Patagonia 2017: The French Valley - Día Diaz

Patagonia 2017:  My Favorite Day: Valle Francés - Día Diaz – 2/17/17 – 27 km

Waking up early in a damp, smelly bunkroom, every surface and inch of floor space covered with muddy hiking gear for eight backpackers after a day and night of rain.  Nothing dry. Taking turns going in and out of the door, bumping behinds when bending down to pick up socks. Ah, hiking the “W”! What will the new day bring?

Same breakfast fare, now quite practiced at the egg-and-cheese sandwich combo, sitting by the window looking at misty, wispy clouds.  Today’s plan is hiking first to Campamento Italiano, then up-and-back on the middle section of the “W” called the French Valley, then on to Refugio Paine Grande on the edge of Lago Pehoe. We'll see Los Cuernos (the "Horns") from many sides today.

Bluish morning light on Los Cuernos

I stepped out onto the deck to see if it was really raining or just misting – is the sky lightening behind the mountains?

Mist lifting from Los Cuernos

Everyone scrambled to get backpacks together, pulling on full rain gear just in case.  The sky was still tentatively gray but visibility was improving. Lots of hikers on the move, peeling off layers as the day warmed up. First section: 5 kilometers to Campamento Italiano, hugging the shoreline of Lago Nordenskjöld.

Blue sky!

Fuschia blossoms

Los Cuernos and a waterfall

Rocky shore of Lago Nordenskjöld

At Campamento Italiano we stopped for a short break.  The area is grossly overused, most ground cover washed away, dirty and stinky pit toilets but no other privacy option.  It’s possible that the camp didn’t look its best because of the recent rains, but I was now grateful for the crowded bunkroom I had shared. 

However, we weren’t here to review the accommodations; we here to offload our backpacks for the out-and-back hike into the Valle Francés.  Cathy, Carol and Rick had small daypacks, but I did not, so I stuffed my excess gear into their large packs to leave at the camp.  Wow, lightweight euphoria!

Checking out the map and “don’t ask about the weather, we are in Patagonia”

The hike up Valle Francés was simply stunning and rivals anything I saw on the Mont Blanc trek in 2016.  I am immensely grateful that this was a good weather day or we might have skipped it. Beginning at Campamento Italiano and tracing up Río del Francés between the massifs of Cuernos del Paine on the right and Paine Grande on the left, the head of the valley opens to a majestic cirque of granite peaks. Every step was breathtaking.

The hike began with a bit of scrambling and climbing around boulders and heavy water flowing from the rains.  We crossed several side streams, large and small.

Río del Francés, roaring and pounding with power

We ate lunch at Mirador Francés, a flat space with low scrubby trees and a front row seat for Glaciar del Francés flowing down from Cerro Paine Grande, which was still wreathed in clouds

Looking back down the valley towards Lago Nordenskjöld

Blending back into the trees and continuing the gradual ascent, the trail undulated up and down over fingers of land stretching down from the Cuernos massif. (Imagine laying your palm flat on a surface. Now bend at the base of the fingers, which pushes the knuckles up to make a "mountain" of your hand.  Now imagine walking across your fingers, up and down and up and down.)

The trail emerged from the trees onto an expansive boulder field at the head of the valley. Once upon a time a backcountry site (Campamento Británico) was located near here, but it is now closed. Really a shame, as this would be the best case scenario for visiting Valle Francés, spending a night or two and having plenty of time to soak in the glory of the cirque. On the far side of the field, the final brief but steep push up to Mirador Británico began.  Seems like a pretty good “mirador” from here, you say?  True, but you’ve come this far!

On top of Mirador Británico - the highest snowy peak is Cerro Paine Grande

Peak names L/R: Purple = Cerro Cota, red = Cerro Catedral, green = Punta Negra, yellow = Aleta de Tiburón (Shark’s Fin), light blue = Cerro Trono Blanco.  Lago Mijal is down there in the valley somewhere.

Looking the other way from Mirador Británico, L/R: red = La Espada, blue = Cerro Hoja,             purple = Cerro Mascara, yellow = Los Cuernos (back side)

None of this looks real, right? There are more trails in the valley used for guided hikes that go close to Cerro Catedral and Punta Negra.  I wonder if they are allowed to camp…

Sadly, there was too little time to hang around Mirador Británico, as we had 14 kilometers still to go to Refugio Paine Grande, our home for the night.  We waved goodbye, picked up the pace and retraced steps, pausing again at Mirador Francés just because…we may never be here again.  This time the tip of Cerro Paine Grande was visible above Glaciar del Francés.  Two condors floated on the air above the mountain peaks.

Back at Campamento Italiano, we retrieved and repacked our backpacks and crossed the Río del Francés (yes, on a sturdy bridge) to continue on our trek. 
 

The last 7.5 kilometers to the refugio were a bit of a march but filled with much to appreciate, a heaping helping of stunning scenery with a side of flora and fauna, thanks very much.  So much to see looking back, forward, up to the sky and down at our feet.

Looking back at Los Cuernos

Cathy walking through “ghost trees” from recent fires

Amancay is called the “romantic flower,” a symbol of unconditional love. According to the legend of thwarted lovers, the red streaks symbolize a young woman’s blood. 

Rick getting up close with a Southern caracara raptor

A European hare that I wouldn’t want to be surprised by – enormous! 

A ferry on Lake Pehoe approaching the dock for Refugio Paine Grande

The desk manager at check-in had us pegged after a long, long day.  He was flirtatious and accommodating, giving us a 6-bunk room with no other lodgers – luxury!  After last night’s high perch, I sank into a bottom bunk before searching out the showers. The bathrooms were not too close, but our room’s quiet back hallway location made it worthwhile.    [Note:  showers offer hot water only during certain hours, of which this was not one, but a cold shower was better than none and I washed my muddy duds to boot.] 

The architectural design gives each room a corner window with a mountain view

Supper was served cafeteria style with plenty of room to spread out – again, a welcome change from last night’s cramped dining room – but the fare was not new: chicken, mashed potato, simple salad and flan for dessert.  Our longest hiking day so far in Torres del Paine, yet it was still light out, so we lingered over our food to enjoy the space.

And guess what's happening at the bar? Cheers!

"There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon." ~Henry David Thoreau

Patagonia 2017: Refugio Los Cuernos - Día Nueve

Patagonia 2017:  Refugio Los Cuernos - Día Nueve – 2/16/17 – 11 km

My theory stands firm that the second day of a trek is the hardest. This one was short on distance but long on discomfort.  At the end of the day (well, really at the end of the night, aka the next morning) it’s all worth it and a good story around the campfire.  But --

We slept in this morning at Las Torres, avoiding the early breakfast crush, the same menu in a more relaxed atmosphere. The drizzling raindrops sliding down the windowpanes did not invite us to step outside, but go we must.  [Go or do not go – there is no try.]  Full weather assault gear: rain pants over shorts, short sleeve shirt, long sleeve shirt, rain gloves, rain jacket, Hokies ball cap, hood up, pack cover on.  Vamanos!

Nordenskjöld Lake, normally an intense opaque aqua color, was muted. The mountains on the far side were veiled in low mist and the sky was – hmmm – pewter? Dishwater grey? Let’s just say colorless.  But while watching my footing on the wet path, I began to notice the “view” up close, low growing plants and grasses that were quite beautiful, clumps of light yellow-green, dark glossy leaves and prickly stems.

I learned a new term:  pre-Andean scrubland, low evergreen shrubs that thrive on river banks and lake edges and have adapted to save water and withstand the fierce Patagonian wind.  Most common is the Calafate shrub.  (Local lore says if you eat the berries, you are destined to return to Patagonia.) 

Chilean firetree or Notro flower

Senecio miser cushion-plant

Who knows?

Can you see the Upland goose (aka Magellan goose) on the trail?

The wet was tolerable with no wind, just a slight breeze, and we hiked steadily all morning, staying within sight of each other, taking two quick pee breaks and one standing-up snack break. There were a couple of unbridged water crossings.

Rick pausing to take in Nordenskjöld Lake

Swinging bridge crossing over a rocky bottom – what must it be like to cross when there is a river of snow melt rushing underneath?

We’re getting close to the refugio

Refugio Los Cuernos

At the last side-stream crossing, someone has pitched their tent in what looks like an awesome spot – except that it’s dangerous to be so close to the water if the flow increases during the night, and it’s not eco-friendly.

Check-in at Los Cuernos was hectic and crowded as the multitudes sought shelter from the rain.  Anyone taking a chance on getting a bunk without a reservation was out of luck.  The dining area was cheek-to-cheek with campers drying out (unsuccessfully), people arriving and people procrastinating about leaving.

First things first – a hot chocolate warm-up

No cabin with hot tub for us. Our bunks were assigned in a room for eight; two bunks were triple high. There’s no place way up there to put stuff to be easily accessible, but it looks like it’s my turn to take one for the team.  The bigger problem was really no space for anyone to spread gear out to dry.  Every possible hanging spot was utilized with minimal success. We shared the room with another group of four (mom, dad, daughter and boyfriend).  Boots and backpacks everywhere.

With some thought and planning for later, I made decisions on what to keep in my bunk to minimize the up-and-down factor and it worked out okay. 

Hello down there!

With a long wet afternoon facing us, Cathy became immersed in a large puzzle project in a corner of the dining room, with Carol and others jumping in from time to time.  Wifi was available for $7 per 30 minutes, and I tried contacting home via WhatsApp, with limited success.  Rick had wifi and a book to read.

Of course, the refugio was not intended to accommodate this mass of people for long.  Two of the three women’s toilets were clogged. As I waited my turn for the one functioning stall (who knows how long it will hold up?) I chatted with an Asian woman named June, who works in IT in San Francisco.  She was hiking with a group of 14 people who travel the world hiking in locales famous and obscure.  She counted off Kilimanjaro, Machu Picchu, Nepal, Mount Whitney in California, many places in Canada, and small national parks unfamiliar to me in other countries. 

(June and her group were also experts in refugio living, commandeering space around the wood stove at the end of the hallway and stringing up multiple clotheslines to dry their gear.)

Late in the afternoon the staff kicked us all out of the dining area to set up for dinner.  We could look forward to more elbow-to-elbow while perched on those little stools.

Noisy conversation again, plus loud music, did not improve the atmosphere for me. Dinner was soup, a slice of beef with polenta, and a fruit mousse dessert.  Many trekkers on the “W” enjoy the vibe, and I don’t mind meeting and talking with new people, but my energy was waning tonight.  A little wine will help me sleep – if I don’t fall from my nest in the rafters!

“I am sure it is a great mistake always to know enough to go in when it rains.  One may keep snug and dry by such knowledge, but one misses a world of loveliness.”  ~Adeline Knapp