Patagonia is where you feel a stillness in the world and yourself. Time stops, and nothing else matters amongst its beauty. I had fulfilled my desire to see this wonderful place, and I would go back in a heartbeat. I traversed across various sceneries that continued to surprise and awaken my senses connecting me with mother earth.
People I met along my travels, friends or family will often ask where has been my favourite place along this trip. My answer is always the same, Patagonia. I had heard little about Patagonia, and most Australians I knew had travelled to the famous tourist hot spots of Peru, Chile, and Bolivia in South America and had not been there. I would ask, "Did you go to Patagonia? "and typically get a response, "No, Isn't it a brand?."
No one had been there, growing my curiosity to visit this unknown land. But once on the backpacking route of South America, it was famous amongst the adventurous. Patagonia lies at the southernmost tip of South America, governed by Argentina and Chile. The Andes Moutain ranges divide the two countries and host lakes, inlets, temperate rainforests, glaciers and deserts.
Bye Bye, Australia, and hello, South America.
Buenos Aires was my first destination in South America. A buzzing city with vivid culture, nightlife and delicious food. Within the first night, I had banded an entourage of friends. Charney, a bubbly New Zealand girl I met on a Greek island tour, her family and two English lads. We filled our days with walking tours of the colourful streets, chasing empanada stands, consuming many bottles of wine and savouring Asado Argentina or barbeque meat. In contrast, our nights began with cocktails followed by dancing and partying in the clubs, which wouldn't kick off until midnight.
During this wild escapade, I got a bridge piercing I had desired but avoided due to the physical appearance required as a cosmetic nurse of the Sydney northern beaches. Even more, I wouldn't emerge from bed until 5 pm, and that's when I knew it was time to move on before this city sucked me further into its vortex hole of galivanting and lavishing all my money on vino and cuisine. Other travellers I met in the town who had witnessed Patagonia in all its glory convinced me to head there as soon as possible. I rounded up the English lads, Tom and Joe, and we headed to Southern Argentina via plane and bus.
Northern Patagonia.
To kick start our Patagonia experience, we transited via bus to our first destination El Chalten to hike the infamous Mount Fitz Roy. It took us an entire day to walk 24km. It was initially steep and kept us out of breath for many hours before we adjusted to a hiking rhythm and steady pace. Neither one of our bodies was enjoying the radical health transformation. Along the way, we dodged many "Hermans", a nickname termed by the typical hiking germans donning waterproof leggings, hiking boots and poles. After what seemed like forever, we reached the superb viewpoint of high jagged mountain ranges with an incredible pastel-blue lagoon in the center. The melted glacier water was breathtakingly beautiful and icy cold to the touch. Feeling like we had accomplished and done something healthy since escaping the city, we headed back to a restaurant for a burger and ice cream.
While in town, it was common to see all the locals drinking Mate. Mate is more than a drink, it is a caffeine-rich infused tea that forms part of the Argentinian and Chilean culture and a daily ritual. Many locals carry a thermos filled with water at a specific temperature sharing the drink amongst friends at every hour of the day. It is drunk through a metal straw with holes in a cup made from dried pumpkins.
Consequently, the moment I got offered the chance to try Mate for myself, I knew it was a must. But what surprised me the most was how it is shared. Once the liquid has been drunk, the cup is filled up carefully at a specific angle before being handed to me. Not wanting to offend the offer, I tried it without evening questioning the western standard of sharing a straw with strangers. Regardless, Mate became a favourite beverage of mine throughout my time in South America, and I have a straw embellished with a Chilean flag as a souvenir.
Mount Fitz Roy was just one of the unique and memorable natural events I was to witness in Patagonia. Another example of mother nature's force and power was the Puerto Marino glacier. The glacier extends 33km wide and is visible as far as the eye can see to the horizon. It has dangerously sharp peaks and cervices of ice which accentuate its texture. The colour is pure cobalt blue. Standing on the tourist boardwalk, we would often hear the severing of the ice in the distance like a plane of glass crackling slowly. When the tension of the ice is too much, the glacier roars a thunderous crack. Ice the size of a car or small house breaks away from the high 74m wall like an exploding bomb crashing into the seawater below. The Puerto Marino glacier left me desiring to see more of what Patagonia could offer.
Southern Patagonia.
I began to dream of the raw and untouched land waiting for me to explore and sleep under the stars in the wild. It was time to part ways with the boys, and I boarded a flight to the quaint town of Puerto Natales in Southern Chile. I decided I wanted to hike the famous W hike trail inside the Patagonia National Park. The W hike is a strenuous hike covering eighty-nine kilometres through the valleys of Frances, Glacier Grey, across lakes and up to the notorious Torres Del Paine.
I was underprepared because I had left Australia without any previous plan to hike longer than a few hours. I had to wait a week until I could pre-reserve my nights' accommodation inside the national park. This gave me plenty of time to prepare the food I was to carry over the hike, rent a sleeping bag and other hiking items I needed. I only owned a pair of thin exercise leggings, a rain jacket and Nike shoes with no bottom traction. Call it pride, ego, or still chasing a fashion to impress, I was adamant not to succumb to the hiking attire of a 'Herman'. Although I did rent two hiking poles for extra stability as my ankle was still healing from a previous injury.
Luckily for a newbie like me, a hostel in town held a pre-meeting for those planning to tackle the W hike. I learnt the trek was marked easily, the difficulties to be aware of and the unpredictable climate shifts. I was hoping to free camp in the wilderness, but my options were pre-determined due to weather conditions and limited capacity. I had two nights in a pre-erect tent and one night in a Refugio cabin. The cabins included meals for the night and the next day, meaning I could ditch the compact stove burning and limit the weight I would carry. Cold meals and a whole bunch of snack bars. Mmmm delicious.
I was forever worried about the weather information and climate inside the park. Four seasons in one day was stressed at the pre-meeting, and this was what I was mentally preparing myself for. Please, no heavy rain, hail, blizzards or extreme winds. I prayed to Pachamama. And also, please keep my shoes dry.
As I sat on the public bus driving into the national park, I thought this could be the most adventurous thing I had begun. Utterly oblivious to the fact three weeks prior, I had just left Australia to explore South America. Although as I peered out the window, I was nervous as we drove through the hills with other eager Hermans. Should I have found a hiking buddy? What if I break my leg and no one is around to help? Did I overpack my backpack? Did I have enough food? Only time will tell.
The bus stopped at the Torres Del Paine base camp, and I became acquainted with my first tent accommodation. Small but cosy. As long as it stays dry was my initial impression. Without hesitation and many hours left in the day, I left my pack behind and began the strenuous climb to the Torres Del Paine summit. I huffed and puffed up, taking time to acclimate my lungs to the cool air. I was grateful we didn't have to carry water as it is free-flowing everywhere throughout the rivers and safe to drink. The last hour of the hike was loose, slippery gravel, and the hiking poles helped. The scenery was magical when I peeped my eyes over the last hill. Three tall granite mountainous formations reached high like towers over a turquoise blue lake.
Resisting the urge to grab my camera and take a photo immediately, I decided to walk the rim of the crater for an extra fifteen minutes before settling down for lunch. I sat there, far away from other hikers, in a meditative state, absorbing all its beauty for what felt forever. There is something special about glacier water, unlike the blue oceans or lakes i had seen before. I could have stayed there forever, though the sun starting to move closer to the land made me realise I didn't want to be up here and freeze at night. Little did I know what would happen early that morning.
When the sun disappeared, the stars lit up the sky. It was the most breathtaking stargazing on earth. The cold wind brushed my cheeks, and I felt motionless and captivated by the universe.
My first night in my tent was possibly the coldest I had ever been. I felt empowered accomplishing my first hike and was snuggled up like a bug, still in awe at the scenery. Very early in the morning, I woke to an icy feeling in my body. I couldn't shake it. I reached for my bag and layered all the items I could. Even with two pairs of socks, my feet still ached. I tied my jacket around my feet. Another 30 minutes passed with no improvement. I grabbed a black garbage bag and inserted my sleeping bag inside the plastic like a makeshift sauna. No luck, and I was shivering. Think, think, think. I had an idea! I hurriedly poured all the contents of my backpack onto the floor like a crazy woman and placed my garbage bag-wrapped sleeping bag inside my backpack. Somewhere, I dreamt of being in a hot shower and fell asleep thinking I should have found a hiking friend to share a tent with.
I woke exhausted, drained by lack of sleep, my hair was dry and untamed, and I had turned into a wildling. Yet of all the moments, day two of hiking was the most challenging. I had 25km to cover. I left camp at sunrise to give myself a head start. The trail led alongside a beautiful lake for a few hours. The scenery was stunning. I needed all the distractions to prevent me from realising my bag was incredibly heavy as it pinched my shoulders in agony. I tried to hike for at least half an hour before desperately stopping. At each break, I would read a few pages of my book, and every hour I would eat the heaviest of my food in the hope my contents would feel lighter.
However, as the day went on, something shifted in me. I started to gain a steady pace and forget the deadweight on my shoulders. I became energised by nature and surroundings, giving me a feeling of invincibility.
After midday, I reached the base of the French valley, which includes part of the Ande mountain ranges and left my ball and chain (backpack )at the rangers' station. With just water and lunch, I set off towards the summit. I felt like I was almost running with excitement and adrenaline. Patagonia had injected its endorphins inside of me; I felt alive. Each side of the valleys had rock mountains creating a gully with kilometres of either flower meadows or luscious trees. It was the most untouched area of the entire national park. The rare gust of winds that entered the valley was cold without the sunshine so I kept up the pace to keep the blood circulation pumping around my body.
A few hours in and almost at the summit, the weather had become overcast and gave a mystical vibe. The trees at this altitude were stripped bare of leaves, and moss grew around the branches. I began to hear snow avalanches, and I was excited to witness another of nature's frailties. I never imagined I could sit in safety and eat lunch while watching the snow avalanches fall down the cliff face on the mountain on the other side of the valley. Incredible!
After exiting the valley, I trudged along to my next base camp on an adrenaline high. That epic experience was impregnated into my brain forever. I hiked along for what seemed like a few
hours without seeing anyone. I was getting weary, my legs ached, and my body had taken over on autopilot. My brain instructed my legs to march onwards to camp and sleep. I never felt unsafe or scared, although it had been hours since I had seen another human. My mind began wondering if an animal could come out and attack me. Australian girl attacked by rogue Guanaco in Patagonia. HA! Not possible, yet it would make headlines.
Finally reaching the next campsite, I was exhausted. Although I couldn't help but stay outside with the stars, I made friends around the fire with some local Chileans who worked as porters carrying backpacks in the park. They offered me Chilean El Gato wine, and we toasted the park's fantastic scenery. My Spanish was non-existent, and I kept thinking about why they kept talking about Eskimos a lot. Little did I know, they were saying "Es Como," which translates in Spanish to "it's like". That was a wake-up call to learn the language.
As the stars began to light up the night, I cringed as I thought to myself of the previous night. I was traumatised I could freeze to death and shared my experience with the locals of my last night's dilemma. One porter gestured to share a tent and keep me warm at night. He was handsome, sweet and muscular from his daily adventures as a mountain climber. As I saw this was vital for my survival, I gladly accepted.
As I continued my adventures the next day, I realised I had been fortunate with the weather. That was until I got caught in a gnarly 40km per hour wind storm. As I came to the crest of a hill, I heard the howling wind and slowly battled my way against force, I scrambled upwards with my tent poles leading the way. My rain jacket was flapping wildly, it was beginning to rain, and I had lookout for shelter immediately. I crouched behind a tiny boulder from the wind, waiting for the conditions to pass. As I did, the lake was filled with white caps from the wind. To make matters worse, I accidentally let my right shoe fall into a puddle. ARGH! The dreaded one wet and cold foot in a squelching shoe began onwards to the cabin.
Due to my late booking in the park for two nights, I had a reservation that included a warm dinner, a hot shower, and a warm bed. It was heaven and defiantly needed. As the hot water washed over my skin, I think I could have stayed there forever. The excitement of laying my body in a real bed and not a thin mattress on the floor dragged me out. Not before I visited the bar for tea and to watch the sunset.
There are benefits to being a lone girl on vacation, especially in a bar. Once I started chatting with the barman, he told me about the rival pisco history between Chile and Argentina, who first founded the drink, or which country makes it better. Never sampling either, the barman kindly shook up the national drink made with egg white, lime and pisco complimentary on the house, and it became a regular favourite drink.
The last attraction I was to hike towards was glacier Grey. It was the shortest distance from the Refugio cabin with a spectacular view. Between myself and the glacier was a sea filled with hundreds of little glaciers that had broken off. They looked like a bay filled with sailships. It was beautiful to see and hear. I was astounded to see glaciers sparkle and twinkle as the sun reflected from the light. They make the most beautiful soothing sounds as they melt, like a constant trickle of running water.
While I sit and recount this adventure six years later, I can feel the energy of Patagonia and its national parks so vividly. Its vastness of landscape remains pure and untouched, stretching as far as the eye can see. Whether I was hiking through the Andes valleys, watching snow avalanches or listening to glaciers melt in the sunlight, I felt alive. I will be forever grateful for this experience and hope anyone who reads this will be inspired to get outside and connect with any natural source surrounding you.
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