After lunch we make our way across the southern end of the Valley Encantado on our way to the Eco Camp. Gary hobbles on gamely, bringing up the rear. He has decided to tough out the rest of the trip though his decision will later result in arthroscopic surgery and a painful rehab. He bears his ordeal with dignity and without complaint.
The enchanted valley borders the eastern flank of the Cordillera Paine, the central massif of the park. This is the boundary between sub-polar forests to the north and the steppe land below.
Immediately to the south of the park are the large glaciers and lakes that have scoured this land with a slurry of rock and ice for millions of years.
In 1880 the plucky Lady Florence Dixie became one of the first travelers to visit the park, describing the Torres Del Paine memorably as Cleopatra’s Needles. Fortunately the United Nations Educational and Scientific Organization (UNESCO) has designated the park as a world biosphere reserve.
As many as 75 of the plant species found in the park are of European origin though the dominant vegetation is Fescue, which is hardy enough to withstand the harsh winds that sweep across the steppe.
We amble along in silent contemplation. After a time the low steady gait of hiking becomes automatic. The mind separates from the body and one is only aware of the omnipresent NOW. I sense that Zen has its origins in this kind of calm. It is a kind of heightened awareness that stems from total relaxation.
In his 1978 novel The Stand, author Stephen King has his protagonists walk from Colorado to their final battle in Las Vegas. I now understand why. The quieting of a mind opens new pathways of thought and sharpens your senses. You begin to think about the whole sky rather than the cloud that’s raining on you.
I wish there was a way to preserve this state of mind when I return to life in the North but it seems unlikely. What I’m feeling here isn’t possible to sustain at home. Western society is by its nature intrusive, particularly the hive mentality of social networking. The hermit back on the Serrano has a point - horses don’t Tweet.
Late in the day we arrive at Eco Camp and blissfully shed our packs after what has been among the longest hikes yet. We step into a cluster of geodesic domes that squat in the high hills below Almirante Nieto’s benevolent gaze. It is an unlikely setting at first, high-tech blossoms among the perennials of an ancient garden of Eden. That’s the purpose of this place, to demonstrate a happy marriage between the needs of humanity and its surroundings. These domes are designed after those constructed by the native Kawesqar, a people that flourished here centuries before Magellan. The hemispherical designs parry wind loads of up to 180 kilometers per hour. As has been the case in so many wild places, an intuitive understanding of the land yields a harmonious blend of form and function.
Everything at the camp is designed to be mobile in keeping with the nomadic traditions of the region, including the delightful shower in which I wash away the accumulated soot of the day’s hike.
At breakfast the following morning we have a heartbreaking decision to make. Rain has made the rock wall passage along the Rio Ascencio slick and somewhat dangerous. This is our only access to the interior of the massif and to the foot of the Torres Del Paine. Poor judgement here could have permanent impact. Winds are gusting in excess of 90 kilometers per hour. Tony informs us that portions of the trail approaching the towers are narrow and precipitous. Even for those who believe themselves surefooted enough, mist and rain obscure the best views. The risks are obvious. To break a leg here would be a nightmare of logistical problems. Bad weather and rugged terrain would make rescue difficult if not impossible. I decide not to chance it. I can always return another time. To hobble myself for a lifetime isn’t worth the risk.
Instead, a group of us opt to explore the highlands on the southern side of the Rio Paine, just south of Almirante Nieto.
Herds of Guanacos, llama-like creatures of the camel family, graze on these slopes. They are the preferred prey of cougars, as is attested to by the numbers of denuded skulls we encounter in the grass. The wind blows hard enough here to pluck my frameless glasses from my face and hurl them about 30 feet away. At a promontory facing the river valley I lean my weight into the wind without fear of falling. Across the river to our north, rain obscures the towers and much of Almirante Nieto in a veil of mist. I wonder after those who risked the hike. I hope they’re OK.
According to Bob, most of the park was underwater at one time. My mind warps at the thought that conditions on the planet can change so dramatically, even over millennial time scales.
Over our heads South American Condors surf among powerful thermals searching the valley below for carrion. One spots me and drops into a tight orbit over my head. When I show signs of movement he stoops out over the river and sweeps away to the west, disappointed that I’m alive.
We hike down along the trail closer to a rocky outcrop where we will have lunch. We perch among the rocks out of the wind and watch young Guanacos vie with one another for dominance. I lie back on my daypack and listen to the wind. When I awake, I find a small chocolate heart on my chest. Judy and Tom are celebrating their fifth anniversary with all of us. Ducks plash in the water of a nearby lake. I’m glad I didn’t take the risk of hiking into the central massif.
Later in the day, the clouds begin to clear and the Towers drop their veil. They are glistening, almost incandescent in the afternoon sun. The broad shoulders of Almirante Nieto obscure our view somewhat but what I’ve seen today is enough for a lifetime. After lunch we begin the long trek back to the Eco Camp, where we will spend another night before returning to Punta Arenas for the flight up to the lake country in the middle of Chile.
At the airport the following day we say our goodbyes to Eduardo and Lucho. I offer my hand to Eduardo and he takes mine in both of his with a smile that starts in his eyes. I learn later that this gesture is one of affection, almost a blessing. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to know him and Lucho. I will miss them both deeply.
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