Chasing Glaciers in Chile

Torres del Paine National Park CHILE

A10-day trek across primeval glaciers

High on the thermals the condor rides, etched black against an endless blue sky. With a wingspan of over two meters, its flight is one of effortless grace, eyes cast downward in an eternal search for carrion.

The world below is one of harsh beauty. Jagged shards of solid rock thrust skywards by monumental forces forming a chain of snowcapped mountains. On the peaks, blizzards can occur at any time of the year, giving birth to glaciers; mammoth rivers of ice that scour deep valleys on their descent before calving giant icebergs into the numerous aquamarine lakes.

At roughly 51 degrees south, Parque Nacional Torres del Paine (Torres del Paine National Park) is situated at the south-eastern end of the Hielo Sur, Patagonia’s massive southern continental icecap, which has, with the hand of thousands of years, landscaped this incredible region of southern Chile.

For the condor we must have been easy targets to spot. In one powerful dive he sweeps down over our heads - two hikers alone in an immense wilderness, backpacks loaded with ten days’ worth of food and all the paraphernalia needed to hike the 100-kilometer ‘Circuit Trail’ of the Torres del Paine National Park.

Walking the Circuit Trail anticlockwise is definitely the way to go. In this direction the days unfold, each better than the previous one. Every scenic highlight is literally thrown at the walker at the turn of a corner, or the cresting of a ridge, and always without warning.

Lake Dickson is the first big event. Leaving the boggy channels of Paine River on our second day, we climb a ridge. Pow! A view so perfect we are gasping with pleasure and surprise. Ahead, a glacier sparkles in the late afternoon light like a million candles. At its foot lies Lake Dickson and floating in this sky-blue sea of tranquil reflection among the mobile icebergs is a peninsula of grass and woodland, and our first Refugio (mountain refuge hut).

Most of the refuge huts in the national park are run as going concerns in the summer months. A bed, hot showers and the use of the kitchen are all part of the package and sometimes there are meals available. Camping comes with outside toilets and cold showers. Some refugios however are simple huts that double as living quarters of shepherds living on the remote pastures of bordering estancias and offer only camping and cold showers.

Day three and we climb at last into the mountains that we had been skirting until now, via ‘the valley of dogs’ through an impressive stand of Magellanic forest. Suddenly a strange ‘whoosh’ sweeps through the trees. “What was that?” my partner Leanne exclaims leaping backwards. We both glance nervously about as though expecting an avalanche to come crashing through the trees. Crash! and even the ground seems to shake beneath our feet.

Hurrying forward, we leave the forest and climb the morass of boulders that signify a glacier had once been this way and discover the answer. Glacier de los Perros had just calved

a mammoth chunk of ice into an icy lake below. With beating hearts, we watch as, yet another great sliver of ice liberates itself to plunge into the frigid water. Grinning from ear to ear we feel incredibly privileged to be witnessing this awesome spectacle.

“Oh no, I’ve lost a boot!” cries an Israeli girl ahead. It is day four, the toughest on the circuit with the ascent of the highest point of the walk ahead - ‘el paso de los perros’. We have caught up with another group of hikers and making slow progress, bogged down in a sea of knee-deep mud entwined in an ankle breaking mire of tree roots at the tree line.

Finally, we leave the boot-sucking bogs behind and begin the ascent, the path winding tortuously over the rock-strewn moraine of another glacier. At last, the glaciated peaks of the opposing range appear above our rocky horizon. Another ten minutes of renewed hope and panting and we reach the pass.

There is really no way to describe the effects of such a view as Glacier Grey seen from the pass. It enters one horizon and leaves on the other, filling everything in between with deep blue ravines and white crests, great frozen waves that fan out like the ripples on a sand dune, capturing all the shades of aqua trapped within their frozen world. We stand; shivering as the icy wind whips our breath away, silent, shocked and moved in some terrible way.

That night we lie shivering in our four seasons down sleeping bags at Campamiento los Perros. Alongside,

barely 100 meters or so is an immense river of ice. Sleeplessly I imagine I can hear it creaking, then in a moment of worry that my nose will freeze should I fall asleep, I hunker down into the claustrophobic confines of my bag and will myself to sleep.

At Refugio Grey, situated at the foot of the glacier, walking tours on the ice, beds and hot showers, food and “no sorry, campers have cold water, and you may not light fires and yes we do sell meals” seems all too commercial after the wilderness we’d just left behind.

We decide to push on, making the 27 kilometer day walk to Lake Pehoe, Glacier Frances and on to the refugio on Lake Nordenskjold. Two days in one, but our glorious weather is looking doubtful as ominous clouds roll in, and we still have the Torres del Paine (towers of Paine) to see and clouds would spell a big disappointment.

Most people usually make the day’s climb to view the towers on their first day out. If the weather is fine (which is rare up there) you’d be crazy not to. Ok, so we were crazy, we left it till last and now here we are almost at the end of our trek, gazing through the panoramic windows of Refugio Chile, trying to catch glimpses of the famous peaks through swirling mists that creep with icy fingers around the mountain’s flank obscuring everything.

The pitter-patter of rain on the tent fly is my first indication of the weather the next morning. There’s a sinking sensation going on in my

stomach as I scramble outside to view the damp mist steeling about the campground trees. I am hard pressed to see the refugio only 30 meters away.

The refugio cook is less than optimistic. “Not today,” he says eyeing the weather. But even so, we wait before giving the ‘OK’ to radio ahead and book our bus seat out of the park. I had resigned myself to missing ‘the towers’, had convinced myself that it isn’t always best to have a perfect ending when suddenly a fellow trekker Siegfried exclaims, “Hey wow, check out all that blue sky, I think it will clear!”

We are all on the track within half an hour. The chance of seeing anything is still up for debate but I feel better for trying. “One hour, no five minutes, hell - even just a few moments,” I implore the clouds as we begin to climb.

You’ve got to wonder if there’s some omnipotent power that ordains ‘yes’ or ‘no’. For just as we reach the lookout, the sun breaks out through the clouds behind us, sending ribbons of light and shade racing across the ice strewn lake below, across the water-streaked cliffs above and there they are, the majestic peaks of Torres del Paine…

There was hardly a moment to spare in wonder before the need to capture their beauty on film was paramount. Four shots and already the clouds begin to close in, are once again drawing the curtains on my few short moments, on the unforgettable highlight of Torres del Paine National Park.