The European Takeover of Patagonia (W Trail: Day 3)
Word of the Day: Sublime
noun. A state of violent appreciation for beauty popularized by Edmund Burke during the Victorian era. This special word can also be used as a verb and an adjective with
While I may or may not have been harboring murderous thoughts against the Paine Grande staff, I must admit that they delivered a spectacular breakfast. Or maybe I was just hyper-appreciative of life after feeling my extremities slowly turn blue and fearing that they would fall off. Either way, we set off well-fed and well-heeled on the most punishing day of our entire Chile experience.
The first part of the hike was entirely enjoyable. We wended around beautiful lakes, forded shallow creeks, and crossed picturesque yet perilous bridges to arrive at Campamiento Italiano. We then dropped our packs and continued up the hill, gloriously unburdened by things!
The hike was straight up the side of the mountain, and we were crushing it. At first we didn’t pay too much attention to the occasional booming noise echoing across the Valle Frances, but when we crested a hill, we realized that we should have been. Snow avalanches were dramatically unfolding right in front of us in nature-made surround sound. Unbelievably and terrifyingly cool. It felt unreal to the point that I wondered if we had wandered into a Hollywood sound studio.
After pausing at the overlook, we pushed on to reach Campamiento Britanico. Yes, you have been reading this right, first the Italians, then the French, and now the British people–European overload. The strangest part is that I’m pretty sure that of the actual people hiking the trail, it appeared that the Germans were winning, at least in terms of volume.
After some time, we reached the edge of an unusually expansive rocky steppe, ending just beneath the overlook that was the final destination. As we scrambled through the rocky footing, the sun came out, and a feeling of smallness in the face of something larger descended. We were surrounded by mountains in every direction, the light was soft and golden, and everything around us was so big and stark and alien. It was a powerful moment for me.
Once we finally reached the edge of the rocky steppe, the trail became uber-steep and there was snow on the ground by the time we reached the overlook. But wow, what a view!
I would have been very happy had the day ended right here, but unfortunately we were only halfway to our destination. This afternoon I affirmed something that I suspected for years–extended downhill hiking is far worse than ascending. By the time we had been reunited with our packs, everything between my toes and my hips was plotting rebellion against my body. And when I added the heavy pack back into the equation…grr.
The upside is that after only three days of this, I could tell that I am truly “strong like bull”–as my friend Dom has always said. Furthermore, my new shoulder strength would significantly improve my volleyball spiking skills after my return. But that is neither here nor there. In this moment, I was a sleep-deprived, aching mess. And we were still several hours from Refugio Los Cuernos.
We picked our way down the mountainside and passed through some incredible forested areas at breakneck speed. Years ago a truly devastating fire passed through Patagonia and the trees never regenerated. As it turns out, lightning does not occur naturally in this region (and, for the record, I’m not making this up) so the trees had no biological defense. Most of the trees that you see are depressingly burnt shells, so a true forest was more than welcome.
In the final descent to Los Cuernos, you walk along a white, rock-strewn beach between the mountains and the lake. And, in a moment of pathetic fallacy, the sun just so happened to set as we arrived. Then pure bliss descended as I was able to replace my boots with slippers, check into the refugio, and take a glorious shower.
Boyfriend was less than gentlemanly and claimed the lower bunk before I had the chance to protest, so I collapsed on the upper bunk. And despite the fact that we were worried by the fact our trail roommates had not arrived, the showers were warm, the food was good, and I learned proper table manners from my new Finnish friend.
When our errant trail roommates finally graced us with their presence an hour after darkness had fallen, they were stuck with the penthouse third-tier bunks which were legitimately 20 feet off the ground. The thought of scaling those precarious ladders for a late-night potty trip still makes my hair stand on end. Good night?
April 7, 2015