Patagonia Postscript:

A few days ago I dropped Lisa off at the airport in Puerto Montt.

Little did we know when we made Patagonia plans so long ago, we were taking a Grand Canyon sized leap of faith. Who knew how it would turn out for two virtual strangers? 

I'm pleased to announce we got along better than I ever imagined.

The only times we had issues was in Patagonia. When we had disagreements, we sorted it out with direct eye contact. I would roll my eyes after an Uber Polly Anna statement she would make. Lisa would slam her eyes shut and hold her breath when I was being too in-her-face practical.  For the last time, typical men vs. women stuff. Somewhere between these Equator versus Antarctica beliefs was the ideal solution. 

Later on we were both grown up enough to laugh about what had transpired earlier.  

For Lisa, being at the end of the world was the culmination of a thirty year dream. For her everything was beautiful in it's own way, including the brief wind and weather. 

For me, being in a region described as a "Magellanic sub polar forest" climate wasn't my idea of a winter getaway. To be honest, the place scared me. The predictable unpredictability of the weather was a constant source of angst for me. Even the CONAF Rangers couldn't provide the most basic of weather forecasts. Contrary to popular beliefs, I'm a very conservative hiker. I hedge my actions with safety being my number one priority. I have a tendency to be a Jewish Mother when I'm with newcomers to the Great Outdoors. Patagonia was the Great Outdoors on a scale of wild and vast like I've never experienced before.

That all being said, the chance of seeing the Towers on a rare warm, blue sky day will be something I will cherish forever. The many glacier views we had after that scenic moment was the extra scoop of Moose Tracks ice cream on a warm piece of peach pie. That was my dessert. I still gaze at my photos in disbelief. 

In the course of those eight days and 80 plus miles of hiking, Lisa taught me a valuable life lesson. Humans are capable of amazing feats once they set their minds to the task. The driving force for Lisa was the thirty year carrot on the stick. She was one motivated person who would not be deterred from her mission. 

Upon returning to the Chilean Mainland, we didn't do much of anything besides try to get over our colds and swat at swarms of flesh gouging horseflies. 

I'm still sick and lying low in the resort town of Pucon. I set up housekeeping in a cabana for six nights. I'm now cooking meals and making my own bed. Outside, the Pucon Triathlon is in full swing. There's 1,600 participants racing about in a fine damp mist. Maybe the sun will come out to bake this crud out of my lungs. I hope so. I need to get back on the trails to get in shape for the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu in a few weeks. 

Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed my dispatches from Patagonia. 

Happy belated birthday, Jenny. 

Thanks Lisa for being such pleasant company. Enjoy your first day back at work after your dream come true trip. 

Cheers from Pucon,

Jeff

Day Eight: New Year's Day and...

Seven miles of sprinting to catch a catamaran.

 One would think if the final day's victory lap was connecting Lagos Grey to Lagos Pehoe we would be strolling along the lakesides and riverside. Wrong! We had a few headlands to get up and over. The payoffs for the sweat labor were cliff side views of Glacier Grey, icebergs and one red catamaran on a three hour scenic tour. 

At a "mirador" (scenic overlook), Lisa and I compared notes on the state of our health. The news was no Bueno. We both woke with sandpaper scratchy throats and the usual suspects of sniffling and sneezing. Lisa sported a racking cough. Apparently the virus had been germinating in us for a few days before it had its "Coming Out Party" on New Year's Day. 

I blame it on the wear and tear of the journey, the days of damp and cool weather, the white foods we were served (colorful food have more vitamins), the dubious hygiene of the Refugios (no soap in the banos means no easy hand washing before meals). 

However the real culprit was probably being jammed in a three bunk high room with just one sick camper occupying it. Our night air was being recycled through all of us. This is my first cold in over four years. 

We made our catamaran appointment with an hour to spare. From there it was a seven plus hours of waiting and two bus rides back to Punta Arenas. We dropped our muddy packs at the hotel as the sun was setting at 10 pm. We found a warm, attractive restaurant to eat colorful foods and relax over beers and wine. We were both too tired and sick to really appreciate the fact that "We Did It!" 

I wonder what Lisa's next thirty year dream Bucket List trip is? I hope it's in a warmer place than Patagonia. 

Manana we take a morning flight back to Puerto Montt and mainland Chile. There won't be any hiking in the next few days with these illnesses. 

Wash your hands before you eat and stay away from sick backpackers! Oh yeah and once again Happy New Year. You too Jenny. 

Jeff

Day Seven: New Year's Eve and the Gods granted us safe passage over the pass...

It was fourteen miles and nine hours later, when we stumbled into the Grey Refugio. We were both knackered. Do we know how to ring in the New Year or what?

Our day began with my 5 am wake up call. I begged a fellow camper with a stove for a boil of water for my personal stash of Starbucks instant coffee shots. (Adrenaline and caffeine were my fuel for the week. Sleep avoided me as if I were a leper). I chugged the Java from my spare Nalgene bottle while wandering over to a clearing. I saw a welcome sight. No clouds on the pass, just mist on the nearby peaks. So far, so good. 

After a bountiful breakfast of two Cliff Bars (there is no meal service at this out of the way camp) we left Perros by 6. It didn't take long before the uphill and the bogs began. It was an obstacle course of muck, slick logs and tree roots with evil intentions. We started making real progress once we got above tree line. In fact, the ascent was reminiscent of Colorado's wilderness trails. The only thing newish about it were the adjacent glaciers diving down around us. After three hours of effort, we spotted the summit's welcome wagon - a good sized cairn adorned with Tibetan prayer flags. Photos were taken, high fives were given and the smiles came out before we headed downhill. 

And then the really hard hiking began for another six hours. There were steep slick drops, swaying bridges across deep canyons, a ladder and many ascents that brought us back to the identical altitude of Perros Camp. 

Huh? How can that be?  We thought the day's destination was a lake!  Apparently water still flows downhill in Patagonia although the trails don't. 

Ahh! But the views of Glacier Grey were beyond belief. It was the Shaquille O'Neil of glaciers. 

(Think 67,000 football fields minus the cheerleaders and steroid enhanced players). In comparison the others looked like mere ice cubes. Later on we saw icebergs calving from the glacier's tongue. They floated away placidly on the olive colored waters of Lagos Grey. I've never seen anything like that before. Then again, being a certified Cold Weenie I usually try to avoid frozen water in any shape, size or form. 

Unfortunately, the eye squinting glare caused my camera's automatic settings to have seizures. The photos don't capture the moment in real time and place. I guess you will have to come this way and see for yourselves. 

After a huge meal and a few beers with fellow hikers, I passed out three hours shy of 2016. It's hard to be a party animal in Patagonia. 

 

May you all have a happy, healthy and prosperous 2016 and beyond. You too Jenny. 

Jeff