Hiking The W on a budget.
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The sheer beauty of Patagonia will always stay with me. A rugged, powerful, dominating landscape. Without a doubt it was one of the highlights of this trip.
But it was the story, not just the scenery, that made things so special. We were out there. Six vastly unprepared backpackers set to take on the famous W trek. A circuit that took a total of five days over 100km.
Camping in variable temperatures that went from sunshine to blizzard conditions in a matter of hours, we spent nights shivering in our tents and sleeping bags, to wake up and set-off on another day of awesome views. Here’s how we took it on.
Arrival day:
Following a four hour flight from Santiago and a two hour bus journey from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales, we hit this desolate port and mining town on the way to pick-up our gear. We were taking on The W on a budget. The place is so remote that only seasoned hikers, or hikers with the funds to pay for refugios (dormrooms with heating that cost over $150 a night) seem to go there. And, as we were neither, we decided to pack the bare-minimum required.
Enter Guillermo at Rental Natales. An ex-W guide himself, Guillermo took extra care to stress how to deal with the hike and the varying temperatures we’d soon witness. Shocked by the fact some of us planned to take on the hike in nothing but shoes only fit for skateboarding and city tours, (and in one person’s case – no coat!) Guillermo followed up his talk with an email to all of us with some guidelines on how not to die. Our key take-out: ‘You guys are idiots, please be careful’.
Day One:
We woke-up early from The Black Sheep Hostel and took a shuttle bus to the entrance of the park. With our budget already depleted following advice from Guillermo that we all needed sleeping mats to avoid freezing to death at night (he was right), some of us opted to not pay for the $30 boat which takes you to Refugio Paine Grande our first campsite and the start of The W. This meant that four of us added an additional 17k walk to the trek (idiots!), before it even started. Did I mention we weren’t keen hikers?
Walk/boat-ride done, we set-up camp and watched the sunset on the Torres mountains nearby. The cold temperature beginning to temper our boy-scout excitement.
Day Two:
We woke-up late (probably not what expert hikers would do), cooked up some of our dehydrated rice packets that we planned to sustain us for the next four days and hit the dusty. The first official day of the W hike was a 21km round trip to see glacier grey. The night was cold, but bearable, and we were in good spirits. The sun was shining and the views were insane.
Glacier Gray was an incredible sight to see. The crystal blue waters, created by the minerals dispersed by the melting glacier, reflected majestically onto the ice walls, while the lake itself was dotted with a number of icebergs. Climate change is vastly affecting this glacier, but it was magnificent none the less. Selfies, videos and a late lunch finished, we headed back to our campsite just as the sun started going down – did I mention we’d started late? This wouldn’t have happened on Bear Grylls.
Day Three:
We woke early as we knew we had a huge trek ahead of us. Having decided we were going to reduce the W trek to four days, instead of the tradiitonal five, we had a lot of ground to cover. Further dehydrated rice packets devoured, we set-off to a backdrop of grey cloud, and a forecasted blizzard. Those not in hiking shoes were quaking in their Friday-night-out-on-the-town shoe shaped boots.
The walk was another veritable feast for the eyes. Antarctic tundra-esque rocks and trees greeted us at every corner, while we were solemnly watched by the Torres towering to our left. By noon it had started to snow. Cue nervous looks from one-another. Within the hour, it was a blizzard. Traipsing up and down rocky paths, our plans to get to the viewpoint at Frances lookout were looking less and less likely. And as we pulled into Refugio Frances, a park guide informed us the path was blocked by snowy conditions. Off he went, back into his warm cabin, and down went the moral in the group. Nervous looks informed us that we might have bitten off a bit more than we could chew.
However, the best adventurers laugh in the face of adversity. And, following a quickly cooked meal of – you guessed it – dehydrated rice, and some cereal bars dunked in peanut butter (the stocks of which had now had their ration numbers reviewed and reduced hourly) we struck on, across rickety bridges and wary glances for rumoured Pumas in the area.
The snow conditions continued to get worse. Our bags, which were waterproofed by bin-bags, were failing to keep the wet at bay. After five hours of hiking we arrived at our campsite. The reality of another cold night spent in our tents suddenly dawned on us. In a moment of weakness, we enquired about a dorm room in the refugio. Thankfully, for our pride and our wallets, there was no room in the inn.
With our gear set by the fire to dry, we set-up our tents in a barrage of wind and snow. A hot meal greeted us – cooked by the refugio staff (we pre-booked this luxury ahead of our arrival) and we retired to our tents for another night sleeping in the wild.
Day Four:
We awoke after another torrid night. Our heads forced deeper and deeper into our sleeping bags to shelter from the cold air around us. Have we really got this? Given the fact we were in the middle of Torres Del Paine National Park, we had no choice but to carry on. Moral was still high, but we had injuries and sickness setting in. Luckily, despite some early morning snow, we were greeted by the sun on our back. With another belly full of rice, we set-off for the penultimate day of hiking. Soon the surroundings picked up our moods. This was a proper adventure. One that we can legitimately say is off the traditional gringo-trail of South America.
After four more hours of hiking, Refugio Torres Del Paine was in our sights. Over the hills and river, and past the grazing alpacas, we were met by the plush hotel, set infront of our final campsite. After four days of hiking, we felt we had the legitimate right to snigger and curse the day-trippers staying here.
We set-up our final camp and plotted tomorrow’s summit. With rumours abound that the cloud cover is so great that you won’t get to see the famous Torres once you reach the top, four out of six of us decide not to take the risk. Injuries and sickness proved too much.
That left myself and Joe to finish the trek in the morning. Atleast it meant we didn’t need to take the tents down.
Day Five:
We awoke early following advice from the guides that we needed to be at the summit by ten if we planned to see the Torres with no cloud. One final belly of rice and we were off, loaded with the last cereal bars and a jar containing the remnants of the peanut butter.
Unburdened by our heavy camping gear, we soon overtook the day-trippers in their flashy climbing gear, spiked boots and trekking sticks in hand. Oh how we laughed at them, before we realised why crampons were recommended. The higher we climbed, the more slippy and treacherous the conditions got. With no barriers, icey paths, strong winds and a sheer drop on one side, we started to really slow down.
After toying with death (ok, that might be an overexagerration) we reached the Torres just as the clouds started to part. With the sun glinting off the rockface, they looked majestic. This was what four days of hiking had built up to – it was a proper achievement and so worth the cold nights and long hikes.
The W will stay long in my memory. It was a proper adventure, and it became our favourite story to tell as our journey continued.
These Wild Journeys 