Patagonia: The W Hike, Day 5
**Completed in November 2019, The Torres del Paine ‘W’ hike is Sylvia and Brian’s fifth BucketList adventure completed together. It is also the furthest they have ever ventured for a hike.
The word Paine, as in Torres del, is correctly pronounced “Pie-nay.” The word is thought to be indigenous Patagonian in origin (it has no Latin root association, unlike Torres which means Towers in Spanish.) The word is further believed to mean ‘blue’ as in the color…so, Blue Towers, which is perhaps what the Paine Massif might look like from a distance.
Of course for Gringos, the word Paine has a very different association…easily mistaken for a different kind of Pain, like that which long distance hikers might well feel after completing one a Treks here. So far Brian has refrained from making this associations, but…it’s out there on the table. We began at the Towers of Paine. And now, where we would finally end up was…Paine Grande. In Spanish…Big Paine. I’ll leave it at that.
Brian was expecting a painful day, as we had to rush to catch the 11:30 am catamaran and do so across rough terrain in much less time than we had hiked out. Considering the terrain we crossed, and one big uphill we had to put behind us in particular, he was not greatly optimistic.
We arose at 5 am, made ourselves ready, and then grabbed the Nikon picture-takey to head down the trail to the glacier overlook, promised to be no more than fifteen minutes away. We hoped this wasn’t a metric fifteen minutes, as urgently needed to get moving.
The Mirador did turn out to be just a short way down the trail, and it was a fine view and certainly worth it…though it was also somewhat grown in. Doubtless there are better views further along, especially if one ventures out onto the O. But we simply did not have time for that. This would be our closest approach to Glacier Grey.
We headed back to our tent, broke camp quickly, then went down to the refugio and ate a hurried breakfast, seated next to the same French couple we had talked to at dinner last night (they were from Lyon, on the Rhone Valley; we talked about our visit to the banks of the Rhone in Martigny, Switzerland.) But we had little time for chit chat…it was eat and off.
Sylvia marked it a little after 7:40 am when we left…a bit later than Brian would have liked, but we were on the train. We agreed upon strict marching orders…no photos, light layers, no stopping to layer or delayer unless absolutely necessary, keep a steady pace and only a few scattered rest stops. We knew there were tough uphills between us and our boat, and we had to conquer those before we did anything else.
We took no photos on this march, which was certainly hard but in the end much less so than we had figured. Photo ops had eaten into our previous days time, plus the fact that we were now doing this terrain for the second time, which is mentally a lot easier. The dreaded uphill section proved easier (or at least less dangerous) than it had going down and we tackled it early with fresh legs. We were glad to have it behind us.
When we reached the Mirador, the halfway point, Sylvia turned to Brian an announced that it was just after 9 am with almost all the uphills and difficult sections behind us. Neither of us celebrated — we had not crossed the finish line yet, so it was not time — but we both knew that the race was all but won.
Soon, we could see the lake, and then we were there upon its shore. Brian’s pessimism have proven un-warranted. We pulled into Paine Grande well before 11 am…ahead of the book time by over thirty minutes. There was no sign of the catamaran.
We had time to use the bathrooms, have a snack, sit and listen to a Belgian kid regale his captive audience of would be catamaran passengers with tales of his painful exodus from strife torn Bolivia…and his attempt at the O, where he had blown out his knee. Don’t take stock tips for this guy is all I’ll say.
Soon the Catamaran hove into view and we queued up in line with the rest of the muddy, weary hikers…and more than a few tourists, obvious from dragging rolling suitcases across the dirt, then airlifting them across the mud. Behind us in line were the same couple who had helped rescued our pack cover. It turned out they were from France who were living in the US in — drum roll please — Boston, Massachusetts. When informed that Brian had left Boston for Texas, then North Carolina, they were incredulous. Why leave Boston for NC? Long story, that.
The catamaran took a while to unload and then load…as expected it was a bit behind, and had we arrived as late as noon we likely would have made it. The packs were placed in a big pile in the middle then we were off! Sylvia hopped on deck to take pictures. Brian joined her there, briefly…but mostly he just hung out below, grateful to not be walking for a while.
The Ferry ride is one of the highlights of the W if you get a clear day on the lake, which we did. Have your cameras ready for this…it’s a great view of the Paine Massif that you don’t get while hiking because you are simply too close.
Even before we pulled up to Pudeto and began hunting for our bus, the realization had set in that we’d done something significant. Sure we were a little ahead of book time…probably not so significant for may people. But this was no small accomplishment. It was another piece of evidence that Brian and Sylvia are equal to the challenges of world class hiking. We hay not be the fastest or strongest hikers, but we’re far from the slowest or weakest. And it doesn’t matter what others think anyway…we have proven this to ourselves. We can hike our hike, and that’s what counts.
The trip back to Puerto Natales was uneventful. We reached our hostel by mid afternoon, enough time to take our dirty clothes to a recommended local cleaners who offered to do it for us (and even had to all folded) by 9 pm. We settled back, had a meal, and simply enjoyed resting on our laurels for a moment.
We were both hurting…Pain Grande. But we had finished the W. It’s many challenges had proven different in some ways than we expected, even harder than we had expected. We had been disappointed on the Towers, but the rest of the hike had made up for it in scenic treasure. And the satisfaction of having navigated this wild and primitive place in true backpacking style was ours. We had much to be thankful for, much to celebrate, and much to be proud of.
But the trip was not over. We had three more days of hiking left to do, but they would not be in this place. Tomorrow we would again board a bust bound cor Argentina and the next leg of our journey. And this one we expected to be every bit as challenging.
Fitz Roy awaited us.
***Did you know? The former name of Torres del Paine was Lago Grey National Park. The lake, and not the mountains, was for many years its most significant attraction.***
Next Up: Across the Pampas