x D
L
M
M
J
V
S
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8 15 22 29
9 16 23 30
10 17 24 31
11 18 25
12 19 26
13 20 27
14 21 28
lunes 9 de diciembre
Destino: Puerto Natales
xx
Modo: Pies y ómnibus Distancia: 180 kilómetros
Torres del Paine a Puerto Natales, Chile
Monday morning wake-up came at 6:45 after a good night’s sleep uninterrupted by cold weather or Andy’s late return to the tent. And although he swears that nothing transpired at the Refugio soiree last night, I can’t help but notice the added spring in his step. In fact, he had all of his gear packed and ready to go by 8:15. A quick look at the mochilas suggested that we would be traveling much lighter on the trek back. Fortunately for our backs and shoulders, we had eaten a mountain of food during our three-day stay. We had to be on the trail by 9:00 in order to reach the Administración and our scheduled bus ride to Puerto Natales at 14:00. We stopped briefly at the base camp’s almacén to buy a bottle of water for the trail ahead. Unfortunately, the almacén’s beverage stash had been depleted. Such thirst quenchers as canned sardines and Winston Lights were the only commodities on the shelves. After exchanging e-mail addresses, we said farewell to young Gabby and set off on the trail heading due south at 9:30, already thirty minutes behind schedule. Despite our previously mentioned food consumption, both of us felt like the packs were actually heavier. This was primarily due to the fact that we were now carrying (instead of wearing) the warm clothes that we had donned to fight the cold rains upon arrival in Torres del Paine. Cognizant that our ride was going to meet us at the Administración at 14:00, we pressed on at a brisk pace. After scaling the three rocky ascents that begin the trek, the blisters on Andy’s right heel really started to flare up. We trudged on for two hours solid before taking our first bebida break and first aid stop. Andy managed to patch-up his heel with some mole skin, and I managed to drink a whole liter of pomelo juice in two minutes. Thirty minutes later, we reached Campamento Carreras where we stopped again for rest and fluids. As the map indicated three hours for that stretch of the trail, we were pleased to have made it in only two and one-half. Having made up the thirty minutes, we could now relax 51
and enjoy the second half of the trek which led through rolling terrain and a valley of scorched tree trunks. The latter were a sad reminder of a major forest fire caused by a careless trekker a few years back. The final hour was just as we had remembered: a flat, wide-open expanse about as uninteresting as a trek could get, yet much nicer without the driving rains. Also in our corner was a slight tailwind that really pushed us along. Upon arriving at the Administración, a young Chilean boy and his father, Antonio, asked if we needed a ride. It was 14:10. We explained that we would wait for the ride that we had arranged on Friday, but that we would give up in twenty minutes. When our original ride had still not shown at 14:30, we paid Antonio and hopped on his bus, a sweet 1973 Mercedes-Benz relic with red tile on the floor and red shag carpet on the ceiling. The decor was only surpassed by the sweet sounds oozing from the hi-fi. The most random Seventies mix imaginable was the cassette of choice. Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” was followed by Abba‘s “Waterloo” which segued nicely into Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.” For added effect the pitch on the cassette player was way off, so all of the songs sounded like sped-up club remixes. It was, to say the least, a happening scene which could only have been improved with some astro-size medallions, a splash of Aqua Velva and a few spinning disco balls. The atmosphere was made all the more surreal by the international diversity on board. A quick glance at Antonio’s legal pad revealed that our fellow passengers included a Spanish engineer, a British ecologist, a Swedish engineer and his wife, a French doctor and his wife and a pair of young Aussies who sat behind us and reminisced about surfing the rocky point breaks back home in Westernport Bay. The ride ahead to Puerto Natales would be four hours including a stop at the park entrance to take on eight more passengers and some muchneeded food. Andy scored big time at the park kiosko snatching up chips, trail mix, alfajores and a box of jugo de manzana. 52
+
+
=
So with bellies full and minds swimming in Seventies retro, the eighteen passengers aboard the Love Mercedes were united in musical and transportational harmony and eventual deep sleep. At 18:30, we were dropped-off at the Tourism Center in downtown Puerto Natales. Inside the little one-room office, we were able to find out four important words about available direct bus service north to Mount Fitz Roy: It does not exist. Once again, we would have to go through El Calafate. Back in the States, there is a saying that when you die, you’ll have to change planes in Atlanta. We wondered if there was a similar joke down here about changing buses in El Calafate. Founded in 1911, Puerto Natales is the capital of Chile’s Ultima Esperanza province. The tiny port town serves as the main export point for beef products produced in this fertile province. Of Puerto Natales’ 15,000 residents, the majority are involved in the cattle business. Other locals work up north in the Argentine coalmines around El Turbio. Most of these men work and sleep all week at the mines and occasionally return to Puerto Natales for the weekend. We found a clean double room in Puerto Natales at the Hotel Bulnes for twenty-four pesos. After a quick checkin, I rested while Andy went in search of more food and becina blanca. puerto natales Around 21:00, we walked two blocks over to the Café Cristal for dinner. We split a pint of Becker, an excellent Chilean bottle beer, as an appetizer. For dinner, Andy had the bife de lomo and I had my first taste of Chilean pizza. As our travel guide had mentioned, the typical Chilean pizza tasted more like warm pie with melted cheese. Still, for six pesos it hit the spot with its white cheese and spicy calabresa. Before turning in, we ordered a second pint of Becker for dessert and began mapping our strategy for the next three-day trek in Argentina. 53