, nothing but me, then rock, then glowing water, then ice. The glacier melts into the lake with shades of blue I didn’t know existed. The most brilliant blue is the blue raspberry of icy-pops I used to have as a kid.

The Patagonia wind picked up. I literally couldn’t stand, it almost didn’t allow me to kneel down. I had heard horror stories of full grown men with their packs being swept up by this ridiculous wind. I laid flat and gripped with my nails to not be blown off the rocks. It was the most extreme wind I’ve ever felt and a wave of fear welled up in me. I clung tighter. Beauty can lull me, but it is also deceitful.

Wind aside, the views were incredible. The variation in landscape was incredible. The area is covered in lakes. There was this great rainbow over one and the snow capped peaks in the distance, huge stony mountains covered in glacier behind me. I walked along the lake shore which was all these white stones next to the grey-blue water. I could see the other lake, this brilliant turquoise blue far away after these rolling green hills. The huge tower was lost in ominous and stormy clouds, it almost looked like it was smoking.

The Torres themselves are stoic and imposing. They demand attention, and attention they receive. The great part of the hike is that it lets you see the towers from all sorts of angles. Lakes and rock and glaciers were amazing, but so was the vast quantity of water.

The rivers in Torres were brutal. It is one of the last places on earth you can drink water right from the river and there was something great about filling my water bottle up in the river and drinking straight from it, nice and cooled for me already, nature’s refrigerator. The water in some of the rivers is this glacial grey, but so turbulent it’s almost all whitecaps. It flows and bubbles in pockets of turbulence, some areas more grey, others varying densities of white. It showers over the rocks, indifferent to anything in its way.

The wooded areas are full of twisty trees, their mossy bark slowly peeling and folding away. Tiny yellow leaves are left over from last fall, too early for this one, carpet the ground among stones and roots.

Leaving the park was sad. There is something hard about leaving nature and heading back to the city. It’s almost like a small death. A quiet one, but still a real loss.