Guanacos and Mountains and Windstorms, Oh My! With Hans

Punta Arenas, Chile, is a city built for farewells. The only interruption of the grey of the sky and the grey of the town is the chipping spray paint of the graffiti, and it was in this ramshackle settlement that we said goodbye to Logan. Incidentally, it was also where we welcomed Sheldon. It is not a welcoming city, but young Yoder bore it with equanimity.

After welcoming Sheldon and leaving Logan, the five of us (and the monkey) made haste to the most popular park in South America, Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine. Translated, “The Towers of Paine” our experience is that it would be better understood without the ‘e.’

We started our expedition under the same iron sky as had overshadowed our visit to Punta Arenas. Only this time, it was spitting down on our heads. We hiked only an hour and a half that first day, but we were miserable throughout it. The rain soaked through our pants to our underwear and socks, our socks into our boots, and from there, it dampened our souls. The scenery (scrubby hills, tall meadows) wasn’t much, and what it was, we didn’t see. Our heads were down, our hoods were up, our spirits were low and the wind was high. It was miserable.

Not as miserable, though, as discovering that we’d left the gas can for the stove in the car. Taking up a granola bar against the hunger, and a trekking pole against the pumas, I ventured forth to rectify the error. I returned to the car, retrieved the gas can, and hiked back to camp (discovering, on my way, puma-looking tracks that gave me an extra energy boost). I got back to the lads, and stove united to canister, we feasted on…a cup of cold granola each, because the stove still wouldn’t stay lit.

The next day, as Weber, Aaron, Sheldon and I pressed on, Josh returned to the car (again) for our other stove. We hiked three hours (in much the same miserable weather as the preceding day) to a sea of tents, and a swirl of other hikers. Mostly, they swirled into and out of an octagonal building set aside for cooking. Drawn by body heat, we repaired thither and feasted on cold tuna and crackers.

After an abortive attempt at a day hike, the four of us hunkered down and waited for Josh. At seven PM, as concerns and stomach pangs increased in intensity, the heroic Gingerich rejoined us, stove in tow. With cries of joy, we embraced the stove. And Josh, too. And then we made lentils, rice, and soup, and for the first time, it seemed possible to be warm, and dry, again.

Next morning, though the sky still spat, it was blue, and the sun shone down on us as we hiked first uphill, and then--defying Newton--further uphill. Including a two-hour day hike to one of the most impressive mountain views of our trip so far, and--due to the official free campgrounds being inexplicably closed--an extra two hours on the end, we hiked ten hours total. In the evening, walking like a posse of the less-energetic extras in a zombie film, we found a remote, soggy, semi-sheltered corner of the campground, and endured the wind and the cold just long enough to make and eat supper. We then endured the warmth and comfort of our tents just long enough to sleep for twelve hours.

Our fourth day on the trail, we once again hiked upward through sunlight, over swinging bridges across wild rivers, and across grassy foothills, up, up, up, up, to the mouth of a long, narrow valley with a river at the base, and a campground far in the interior. Following the winding ribbon of the road, we entered a forest and again begged our legs for just enough to make it up the next hill. As with the preceding day, we frequently paused on the path to gaze in wonder at what lay before us, or behind us, or beside us, and to consecrate it all to memory.

Another short supper was followed by a long night, and the next morrow, our legs gave of their best, and provided one last shove up to one of Torres Del Paine’s most classic vistas--a close up view of Paine’s granite monoliths themselves, over a glacial lake. We came, we saw, and we staggered away not wholly defeated.

                Our hike back out to civilization was chiefly notable for two reasons: we met another native of Columbus, OH, and we encountered a gust of wind so powerful that it pried our feet off of the path, and we had to drop to the ground and crouch against the wall of the mountain to not just get swept off entirely.

                In the parking lot, as we waited for the shuttle buses to take us back across the park to our car, Aaron, Weber and I chatted about life, traveling and Columbus with our new friend. The wind was still carrying on, and powerful, periodic gusts bombarded us with tossing particles of dirt and sand. As we hunkered beneath the blast of one such onslaught, I opened my eyes to see our tarp--having ‘til then been tucked snugly into place on Aaron’s backpack--crossing the parking lot at several hundred miles an hour. I yelped, and Aaron and I jumped up and ran after it.

                It was no use. By the time we were on our feet, the tarp was tossing in the air above an adjacent hill and gaining speed and altitude at a remarkable rate. The last we saw of our tarp, it was a speck, moving ever upward and onward into the clouds. We mourn its loss, but consider the price of a tarp more than fair payment for the sight of the tarp literally being lifted into the clouds, and we hope that it has found its way to a deserving new owner who will love and care for it as we did.

We then spent three years over the course of two delay-prone buses returning to our parking lot, and the waiting warmth of St. Phoenix.

                Reunited with the car, we returned to the now-familiar town of Puerto Natales, cleaned ourselves up, and went out to celebrate Josh’s birthday with a meal at the same restaurant which hosted Weber’s birthday celebration.  I will not recount the actual events of that meal, but if you meditate awhile on the phrases “feeding frenzy,” “starving wolves,” and “no survivors” you should capture the essence of it.

                The next morning we pressed on, and doubtless the chronicles of the days that followed will soon appear here.

Note: internet access has been very difficult to come by, and when we come by it, brief over the past while. We´ll try to update you on the happenings post-Paine asap.