Here is a long (and long overdue!) account of the adventures of General Bob Livezey and his Highly Irregulars on their Chilean 9-day hiking trip of about 115 miles, 71 miles with full packs. Our group included Dave Green, Barry Winkelmann, Bart Rhodes, Michelle Livezey, Lou Hurwitz, and Carol Parker. We explored Torres del Paine National Park, which is about the same size as Montana’s Glacier National Park. Due to the recently extinguished fires in the southwest corner of the park, we had to alter our original itinerary, foregoing the section of trail leading to Refugio Grey and the catamaran ride past the Grey Glacier. However we were able to execute 80% of our original plan. We were very fortunate in our weather, with generally warm sunny days between 65-80 degrees, and only one day of the rainy windy weather that we associate with that part of the world.

Four of our group met at Santiago, flying on to Punta Arenas, the southernmost large city (pop. 117,000) in South America and a jumping-off point for trips south to Antarctica and Tierra del Fuego as well as north to Torres del Paine. Unfortunately 3 of the 4 who met in Santiago (Lou, Barry, and Bob but not Carol) arrived without their luggage, making for a stressful start to our adventure. This was really odd because everyone knows that it is always Carol who arrives without her luggage, but perhaps things are the opposite in the Southern Hemisphere, like that apocryphal “fact” about the direction of flushing toilets. We had no choice but to catch the bus north for Puerto Natales, the gateway town for Torres del Paine, and hope the guys’ packs would be delivered as promised. The three-hour ride north was interesting in a sort of low-key gloomy way, as we passed literally nothing but, first, windswept pampas grass waving in the rain, and later, huge dry stretches of fenced grazing land with here and there a dirt road leading back to a hidden estancia (ranch) and the occasional llama-like guanaco staring forlornly over the fencing at our passing bus. There were no crossroads at all! In the early evening we arrived in Puerto Natales, a utilitarian town of 15,000 on the shores of an immense lake,with no buildings of architectural significance. However, the scenery is dramatic, with mountains rising all around the lake and above them a huge wild sky filled with clouds scudding by at an alarming rate. It was very windy there, overcast with periodic light gusty rain. At the hostel where we spent the night we met up with the other members of our group, Bob’s daughter Michelle, Dave and Bart, all of whom were linking our hike with their explorations of other parts of South America. Bob and Barry’s packs arrived early the next morning, but Lou’s stuff was apparently lost in the Bermuda Triangle, so we regretfully had to leave him behind to chase his items and hopefully meet us later on the trail. We caught a bus north for the 2-hour ride to the park entrance at Lago Amargo.

Day1 Lago Armargo to Los Cuernos Campsites. 1800 ft. ascent, 10 miles. 11:15-6:15.

Our ride was uneventful apart from a stop just outside the park, where we visited a natural wonder of the area, the high-pH Lake Amargo ringed with stromatolites, grey chalky hard sand-like deposits of calcium carbonate that form in this very basic environment. Bart was very impressed with Carol’s knowledge of stromatolites until she pointed out the nearby information sign she had just read.

One of the great things about hiking in a Patagonian summer is that dusk doesn’t fall until 10:30 PM, and dinner at the refugios is never served before 7:30, so it is possible to hike into the early evening. However the limitation of the area is that camping is restricted to designated areas, which limits planning options. After signing in to the park, we started into the back-country up a gravel road in sunny 65 degree weather; we were all in shorts and tee-shirts. We had to abort our original plan of camping at Campimento Italiano because it was closed due to broken toilets (!), so we headed instead to Los Cuernos Campsites just outside the refugio there. On our way we passed the las Torres complex of buildings, which includes an eco-resort composed of geodesic domes, as well as a large very red hotel, spa and giftshop. We stopped for lunch not far from this site, settling ourselves in a scenic spot atop a cement septic field cap and alternately eating and picking off the numerous tiny burs that are endemic to this part of the world. After lunch the gravel road disappeared as we began to ascend a rougher trail, with the famously jagged Las Torres Peaks always in front of us. They are visually striking because of their lower level of gray granite topped by upper black sedimentary rock. These towers always seemed deceptively close due to the pollution-free atmosphere. The only wildlife we encountered, including more guanacos, as well as sheep and horses (used by the tourists for trail rides), was in this section of the park, a strip of which is privately owned. After this we saw only condors and the occasional Darwin’s hare. However just outside the park there was a visual feast for birdwatchers, with Chilean flamingos, black-necked swans, magellan geese and black-faced ibis all in view.

Once the trail became rougher, we began a series of short ascents and descents with several tricky crossings of braided streams that involved somewhat risky rock-hopping. These streams are best crossed earlier in the day, before snowmelt swells them, but we were there in the late afternoon. We spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out the best route across, and with the help of trekking poles and an occasional hand, we passed through without incident. Next we climbed a series of hills that ended in an awesome view of a small dark blue unnamed lake not far ahead of us, and far below and in the distance, the huge, pale aqua-colored Lake Nordenskjold, named for the Swedish explorer who first “discovered” it around 1895. The brilliant color of this lake and many others that we encountered is due to the presence of glacial silt in the water. As we approached this lake on a trail that eventually turned west along the cliffs of its northern shore, we could see, far below, a single red Zodiac, looking like a tiny toy as it negotiated the whitecaps on the lake’s vast expanse bordered by steep bare cliffs on all sides.

Arriving at the Los Cuernos refugio, where we paid for a campsite, we discovered that (ha ha!) the managers just take the money of whomever pays them for a campsite without regard for whether there is an actual campsite available. Since there were no sites left, we pitched our tents on the rocky scree-filled shores of Lake Nordenskjold. While this site would have been awful in windy weather, we lucked out with a calm clear evening and a comfortable sleep, thanks to our Neo-Air mattresses. A few of us washed off in this lake, and folks, it was really cold. Afterward we cooked dinner on the rocks, watched the sun set behind the lake’s steep cliffs, and retired for the night.

Day 2 Los Cuernos to dayhike in Valle Frances and back 15 1/2 miles, 3400 ft. ascent

9:45-6:15

This was a tough day for all of us. We could not understand why the equivalent of a Tuesday hike, without our large packs, could have made us so tired, but the 80 degree temperature and hot sun may have contributed to our fatigue. We started walking west along the cliffs above Lake Nordenskjold, eventually descending to a pleasant and shady pebbled beach, where Carol longed to linger but could not. The next section of trail gradually rose through forests of lenga, a birch species. Only one other tree grows in this climate zone but it is also a birch species (both nothofagus), and they looked the same to us. Although Wikipedia reveals that lenga is used as a substitute for black cherry wood in cabinet making, you would never believe it looking at the gnarled forms of these trees in the Tolkien-like forests we passed through.

Our trail followed the lake to its outlet at Rio Paine,where we stopped in a shady grove of what else but lenga trees to eat a quick lunch before continuing on to the closed camps Italiano and Brittanico. Here a bridge across the river linking the trail to the closed section was blocked with two gates and a large sign saying “No permiso” just in case you didn’t get the message. We continued ascending, crossing several rickety bridges over various Rio Paine tributaries. Eventually we climbed a steep rugged section onto a rocky outcrop from which we could view the head of the awesome French Valley, a cirque formed by impressive two-toned towers and cliffs. To the west were the colossal walls of Cerro Cota and Cerro Cathedral, to the north the granite arete called Shark’s Fin (Aleta de Tiburon) and to the east a group of cliffs called Fortress, Sword, Blade, the Mummy, North Horn and Main Horn. The Las Torres glacier covers their lower slopes, and as we descended from the valley in the afternoon, we could hear the thunder-like sounds of sections of the glacier calving; some of us were lucky enough to actually see the sections crashing downward in a puff of white powder. Carol had an exciting day in which she lost her retainers while eating a morning snack in the lenga grove but was later overjoyed to find them on the return trip in the dirt next to the rock she had sat on while eating.

We returned from this dayhike in various states of exhaustion, but luckily this evening we were booked into the refugio, a lovely wooden building with bunkrooms and huge windows and skylights in the dining room that unfortunately concentrate the early evening sun on diners with laser-like intensity, so that meals are speedily eaten, making possible a quick escape to the cooler wide porch. After a good dinner and Pisco sours, we had a mellow evening sitting there, observing the social scene around us. A group of young German guys played Beatles tunes on a guitar and chatted with girls from the Netherlands, Australia, and New Zealand, and also with a group of Israeli young men. Japanese girls were there, along with a French couple and several Scandinavians. We wondered how all these young people could afford to travel around the world for months at a time at their ages. We also gazed up at the mountains to the west bordering the lake. These were less steep at the very top, where they were covered with a slick, icy glacier that looked ominously glassy in the fading sunlight. Dave commented that all of these peaks have been climbed, and he recounted how he had earlier met a Russian climber carrying ropes while attempting to solo Fitzroy tower in Argentina. He wondered what was the point of carrying ropes as a solo climber, with no partner to belay him, and Bob noted that it was probably to hang himself when he realized he was stranded up there with no means of descent. Ha ha! This is the kind of black humor we adventurers enjoy! As the chatting on the porch continued late into the evening outside our bunkroom window after we had retired for the night, General Bob became a bit grumpy about the noise. We suggested that he stroll out there in his underpants to ask if he could join the party; we felt sure this would break up the socializing, but a stern warning from a fully clothed Bob was all it took.

Day 3 Los Cuernos refugio to Chileno via Shortcut to Torres Camping, with short dayhike to Las Torres lookout (Mirador Torres) 10 miles, 4200 feet of ascent, about 9-4:30?.

Due to the closing of part of the trail due to the recent fires, today we had to backtrack east until we reached the Chileno cutoff, which took us northeast to Chileno Camping, and beyond it to Torres Camping. This is the first part of the Circuit of which we can do only 3/4. It began with a steep climb out of the Cuernos refugio, continuing along the top of the highlands along the length of Lake Nordenskjold. We traversed high meadows and rocky sections, looking across the lake at treeless hills covered with low vegetation that brought to mind the British Moors, only without Heathcliff or Sherlock Holmes. The weather was cooler today, overcast until mid-afternoon, with easy walking. We stopped to eat lunch on one of the headlands looking over the lake. Our yummy cheese and hearts of palm sandwiches, made by the refugio where we had stayed, were enormous, with “Los Cuernos” stamped into the bread! After this idyll we had to climb steeply up a zillion stairs, arriving at our campground early. This camping area was in a large shady grove of the ever-present lenga trees and provided both a flush toilet and a stream running through the middle of the campsite as a water source. After pitching our tents, we dayhiked up to the astounding Base de los Torres. The hike was short, about 1 km, but was estimated to take 45 minutes. Once we started up it we saw why; it was unrelentingly steep the whole way, first through sandy stretches with huge rock steps, later climbing through boulders in a series of increasingly windy switchbacks which toward the top proved exhilarating. And the endpoint is spectacular! As we stepped over the last of the boulders we found ourselves in a suddenly windless zone at the top of a glacial cirque, at the far end of which the three famous Torres del Paine rose 6000 feet above us. Their lower slopes were covered in a glacier that fanned out widely, ending in a sudden steep drop-off to the pale aqua glacial lake below. This drop-off was streaked with narrow ribbons of waterfall that carried off melting glacial ice. To the right of the grand towers, a rough inky massif of jagged sedimentary rock stood in imposing contrast to the gray and faintly rose-orange towers, their sides polished by glacial scouring. We ate a late lunch there on the flat boulders at the top of the cirque, some of us lolling around while watching condors play in the updrafts along the cliffs, while others walked down to the bottom of the cirque to check out the lake. We returned to our campsite in half the time we ascended. We noticed that at the Torres del Paine lookout, which was filled with hikers, everyone was about 40 years younger than us.

Day 4 camp Torres and dayhike to the Japanese Camp 8 1/2 miles, 1300 ft ascent , 2580 descent; 9:45-12:15, then on to Torres refugio 4 PM

This was an underwhelming day, with not too much to see, and a difficult day for Bart. We ate breakfast in overcast but pleasant weather, planning to hike up to the Japanese Camp (these national camp names mark the site of previous climbing expeditions by various countries). After breakfast Bart bent over to deflate his air mattress and was suddenly wracked by paralyzing back spasms. Bob quickly got out his first aid kit, which is filled with a large panoply of pain killers, and dosed Bart up, so that he was eventually able to hike at least part of the way with us, although at a much slower pace. Since there was not much to do today, we had planned to visit the Japanese camp, but we were told by the campground manager that it was closed “for security.” By this time we had figured out that these rules are not strictly enforced, so after telling the ranger that we were just going on a ten-minute jaunt, we continued on to the camp, first through woods along the river, then through a large boulder field, and then through more woods. The “camp” was a small rickety structure of crudely assembled tree trunks covered with a blue tarp, reminiscent of everyone’s preconceptions of Appalachia, only with more bugs. The only interesting thing in the “camp” was a lovely monument of two geese, beautifully carved from the gall growth on a tree stump, that marked the successful ascent of the middle Torre on Jan. 17, 2007 by a Korean expedition. The inscription was carved in both English and Korean. Once back in camp, with Bart still in pain, we divided up his gear, so that he would have less to carry. Sherpa Dave carried most of the extra stuff. Somehow we wound up in Torres refugio, but there’s a gap in my notes here. However, the notable thing about this day is that here we met up with Lou, who had finally received his gear, done a day hike to the Base de los Torres, and knew he could rejoin our group here.

Day 5 Torres refugio to Seron Camping 8 1/2 mi, 1150 ft. ascent, 10-2 PM

After a lazy morning in the lounge of the refugio, which was rather luxurious, we set off in windy sunny 70 degree weather on easy terrain. We ascended gently over meadows of daisies and low hills on a broad dirt road, crossing small low streams that were mere trickles, until the trail leveled off for the last few kilometers, ending for us at Seron Camping, a small gray two-room building of corrugated tin in a vast buff-colored grassy field dotted with stunted trees and enclosed by a barbed-wire fence. By this time Bart had fully recovered from his back spasms, so that he was hiking in the vanguard, unencumbered by the heavy packs of the rest of us and especially the lead-like pack of Dave, who was carrying all Bart’s stuff as well as his own. Upon arrival Dave explained that Bart would be carrying his own pack the following day. Along with many other campers, we pitched our tents near the building, which was the dining room for those who had ordered dinner and breakfast in advance, as we had done. Although very windy, it was a pleasant spot, with picnic tables, an outdoor sink, and two flush toilets, one of which was working. The weird thing about those toilets is that when they are present, one feels compelled to use them rather than slipping behind some shrubbery as we would normally do. Since the shrubbery here was behind a barbed wire fence, there were often lines at the one working toilet. But on the plus side, there was wine and beer! We all sat on the crude bench outside the shack while awaiting dinner with our cans of beer, resembling in many respects homeless winos - all we lacked was the brown paper bag covering our beverages of choice. Bob continued in his role of Dr. Feelgood, doling out more muscle relaxants to Bart and anti-swelling agents to Carol, whose knee was beginning to hurt. Here we met a group of wimpy middle-aged hikers, who scared some of us with their tales of how difficult the hike was up to the Gardiner Pass, how it couldn’t be done in a day, etc. However General Bob pooh-poohed their account, and it turned out he was right - these guys were very slow hikers, and we didn’t have the problems they encountered when we came to this section a few days later.

Day 6 Seron Camping to Dickson Campsite 11.5 miles, 1610 up, 1370 ft. down 10-3:30 PM 5 1/2 hours

We had a somewhat late breakfast, having to wake up the kitchen staff and wait for them to rustle up our chow. Our trail this morning followed the bluffs along the Paine River, where we lunched, chatting with two hilarious American female marathon runners. The river, which circles around 3/4 of the park, eventually became Lake Paine as we turned southwest, walking on bluffs above the lake’s southern shore. After the outlet of the lake, still traveling on the lake’s headland, we walked through woods and then on a tediously narrow path through tall grass, awed by the Dickson glacier visible ahead of us in the far distance. Emerging from the grass, we looked down on an idyllic scene: a narrow wooded peninsula 100 feet below us jutted out into the sparkling lake. In the middle of a large sunlit clearing in the peninsula we could see several rustic wood buildings. This was Dickson refugio, reached by scrambling down a steep sandy scree-filled path. However once down on this peninsula, the idyllic setting was marred by the presence of large swarms of mosquitos, making setting up tents very unpleasant. In this spot, you were at peace only inside your tent or inside the refugio; there was no hanging around outside the tents. That is - unless you were Barry, who had a tent without enough headroom to sit up. He toughed it out manfully at the picnic table while the rest of us huddled inside our tents, cringing as the mosquitos tried their darndest to get in. Everyone who had brought headnets wore them continuously here, and we slathered ourselves with bug dope. Before dinner, some of us took a walk down to the lake’s beach, hoping to encounter fewer mosquitos there. Here great wind gusts blew the mosquitos away but were so strong and loud that it was not pleasant to stay there while they were blowing. As soon as a gusts died down, back came the mosquitoes. The lakeshore was really lovely, with towering mountains and the Dickson glacier in the distance, but it could not be enjoyed for very long. This was the point at which Bart sadly discovered that he had lost his second rain jacket of the trip, so Carol supplied him with one of her extra trashbags to serve as makeshift raingear for the following day’s foray up to the Gardiner Pass.

Day 7 Dayhike to Gardiner Pass, 24 miles, 4800 ft. ascent, 6 AM-4:30 PM

This day was the high point, literally and figuratively, of our trip. Made cautious by the admonitions of the three Camp Seron hikers, who had said the round trip would take 14-16 hours, we got an early start, rising in the dark and heading out at first light. We thought the trip might be shorter than we were told, but the map gave this segment a round trip time of 20 hours(!), so we decided it would be every man for himself on this day, and we made our way separately. Our weather was overcast, but cloud cover was high enough to afford us a view. Within the first hour the trail became very up and down, with boards nailed into the steepest slopes to prevent erosion. As we slowly ascended, we traversed rocky ridges with low vegetation alternating with groves of lenga trees slanted at crazy angles. Next came a long higher rocky ridge that was unbelievably windy - Carol had difficulty remaining upright here. The ridge overlooked a glacial lake that appeared more white than blue in the overcast weather. At 8.5 km Carol came into Perros campsite, and at this point she realized that she was far ahead of schedule according to the map, and each of us must have come to the same conclusion as he or she arrived at this point. As we climbed higher through rocky stretches interspersed with patches of forest, we had views of Dickson Glacier before us, with its blue ice and may crevasses. The final ascent to the pass was along a broad scree slope, but we gained it along a series of switchbacks. On the scree slope it became very very windy, with a bit of spitting rain, so we stopped to don rain gear and warm hats. Meanwhile Bart, way up ahead with Dave, donned his trashbag, which he had, incredibly, cut in an artful way so that the trashbag looked like a fitted tunic with cap sleeves! Bart needs to audition for Project Runway! He looked very dapper, and it was only on close inspection that one would notice his rain shirt was actually a trash bag. And he achieved this artistry in strong winds!

The pass was not immediately visible from the scree slope as we climbed. Near the top of the slope we had to cut left to what seemed from below to be the pass, but which actually lead to another shorter scree slope to the right, and then to the true pass. It was quite cold and windy up there, and we were glad of warm clothes. Dave was the first to top out at 10 AM, followed closely by Bart, who was really hoofing it due to his insubstantial rain gear, which, jaunty though it was , left his arms uncovered. Carol, Barry and Lou were the next up (in that order) at 10:40, with Bob and Michelle arriving shortly after 11. We were all exhilarated as we entered the broad stony pass, decorated with a “shrine” made from a huge rock cairn with protruding branches that were decorated with colorful elastic wristbands and other odds and ends. From there we descended 100 feet to gaze down at the Grey Glacier flowing far below us, and to the extreme left, the Gray Lake that is the terminus of the glacier. The lake and glacier are aptly named - all was gun-metal gray: the lake,the rocks, the clouds, and the sleet blowing horizontally against us, but most amazing of all was the view directly across the Gray Glacier. Here we saw, intermittently appearing through fast-moving misty clouds, a vast expanse of jagged black peaks covered in an immense carpet of ice -this is the southernmost portion of the huge Southern Ice Field. We had a glimpse of a remote, frozen and forbidding world of rock and ice that seemed curiously close physically, separated from us only by the glacier, but so different from the relatively gentle (by comparison) terrain we had just ascended that it took our breath away. Under no circumstances would Carol want to venture into that stark landscape across the glacier. After staring at this scene for a few minutes, we retreated halfway up the bowl on the back side of the pass to a relatively wind-free rocky depression where we ate our box lunches. Most of us started back around 1 PM, and we were very tired when we returned to camp at 4:30. We were proud of our times, ranging from 9-10 1/2 hours, much faster than we had thought it would be. Some of us scored bunk rooms that night, and all were very grateful for outdoor hot showers, bugs or no. Carol’s leg swelled up weirdly from ankle to thigh, but bolstered by Bob’s dwindling supply of Aleve, she did not feel uncomfortable.

Day 8 Refugio Dickson to Camping Seron 11.5 miles, ? ascent, 9:45-3:30 ?

After breakfast at the refugio, we retraced our steps, since we couldn’t complete the entire Circuit. Bob thought that a cold front was moving in, which proved accurate, as we began to encounter first strong gusty winds and then rain, which became heavy (poor poncho-less Bart!). After walking back through several miles of grassland, we began to contour upward along a ridge above Lago Paine. This stretch was very windy, and it was hard to remain upright at times. Our packs added the extra weight that kept us steady in these conditions. Because Bart had no real rain gear, he was moving lightning-fast to get back to Camp Seron, but since he found no shelter there (the building was locked) and Lou had the other half of his tent, he had to wait for us in the rain. Carol, Bob, and Michelle, bringing up the rear, encountered fast-moving Dave on a rocky promontory above the the lake, where he had stopped for a very leisurely lunch during a brief sunny interlude. Bob and Michelle spent this day alternately donning and removing their rain gear, but Carol just kept hers on, gloomily assuming the rain wasn’t going away. On the highest points of this promontory walk, we encountered graupel, which was actually a relief from the rain. We returned to Camp by late afternoon, had a wonderful dinner of seafood chowder, chilean stew, and white wine, and after dinner some of us decided to enjoy the suddenly sunny early evening by walking down to the banks of the Paine River, but it was too buggy to linger there.

Day 9 Camping Seron to Lago Amara 9:20 -1:50 PM 10.5 miles, 300 ft ascent

Our last day found us hiking on mostly flat grassland along the banks of the Paine River. We took a slightly different route back so that we could see different scenery than what we had encountered at the start of our hike. The river here is icy-white and fast flowing, with intermittent rapids, about class 3. A cute dog followed us all the way from Seron to the park entrance, looking for food scraps. Part of our trail took us through a burnt area of lenga trees that was not very scenic. We caught the bus back to Puerto Natales, arriving in the late afternoon with enough time to explore the town, laid out on a grid around a central square with a large Catholic church We discovered that along the huge lake there is a fancy tourist hotel and a hip boutique hotel as well. We had not seen this section when we arrived. We read that there is a 5-star hotel just out of town, a strange anomaly in a community where most of the homes are made out of corrugated tin. The following day we reversed our steps, returning to Punta Arenas by bus, and having enough time there to visit an island penguin refuge in the late afternoon. One hour there was enough; when I commented to Bob, “It’s amazing that we are looking at 120,000 penguins right now,” he replied with a stunned look, “Is that all?”

It was definitely time to go home...