Torres del Paine, Patagonia, Chile

Outside the polar zones the largest volume of stored fresh water on the planet, albeit frozen, is contained within the massive Patagonian ice cap extending for 350 km, covering 12,000 square kilometres, and straddling the border between Chile and Argentina.  On the Chilean side a south eastern spigot of the ice cap abuts the Paine mountain range, the latter containing the soaring granite peaks Torres del Paine (the towers of Paine).

Together they create fabulous vistas of rugged snow-capped peaks, verdant valleys, wild rivers, aquamarine lakes and dazzling hanging glaciers; amongst the finest mountain landscapes in the world according to many. Not surprisingly, this place is a mecca for climbers and hikers.

Sitting at home on a comfy lounge a year ago planning the itinerary for this trip, it seemed a good and reasonable idea at the time that we should attempt a circumnavigation of the Paine mountain range on foot, carrying tents, bedding, cooking stove, food and clothes. 12 days should be sufficient to cover the 100+ km I supposed, blithely overlooking the wild weather and big altitude changes along the route, the less than sparkling state of our own physical fitness, and the reality that we’d probably never walked more than 10 km in a day in our whole lives, let alone with 13 kg packs on our backs.

And so this is how we came to be in the small southern Chilean town of Puerto Natales after our return from the frozen continent, checking out the equipment hire shops and gathering the necessaries – two low profile storm tents, three -9C sleeping bags and sleeping mats, two gas stoves and butane canisters, cooking pots, hiking poles, and a pistol with 10 rounds of ammo. For food we had to go for things that contained little moisture (to keep carried weight down) and that could be cooked quickly and simply. Think packet dried soup, pasta, rice, noodles and nuts.  The glacier-fed streams of Torres del Paine are recently melted ice; cold and pure. So it’s not necessary to take water; it can be collected for immediate use as you go.

We set off on 18 February, taking a bus north from Puerto Natales, then a boat across a lake, to begin our hike at the Paine Grande campsite. There we loaded ourselves up and began to walk.

Days 1 & 2 Our planned destination for the first day was Lago Grey (Lake Grey), 11 km north of Paine Grande, along a significantly undulating route. The map said this should take 3.5 hours. It took us 6 (with many photo stops), and we hobbled into the Grey campsite at around 7pm. Dylan could have done it much more quickly but he stayed with us to help fight off any pumas that might prey on us should we still be wincing along after dark. Pumas are taken more seriously here now after one ate a ranger’s son some years ago.

At Grey we pitched our camp for the first time and fired up the gas stove to cook a meal of salami and rice, that being the first time we’d had it, was quite nice, though we would quickly come to hate it and any similar manifestations.

The following day, without packs, we explored the area north of Grey, walking to a large suspension bridge from which there were great views of Grey glacier. The wind in this area can be fierce; the glacier and mountains create their own weather system. 150 km per hour gusts or more are encountered - we struck some of this and had to sit low on the ground until it subsided. It was impossible to stand or walk while the wind was raging at that wattage.

Day 3 With our tents and sleeping bags packed up, and backpacks on, we set off after a breakfast of cereal and dried cranberries, aiming to get to Italiano campsite 20 km away by late afternoon. We did. We surprised ourselves. We’re still surprised that we could cover that distance in a session with weighty packs on our backs. But the weather had turned bad; we had to walk in the rain and by the time we got to Italiano all our things were soaked.

Italiano was a windy muddy hellhole that night. We had to pitch our tent on wet muddy ground, and the small covered shelter for cooking was ankle deep in mud too. The campsite had the appearance of organisms emerging from the primal soup. The wild wind was supplemented every hour or so by the thunderous roar of the nearby hanging glacier face collapsing, sending thousands of tonnes of jagged ice hurtling down the valley (fortunately not in our direction).

Not even being able to sit up in our low profile tent was a real nuisance. It may be OK when you’re 25, but not when you’ve hit 60 and have joints that painfully object to being kept in the same position for more than a few minutes.

By now we’d already lost our enthusiasm for the aforementioned circumnavigation of the Paine mountain range, instead deciding only to complete the ‘W’ hike (the name comes from the shape of the route), which is what 95% of the hikers who visit this area do. This is still a distance of about 70 km, through the best scenery of the area. With this decision made, we could jettison some of our food to reduce carried weight, which we did by giving it to other hikers we met on the trail.

Days 4 & 5 We packed up and moved on for just an hour to Frances campsite, much better than Italiano. Here we stayed for two nights. Many consider the French Valley (the second and third strokes of the ‘W’) to be the highlight of the whole trek. On our second day at Frances, Dylan and I set out up the valley and succeeded in going as far as was permitted. It was snowing at the top and the wind was occasionally wild. But not as wild as the scenery – dramatic, raw and untamed. Jagged misty peaks, hanging glaciers with vertical faces that cracked and collapsed every so often, sending ice hurtling down the cliff sides, and on the other side of the valley, the soaring granite towers, Torres del Paine. It was a wild afternoon, 7.5 hours return from Frances, with an altitude change of nearly 2,000 feet going up, and of course the same coming down.

Day 6  The packs were on our backs again and we walked 15 km to Las Torres campsite where we stayed for two nights. From here the final leg of the ‘W’ can be completed. We intended to do this the following day, packs not necessary.

Day 7 As it turned out, only Dylan completed the final leg, an 8 hour return hike up a valley to see the granite towers impressively reflected in a small lake. Leetuan decided that she had had enough of clambering up and down steep boulder heaps; murder on her knees (no doubt also on her mind was the event of a few days previously when she had fallen on her face, dented her skull, and broken her spectacle frames - lucky the lenses weren’t smashed). And I had been struck down by a diarrhoea / vomiting wog during the night. I got to the toilet in time for the former, but later not for the latter. There was no time even to get out of the tent. Cold, trembling, on hands and knees, I vomited over my sleeping mat, with a lot of collateral spatter over the sleeping bags and our clothes (sorry if I’ve grossed you out but you really do need to hear the unvarnished facts in case my account hitherto has inspired you and you are now foolishly toying with the idea of mounting a camping expedition of your own). Had we been carrying a pistol (of course we really didn’t have one), I would have called for it and ended everything there and then.

We mopped up the awful mess as best we could with a roll of toilet paper, then rested as well as was possible under the circumstances until daybreak. Fortunately when it came it was a clear sunny morning with a blue sky and no rain. While Dylan completed the final leg of the hike, we brought everything out of our tent, and commenced a major clean-up job with soap and water. By mid morning our tent and things were spotless, smelling like roses, and all was well with the world again (well nearly). Dylan returned shortly before dark later that day with photos that proved he had met his objective for the day too.

Day 8 Las Torres campsite is a place where the hiking trail meets civilization; vehicle roads come to here. We packed up our tent and other things and boarded a bus around 1.30 pm. Three hours later we were back in Puerto Natales where we returned the hire equipment, then checked into a motel to luxuriate in a soft warm bed, after feasting on big steak burgers and celebrating our achievement together. We’d covered over 60 km of sometimes steep rocky terrain on foot in six days, nearly 50 of those kilometres with weighty packs on our backs. Not bad we thought. But we were done with camping. Done.

Beyond Blue at Cierva Cove & Spert Island, Antarctica

With our final full day in Antarctica dawning it was hard to believe that the scenery or atmosphere could get any more awesome.  But it did.  The day began with a zodiac cruise around Cierva Cove.  The bizarrely beautiful shapes and blueness of the icebergs seemed unreal.  How blue can you get here? No limit apparently.

We also spotted some great wildlife, particularly leopard seals lolling about on small icebergs.  They seemed to be a cross between a giant monitor lizard and a monstrous slug, the way they slithered about between shut-eye.  But in the water they’re no benign creature; countless smaller seals we saw bore deep welts from attacks by the leopards.  And they’d been the lucky ones.

We returned to the zodiacs after another great lunch on Sea Adventurer.  The quality and variety of the food throughout the voyage had been first-class; so much so that I was almost left wondering which was better – Antarctica or the food?  Our itinerary for the afternoon was to zodiac around the rocky shores of Spert Island.  The zodiac staff had become very excited when this was announced.  Why?  We soon found out.  The sea around Spert was covered in crushed ice and there was a high swell running as we darted in and out of rock caves and tiny coves, and rounded soaring icebergs.  The scraping and crunching of ice and surge of the sea complemented the eye popping scenery to create for many passengers the highlight of the whole trip.  The session ended with ‘wows’ from all directions as we rounded a headland and our eyes fell upon Sea Adventurer facing off a gargantuan iceberg.  We’d seen icebergs before but never one like this!  Time to turn Captain?           

With everyone back aboard Sea Adventurer the ship turned and headed north – we wouldn’t be going any further into Antarctica.  While we were enjoying the Captain’s farewell cocktail party, and then dinner, the ship was already steaming north, back up the Antarctica Peninsula towards the South Shetlands island chain where we had set foot several days earlier, on Half Moon Island. But this time our destination was King George Island where we arrived early the following morning.  And here our journey had an unusual twist.  Most voyages end with a 48 to 60 hour return crossing of Drake Passage to Ushuaia, Argentina.  But Sea Adventurer had a different itinerary.  At King George Island we were all transferred to shore by zodiac, and then single file, walked 1.4 km up a cold gravelly slope to an airfield of the Chilean Air Force.  Coming down in the other direction, also single file, was a similar line of identically garbed people.  They were Sea Adventurer’s next passengers, about to be transferred to the ship by zodiac, as we had been disembarked.  As the two lines passed one another a few metres apart, they excitedly shouted questions to us about how we’d found the trip, then they disappeared in the distance down by the shore to begin their own icy adventure.

We boarded the commercial aircraft they had just flown in on, and 2.5 hours later we landed in Punta Arenas, a small city in the far south of Chile.  This flight suited our next plans very nicely.  It also had the huge logistical advantage of avoiding the 60 hour return Drake Passage crossing by ship, an overnight stay in Ushuaia on arrival, and then a 12 hour bus trip to Punta Arenas!  It really highlighted the huge difference between a plane soaring in the sky, and a ship thrashing about in the ocean.         

Antarctica is awesome.  We may as well give up travelling now; nothing can ever equal that.  In fact the flight to Punta Arenas may just as well have been a spaceship returning us to earth.  Antarctica is not just another destination; it’s another world.  We feel very fortunate to have seen it.

Port Lockroy, Jougia Point & Tongersen Island, Antarctica

The zodiac cruising and land visits continued on our third day in Antarctica, 11 February, beginning with a visit to Port Lockroy.  Formerly a British Antarctic research station, it’s now an historical museum staffed by the UK National Civic Trust and open four months a year, in summer.  As well as the exhibits there’s a gift shop and post office from where visitors can send post cards stamped from Antarctica.  Outside there are plenty of penguins to keep the staff company, although inside in an old recipe book displayed in the museum it’s clear that in days past penguins weren’t just cute company – they were on the menu!  Of course it wouldn’t be PC these days to enquire about, say, the succulence of Gentoo breast, or what spices best complement roast Chinstrap drumsticks. The staff would probably run you off Port Lockroy if you asked, although it wouldn’t surprise me if they full well already knew the answers to these questions - meat deliveries would be few and far between in these parts. Just joking – I’m sure they have no idea, and no desire to find out either.

From Port Lockroy we zodiacked (is there such a word? – there is now!) to nearby Jougia Point, the site of another Gentoo penguin rookery.  A little more noteworthy here is a colony of blue-eyed shags.  And after lunch we were out on the zodiacs again, this time making our way around some fantastically shaped icebergs to landfall at Tongersen Island where we inspected a large rookery of Adelie penguins, a species we’d not seen before.  They had faces a little like the black crow.  Many of the adults had two chicks and were chased relentlessly by their fluffy hungry offspring seeking regurgitated food from their parents.  It was serious business but looked quite comical.

Polar Plunge – Brrr!

But that wasn’t the end of the day’s activities.  As soon as everyone was back on the ship the much-touted Polar Plunge got underway.  All passengers had been invited to strip off and plunge from the zodiac embarkation platform into the Antarctic ocean, the temperature having been officially measured as 1 degree C, and any floating ice chunks having first been cleared away.  Dr Barb was standing by to lend any assistance required, no doubt with a discreetly placed defibrillator close at hand.  The Cruise Director, young quirky witty Brit, Hadley, urged participants to prepare themselves fully; physically, mentally and emotionally.  Thirty or so hardy souls (crazies?) rose to the challenge and one after another had their breath whipped away on impact with the freezing Antarctic waters.  Leetuan and I chickened out but Dylan rescued the family honour by hurling himself from the platform, to the cheers of the crowd gathered on the balconies above.