Patagonia: Torres del Paine

If there's one name attached to Patagonian Chile, it's Torres del Paine. The park is probably Chile's most famous attraction. It was half the reason I came down south. Normally I would have done its star attraction, the 'W' trail. Unfortunately, 1) it's closed in the Winter and 2) When open it takes four days for an experienced hiker. I opted for a guided tour instead. The tour and entrance fees would cost more than all three days in Atacama did. I hoped it was worth it. I knew deep down it wouldn't be.

Just forty minutes in I discovered deep down Hillel was a goddamned idiot. We had come to the first attraction in the park, the Myrmidon. That's science speak for saber-toothed tiger. We officially went in to "learn more about the history", which is guide speak for "check out this huge-ass cave." The last time I had been in a large cave was when I still lived in New Jersey. That time was already a dim memory, and I looked upon the cave with completely virgin eyes.

I'm sure they say it's the Myrmidon cave to make the tigers more interesting, not the cave. We had not even reached the park yet. The mountains were still a backdrop on the landscape, and we couldn't even see the main towers yet.

Then we arrived in the place proper.

I took eleven pictures of this. Different lighting, options, positions, trying to find some way of capturing the majesty of what I see. It's no use. The stark mountains are mirrored almost perfectly by the water below, The lake and landscape are individually impressive, but together they blow me away. I'm looking at something straight out of a faerie tale. Nestled in the mountains are the Towers.

We did not hike them. That's something for a group with more time and skill than we have. More importantly, a group that can come in the summer. We head a different way.

After some more driving our guide let us out and told us to hike. So we did. It's not a long hike. Maybe ten minutes until we reach the end of the path.

I clambered over the railings and get as close as I dare.

More driving. We reach Lagoon Azul, a small lake carved out by the retreating glaciers. I mentioned the glaciers. right? Glaciers are responsible for the entire park.

After this we split up. Most of the group headed with the tour guide into a hotel that's for some reason lodged within del Paine. They got lunch there for 60 USD. The remaining tourist and I hoisted our backpacks and started our long trek. We had stood upon the Blue Lagoon. It was now time to cross the Grey one.

The retreating glacier left a beach of gravel. It's a long and exhausting walk, but we moved through it. Then it's up the steep path for an hour, until we finally reached the end of our trip.

Looking back I realize how facile this all sounds. How was this any different from the hikes or the tours of Atacama? I can't convey the sheer power of the place in pictures. I can't make you feel overwhelmed with a stream of purple prose. I can't describe what made me take dozens of pictures of the same scenes, trying to place in bytes the images burned onto my eyes. The photos I put here are less than a tenth of the total ones I took, many of them of things not covered here. There's just so MUCH. I spent more here than all three days in Atacama, yes, but this made the desert look like a cheap tourist trap. Crown jewel of Chile, indeed.

We barely scratched the surface of the park. A full tour of the places, seeing and doing everything around, would take two weeks. And you know what? It'd be worth it.

Patagonia: Puerto Natales

At 8:20 I stepped out into the chilly Patagonian air. It's now all-to-clear how far south I am. My breath tastes like frost and the day bites like a Michigan autumn. I clambered aboard the Puerto Natales bus and slumped into my chair, almost falling asleep right then and there. I phased in and out of consciousness as the bus began its three hour trip. Occasionally I glimpsed scenes of the beautiful new landscape. The sun rising over the Straits of Magellan. Snow covered plains, the whole works. Winter has not yet left this place. 

Normally Puerto Natales is packed with tourists. Fortunately for me, though, it's the off-season right now. I get an entire dormroom in the hostel to myself and the tours are hella cheap. I spend a couple of hours wandering through the town. Right now it's slumbering and San Pedro is alive. Yet the two cities don't even compare. Natales has a vitality that Pedro never will. It has reasons to be aside from tourism. The thing that drives it home are the toy stores. There is one every few blocks. These aren't the penguin and glacier (now with real melting action!) souvenir shops masquerading as toy stores. No, they sell board games and toy guns and Digimon plushies. Puerto Natales doesn't dance to the whims of its tourists. It merely tolerates them.

They say the only reason to go here is as a stopping point for Torres del Paine. I disagree. It's also worth it for the views. The mountains are wholly different here from those in Atacama and Santiago. Those were backdrops far away, big enough to see but not relevant to your life. The ones here look like they'd crush the city if an avalanche happened. They're also colder, more crystal clear in the chilly air. Contrasted with that are the ramshackle ruins of the shoreline. I thought waiting in an empty airport was surreal. The abandoned stretches of the seaport put it shame. I walked along the coast and started taking pictures.

Eventually I came across three wrecked boats. None of them will be seaworthy ever again. It's easy to clamber aboard the smaller read one. From there I managed to crazy jump onto the blue one. I had to scramble madly and almost fell, but eventually pulled myself on.

Getting down was a problem. I couldn't jump in reverse, and it's high enough that I'd have to freefall my way down. If I was Tito or Brian this would be a cinch. But I'm not Tito or Brian, I'm "worst fear is falling" Hillel. I tried a few safer ways to get back to the smaller boat. I tried to build a bridge with the detritus. I tried to make a ladder. I even dropped below deck and tried to tear a hole in the structure. After a futile half hour I tied one of the ropes around my waist and half-climbed, half-rappelled down. it was terrifying. I'm never crazy climbing landlocked boats again.

I have no idea who this guy is, but from what I could make out he's either talking about the education riots or the Bolivian slapfight over Atacama.

One thing that really irritated me with the Atacama trip was how miserly we were with food. People preferred to eat peanuts, plain oatmeal and pasta rather than explore the local cuisine. I can totally understand why people would do that; food money could be used for other things. But now I'm here alone and I'm planning on eating every lunch and dinner out. Yeah, it's take some money out of my pocket, but 1) I've been working nonstop for two years and can afford the tiny cost, and 2) This is gonna be my last chance to eat more Chilean food. The food is damn good for the price; this lunch I had the best fish in my life for $10. Plus with nobody else around I can lightning-fast service. I've been making sure to leave good tips.

Overall I'm glad I opted to spend a day in Puerto Natales. But I should head to bed now. We'll be spending 10 hours tomorrow in Torres del Paine, and I need to catch up on the sleep I lost in the redeye flight.

Preparations for Patagonia

At 2:30 today I finished my internship.

My boss came in while I was eating lunch. He told me that he finally reviewed all of my code and it worked perfectly. He was happy with the effort I put in and the results I got out. He wished me good luck with my travels and hoped I enjoyed my time here. And just like that I was done.

At 4:20 I cleaned out my office. Cleaned the whiteboard, threw out all the papers, took out the trash. At 4:25 I wiped my browser history and deleted my computer account. At 4:30 I walked out the campus gates for the forty-fifth and last time.

At 4:50 I briefly lingered around the aftermath of today's riot. Somebody had blockaded a street on one end with cinder blocks. On the other end they stuck a fire. The police wouldn't let anybody get too close. This was right behind that church I saw on the first day. Where I took my first picture. This will be the last riot I have to see for a long time, I hope.

At 9:00 I finished packing. Everything's heavier than I remembered. Probably an accumulation of all the bits and pieces of Chile I'm taking back.

At 10:00 I climbed to the top of our apartment complex. From here I could see a mile in every direction. All the homes, shops, and churches were thrown chaotically beneath me. A friend once posed the question: when does a city become a home? I don't think I agree with his opinions, and I'm not sure of my position. But I know that, in these past two months, Santiago has been a home to me. A home I'm going to leave forever.

At 11:40 I will leave my apartment for the last time and head to the airport. At 5:30 tomorrow morning I will land in Punta Arenas, the southernmost city on the mainland. From there I will spend five days in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. Then I will return to Santiago for a few short hours before taking my flight home.

Goodbye, Santiago. You were a good home.

Atacama: Crystal Valley

I didn't wake up sick today, unless you count "opening my eyes and finding there's a cat on my face" to mean 'sick'. He immediately jumped off and started trying to eat my glasses. Go figure. I scarfed down the remainder of last night's dinner and hopped in the van, ready to be taken to the third and final place on our itinerary.

So far we've wandered through desolate landscapes of steam and salt, meaning I was totally unprepared for today's hike. The valley is a riot of color, deep red terrain surrounding bright green mountains. From far away they look verdant and teaming with life. But this place is just as desolate as the rest of Atacama. In our hike the only signs of life were a single bird, the occasional patch of brush, and a handful of llama carcasses. Rather the green is oxidized copper. I put a few rocks in my backpack. They'll make good souvenirs.
 

Our guide dropped us off so we could walk along the highway. By now I've gotten a lot better at panorama shots, so capturing the landscape isn't that hard.

Afterwards he took us to a local farming town. The exploration was fun but we were forbidden from taking pictures . Not every part of Atacama is used to tourists. What struck me most about the place wasn't the places or the people. In one of the trees I could hear chirping birds. It was the first time since Michigan.

And with that our vacation is effectively over. We stay in Atacama a few more hours while waiting for our plane ride out. We'd expected to stay a bit longer so bought our tickets for late. No big deal.

All in all, I'm glad we did this. Coordinating the logistics was a big pain, but the rewards were amazing. The three valleys were just incredible, and the geysers weren't bad either. Between transportation, lodging, and touring fees we spent maybe 250 dollars in total. Worth it.

Two more weeks then I'm back in the US. But first comes five days in Patagonia. I'm travelling to the bottom of the world. I can't wait.

Atacama: Valley of the Moon

We didn't get any sense of the desert on our arrival. We blitzed to the airport, shot into Calama, grabbed the first bus to San Pedro, landed right next to our hostel, and went to bed. So when I woke the next morning I had no expectations about what I would see. I had also done a very good job Not Learning Anything about the desert. What can I say? I hate spoilers.

Wow.

No smog. No humidity either. I think that helps with the views, letting me see further with better detail. I'm cycling these ideas as a buffer against the site. Distracting myself keeps me from being blown away.

We explore the town a little, trying to find food and supplies. 2000 people live in San Pedro. We're lucky to see a single person per block. The whole experience is a little eerie, walking through a thriving ghost town.



Eventually we pick up some food for the trail. The itinerary today is Valley de la Luna. The guides tell that we won't have time for anything else. I have no idea why it's called "Valley of the Moon." Spoilers, remember?

At three we get in the van and head into the outskirts of San Pedro. Houses and ranches soon give way into barren wasteland, then alien landscapes.

I'm not sure whether it's a testament to the strangeness of the place or my own inexperience that I've never seen anything like it before. There is no life anywhere. Eventually we stop and are allowed to get out.

We continue to a place called the Three Mary's. A local researcher thought the standing stones looked like the Virgin Mary. Here the guide explains the reasons behind both the name and the barrenness. The rocks in the valley are fifty percent salt. After heavy rains the entire place is a dull white. The first person to document it said it looked like the moon, hence the name. Gonna have to admit I find it a little poetic. This also explains why the place is so dead. The earth itself is hostile to life. Bits of salt are everywhere. In the far off mountains, on the ground beneath us,

 

We find an old salt-miner's house, back when the area was regularly mined. Those bricks are all salt. We find exposed areas and chip off pieces as souvenirs. Then we head to the salt mines, where the miners blasted the rocks with dynamite to get the minerals within.

After that we head out. Our guide decides that we've had it too easy so far and need a good hike under our belts. He stops at one ridge and points it out to us.



Then he tells us its way too dangerous and we're going on a much smaller one.



I'm not complaining.

This is the highest we've been so far. What we didn't notice down in the valley was the ever-present wind. It's harsh and dry, a white wind that seems to strip the dirt away. It also chills me to the bone. I zip up my sweater. Amazing how much the temperature changes with just a little height.

We climb back down. Our guide points out some geological strata that tell the history of the desert. White stones are heavy rains, black stones are volcanic activity. And then we drive out of the Valley of the Moon. But our tour isn't over yet. The final part, the hardest hike, is about to begin.



Welcome to the Valley of the Dead.

We are high above the desert floor. The white wind is now a constant presence whistling in my ears. There are seven of us, four other tourists, and the guide. Even so, I feel lonelier than I ever have in Santiago. Even the first day seems warm and comfortable against this. Even as I chat with Tito and Brian I can feel the isolation building up. But the loneliness is beautiful in a way. It's clean and bright. The loneliness of a sun over a snow-covered peak. I don't know how to describe it. Maybe I let myself be overly sensitive to the place, taking a placebo and calling it the real thing. I push the thoughts out of my mind as I stop with the rest and wait for sunset.

Then I see something and have to laugh.

Life.

In both valleys the only signs of life were other tourists. Not single bird going overhead, not a single fly buzzing around our heads, not a single plant tucked into the rocks. The place is too deadly for that. And yet here, at the top of the dead valley, a shrub latched onto its tiny life. I look around. More of them, scattered across the ridge in tiny clumps. I point them out of the other people. They aren't as impressed as me.

Our tour guide pulls out glasses and pours each of us a pisco sour. We sip them as we watch the sun fall.



Getting back is slightly harder. Instead of taking the rocky valley back, we land on the dunes and slide down the sand. It's side fine our feet sink right in. We are walking down a crazy slope, so steep we'd need climbing gear if it were solid. I'd like to call it impressive or amazing or eerie, but it sums up to "kinda fun." Can't be amazed by everything.



With that we head home. We have to be in bed early if we want to catch the geysers. It's been one day and already the desert has amazed and exhausted me. I'll write this and head to bed. I'm tired as hell. Sleep can't come soon enough.

Until tomorrow.