By Carol L. Bowman, first-time traveler, Laredo, Texas
Photos by Ernie Sowers, first-time traveler, Laredo, Texas
(Reprinted with permission from OffShoreWave.com)
As our bus climbed in elevation, the Andean peaks seemed to envelop us on all sides. The flatness and stark emptiness of the Patagonian steppes, our companion for days, gave way to the beech tree forests of Torres del Paine National Park. The greens of budding bushes and leafing trees, spurred by an early breath of spring, gave the landscape depth and perspective.
A phenomenon we only heard about on this adventure introduced itself to the group. Within two short hours, we experienced all four seasons. All suited up for the current elements, we hiked through a forest, along a beach fronting an iceberg-crowded lake, then trudged to the top of a connected peninsula for a million-dollar view.
At the start, a winter-like snowy wind bounced off water-repellant suits and smacked pink cheeks peeking out from a hood’s protection. Later, the snow turned to a spring-like drizzle. Suddenly, the sun popped into full view. The prism of a rainbow arched over the lake in an incredible show of colors that reflected off the ice formations. The warmth of the rays proved too intense for alpine coats, mufflers, and mittens. One by one, the layers peeled off, gloves tucked in pockets, hoods pushed back. It felt like a summer sweat. Moisture evaporating from the skin, along with the feel of an autumn chill, forced zippers back up, completing the cycle of seasons.
All suited up, Carol’s husband, Ernie Sowers, hikes to a lake during a snow squall.
The image most photographed in Torres del Paine National Park—the twelve-million-year-old Andean Horned Towers called the Paine Massif—became the focus of everyone’s attention. We marveled at the peaks, even though they were shrouded in misty swirls of clouds and snow. Each camera seemed obsessed, pointed upward in case the horns appeared for an instant. We knew from experience that weather patterns could change within minutes. Would our lenses feel the excitement of a clear shot?
I remembered feeling a similar sense of anticipation while waiting for a glimpse of Mount McKinley in Alaska; the window of opportunity so small, the odds so great. I remembered the disappointment when the summit remained hidden from view. As we traveled throughout Torres del Paine, we viewed these majestic cliffs from different angles, but the clouds prevailed and we settled for less-than-perfect photos. On second thought, the very fact that we had pictures of the Horned Towers, the idea that we stood here in Patagonia, a rare privilege by itself, proved our cameras had captured priceless images.
Within an hour of arriving at Torres del Paine National Park, it felt like summer—forcing Ernie to remove the winter coat he’d needed just minutes before.
Throughout the park, designated areas with wooden lean-to's provided minimal shelter for those brave enough to confront the wicked weather. Campers and their tents needed protection from the relentless, whipping winds. Temperatures reportedly rise nicely as Chile’s summer drifts into January and February. Camping could have its intended joy then, but in early October, no way. We saw a few lean-to's occupied with die-hard tenants, and I wondered how their pop-up shelters even stayed anchored.
Our night proved much more comfortable at Hotel Rio Serrano, a luxurious, Danish modern lodge located inside the park. We hiked again in the morning to savor the beautiful landscapes, wildflower meadows, glacier-fed lakes, and sheer Andean cliffs in this UNESCO Biosphere Reserve.
We headed toward Rio Verde Estancia to experience A Day In the Life of a Chilean sheep and cattle ranch. This would be our last land-based sleep before boarding the small ship, Via Australis, in Punta Arenas. The goal we all itched to achieve, setting foot on Cape Horn, grew closer.
A storm rising from the Paine Massif.
Estancia Rio Verde has dominated the area as a working sheep and cattle ranch since the late 1800s. Boasting 10,000 head of cattle, 6,000 sheep, and 400 horses, this expanse of Magellan pampas, pre-Eastern Andes, and Patagonian Andes fronts the shore of Skyring Sound. Andean condors control the skies, giant ibis nests dot the cliffs overlooking the choppy water, and fox, hare, skunks, and guanacos try to outrun the Patagonian puma. Gale-force winds blow constantly here in Rio Verde. They are relentless, rough, and forceful. Remaining upright became the challenge as we hiked high above the inland sea’s shore, to scout for ibis nests tucked among the rocks.
While on the ranch, we made empanadas, supped on free-range lamb, thawed our cold hands over the open-hearth fireplace in the dining room, and watched the shearing of sheep, the annual wool gathering buzzed with electric shears. We drank plenty of Chilean wine; plenty of red, plenty of white, plenty of warm mulled wine, laced with cinnamon. We were preparing our palates for the unending supply available on the ship.
Carol (left) and Trip Leader Graciela Rubin sail along in a zodiac boat on the Straits of Magellan.
The estancia proved to be the perfect stop, grounding us before pushing the last 60 miles across Patagonia to Punta Arenas. The Chilean fjords, the Straits of Magellan, and Glacier Alley waited for us with the same patience and same grandeur that dazzled Magellan on his sea route to the end of the world 500 years ago.
Discover the soaring peaks of the Horned Towers on our Wilderness Beyond: Patagonia, Tierra del Fuego & the Chilean Fjords Small Ship Adventure.