Patagonia, An Introduction

The first time I heard about the hike at Torres Del Paine in Patagonia I had no desire to go. I was traveling with my friend Elena, she was extending her trip in South America to go hike in the Southern part of Chile with another friend. She did a trail that is called the ‘W’ (called so because the shape of the paths around the mountains resembles the letter) that included 4 nights and 5 days of hiking, carrying everything on her back from a tent and sleeping bag to clothes and food. It rained, it snowed, her feet were torn up with terrible blisters, her muscles ached. It sounded awful.

How did I end up, five year later, deciding not just to do the ‘W’, but to take on the longer trek, the ‘O’ which extends the trip by 3 days?

I’ve been thinking a lot about personal growth lately. About who we are and who we can become. About what changes and what stays the same as we age. After all, Kelsey from five years ago would never have anchored her entire four weeks in Chile around a week long hike, but that’s exactly what Kelsey from today did. And it was wonderful.

The journey to Torres Del Paine started in November, when my friend Chantal decided she was coming with me to Chile. Torres is a national park in Chile, located about two hours from the nearest town of Puerto Natales, hovering around 50 degrees S Latitude. It has become a popular tourist destination, and with that comes the bureaucracy of tickets for entry, reservations for campsites and bookings for bunk rooms. I’m not kidding when I say it took us 15+ hours to reserve our week of camping. There are three different companies that run the campsites down there, each with different websites that don’t talk to each other, each with dates blacked out and conflicting schedules. We were a little late to the game with booking, so we had to navigate it all, but we finally found a 8 day stretch that worked and pulled the trigger.

There are different degrees of Torres Del Paine. The front side of the mountain (the W) is more developed, with lodges dotting the map. Some people do the intensive trip my friend Elena did, and some people are day hikers that come in and explore the trails, staying in lodges with hot food and showers and explore the park leisurely. But that’s not what we signed up for. To do the back side of the mountain (the O) you have to carry your own supplies (tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, food, clothing) so we had no choice. We did end up staying in bunk rooms two nights because of the complication with reservations, but spent five in a tent. It’s not completely remote, there is still electricity and running water at camp each night (and you can buy a beer at the end of the day) but it’s much more basic since everything that goes in there must be carried by horse on the trail.

This is what I carried on my journey: sleeping bag, sleeping pad, tent poles and stakes (we split the tent, Chantal’s bag was larger so she took the tent itself and I took the heavier but smaller parts), head lamp, cup, water bottle, fork, knife, 5 freeze dried meals, tortillas and peanut butter for lunches, cliff bars and nuts for snacks and breakfast, lots of chocolate, 1 box of wine, 1 pair of hiking pants, 2 sports bras, 2 tank tops, 4 pairs of hiking socks, 6 pairs of underwear (I meant to bring more but I only did laundry once in Chile so I was forced to double up on days… oops), 1 long sleeved quick dry shirt, 1 fleece, 1 puffy jacket, 1 rain jacket, 1 pair of boots, 1 clean outfit to sleep in (leggings, long sleeved shirt, clean socks and flip flops for camp), the basic toiletries, deck of cards and cribbage board, my journal, and an external charger. All in it weighed a little less than 30 lbs and I was going to carry it for 80 miles and 8 days.

This might sound obvious, but I think we forget it. Everything is scarier the first time you do it. The first time driving a car, the first airplane flight alone, the first move across the country, the first time quitting a job, the first half marathon. It’s somehow in the doing that transforms the things that once scared us into just things that we do. We often treat fear as if it is a permanent state of being, something immovable, unchangeable in our lives. And maybe some fears are, but I’m coming to think that much of the time fear is the natural human reaction to the unknown. That once we refuse to let fear be a barrier to action, our world opens up.

And here’s the thing. This wasn’t my first overnight hike across difficult terrain. It was my second. Between hearing about the ‘W’ and booking the ‘O’ I hiked Machu Picchu in Peru. I went with two girlfriends, we booked our reservations months in advance and spent four great days in Peru before making our way to the jungle town of Cuzco which is close to Machu Picchu. I was nervous from the moment we landed. How would I react to the altitude? To the distance (it was 26 miles over 4 days)? I hadn’t been working out, could I even make it up the mountain? What if I was the slowest one? We went to an information session about our hike and it only made it worse. I almost bailed. I almost told my friends to go without me, I’ll have a fun time in Cuzco by myself and meet up with you after. I couldn’t sleep the night before, debating if I should quit or not. But something kept me quiet, I went.

It was a hard journey, but I made it through the first day, not the fastest, but also not the slowest. The day we walked uphill for 7 hours I think I was miserable every step. I made a promise to the Mountain, if I got up the hill then we’d get rain at the top to cool me down. I made it up the hill, just in time for the sprinkling to start (I don’t think the other people on the trip appreciated the change in weather, but for me it was heaven). It turns out going down the hill is excruciating for some people’s knees, but not mine. On the big downhill day I was able to enjoy the scenery and take in the amazing place that I found myself in. That day I knew I would finish it, the hardest part was over and I was still walking.

Seeing Machu Picchu was a dream of mine for years, but after the experience, what I actually took away was the accomplishment of the trek. I was not fast, but it turns out, I was tough.

Accomplishing this first hike, 4 days, 26 miles, (but with porters to carry everything but my day pack of snacks and water) opened up the world of hiking for me. On my next trip I spent three days hiking in Austria. And when I moved to Seattle I took on numerous day hikes, culminating in summiting Mount Adams (There is a whole post on that one if you haven’t read it yet - it might be my highlight of 2018). The ‘O’ was a new challenge, double the days and mileage of Peru while also carrying everything on my back. But the challenge was no longer one that brought me fear, instead it brought me excitement.

I’m starting my Patagonia stories with this, because through the 8 days of walking it was what came most prominently to my mind. In five years I had transformed the way I saw myself. From someone who was ‘bad’ at sports, ‘unfit’, ‘not athletic’ (something I’d believed about myself almost my entire life) to someone who had the stamina and strength to enjoy an 8 day hike. No, I didn’t just go out and transform in a few months, between then and now I learned to love running, yoga, and hiking. These things transformed my body physically as well as mentally. But still. The question I kept asking myself as I walked was; what else have I been believing about myself that creates self imposed boundaries?

I can’t wait for the next five years.