Towers of Pain Part 2: The Pain Continues

Finding one's face frozen to the sweatshirt they waded up to serve as a pillow by the drool that leaked from their mouth in the night is a really crappy way to wake up, I discovered in the early dawn light on our second morning in the Torres del Paine. Emerging like a disgruntled polar bear from our tent to wedge my feet into a pair of shoes made stiff and refreshingly subzero by the frigid temperatures all night, the crisp dawn air and quiet stillness of the forest did in no way serve to give my soul a moment of quiet repose. In fact, I found myself questioning not only this particular outing, but life itself.

After a brisk twenty minutes consisting of cursing the cold, eating a quick meal, and doing windsprints around the camp to warm up, the world seemed slightly less bleak. Our small troupe of international mountaineers then set off up the trail which forms the center (or buttcrack, as I called it) of the W, a 5-day series of trails which when looked at on the map, forms a big W through the park, thus earning itself the name. We left the camp set up as it was, both because we planned to stay there for the night, and because the nylon of our tents had fused into concrete during the night, and would budge for no man.

The weather was unpromising at the outset, a giant bank of fog (or more probably of clouds given our elevation) having settled down into the narrow but deep valley up which our route would take us. The trail began perhaps 100 meters below the fog, but as we scrambled up over frozen rocks along a trail that steadily climbed, we soon found ourselves immersed in it, able to see for a reasonable distance around us, but completely obliterating the giant peaks to either side. To our right towered the Cuernos ("horns"), which are huge jagged peaks, amazingly layered such that they begin with a wide band of green from the trees (white now with snow), are followed by a tremendous band of light tan granite, and topped by sharp jagged black peaks.



At the moment, we could see nothing of this, of course, the fog removing all such reference such that we could have been hiking in a nice forest just about anywhere. To our left was another range of mountains, this one ungraced by any clever name that I knew, but still giant and absolutely covered with glaciers clinging precariously here and there all over the faces. The eerie sound of thunderous avalanches and rifle cracks of breaking ice came to us in our veil of fog, unable to see them.

As we climbed further, the fog bank began to shift rapidly, becoming as Salome dancing the Seven Veils, teasingly pulling aside a veil of fog to reveal an amazing mountain peak suspended in the clouds as if part of a giant slide show in the heavens surrounded by gray, only to whirl away and hide her wonders again.



The further we climbed, the more she revealed, giving us glimpses of the wonders the park had to offer, but never for more than a minute, barely long enough to allow us to attempt to pull out the camera before it was gone. The trail continued through forest covered by snow, until it reached a large open area where the valley originated in a grand amphitheatre, at which point the final veil was dropped, and we rose above the cloud bank to find ourselves in bright sunshine with clear blue sky overhead, in a huge bowl with the Cuernos on one side wrapping around in front to meet with the range which had flanked our right, a great blade of giant granite spires. The fog bank had receded down the valley, such that behind it seemed as if a giant sea filled the valley, spilling down to meet a huge ocean of fog.




Hiking into roughly the center of the bowl, we found the "mirador" (or viewpoint), and ate a fairly rapid lunch, not having all that much time before the impending darkness would force us to head back to camp to beat it. We took one last look around at the beautiful view, and then regretfully repacked our daypacks and headed back down. After moving back down the trail a bit, we made the decision to hurry back to camp and break it, to move about 2 hours further along the W such that the following morning we would have a better chance of finishing another section before we would have to meet the bus, or make the decision to spend another night and do the rightmost arm of the W.



After reaching the camp and quickly tearing it down, we stuffed everything in our packs and continued along the trail, heading from Camp Italiano east to the other, the name of which I've forgotten. After arriving, just before dusk, we set up camp and blatantly flouting park regulations, built a small fire to ward off the cold. Huddled around it trying to dry our wet shoes and socks, we dispatched a delegation of two to prepare food, more of the hot, bland, yet wonderful variety we'd had the night before. After a few hours of this, during which time I had two pairs of socks ruined by burning giant holes through one of each pair, we gave up and retreated to our sleeping bags. I was sharing a tent with the two english guys and a scottish guy from our group, which wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, as three of us were over 6 foot, and the tent wasn't all that large. The night was much colder than the one before, and the 4 of us shuddered all night long wondering why the temperature had gotten twice as cold in such a short time. The answer came in the morning, when I heard one of the english guys sit up and ask in bewilderment, "Who left the tent flap open?" It turned out the scottish guy had been the last in, and hadn't shut it behind him. Needless to say, we left him tied upside down in a tree.

Overnight it had apparently snowed, as the whole camp was blanketed in white. A large white mound across the fire from our tent suddenly shuddered, and then disgorged a blue Tyler from its innards, rubbing his arms and shivering. It takes a moment like that to truly question one's intelligence. We decided to skip breakfast, and just hit the trail to try and warm up a bit.

As soon as we began walking, a very light snow began to fall, and continued off and on throughout the next 5 hour hike. The trail goes east along a large lake to the left, and the continuation of the Cuernos on the left, following the lower right curve of the W. At about 4 hours along the path, another path breaks off to the right, cutting off a portion of the bottom half and meeting up with the rightmost arm of the W, allowing one to shave off some time and distance if they wanted to do the entire circuit. It was at this branching that Tyler and I would need to make our decision, either to continue along the W and spend another night out in the cold, or go with the rest of the group (they all having decided that it would be foolhardy to do any more in the current weather) back to where we could catch a bus out of the park. It was a tough call, as both of us wanted to keep going, but were concerned about the falling snow and our health, not to mention the unappetizing prospect of camping at a yet-higher and thus-colder elevation.

We went back with the group.

Arriving finally at the large resort at the eastern most edge of the park (where we would be able to catch the bus), we dropped our packs and at a small lunch of crackers, cheese, and some sort of disgusting-looking meat paste that the can jokingly called pate (from which I of course abstained). We thought about breaking out the camp stove and trying to work up enough hot water for coffee, but thought the effort too much. Luckily, a nice employee of the resort invited us back to the employees' lounge for some hot water. Once there, we met Jose, the cook for the lounge, who offered us hot water, soup, and bread with jam. I have never been more thankful to a man I just met. Once stuffed full of bread and coffee, we happily went to meet the bus, and left the park.

The weather was still overcast and foggy, so we couldn't see the actual Torres, which are the main attraction of the park. Of course, just as our bus was leaving, they came out completely. They are truly amazing, and we forced the bus driver to stop so we could get out and take some pictures.



Finally, after a long 2 hour ride back to town, we were dropped off at our hostel, tired and cold. A nice shower would have been fantastic, but fortunately the water in the hostel was broken, and we couldn't.
- posted by Micah @ 4:08 PM