Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: These Days — Nico

“I’ve been out walking, I don’t do too much talking these days…” What else could be more fitting?

The day before my departure from Puerto Natales, I spent the afternoon getting last essentials (food, mostly) in town and having lunch and drinks with some of the Navimag squad. They evidently had continued on to a bar, but knowing I had an early bus I had peeled off early. Even so I was up late packing, nervous for the days ahead: a lot of walking (obviously, and the least of my worries), preparing my own food along the way, and enjoying another 5 days out of the range of cell service and wifi.

My bus to the park was at 6:50am from the other side of town, so I was up at 5:30 to have a quick breakfast and then head out, watching the sun burn a bright red line in the distant horizon. Bus Sur runs 3 or 4 busses per morning, staggered 5 minutes apart to make the ticketing clear — mine happened to arrive first (to the chagrin of the 6:45 ticket holders) and so we pulled out of the bus terminal just before 7. The two hour drive to the park reminded me at first a bit of Colorado, with shrubby foothills and wide grassy fields with horses, cows, and even the occasional guanaco (local llama / alpaca type of animal). I’d heard the drive was scenic and was fighting off sleep, but it was a losing battle and I drifted off until we reached the entrance of the park. Anyone starting on the east side of the park (like me) alighted to a first view of the large mountains, including the famous Torres — covered in an ominous grey cloud. After showing my park entrance ticket I found the shuttle to the welcome center, and after a few minutes found myself at Central Refugio / Campground, what would be my home for the evening.

After some confusion I figured out where I could drop off my pack, and extricated my day pack which had all my “necessities” (food, layers, water, first aid kit, wallet / passport, etc.) I realized quickly that I’d way overpacked my day pack — I had too much food and should have slimmed down the first aid kit as well, but I was determined to get started to decided to head off anyway.

Patagonia is one of those places where if you don’t like the weather, all you have to do is wait 10 minutes and it will change. Or so I had heard. Finally setting off in earnest around 9:30 am, I was still in the sun down on the valley floor but could see that same black cloud at the Torres, my destination for the day. Last night when I’d checked the weather it hadn’t looked much better — a high percentage of clouds that could obscure my view entirely. Nothing to do now of course other than start walking and see what happens, so I found the path pointing towards the Mirador and headed off.

The first part of the path was flat, passing the expensive Hotel Las Torres and headed downhill to cross a rickety bridge over a river (maximum two people, a sign warned) with views of a massive mountain behind. I already wanted to stop for photos every few seconds, but reminded myself that I’d come this same way again twice — on my way back down today and tomorrow morning en route to Cuernos. Onwards and now upwards, as the path curved around a dusty, shrubby hill and began to ascend. I had, stupidly, not looked closely at the altimetric profile of the route and had assumed that it would be a gentle climb up to Chileno, the midway Refugio, followed by a big push to the mirador. I was wrong — the climbing started now. As the did the weather, as the wind suddenly picked up and began blowing fat raindrops in my face. I pulled on my raincoat quickly and continued, and 10 minutes later the sun was back and I was sweltering. Okay, raincoat off. Then again, the rain — raincoat on again. You get the gist.

40 minutes in I was sweating and heaving already, bent double to break the wind, and feeling the weight of my day pack which had no hip support whatsoever. Usually when I feel this bad it’s snack time, so I sat down in the shade of a tree and turned around to eat the one nectarine that had survived the trip from Puerto Natales. And it worked — as I ate, I admired with wonder the first views of a brilliant blue lake behind me, and let the gusts of wind cool me off. This was going to be a long day, and it was seeming like it might be a hard day if it continued like this, but I reminded myself that the point of exercise was that it’s challenging (duh!) and hey — this is all part of the adventure. Sufficiently bolstered, I checked the map before packing up and saw I was twenty minutes or so from the Windy Pass, where I overheard a guide telling his group that it would flatten out.

With a bit more food in me I actually did have a better time snaking my way up towards the Windy Pass, winding my way past a few large guided groups of 10 to 20 people and as well as couples and other solo hikers. The downside of this plan — starting the hike upon arriving — was that I was caught with all the day trippers who also had taken the bus in. Many people spend the night at Central or Chileno and start early to avoid these crowds — but when I booked spots were limited, and expensive, so this was the best option for me. Soon enough I reached the pass, which did warrant its name. I braced hard with my poles as gusts of wind repeatedly knocked my hood off my head, and carefully made my way along the path as close to the hill as possible — to my right was a very steep drop-off, and it would be a shame to be blown off a hill in my first hour of walking.

It wasn’t flat per se here, but was a nice rolling up-and-down that allowed me to admire the views up the valley. The path traced a river towards the end of the valley, but I was way up high so able to see the river and forest below as well as the mountains above. At one point a group of hikers pointed and stared up the hill at an animal. I squinted, not wearing my glasses, and thought it looked like a deer, though I couldn’t tell for sure. I took a zoomed in photo on my phone and it looked like a deer-shaped blur. So, we’ll call it a deer. Soon I was approaching Chileno — to my excitement, passing a few horses tied to a post nearby — crossing another sketchy looking bridge over the rushing river, and then greeted by the sound of loud dance music being blasted. Grateful for a proper break, I found a windy spot at an outdoor picnic table and set about making lunch (a small cigarillo, essentially, of tortilla wrapped around slices of cheese and salami) without any of my ingredients blowing away. Dessert was a few bites of candied ginger purchased in Puerto Natales, then I filled my water and started back off.

The next section was lovely, carving through the forest (a respite from the wind) and following the track of the river at a slight climb. The path was still crowded, though it seemed I had at least shaken off the bigger tour groups. I walked for a while behind two Italians whose white baseball caps would get blown away at every clearing, then walked for a bit with two British girls who had just graduated university and were spending a year traveling South America. The day was getting hot, even in the forest, and the continuous climb was taking a toll. My knees were…plaintive, we’ll say, and it was feeling like it would take forever to get to the Torres.

As I had that thought, the signs for the ranger station appeared — the last structure before the mirador where you could use the bathroom and fill up your water. I used the opportunity to put on more sunscreen and take a quick rest. Maps.me said that I was 45 minutes from the top, but the official signs were saying almost double that — no way to know but to see, I guess. To get to the ranger station I had exited the forest and could see the large rockfall that covered the slope down from the mirador. I knew that the last 30 minutes or so was famously a bit uphill scramble, so figured I must actually be close.

This reasoning was incorrect — the path quickly re-entered the woods, and while it started heading steeply uphill, almost a rock climb at points across big boulders, I learned that this was not the beginning of the end. After at least another twenty minutes or so I rounded a corner and saw, finally, that I had reached the last section. A scree-covered path had been cleared through the boulders, and a conga line of hikers in both directions was slowly but surely picking its way across the landscape. I braced myself and slowly made my way uphill. In the end, it took about thirty more minutes, in part because I was constantly needing to pull aside to let people coming down pass (even though uphill hikers have precedent, which is constantly posted in the signage, I found most hikers were willing to barrel into each other and see who would yield), or getting stuck behind slower hikers navigating tricky sections. A gaggle of posh British boys, presumably on a “gap yah” complained behind me about the pace — I tried to shut them out and make my way forward through the crowds.

Despite the concerning weather forecast and the view from the park entrance, it was now brilliantly sunny, with a deep blue sky and white cotton candy clouds. On the boulder field there was no respite from either the sun or the wind, and I found myself sometimes turning my back to the wind and taking a moment to admire the not-particularly-scenic but still large and impressive brown hills across the valley,

As I pushed forward through the mass of people, I was suddenly struck by a flash of color — my first glimpse of the lake. A rounded a rock and the view emerged in front of me: the three towers, small patches of snow beneath them, standing above a strikingly deep turquoise lake. I had seen so many photos of this place in my research, from perfect days to completely cloudy. Even so, I was stunned by the view. I identified an unclaimed perch — a rock large enough to sit, a bit higher on the hill to allow me to ignore the hordes of people by the shoreline. I sat for a long time taking in the view, watching the shadows cast on the lake as clouds blew through, watching a small rockslide far away on one of the mountains, and having another snack of candied ginger and a sort of crappy (but in that moment, perfect) almond chocolate bar. I was entertained by the line of tourists who waited patiently to climb up on one flat rock by the shoreline, take the same photo with arms raised, then cede the photo spot to the next waiting group. I snapped my own photos from my spot and tried to not get blown off the rock with the wind.

I would have loved to stay all day, but it was getting chilly and grey clouds were moving in, promising rain. I was also feeling a bit dehydrated and wouldn’t pass any streams to drink from for at least 30 minutes of walking, so decided it was time to set off. So I packed up and set off, very slowly picking my way down the steep and slippery path alongside an Italian couple. Finally I descended below the tree line and found a stream where I could fill my water bottle. My knees were starting to really ache now, with every large step / jump down from the boulders scattering the trail. I pushed onwards, past a few other hikers heading down including a family with a young child of maybe 7, who I was impressed to see had made it this far already.

When I reached the more rolling hills section of the forest before Chileno, I found a fallen tree to sit down on for a break. Lucia had walked this hike previously with her parents as a day trip, and on the boat had mentioned how excited she was to return and “just sit in the woods for awhile.” It sounded like a pretty good plan, so I took my headphones out and stared up at the tops of the trees as they swayed in the wind. I’d seen photos of crown avoidance online but never seen it in real life, so I was mesmerized as I watched the gaps between trees maintain even as the branches moved two and fro. I sat for a long time, enjoying the peace and quiet between passing hikers, before eventually continuing on.

In general it was a pleasant walk back to Chileno, barring an annoying group on the trail who would rush to pass me, immediately slow down, then stop after a few minutes so I passed them again, and then rush to catch up and pass me again. I was annoyed but tried not to let it bother me too much, even as I watched the leader of the group walk so close behind someone into Chileno that he almost took their boots off. The downside of this stage of the W-trek is that it’s the most popular hike and full of day trippers, W-trekkers, and O-trekkers, so the path is much more crowded than others in the park. The trick is to overnight either in Central and Chileno and start early to avoid the crowds, and I was beginning to better understand that advice.

I took a quick break in Chileno Refugio to escape the wind, sipping a ginger ale and bopping my head to the dance music still being blasted from the speakers, My knees were still bothering me and I considered taping them (I had KT tape in my overpacked day pack) but couldn’t be bothered to go through the effort. This proved to be a mistake. Out of Chileno it was back uphill to the Windy Pass, where I started getting a weird sharp pain on my right kneecap, which I ignored to the extent possible. To my excitement, two groups of horses led by gauchos passed by, bringing food and supplies up to Chileno. More wind and clouds moved in as I continued downhill through the scrubby foothills, and at times I was going almost at a run to try and get back before the rain. Eventually I relented, put my rain jacket back on, and let myself get pelted with cold raindrops as I put on some disco music to encourage myself for the last few minutes of walking. I dragged myself over the same rickety bridge, past the Hotel Torres, and was finally reunited with my pack at the campground.

I checked in and was led to my accommodation for the night. I did not bring my own tent — given I’m traveling for 6 weeks, I didn’t want to carry one with me the whole time, and I was skeptical about renting one in Puerto Natales. So, I had reserved a pre-pitched tent and brought my own sleeping mat and bag. This was a great choice — Central is run by Las Torres (the fancier of the two companies running Refugios in the park), so my lodging was a spacious two person tent perched high on a platform at the edge of the campground. In the end I didn’t even need my sleeping mat as the tent was pitched with a two inch thick foam pad inside and plenty of room to spread out. While I also brought food for most of my own meals on the trek, I had booked two dinners for my first and last night to lighten my pack slightly. So, after a shower and unpacking, I headed into the main Refugio building for a dinner of pulled beef, rice, and salad. I sat with two Dutch women who were starting the trek the next day, and we had a nice chat about our travel plans while I struggled not to fall asleep at the table.

After dinner I limped back to my home for the night and clambered into my sleeping bag to write my notes on the day and read a bit. All in all, while I was physically a bit worse for wear, I was very excited for the next stages of the trip. Today had been beautiful and I had been so lucky with getting a good weather window for the mirador. I hoped my lucky would hold, and was excited to hopefully have quieter trails in the coming days. With light still in the sky after 10pm, I managed to drift off.

Distance walked: 16.6mi / 26.7km

Elevation climbed: 2900ft / 884m