Anticipation is an underrated aspect of travel. There’s so much pleasure that goes into planning a trip and looking forward to what you’ll do when you get there, from studying your itinerary to putting together a packing list. For me, that’s only heightened when you’re going on a trek, where the journey is as much of an experience as the destination itself. There’s joy to be had reaching the waypoints along the trail as much as the views at the climax.
For this reason, on my most recent hiking trip to Torres del Paine, I chose to tackle the classic W Trek the long way around by tacking on two extra days at the beginning with the truly off the beaten track Brush Lake extension. I wanted the slow anticipation of seeing the Paine Massif slowly rising up in front of me from a great distance, and to have truly earned that final view when I would get to stand at the base of the Towers at the end.
Preparing for remote hiking
A key thing with any long hike in Patagonia is planning for the weather. The night before departure, our group gathered in our hotel in Puerto Natales for a briefing with our guide Maurizio. He stressed the need to have gaiters and hiking poles for the trek because he was anticipating it to be pretty soggy. So it would prove. It was an early lesson that when your guide says you need something, you should take it as a polite order rather than a suggestion.
He plotted the route out for us on a large scale map of Torres del Paine. Our path wasn’t as faded on the map as others are: the Brush Lake this is a relatively new trek, and we were the first in the season to take it on. With orders to pack all our kit into a series of dry bags, we broke up for the evening, ready for an early start the next day.
By boat to the trailhead
It was lightly drizzling when we met for our transfer in the morning. The hike started in a pretty unconventional way, on the boat to the viewpoint at Balmaceda Glacier, where we’d start walking. We were the only group of hikers onboard: everyone else was there for a day trip and by midmorning they had already sunk a considerable number of pisco sours. When an announcement came over the tannoy that the boat would be making a short detour to drop off ‘the crazy group of adventurers,’ a loud cheer came up.
We splashed down the gangplank, and before we’d had a chance to get our bearings, Maurizio shouted ‘follow me!’ and disappeared into the brush. There was no obvious path at first, so we followed him blindly. This was the point of the Brush Lake trek: where the W Trek is one of most heavily trodden hiking trails in South America, this was all about getting off the map. We hiked through thick nothofagus forest, on trails that could only have been used by wild cattle. Every now and then we’d stop at a viewpoint, hoping for a first view of the Torres del Paine massif, but with low clouds and rain, the elements weren’t yet in our favour.
Bushwhacking
The first day’s hiking reminded me a lot of bushwhacking in New Zealand. Not all of us were as sure on our feet as the cows that had broken the path for us. At times you’d think you were placing your boots onto solid ground only for swampy moss to rise up like a sentient forest being and encase your boots from sole to ankle, eliciting shrieks of surprise and laughter from the rest of the group.
For lunch we paused at an ‘abandoned’ gaucho hut, where someone had left a spare set of clothes to dry. As we watched a group of cows mooch past, Maurizio declared that the next part of the trek would be wet. ‘And the last section will be really wet.’
We had ponds to wade through, rivers to cross, sodden ground and sodden shoes. Every step was a squelch, but every face had a smile. Near the end of the afternoon we reached a beach, where a man in bright yellow fisherman’s boots named Lucio was waiting with a zodiac to take us across the lake to our accommodation.
Home for the night was Lucio’s handbuilt tree-top hut complex, with every timber, dome yurt and composting toilet carried in by hand. It was gorgeous, with a cosy woodburner to settle down in front of. Reunited with our dry bags, we revelled in a change of clothes and talked and laughed around the fire long after dinner. The day had undoubtedly been damp but we’d had a good work out. Bonds are forged quickly on trails like this.
First views of Paine
The next morning we were rewarded with our first views of the Paine Massif. Lucio took us back across the lake, and as we waded ashore the skies cleared to reveal the huge granite crag, still covered with snow and looking pale and mysterious in the distance. It was the perfect reminder of our destination, and inspired us for the day ahead.
A classic Patagonian wind half-blew us along the black sand lake beach towards the Massif, before we cut inland to walk in more sheltered conditions. The trail wound through magical forest tunnels and green groves littered with sunbleached bones that Maurizio told us were evidence of the pumas that thrived in this area, where few hikers ever visited. We passed a sunshine yellow gaucho hut and, when the wind dropped, ate lunch on a sun-dappled hillock. Lucio told us he lived part of his life in Lyon and tried to make conversation in French. Everything in Patagonia seemed to be made up of surprising and wonderful layers.
We spent that night at Pampa Lodge in Serrano Village. Piling into reception, the hotel staff greeted us with alarmed warmth as we traipsed mud into the luxuriously polished reception. Few hikers have perhaps ever been shown to their rooms quicker – and few hot showers have ever felt so well deserved. As I lounged on my bed in a fluffy bathrobe, looking out of the picture window with its panoramic views of Paine from my king sized bed, it felt a little bit like heaven.
Joining the W Trekkers
On the third day we had the surprise of finally seeing other hikers, as we joined the trail for the W Trek proper. It was a jarring feeling after two days feeling like we were the only people trekking in the whole of Patagonia. We took the boat to Glacier Grey, and then started the walk to Refugio Paine Grande. As we passed others moving in the opposite direction, we were conscious of the camaraderie we’d forged by walking the long way around. There was a definite sense of having earned every step.
As it had been a little wet and windy when we reached Paine Grande, we decided on the spot to forsake our planned night in tents and check into the refugio. Plenty of other people obviously had the same idea, but this was one of those situations where having a well-regarded local guide plays in your favour: Maurizio was able to bag us the last five beds in the place. Dinner in the canteen was full of flushed cheeks from the wind, rain and red wine, and the feeling of another well-earned day on the trail getting closer to our final destination.
The next two days unfurled before us in what now seems like a blur. We saw glorious French Valley, and got used to sharing the path with other hikers. It had taken some getting used to, but we were glad that we were hiking in the shoulder season while their numbers were relatively low. Pushed on by the winds, we reached our final accommodation for the trek: the glamping domes of EcoCamp, within walking distance of the trailhead for the Base of the Towers.
The final view
No matter how hard the day’s walk, it’s always sunny when you reach camp. There was time to unwind at a yoga class in the purpose built dome, a warm and tranquil spot decorated with hand-crafted window ornaments, and just what my body was craving. Everything was quiet and welcoming.
Dinner was the glorious opposite. There are several hiking groups staying at EcoCamp, and Maurizio was friends with their guides, and we all greeted each other with the enthusiasm of old friends. We are the youngest and the liveliest of the groups, but after our adventure with the weather they forgave our wine-fuelled celebrations to join in with our chants of ‘Broosh! Broosh!’ in honour of our hike.
The morning began grey on our final day of the trek, but as we walked, the skies miraculously began to clear. The trail was mostly uphill, but we’d been hardened by our roundabout route to get here and overtook group after group. We knew that some of them were surely doing the W Trek as a series of day hikes. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but we felt like the Brush Lake had turned us into part of the trekking elite: braving hard miles on the trail in all weathers, rather than sailing in on a pisco sour.
We were almost there. Maurizio regularly exhorted us that it was only ten more Chilean minutes until we reached the ultimate goal of our week of walking. And then – we arrived. We reached the summit just as the sun finally made it through the clouds. The Towers stretched high above us, blazing in the bright light. The atmosphere was euphoric. There was a great round of hugs to celebrate the epic journey we’d made together.
On the way back to EcoCamp, my legs were heavier than I thought. At the bar that evening, we laughed about how wet we’d been at times, and rubbed our calves and even compared a few blisters, knowing that something truly special was coming to a close. The weather had thrown us some challenges, but it had been an amazing trip, getting to know the trail to the Paine Massif in intimate detail, with a big reward at the end. Which is exactly what we had anticipated.
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