We commenced our trek around ten-thirty in the morning from the entry point at Lago Amarga, heading directly towards the mighty Torres. We strode into camp sometime after four-thirty, exhausted, yet fulfilled. During the trail, we were buzzed by two curios condors, observed by some inquisitive guanacos, we crossed the Rio Ascencio countless times by rickety bridges, wondering at the sheer beauty of the amazing, tumbling stream making continuous waterfalls over the boulders. It’s just like the time we spent at the Last Resort in the Himalayas, close to the border between Nepal and China. Supper was smoky pumpkin risotto with rotisserie chicken. Not bad for on the side of the world’s most beautiful mountains! As dusk descended, a crafty but arrogant mountain fox strolled brazenly into camp in search of a tasty morsel.
After breakfast of a bread roll each with chicken paté, we set off on the trail to see the park’s most famed landmarks: The Torres del Paine; three highly protruding stacks that have remained standing following the melting of a once-upon-a-time glacier. The past presence of a glacier became increasingly evident as the trail disappeared and we found ourselves scrambling up and across large rocks, which would have been glacial moraine. Contrary to our belief, pretty much all of these boulders were firmly stuck between one another so the chances of slipping or breaking limbs were minimised. When we eventually reached the viewpoint, the tips of the Torres were completely clouded over leaving only a view of a tranquil turquoise lake beneath. Snow clouds went overhead and sprinkled us with icy flakes, but it was nothing that our fold away rain jackets could not handle. After sitting a little longer, the patience had indeed paid off. The break in the clouds revealed three moody peaks. Voila!
As Simon took a couple of hours nap in the afternoon, Jon went solo and explored another mountain trail towards Campamento Japones and the Valle del Silencio. The trail was the most difficult to follow by far and the large heap of moraine in the bottom of the valley hid well the trail markers. So much so in fact that Jon had to memorise distinct land markings in order to find his way back. After scrambling across boulder after boulder Jon found himself walking through a dark forest and once again, the fold-up waterproof jacket that Jon’s Granny Smith got him for Christmas was put to use and regarded as an ‘inheritance’! Thanks Gran! As light diminished Jon picked up a large stick to walk with, though the secondary use would have been to whack a puma square on the head should one pounce. He stopped and thought for a minute how pathetic he was being since pumas are generally more scared of humans and chucked it away. The valley was so tranquil and the only sounds came from the occasional gust of wind and the trickling of the clear river water over rocks. Luckily the water throughout the park is potable and so Jon stopped at and guzzled from time to time. The Campamento Japones was quiet and morbid, like a scene from a horror film. Scary! There was Jon, alone in the middle of a dark forest, and a poor-quality wooden shed nearby full of sharp tools and a work bench. In the far distance, as far as the eye could see, there were two tents but nobody was around. Jon wasn’t surprised really and he spent a few minutes exploring the site but didn’t really hang around for much longer after that.
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