DAY 12 REFUGIO GREY
With the new day and my body well rested, I started out for Refugio Grey. It was 11kms away, but I had booked a bed with full board so I carried the least possible in my day pack. The wind is a constant presence in Patagonia and in this area it is particularly acute. I found a large walking stick, a remnant of some unknown tree, and headed slowly but surely to my sleeping place for the night.

I had given myself the better part of the day to arrive and with the sun up until 10pm there was no need to rush. The persistent headwinds made a quick ramble difficult anyway and some of the paths required rock scrambling, but the way was well marked and for the most part fairly easy to manage. The stick proved to be a faithful companion. About 4kms into the walk I got my first glimpse of a massive glacier in the distance, but small ice floes had already arrived in the lake below.

Since arriving at the refugio the day before, my encounters with other foreigners was no longer unusual. This was the multi-national land of hikers with mostly european origin. Many hiked in line while their walking poles moved along side in synchronization like the wheels of locomotive trains. The pace was often rapid and their gaze ahead indicated a purpose of stride like an efficient machine.

When I arrived at the refugio grey, I was tired but content. This refugio is smaller in scale than refugio grand paine and decorated with wood and care. After a brief rest, I walked up to the massive glacier grey, face to face.

DAY 11 Refugio Grande Paine

Feeling refreshed from a good sleep and breakfast I planned to take the Catamaran which connects Lago Pehoe to a part of the “W” or main hiking trail of the park. One can reserve a bed, with or without sheets, and blankets in a few of the refugios in the park conveniently offering an alternative to hike the trails with all ones gear.
I made the boat, just barely, having misread the schedule and I ran up to the boat as the only traveler pulling a bag with wheels. The Catamaran was packed with hikers making their way to this part of the circuit all carrying back packs. The incongruence of my traveling gear amongst theirs gave me a chuckle. If the staff was equally amused they never let on, but I think I was the only one whose bag they loaded on and off the boat.

The Refugio Grande Paine is a large, carefully designed building that blends fairly unobtrusively into its environment and houses a dining area, bar, and numerous dormitory style beds.

As a part of the “W,” there is a hike of 14kms. I thought I would give it a try, but after my arduous ride the day before, my muscles were disinclined toward any major efforts.There are many hikes in my past where the pace lent itself to my looking mostly at my feet, but today because of my slow pace, I took in the sights that I would have likely passed by. About 6kms was all I could manage, but wildflowers, the exquisite silver bark of trees burnt in a fire some years back, numerous birds serenading me from branches just an arm length way, and the magnificent lake that dodged in and out of view was a wondrous reward for my efforts. Although I had not made it to my proposed destination, the riches of the day far outweighed any feelings of disappointment. On the contrary it was a reminder of what we often miss out on when the end supersedes the journey in importance.

DAY 10 continued

After leaving los boqueanos, I made my way to what I thought was the road for Lago Pehoe camping, but turned off the main road too quickly and found my way at a dead end. Fortunately no road in this park is without its merits and I found myself in awe of the magnificent vistas of mountains, sky, boulders, condors, and an unexpected cattle ranch at the end. As lovely as the area was, there was no camping available except inside a bare and not very inviting structure designed to house those in need with a roof and floor but nothing more. I decided to retrace my steps and drive another 1.5 hours. Seeing the same views twice however is virtually impossible. The sky is constantly changing and with it the light and landscape.

After my various peregrinations around the park, some anticipated and others not, the gas in my car was running low. However filling my car in the park was deemed, after several inquiries, virtually impossible and most suggested that I head back the two hours to Porto Natales and then return. This option did not appeal to me.

On my way to the camping, taking my chances, and figuring something was likely to come my way, as I watched the gas gauge dipping closer to empty, I stopped at a lovely little hotel with a magnificent view. I couldn’t help but ask, once again, about some gas. There was a young man at the reception and after my inquiry he turned to an older gentleman who was standing less than a foot away. In minutes I was following him to my car where he brought over 10 liters of gas and at a fair price I was again on my way.

My decision to carry on to the camping at Lago Pehoe had paid off. I found myself along another beautiful lake at a very well maintained camping area with hot showers, an excellent restaurant, extremely kind, helpful staff and where I happily settled in after a long day.

DAY 10  The stars that night filled the sky. I slept well.
When I came in the next morning, I was offered some biscuits and coffee for breakfast and told to be ready for my ride at 9am. Then I watched as effectively used lassos encouraged a few reluctant horses to leave their corral.
About six horses were already tacked up and I disappointingly envisioned being joined by tourists, but soon two baqueanos and I set off on our own. They had asked me if I knew how to ride and I said yes.
We began cantering across the land. I anticipated the typical, scenic ride to a lake in the distance. But we started moving along at a good pace over rough ground and our direction changed. There were steep embankments to manage, streams that the horses either jumped over or ran through and terrain that included high brush on the plain. The exact paths we took were now our own and the baqueanos only turned once or twice to see if I was still there. About an hour later we arrived at another horse ranch. They dismounted, unsaddled their horses and led them to a corral. I was offered some water which I was happy to have. I was already warm and thirsty from the ride. They disappeared a short while, but soon they were on new mounts. I returned to my horse and we were on our way. But this time they had brought along fifteen horses, unbridled and free. I, out of habit, thought it best to follow behind as one does with a guide, but was told to get on the other side of this small herd. Watching numerous westerns in the past, it didn’t take long to realize that I was being asked to assist them in a round-up; to bring these horses home. Within minutes I was chasing the strays, then galloping alongside them until they were amongst the herd. This continued on until we arrived back at the ranch. The job was done. The only word directed my way was “bueno,” until I was invited to lunch. Fed, exhausted and exhilarated, I packed my things, said goodbye and headed to camp at a lake not far away. I drove away knowing that I had just experienced the most memorable ride of my life and an extraordinary two days with los baqueanos.

DAY 9
I was hoping to do some riding in Torres del Paine. My new friend Victor suggested los baqueanos (the cowboys) who lived and worked about a two hour drive away. He had given me a hefty care package of food for his buddies, so when I showed up at the farm with no one there I felt obligated to wait for their return. Fortunately there was an exquisite resort nearby, with an extremely kind manager who was sympathetic to my predicament; it is there I passed the time. About 4 hours later, los baqueanos returned. They had just spent a long day tagging untold numbers of sheep, and entertaining a stranger did not seem to be foremost in their desires. But they welcomed me into their home and asked me in Spanish, “Where are you from?” The fact that a woman traveling alone from New York City happened upon their doorstep, as a friend of a friend, elicited no further questions. The home contained a wood burning stove to keep them warm, cook the meals and keep a kettle of water hot for their maté. Their attire spoke of a long tradition: beret, boots, baggy pants, neck scarf and three belts. One belt, closest to the body, was worn for the usual reasons, the second, a long band of woven cloth was wrapped around the waist several times and held a knife, the outermost belt was for ornamentation, wide and handcrafted with leather and silver. Every inch of them exuded machismo. Yet they were completely enthralled by a sappy romantic soap opera on TV. We sat in the living room/kitchen eating a simple, but tasty-for me, thanksgiving dinner- meal of meat and pasta. Their horses, dogs, and cat were not far from the door, and neither were the hawks, condors, rheas, rabbits, sheep and guanacos.
I left shortly after dinner to set up my tent outback and left them sipping their tea. Riding would have to wait until the following day. The stars filled the sky. I slept well.

DAY 7-8 Torres del Paine

Parque Nacional Torres del Paine lies about 4.5 hours north of Punta Arenas. Sharp peaks jut above jagged ground and striking blue lakes. Guanacos which to my untrained eye look just like llamas graze lazily and barely take notice as hikers and cars go by. This is clearly their land. The young ones scamper about the plains and win my heart immediately.

I have decided at the last minute to rent a car which is ultimately a relatively easy arrangement. The prices seemed prohibitive at first but using a site called rentalcars.com, I found a great deal. Once I arranged the pick up of my 6 speed, Toyota, a welcome upgrade, in Punta Natales I set out for the park. The level paved roads soon became gravel and narrowed considerably but fortunately adapting to the experience came easily.

The Park contains lakes, rivers, waterfalls, abundant wildlife, and a range of snow capped mountains but the jewels of the park are the three granite peaks that stand above all:Torres del Paine.

My first stop-primarily for lunch-was at one of several hotels in the park where rooms go for about $350/night and up. I didn’t love the ambiance and was pleased to go on my way. I stopped at one of the park stations and asked where I might go to spend the night. They recommended a ranger station hosted by Victor who has lived in the area almost 30 years. His passion is cooking and if you are fortunate enough to catch him there, as I was, you are in for quite the treat.

The station over looks the Laguna Azul which is bluer than blue and offers the reflection of the iconic peaks on a calm day but the incessant winds leave only ripples.

My sleeping bag was very much appreciated after a long day.

DAY 6
Besides the general difference of attire and appearance, in this small city of Punta Arenas, is the walk that truly distinguishes the locals from those just passing through. The winds that come off the Magellan Strait is enough to blow the unaccustomed sideways, yet the residents seem undaunted.

Penguins seem equally equipped to deal with the magnificent, austere and turbulent landscape in which they dwell. To see them in the wild, albeit in close proximity to the camera wielding visitors, delights me.

The Magellan Strait is no longer a name I simply recall reading in the history books. I can now associate it with immense sky, temperamental waters, mountains far but still in view and these wonderful creatures who seem quite content in this challenging but magnificent land.

The next days wifi may not be available, but I will be in touch when I can. So just in case I send the warmest, best wishes and love to my family and friends on Thanksgiving and to all who are celebrating.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Day 5                                                                                      It is nearly 10pm; the sun is beginning to set.

There seems to be no agreement on the derivation of Chile’s name, but one theory is that it comes from the indigenous people and means, “the ends of the earth.” Flying into Punta Arenas this afternoon and seeing acres and acres of flat lands heading into the sea, the name is apt.

Sunday is a quiet day and most of the storefronts are closed, but cafes and restaurants are busy with travelers and locals alike. The welcoming warmth of Santiago is replaced with cool winds. warm clothes, although its spring, are worn by all. The sun is bright but intermittent showers lightly fall.

There is the sense, still, of an undiscovered land just miles away.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-awareness.
Here’s to new discoveries near and far!

Enjoy the days.

Day 4
The Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombiano holds treasures within as evidence of our desire or need to ornament and decorate objects since the beginning of civilization. This fascinates me. Utilitarian objects need not be beautiful, yet they are painted, carved, sculpted, and designed with an aesthetic eye. We are innately entranced by beauty in all its forms and continue to create our individual and collective ideals.

The days are warm and extending in length. The heat of the day seems incongruous with a well padded Santa Claus standing near a main square, soliciting the wishes of the children as the parents lean in to hear their desires.

El Mercado Central where the fish vendors and restaurants sell and serve the delicacies of the sea is vibrant and animated with the exchange of words and fare.

Saying good bye to my departing roommates contained a warmth far surpassing the time we actually shared.

Visiting the Museo de la Memoria is a sobering but necessary commemoration of the suffering under the Pinochet regime. And an eerie reminder that September 11 is a date that resonates in Chile’s history as well.

But the celebration of spring with dance and music, just a few blocks away, shows the resilience of the people and change present in Chile today.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-awareness.
Here’s to new discoveries near and far!

Enjoy the days.

 

Day 3
Santiago is a city that takes its cultural expression to heart. The museums and galleries are numerous, filled with ancient and modern works sometimes in the same room. Graffiti, meticulously painted, is evident on many a wall that is hard to imagine having once been bare. It takes little effort to find artistic endeavors with each glance. I have spent today wandering through various venues of art, music, dance and poetry both indoors and on the street.

The generous spirit of the residents who shared their time, showed me the way, displayed their kindness with a smile and even presented me with flowers at the end of the day added another dimension of beauty to the day.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-awareness.
Here’s to new discoveries near and far!

Enjoy the days.