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There's a good reason Chile's Torres del Paine National Park swarms with polypro clad eager beavers in summer - it's home to some of the world's most stunning mountain formations and, conveniently, you're less likely to freeze to death. We, however, chose beautiful, chilly old Autumnal April to avoid the crowds, save some pesos and test our survival instincts to the limit. If only the mice knew about seasons as well.
Forgoing the long trip through the earthquake ravaged south and the expensive Navimag ferry, we caught a plane straight from Santiago to Punta Arenas (US$265 pp return at last minute prices), and the bus to Puerto Natales. The streets in these bitingly cold port towns are lined with corrugated iron shacks with brightly coloured roofs, filling us with a smiling nostalgia for the South Island. The landscape is almost inseparable from that of New Zealand, and it felt a little like coming home. It was only when we started the drive towards Torres del Paine that we started to notice the subtle differences.
From inside a speedy grey van which galloped towards the mountain at break neck pace we watched as giant eagles (Condors) swooped through the sky and sat hunched and watching upon yellow rocky hills. Herds of Llamas looked up bewildered from munching on grassy plains and sprang agile over fences at our approach, while flamingos created one legged pink halos around sky blue lakes. And above all of these ridiculous wonders were the mountains - high and jagged and devastating in their monumental presence over the land.
The landscape was stunning. We drank water straight from the mountain streams and became devoted to its deliciousness as if to some new watery religion. Golden and blood red trees clawed their way up the rocky mountain walls, or plunged below into deep valley streams.
Ella: The first hike was, to say the least, a trying experience. For those such as I who spend most days sitting in front of desks eating cakes and chocolates before rolling off to the couch/bed, it was a challenge. However, we reached the summit just as soft blissful snow started to float lazily from the sky and land in frozen clusters on our hats and bags. Snow this dreamy made us forget all hiking trauma and instead gleefully gad about trying to catch snow on our tongues like excited children.
Phil: Our first night was spent in a flimsy tent surrounded by colourful fir trees at the base of the best Torres mirador (lookout). To keep to the cold at bay I squeezed myself and 6 layers of clothing including my trusty puffer jacket plus a beanie and gloves into my normally warm sleeping bag. It didn't work and actual sleep became an unattainable desire. Instead I listened as a great wooly mammoth of a mouse (it would have to be) nibbled its way into the tent - through the reinforced base fabric no less - and helped itself to the scroggin. Ella had heard these rodent advances as well but like me was too cold to do anything about them.
We awoke in a snow covered tent surrounded by twisting branches adorned with golden sparkling leaves heavy with the weight of creamy tufts of snow. Inside our igloo-like tent we lay haloed with wool and sleeping bags, tucked chin to eyebrow dreading the moment of freezing separation. Outside all was still and gleaming, until a wind would shake the trees and heavy curtains of snow would drift down into our bowls of muesli and fill our hoods, occasionally spilling a shudder down our exposed necks.
Aside from the awe inspiring granite spires, Torres National Park is known for its diversity. On our 3rd day we walked more than 16 kms and went from arid tussock-covered plains to enchanting forests to, Phil's favourite, contrasting granite rock-gardens complete with crooked trees and turquoise lakes.
The weather is also diverse. We had one winter's day, a magical blue-bird summery one and day of overwhelming wind. This devastating westerly is famous in the south of Chile and Argentina. If on a bike with it behind you, expect to resemble a bullet screaming across the countryside. If against you with a pack on however, as we found out, expect to resemble a hunched-over old man as you battle an invisible villain.
Ella: I felt like a rebel of the mountain world, equipped in jeans, sneakers and sweatshirt underneath necessary waterproofing. I laughed inwardly with smug self-satisfaction at passing primary coloured hikers, with spikes on their plastic bag covered boots, poles strapped to each hand, and a nunnery of crinkly unfortunately designed gortex tightly wrapped around their faces. My smugness reigned supreme until the snow began to creep up to ankle deep and find its way into our sneakers to sodden our socks. We walked up rocky river beds, and then slid, skidded and fell back down again due to a general lack of spikes. And when one day the weather decided to bring snow that melted, our pants became horrors.
Ella: The mouse that I ignored the first night gave birth to a crippling mouse paranoia that hounded every sleep of every night to come. Our second night I clambered into the tent while Phil went off with the torch. I was deep in my sleeping bag when I became aware of mouse-like noises. I assured myself that I was being foolish until something made its fast footed way across my hat (upon my head). I dived into the sleeping bag and sealed the top. And waited. Phil eventually ambled slowly back and opened the tent door to find me squirming and the mouse running skippidy-hop over my sleeping bag. Once the mouse had been removed we found he had had a small party in my backpack, taking a special liking to our precious chocolate treats. Every night thereafter I would wake Phil hundreds of times to search the tent for invisible mice I had 'seen' in my waking dreams. The mice and me were not friends, and I whimpered my way through each night with painful fear.
The middle of the W shaped track proved to be one of the most beautiful stretches - almost too crisply startling in its winding tree-lined pass to feel real. We tracked the paw prints of a fresh footed fox to the river for drinks and then criss-crossing our pathway ahead, possibly tracking those who had gone before us. We went to sleep in the mossy forest beneath the mountain listening to the sporadic roar and thunder of avalanches above us.
Early autumn was a beautiful time to do the walk, as the golden trees and promise of snow made everything gorgeous and unlike anything we had ever experienced. Going the week after the rates changed from high to low season was also a bonus, as this is not a cheap trip by any stretch of the imagination. While clouds threaten to fog the views, over the four days we had at least half of brilliant sunshine. We ummed and ahhed about this journey, as it was going to be costly and time consuming, but Torres del Paine National Park is one of the most gloriously beautiful places we have ever come across and worth every penny.
Approx low season costs (Prices jump considerable during high season):
Sky Airways Santiago to Punta Arenas Return (Economy): UD$265pp
Puntas Arenas to Puerto Natales bus fare: NZ$35
Accommodation in Puerto Natales: From NZ$15pp (staying in cheap hospedeja)
Transport to Torres del Paine National Park: NZ$30pp
Transfer to beginning of hike: $6pp
Entrance to Park: NZ$24pp
Some camping free, paid campsites: $15pp
Dinners at Refugio: $30pp
Food at refugio shops: Very expensive
Ferry to/away from park: $33pp
Wooly mammoth mice experience: free
Mice eat all accessible food so bring ropes to hang bags each night. Beware travelling alone as pumas have been known to steal lone hikers (and tourists don't seem to hear about it).
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