Saturday, January 9, 2016

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 










Friday, January 8, 2016

Day Six: A not too difficult climb...

to Perros Camp and the halfway point to John Gardner Pass (3,937').

Don't let that slightly higher than the lowest point in Colorado elevation fool you. At these closer to the South Pole than the Equator latitudes, there's glaciers practically licking at your trail runners. Tree line in Patagonia is approximately 2,000'. On Christmas Day, a half a meter of White Death fell on the pass prompting the authorities to close it. The Powers to Be will also detain hikers on high wind days as well. The CONAF Rangers consider sustained gusts over 60 MPH to warrant this radical action. It was apparent to me that getting our asses over this pass was the difference in making all our precise travel connections or not. So I kept crossing my fingers,  touching wood and looking up at the sky. 

The divide was named after Mr. Gardner who pioneered the route around the Torres Massif in 1978. (The trail we were now on). He was accompanied by two Chilean guides. History does not mention if he was planning on placing Refugios or campsites along the way. 

Upon arriving in camp, we set up and went into energy conservation mode once again. 

Stories abounded about the pass: boot-sucking mud holes, the potential for a blast of glacier inspired winds and a steep (almost vertical according to the elevation profile on the map), descent on the other side. It sounded crazier than any Colorado pass I ever hiked. 

With all these thoughts in mind, it was an early night for us and our fellow campers. 


Buenas Noches from Camp Perros, that goes for you too Jenny.
Jeff






Thursday, January 7, 2016

Day Five: Our first meeting with...

the infamous Patagonian wind. 

I walked outside in the early morning light and did the usual glance upward. Hmm. Not bad, minimum clouds and pleasantly warm temperatures. Yippee! Another day of hiking in shorts was coming my way. 

We began our 13 mile hike to the Dickson Refugio by walking upstream along a riverbank. Our map's elevation profile projected fair to mostly flat with a 100% chance of a minor pass. All was honky dory until the divide. A blast of icy wind struck me full on in the kisser. I had to retreat to don my Windstopper jacket and hat. I tightened all my straps and Velcro snaps. In essence, I was battening down the hatches. I waited for Lisa to appear and issued a high wind warning to her. We headed up and over. 

I estimated the winds to be about 40 MPH. We were getting pushed around a lot. Luckily the gusts were forcing us into the hillside instead of down the hillside. It took about ten minutes before we were through the mini-maelstrom. For me, the experience felt like being a kite in a hurricane. On the other hand, Lisa found the experience to be "exhilarating and fun." Once again, typical men vs. women stuff. 

On the final descent to the Dickson Refugio, we spotted semi truck sized icebergs bobbing in the greenish waters of Lagos Dickson. The potential frozen margaritas were calving off the distant Dickson glacier. It was an amazing scene, and something I never saw in Tucson, Arizona. The rest of the day was spent in a long drawn out Happy Hour and glacier photo shoot. 

This sure beats working.

Sleep well Jenny and
Good night from my Refugio bunk bed.
Jeff











Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Day Four: We sure could use the...

Moisture.

At 2ish am, the not too gentle pitter patter of rain striking nylon rocked me from my sleep. Of course, the laundry was hanging outside. Oh well, an extra rinse cycle couldn't hurt. 

After breakfast, the rain subsided long enough to perform the unenviable task of packing a spongy wet tent and damp sleeping bag. Everything was divided in my too many black plastic garbage bags. One for soaking stuff, one for just damp stuff and one that held not many items - my dry stuff. I was wearing the dry stuff already. 

Downhill we went in intermittent showers and dappled sunshine. (Rainbow provided by Patagonian weather.) On an upscale hotel's patio, we made like we owned the place and set the gear out to dry. I was amazed no one came out to tell us to scram in Spanish. 

Once that chore was done, we repacked and started uphill once again.

It was a put on the rain gear, take off the rain gear hike through forested lands. The trees were as macabre looking as Edgar Allen Poe's creative writings. They were kind of spooky. Eventually the landscape changed dramatically (in a good way) below us. A milky glacial river sashayed across a wide valley, fields of daisies took up residence along its flood plain and the usual waterfalls cascaded down from the brown foothills. Pretty nice natural eye candy.

At the Seron camp, we wasted no time getting into the R&R mode. After four days of trekking, we were about to get into the hard stuff. We had many kilometers to go and one steep 3300' foot climb up and over John Gardner Pass to negotiate in order to complete the loop. 

We hope the tempestuous weather treats us kindly. 

Good Morning, Jenny.

Cheers,
Jeff





Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Day Three: Where's my cotton tank top...

and shorts? 

I awoke (after a restless slumber in a one star rated Refugio) and stumbled outside. I looked up and saw sunrise colored peaks and a sky that featured absolutely no clouds. I pinched myself, thinking I was still asleep and dreaming. Fortunately, it was real and it was warm. 

After fortifying ourselves on instant coffee once again, (how hard can it be to make a few pots of real coffee?) we set off. I was wearing shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt. It seemed like eternity since I wasn't shrouded in full fleece and Windstopper. 
For the moment summer had returned. I felt energized and motivated. 
We trekked past fields of wild flowers to the next camp. The many peaks weeped waterfalls. It was all fun and games until we arrived.

The scene at the Chileno campground was a chaos of day hikers, horses (lots of poop) and backpackers. Everyone was there to see the objects of their desires (except the horses), the Torres del Paine. We checked in, set up and took off uphill.

One must not tarry in Patagonia when the sun is shining. You've got to seize the moment. We passed tour groups, mud holes and many rickety bridges. A series of switchbacks led to a high saddle. We crested it. There they were. 

I had to sit down to take it all in. Awesome is an overused descriptor. Same as magnificent, incredible and beautiful. The towers were better than I ever imagined and I have a lot of imagination. I was very happy to be there. 

I'll shut up and let the photos speak. 
Cheers,
Jeff







Monday, January 4, 2016

Day Two: What a difference a day makes (again)...

Good news: The rain and snow left with Santa and his reindeer. The winds aren't  strong enough to fly a kite. The temperature isn't screaming "Beware of hyperthermia" like on Christmas Day.

Bad news: Fresh White Death clung to the hillsides, the trees and dotted the muddy trail. 

As we progressed east, we glimpsed some streaks of blue above us. Glacier fed aquamarine lakes sat below us. Later on, the clouds parted. A mass of Patagonian mountains and ice fields materialized out of the mist. Wow! They really did exist. There was reason I was wearing fleece, a jacket and and a wool hat in the summer. I guess a little discomfort is OK for this kind of payoff. 

At the Refugio, my fellow backpackers and me scan the high horizon and smile. The Southern Hemisphere sunshine defrosts us from yesterday's White Death chill and damp.
We have no idea on what variety of sociopathic weather will arrive in the next few hours let alone the next day. For the moment, we're all happy. 

I'll take it. 

The weather for the moment is even warm enough for Jenny. She makes me look like an Antarctica explorer when it comes to cold. 

Cheers,
Jeff 






Sunday, January 3, 2016

Day One: Christmas Day in Torres del Paine National Park...

It was a sullen mass of would be backpackers on the 3.5 hour bus ride to the park. The coach turned left onto the appropriately named "End of the World Road." From a distance we saw the jagged towers (the reason everyone's here). The closer our hard working bus got to the park the faster the majestic scene went bye-bye. Rain clouds and fog enveloped the would be views.
Meaning: we would all be hiking in rain clouds and fog.

We weren't happy campers.

We got off at the end of the road and began our 10.5 miles hike to the Grande Paine Refugio. A constant drip, drip drip was our unwanted hiking companion. Fortunately the wind took Christmas off. It would have been scary if this were not so. The terrain was mostly flat with a few bumps. My camera never came out of its plastic bag coating. It was an uneventful, underwhelming trudge to our shelter. 

As I write this, there's no reason to dream of a white Christmas. Fat juicy White Death flakes are now issuing forth. Irving Berlin and Bing Crosby would smile. I'm not smiling.

I'm just hoping conditions change ASAP and not for the worse. 

Chilean weather sure has a twisted view of summer.

Which reminds me. Come on Southern Summer! 
Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night, (You too Jenny). 
Jeff