Condors, Courage, and Patagonia’s Wild Side.
Day 48-50 – Fleeing Rain, Finding Wind.
You missed me? That’s what happens when you disappear into the wilderness: no WiFi and no mercy. So here’s a catch-up of the last five days… buckle up.
Our final night in Puyehue was… let’s call it “character-building.” Add nonstop rain pounding on the roof, and the decision to not stay another night made itself.
Within minutes we booked an escape route back to Puerto Varas, conveniently close to the airport.
But first, in a heroic attempt to pretend we weren’t scared of rain, we drove to the Agua Caliente sector of the park, lured by the promise of hot springs at the end of a trail. The ranger took one look at us, two soggy optimists… and laughed. “It will rain for three days,” she said. “You’ll only see your wet feet.” Message received. We fled to Puerto Varas.
Two and a half hours later we arrived at a beautiful lodging, were allowed to check in early, and collapsed into a hot shower and a very forgiving bed.
The nap was spiritual. The next morning was the big travel day: flying south to the crown jewel of Patagonia… Torres del Paine.
Puerto Natales airport is tiny. I half expected a pilot in goggles to greet us. It took forever to get into town because taxis had to drive from town to pick up the mass of hikers who arrive daily. When we finally reached our hostel, we were given the “matrimony room”… basically a shoebox with two suitcases breathing heavily in the corner. But laundry was €5, so I forgave everything.
The next morning, we went to collect our rental car, only to discover Europcar had been absorbed into another agency several blocks away. Miraculously, they honoured
our reservation… and handed us a massive red Ford pickup truck. A beast. A monster. A “no-one-is-cutting-us-off-today” vehicle. I loved it instantly.
The two-hour drive to the park was breathtaking. They say Torres del Paine has “four seasons in four hours,” but the one constant is the WIND, the kind of wind that could knock a grown woman (hi) straight off the trail.
The forecast predicted rain and gloom, but as we approached the park the curtains of clouds lifted and we got a quick, glorious peek at the Towers. We explored the Paine River cascades and waterfalls before ending our day at our luxury campsite… luxury in price, not in wind protection.
An hour after we checked in, the storm arrived. The wind howled. The tent shook like a tambourine. At one point I was convinced we’d reenact The Wizard of Oz.
But we survived, and I even slept (once I thawed).
Day 51-52 – Rainbows, Rage-Winds, and the Myth of “Easy Trails”.
The next morning was a wet, moody grey. Great for ducks, terrible for hikers. We had our Beast, so we decided to explore every road in sight. By noon we reached Hotel Lago Grey, where the glacier boat tour leaves. The staff assured us it was “worth it,” but judging by the drowned-rat look of people returning from the previous tour,
we passed. Argentina’s glaciers await us anyway (for a better price).
We enjoyed the hotel’s free WiFi (our campsite charged a ransom), and when the rain finally stopped, we took a walk along Lago Grey. One of the best decisions of the trip. The place was empty, the weather clearing, the glacier peeking through the mountains… and I did my usual spontaneous “nobody’s watching” dance. Except Yoni, who has accepted his fate.
On the way back, the skies cleared completely, and we finally saw the full beauty we’d missed in the morning.
But the highlight of the day was Mirador del Cóndor. The sign promised a “short, moderate climb,” which in Chilean means “prepare your will.” I geared up: knee support, hiking poles, windbreaker, warm jacket… and up we went. The wind at the top was so fierce none of us dared stand. We crouched like anxious mountain goats,
admiring the absurdly gorgeous view. Coming down was even slower thanks to unpredictable “gusts” that felt more like surprise body-checks.
Back at camp, we fell asleep praying for no tornado-level gusts. God laughed. The wind roared all night.
We woke to clear skies and 60 km/h winds. If you’ve never walked in wind that knocks you to your knees… well, I have. No injury, just my ego.
As compensation, nature gifted us two perfect rainbows… the Patagonia apology package. We had breakfast in front of one of them, then headed to a trail that was supposedly “flat and easy.” And it was… until it wasn’t. Once the trail rose above the mountain shelter, the wind hit like a truck again. Eventually, I turned back;
Yoni powered on, fueled by stubbornness and twenty years of marriage-diplomacy.
We tried one more trail, but the park rangers had closed it due to winds over 100 km/h. When the rangers say “danger,” you listen.
So we called it a day and headed to our new warm, windproof apartment in Puerto Natales. We felt we had earned a proper dinner and allowed ourselves a proper restaurant. After that, as the sun came down, we strolled along the promenade to discover amazing statues and to catch the last rainbow of the day!
Tomorrow is our last day in Chile. Let’s see what that day will bring us… curious? Stick around to find out!
Day 53 – The Day I Climbed for a Condor.
On our last day in Puerto Natales, we planned to “take it easy”… which lasted until about noon. Then the weather behaved (Patagonia standards: wind at hurricane-level), so we decided to visit a nearby lake that a blogger claimed was “the most underrated lake in Torres del Paine”: Lake Sofía. He also bragged about spotting condors on a “short 3-hour hike.”
Three hours in Chilean hiking language usually means “good luck and may your knees forgive you,” but a lake and a maybe-condor were enough to drag me out of the house. The lake was indeed gorgeous… but trails? Zero. Nada. Not even a hint of a path. We did spot cliffs with tiny humans on top, but that looked like a commitment
we were absolutely not making.
Just as we were about to settle for a pleasant lakeside stroll, a group appeared from behind some bushes like a hiking mirage. They pointed out the actual trailhead, hidden, naturally, and told us we could turn back whenever we wanted…. Dangerous words.
Not long into the climb, we saw a mirador perched high on the cliff. A second later, condors appeared circling above it. To paraphrase: If the condor will not come to Vered, Vered must climb to the condor. And so we climbed. And climbed. And climbed some more. My only thought: Those condors better stay put until I arrive.
At points the trail simply vanished, leaving us to invent our own heroic route. But when we finally reached the top… oh. my. God.
The condors were waiting. Not metaphorically, literally soaring right above our heads as if hired by the Chilean Ministry of Epic Experiences. Enormous, elegant, three-meter wingspans slicing through the air like ancient gods.
I could’ve stayed forever, but the wind was strengthening, and the descent loomed. And while going up is tough, going down is its own sport. Let’s just say I used every technique available: walking, sliding, scooting on my butt, and, at one point, descending on all fours like a confused mountain goat.
But the blogger was right: 2.5 hours later we were back at the car, thrilled, grateful, and high on awe. To celebrate our last night in Chile, we splurged on a fabulous dinner. Tomorrow we take the bus to El Calafate for our final Argentine chapter of this magical journey.
Stay tuned… the adventure continues.
