(awed silence)

Chile´s Torres del Paine mountains, like Earth´s middle finger, are just disrespectful. Rising 9,000 feet above the glaciated coast of Southern Patagonia, the landscape has no respect at all for human scale, human life, or the law of gravity. As the malevolent monarchs who sit upon the granite throne of Torres del Paine, the almighty Wind and Water rule this place absolutely. Wind is omnipresent and spectacularly powerful, and water owns your existence here.

I had prepared for a 8 or 9 day trip around the park´s larger hiking circuit, but because the mountains are in charge here, our trip was very rudely interrupted. I headed out with a couple of English guys (well, to be specific, one lives in Botswana and the other on the Jersey Islands off the coast of France) I met at the hostel, and our first two days on the trail were absolutely awesome. Sun shine, surreal vistas of the massif, dry gear, and I even had a little beer/hammock time in the sun. As the clouds moved in on the afternoon of day-two, the situation changed rather dramatically...

Now, this wasn´t my first rodeo. I´ve backpacked in the Sierras of California, Wyoming, and the San Juans of Colorado, all of which have the potential for pretty nasty weather all year long. But, as I hiked in Torres del Paine in the middle of their summer, I was absolutely shocked. I have never in my life seen weather like this. As we went over the pass on day 3 (only about 5,000 feet up, so pretty tame by Colorado standards), we were hit with ungodly 90 kmph winds and a foot of snow. I had all my gear and was pretty well prepared for anything, but holy begeezes! On the other side of the pass, it really got sloppy. Rain rain rain. By the end of the trip, they had shut down two passes (stranding a huge number of hikers all over the park), two camps, and a swollen river crossing. The weather changed in a blink of an eye, so we did in fact get some pretty amazing views the whole trip long, but the place was a freakin mess.

In addition to the glacier carved valleys, the towering rock spires, the cartoonishly blue-green lakes, and the dramatic peaks, the park hides one thing I had never seen in my life. A real, honest-to-goodness, world class glacier. Stretching from horizon to horizon, miles across a tremendous valley, and hundreds of feet deep, Glacier Grey is the biggest thing I have ever seen in my life. A pulverizing, electric-charged-blue mass buldozing its way down the valley for centuries. I can´t properly qualify it, so I will stop here.

So, in conclusion: 6 days, 5 nights, 110 km, 0 showers, 1 pair of broken sunglasses, 1 bagillion people (think Yellowstone, but with people instead of RVs), 2 closed passes, 100+ kmph winds, 100% wet clothes, and 110% satisfaction.

Like Malcolm (or the scientist lady, I can´t remember) said in Jurassic Park, ¨We all underestimated the power of this place!¨

My next stop is El Chaltén to hike the terrific Fitz Roy Range. So much to do...