GPT 01 | Cerro Purgatorio
I hear some dogs barking in the distance. What time is it? It’s 9am already but I can hardly open my eyes ..
6 January 2024 | 26°C
I hear some dogs barking in the distance. What time is it? It’s 9am already but I can hardly open my eyes.
29 degrees Celsius will be todays top temperature. No way I am going to start walking before late afternoon! I stay in bed for a while reading some online trail notes from other hikers. It’s hard to believe that walkers just a bit further south are struggling with snow.
It's already 5 p.m. when I step out of the metro station at Puente Alto, the official start of Section 1 of the Greater Patagonian Trail. Originally, I planned to begin my trek further south, but an old injury flared up just before I left home. So, I decided to use this section as a “test hike” while still near Santiago.
It’s still roughly 12km of road walking to the natural reserve so I take one of the many busses that leave in front of the station. There are bus stops along the way but one can get off literally everywhere when telling the bus driver. I jump off once I see a sign saying “Reserva Rio Clarillo”. A bit too early as it turns out but I am fine with a bit of walking obviously. Once I reach the gate of the reserve it is closed. Not a surprise really.
I read in the guide that it’s closed at a certain hour but was secretly hoping that I could climb over the gate. Not this one. It’s high with some nasty hooks on top of it. Instead of trying to get to the alternate route which would require taking another bus, I decide to stay at the nearby campground and get up early tomorrow morning. It’s in a small dusty side street and soon I have company of some friendly dogs. When I see a man with two children at a playground I ask if this is the campground. “Well yes, but it closed several years ago”, he replies. I wonder where else I could pitch my tent and he suggests a quiet area by a stream just a few minutes away.
One of the dogs continues following me until I have found my little hideaway. Looks like she’s here to stay and protect me. I cook my dinner and as I am not very hungry I give her my leftovers. And she’s so happy when I pet her. Guess that doesn’t happen too often.
Not much fun being a dog in Chile I think.
7 January 2024 | 30°C
The sun goes down and suddenly everything is quiet. The annoying mosquitos disappear. A beautiful sunset that colors the mountain range in a fascinating dark red shade. Santiago illuminates in the distance. Peace after an exhausting day. In the end, it was all worth it.
That same morning, I make a spur-of-the-moment decision: I want to take the alternate route instead of the “regular” one that begins at the park’s official entrance. Why? Was it something I read about it being more scenic? Was I trying to avoid the park entrance fee? Or was it just another way to delay actually starting the hike? I’m not really sure anymore. So, back to the bus. It’s Sunday, and since I have no idea when the first one comes, I start walking to the next stop.
“My dog” follows me despite me telling her to go home. She looks at me with an innocent face and keeps following me. Not a problem I think, as she will find her way home. If only there wasn’t the barking of ALL of the dogs in the neighborhood as we are walking along the streets.
A bus approaches, I wave and jump in. It’s a bit sad but that’s the end of our friendship I guess. 😢 The next bus never shows up so I start walking. After some 45 minutes someone picks me up and gives me a ride to my trailhead. It’s almost midday at that time and pretty hot.
I am eager to get going and literally rush to the trailhead. After roughly one kiIometer uphill I wonder if I have enough water. I don’t. Beginners mistake!
So, it’s back to the first house I spot, where I kindly ask the people there to fill up my water bottles. Then it’s uphill again. I take several longer breaks on the way — it’s far too warm, and I don’t want to gulp down all that precious liquid too quickly. No water sources along the way!
Around 6pm when the temperature starts being ideal for walking, I am exhausted.
I walk for another hour and then decide to call it a day and pitch my tent. If there only weren’t these annoying giant mosquitos buzzing around me and my sweaty shirt!
8 January 2024 | 30°C
In the morning, I try to beat the sun on the way to the Summit of Cerro Purgatorio. Will I manage to be up there before the sun hits this side of the valley? Not quite.
There is a nice breeze at the top. From now on only downhill! It’s not as easy as it looks though. I walk along a veeeery long ridge. It’s slow as there’s a bit of rock climbing and loose scree. Still an interesting walk I think at first. Reminds me of hikes in the Alps. It’s a walk to enjoy but suddenly I get very worried: I have very little water left and with this speed it will take me ages to get to the next water source.
All the small streams that still carried water 4 weeks ago are dry. It becomes a mentally challenging afternoon. But there’s no other way than continuing to move I tell myself. I eventually hit a gravel road. At least I can speed up a bit now. Still a long way to town though. At times, I almost start running. I just occasionally take a tiny zip from my water when my tongue gets super dry.
The sun is fully up now so that even the few rocks do not offer any shade. I jump under the first tree I find to take shelter and have a nap. I have to pee and for a second I think what people in a desert what do. Drink it?
On the map I see a waterfall. Maybe 45 minutes away. There must be water!
As I continue the gravel roads makes another turn and another one. And then: the sound of water! I cannot believe my eyes when I see a small stream! Never has water tasted to good!
Somewhere on the bus ride back to Santiago, as the landscape rolls past and my thoughts start to wander, it hits me: my knee and hip? Totally fine. I’d half expected to hobble by midday. But nope — no drama. Maybe the stretching worked. Or maybe my leg just needed a little adventure to stop sulking.
GPT07 | Laguna Dial
I would like to take the opportunity to start walking some kilometers before the heat of the day kicks in. I even spot a couple of clouds. Will they bring rain or just provide some welcoming shade?
Termas El Medano
11 January 2024
It’s 7am and everybody is still sleeping at the campground at Termas El Medano but I would like to take the opportunity to start walking some kilometers before the heat of the day kicks in. I even spot a couple of clouds. Will they bring rain or just provide some welcoming shade?
Getting a ride is surprisingly easy. Ricardo is my driver, and one of the first questions, as always, is whether I am hiking alone. He mentions that there are a lot of bad people (from other countries), but we agree that they are most likely not hanging out in the mountains. “Cuidense” (take care of yourself), he says as I get off.
I take a long lunch break at 2pm beneath a giant rock. Though it’s quite warm all around, a cold wind blows through my shady spot, so I put on my puffy jacket after a while. I have a bit of a headache and am unsure whether I should stay or move on. The afternoon awaits with a steep climb, but to my surprise, once I’m up, I reach a vast green plateau. Several waterfalls crash down into the valley, and I’m surrounded by peaks still covered with remnants of snow.
It’s quiet and serene. I wonder how many people have walked this path before. Strangely, being alone up here makes me feel quite safe. Suddenly, I spot a very basic shed. It looks deserted, but there’s a horse and a couple of dogs. Damn!
I try to pass by at a distance, but as I come closer, the dogs start barking. Of course! An older man emerges from the shed, his tan and many wrinkles showing that he spends a lot of time outside. I decide to greet him, and soon another younger arriero (Chilean cowboy) sticks his head out of their simple shelter.
Though I am fluent in Spanish, understanding them is a bit of a challenge. They inquire about where I am heading and warn me that the ground in that direction is very humid. When I mention that I plan to walk for another hour until 8pm, I realize they don’t have a watch to know what time it is. Not needed up here!
Hard to find a flat, wind-protected spot between all the stones ;)
Asado & Horses
13 January 2024 | 16°C
It will be mostly downhill today, however, I don’t get far in the morning. After only two kilometers, I reach another “puesto”, a simple hut of an arriero. There are quite some people there and they start waving from the other side of the river as soon as they see me.
El Chofo, the arriero living here during summer, approaches on his horse and aks if I want to stay for a coffee. I join the group for coffee, followed by a cold drink and an “asado” (barbecue). It’s quite a big group there, they all came up here by horse for the weekend, daddy’s with their sons and friends. Though I only understand only half of what they are saying due to a lot of “modismo” (slang), it’s a lot of fun. I learn new vocabulary and even get to ride one of the horses. At 1pm I finally wave goodbye.
No major river crossings today but a couple of locations where the trail is washed away. Not only a problem for walkers but also for the cows. I see one cow on one side of a landslide calling “a friend” on the other side. Apparently, she wasn’t sure if it’s save to cross. She’s blocking my way and I make a first attempt to walk around it that I have to abort - too dangerous to just hold onto a few plants - until I find a better option further uphill.
At 8.30 pm, I call it a day. I am super tired but happy. If only I hadn’t “met” these itchy plants causing some rashes on my thighs and keeping me from falling asleep!
Rio Guaiquivilo
15 January 2024 | 20°C
It feels like I’m in a western movie:
While sipping on my coffee, my eyes wander over the vast dry land. Suddenly, in the distance, I see two cowboys on horses and a couple of dogs entering the scenery. They move slowly towards the river and just ride through while the dogs swim and paddle against the current. Damn, have I just missed my water taxi?
“Hondo” is a new word I learned during the last couple of days. It was the standard answer to my question of the water level of Rio Guaiquivilo: high/deep. An arriero (Chilean cowboy) in Carizales suggested I could try to ask some caballeros (horsemen) to take me over. But these two have been too far away.
Continuing my walk along the river, I pass by several puestos where arrieros live but they all seem to be out for a ride doing their work. No dogs, no one home. At least, I could still come back in case I don’t manage alone.
Around noon I take my chance. My first attempt fails: only two meters in and the water is already up to my waist plus the current is stronger than expected. Patience, I tell myself.
My next try is roughly 500m upstream. Looks like some kind of sand/stone bank under water that reaches half into the river. Easy and only knee deep. Once I step off of it, the current gets stronger and water is up to my thighs. I push against it and slowly step forward using stones under water as a support.
“Don’t panic, just focus and be patient”, I tell myself. Then after 4-5 steps it gets shallower again. “I made it!” This was just half of the “fun” though because now I am on some kind of island between two arms of the river. Point of no return. Surprisingly, the other crossing is easier.
Relieved I let myself fall into the sand on the other side. Could I make it all the way to the lagoon today with that dopamine push now?
First views of Rio Guaiquivilo
Laguna Dial
16 January 2024 | 24°C
Trails on the Greater Patagonian are mainly routes for animals. If there wasn’t animal breeding in the mountains, there wouldn’t be any trails at all. There’s “footprints” from horses, cows and goats.
I wonder how they manage to pass the sketchy, steep parts. But they always seem to find a way. Is it easier on 4 feet? Today, I saw footprints from a boot for the first time.
It’s a lovely morning when I reach Laguna Dial.
No one there, crystal clear waters, serene; just a frog that croaks and a pair of birds that start warning everyone once I arrive. About halfway around the lake, I see horses from afar, then a structure of an old shed appears and finally 2-3 people. Nobody seems to notice me, not even the dogs. Everybody is busy with something.
“Hola, que tal?” I say . “Oh, where are you coming from?” “From behind that mountain”, “Sit down and have a rest.” I happily except a break in the shade which is hard to find today. Turns out it’s three Argentinan friends spending a couple of days here at the lagoon. They just arrived by horse. First thing to do: prepare some mate! Where is “la bombilla”?
It’s almost two hours later when I continue my walk. My pack seems heavy. Is it the beer I got offered or the fact that I did not have a proper lunch today? I listen to some podcast to distract me but it doesn’t help. Eventually, I sit down by a nice creek behind a bush and snack from my food bag.
And it works! I feel energized again and walk to the end of the valley. But ooops where’s the exit? Wasn’t aware of that ascent at the end of the day. But the temperature is just right at 7pm, so let’s go. Some caballeros just coming down mention that it could be windy at the plain on the other side and recommend to pitch my tent behind one of the giant rocks. The ascent is fairly quick.
Last challenge of the day: find a spot that is both flat and not covered with cow poop! At 25km I finally stop my walking engine. Enough for today.
San Fabián
8 January 2024 | 29°C
“But where did you sleep?” “In a tent somewhere up there.” The 3 guys that give me a ride into San Fabian start laughing. They are about to head back home from a short day trip going fishing further up the river. “We already get sore feet when walking an hour to our fishing spot.”
They stop on the way at a tiny shop that looks more like a shed to buy coke, cheese and a big loaf of freshly baked bread called “tortilla al rescoldo”, a dough that is baked inside the hot ashes of a fire. They share everything with me and I feel like I’m heaven after 6 days of walking.
They drop me off at Cabañas Nativas in San Fabián where a mini cabin is my home for a day of chill, eat, walk around the small village and find out what’s next. There even is a swimming pool!
GPT 06 | Descabezado Grande
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Vilches
19 January 2024
I arrive at Vilches with the last bus to start my hike early the next day. Asking a woman on the bus if it’s possible to camp by the entrance of the national reserve Altos de Lircay she says that there is no water.
I ask the bus driver for an alternative and he mentions that there is a park a bit further down from the last stop. Camping is not really allowed there but the gatekeeper is a friend of his. :)
After pitching my tent in at a cosy spot a bit tucked away from the main pathes, I head over to the house across the street to fill up my water bottles. I also buy some freshly baked bread that I eat it right there. Then I get offered some wine and in the end I spend the night there. Next morning I get introduced to the family’s little empanada factory.
There’s a lot of tourists over the weekend and besides the fresh bread, their delicious empanadas are in high demand. Made with a lot of love and an old chimney that is fired with wood.
Valle Venado
21 January 2024 | 34°C
At 7am my alarm clock goes off. First time I have set it while on this trail.
Why? It’s a Sunday, vacation time in Chile and I wanna make sure that I can get into national reserve Altos de Lircay before a potential quota is reached. I am well aware that I have to pay the entrance fee for both the reserve and a fee for the first campground in roughly 20km.
With a friendly smile the park ranger at the entrance tells me that I also need to pay for the campground in the other national reserve where I plan to exit. And it has to be paid online. And no cellphone coverage here at the entrance.
Whaaaaat? I have 2 hours to fix this as they won’t let people in anymore after 11am.
My first try: the hotel just a few steps away. I ring the bell. A friendly lady tells me that their WiFi has problems these days. Meow! Next try: that spot a bit further down the road that someone showed me yesterday where there seems to be coverage. Worked yesterday to write a WhatsApp message but no chance buying anything today.
A bit frustrated and angry I walk up the road again back to the park entrance. A group of people I met having breakfast on the road is still there and I pour out all my frustration about this injustice. Why is this info nowhere documented?
“What if my husband drives you down the road where there’s coverage?” one lady asks. Did someone say there are no trail angels on the Greater Patagonian Trail? Here she is!
After all the paperwork at the entrance, walking the 20km to the campground feels like a breeze. I get there at 6.30pm. 2 arrieros and the caretaker are there.
By then I am not aware yet that one of them is an important gatekeeper for my upcoming adventure ….
Descabezado Basecamp
22 January 2024
Descabezado Grande
23 January 2024 | 31°C
Is it worth to climb up all the way to the summit of Volcán Descabezado Grande in order to take a look into its crater?
In the morning, I am still not quite sure … I woke up several times at night. I slept a bit cold at the basecamp and it was so bright with the full moon that I was hoping someone would finally turn off the lights so I could fall asleep.
Ok let’s take at least a look how long and steep it is, I tell myself.
Long story short: it’s was super steep and felt veeeery long.
Two steps forward and one step back, is how it felt walking on an eternal scree slope. At one point I thought about turning around but there was a big snow field in the way so I kept going.
Once I get to a point where I could climb up on big rocks on all fours, progress was a bit faster giving me confidence that I could make it. Then a turn, another scree field and another turn … and suddenly I stood on the edge of the crater - almost couldn’t believe it!
The way down was great fun, sliding down the scree fields felt like flying… or rather like a moon walk. I reach my tent at the basecamp in no time, pack everything and headed down to Refugio Blanquillo.
I didn’t expect anyone there as I thought the arrieros I had met the day before had moved on but I was greeted by two dogs that were happy to see someone. In their company, I prepare my dinner and then set up my camp on the other side of the river.
Once the arrieros come back from their work, I join them for a tea with “agua loca” (crazy water = hard liquor) to celebrate my ascent of the volcano 🥳
El Bolson Campground
24 January 2024
Molina
25 January 2024 | 32°C
Zero day in Molina, a cute little town about an hour from Puente Ingles where I left the trail. It’s a bumpy bus ride for the first few kilometers. I check accommodation in Molina on the way.
An airbnb offer with a dog, two cats and a big garden calls my attention. On the bus a talk to Angel for quite a while who has worked for several Dutch priests, knows the exact dates of a lot of important events and shows me videos of his bike rides. Before we get off he gives me a giant tomato.
I spent some time at “la plaza” in la Molina, a central square with a lot of trees and shade, a playground, men playing cards on small tables and benches all around. It’s a lively place.
GPT07 | Laguna del Maule option on horseback
Swapping my backpack for a horseback
27 January 2024 | 26°C
I am fascinated by the cowboy life of the arrieros in the Andes! After reading about a “cowboy experience ride” in the Greater Patagonian Trail hikers manual, I decide to reach out and learn more. While in Molina, I call to inquire, and to my surprise, they tell me a tour is starting in just a few days. “Can you be here tomorrow?” they ask.
The next morning, I catch the first bus from Molina to Curicó, then on to Linares, where Alejandra picks me up in a 4WD pickup and drives me to a small lodge. There, I meet Danilo, the arriero and tour guide, who will be taking me up to Carizales.
“Ah, so you’re the solo female hiker my friend mentioned recently,” he says with a smile before we head out on another dusty, hour-long jeep ride up the mountain—funny, as I passed this spot on foot just two weeks earlier.
When we arrive, we sit down for a tasty soup with a few of the local arrieros. Coincidentally, one of them had helped me with river crossing tips not long ago.
I also meet Claudia, another traveler from Germany who is joining me on the ride. We seem like a good team: my Spanish is fluent, but my horse-riding skills haven’t been tested in 20 years, while Claudia is an experienced horsewoman with only basic Spanish.
Before I know it, I’m up on a horse, with two mules carrying our sleeping bags and supplies for the coming days. The terrain is easy, giving me a chance to shake off the rust from my riding skills. After about three hours, we stop at a river where the horses and mules drink. Danilo decides to make camp for the night. With practiced hands, he gathers firewood and starts a campfire, where we cook a simple but delicious pasta dish from our provisions.
Sleeping out in the open, under the stars, feels different this time. In thru-hiker slang, it’s called “cowboy camping,” but tonight it feels truly authentic—an experience straight out of the arriero way of life.
Chasing horses
28 January 2024 | 22°C
One of the perks of riding a horse instead of lugging a backpack: steep ascents are faster and far less exhausting. It feels strange letting the horse do all the hard work though, and I almost feel guilty as we climb several hundred meters up a mountain range. I can feel my horse panting and sweating beneath me. The terrain is rocky and dusty in parts, and I wonder why the dogs trailing behind us aren’t coughing, but they seem completely unfazed.
Today’s mission: Find some of Danilo’s horses and lead them to another valley with more food. On the way up, we meet another arriero and help him gather some of his cows—or rather, Claudia and Danilo do, while I try my best to keep up.
After a break sipping mate at the arriero’s hut, we head out to where Danilo’s friend last saw the horses. Thankfully, we find them not too far away—12 in total, including a few foals. Danilo mentions we’re lucky they’re still here; sometimes the puma gets them. Looks like the big cat wasn’t so lucky this year.
We herd the horses up and over another mountain range. Though I struggle a bit to keep pace, I’m blown away by the breathtaking views.
Finally, we descend to a spot with water, where we’d left the mules earlier. It’s time to cook dinner and set up camp. The ground isn’t entirely flat, but I’m so tired, I struggle to keep my eyes open to admire the millions of stars overhead.
A long day for a novice cowgirl!
Laguna del Maule
30 January 2024 | 22°C
Last night was chilly but cozy, though the slight slope of our camp made for a few wake-ups. Yet, the view of millions of stars and the Milky Way right above us more than made up for it. There’s a magic to sleeping under the stars, like a true cowgirl, that leaves me refreshed and happy every morning. And today, there's cake for breakfast!
Danilo assures us that today will be more relaxing, less long and exhausting than yesterday. We’ll ride down the mountain, along a valley, and enjoy a siesta below a giant rock with a little cave.
Claudia and I take a refreshing swim in the river before returning to our siesta spot, where a big plate of pasta with tuna sauce awaits us. Delicious!
Our ride continues up a beautiful valley, past cows, horses, and a waterfall. This variant of the GPT trail is more stunning than the one I chose for my hike, and experiencing it on horseback is even better.
We cross a pass to a small but gorgeous lagoon surrounded by lush greenery. Galloping along the beach fills me with a pure sense of happiness. Yihah!
As we make our way to Laguna del Maule, the breathtakingly blue waters leave us in awe. We set up our cowboy camp by a small river, grateful for the flat ground this time.
“It’s gonna be colder than last night,” Danilo warns, so I add an extra cover to my sleeping bag. Despite my tiredness, I can’t help but gaze at the millions of stars above us once more.
The sound of our horses grazing nearby is calming and soothing, a perfect end to a magical day.
Laguna Nieblas
30 January 2024 | 22°C
“It’s gonna be a relaxed day,” Danilo announces in the morning. By midday, we arrive at another fabulous lagoon and set up our camp on a peninsula, with water surrounding us on both sides.
Danilo works his magic, creating a makeshift roof with an old sail, two pieces of wood, four stones, and the boxes our mules carry. I take a nap in the shade before we go swimming in the lagoon, first on our own and then with the horses.
The horses are accustomed to the water and enter without hesitation. Once the sun's intensity lessens around 4 p.m., we set off for another ride, leaving the mules to chill by the lagoon, and capture some cool videos.
No wood at the lagoon? No problem! We make a fire for our dinner using dry cow poop. 😂
Galloping Highways, Wild Horses, and Sopaipillas
31 January 2024
It’s tough to leave this beautiful, peaceful place, but with snow reported at one of the passes, Danilo decides we’ll retrace our steps.
Claudia and I seize the chance to gallop ahead along the first stretch, where the ground is slightly sandy and flat. It feels like racing down a galloping highway until we spot "oncoming traffic"—a group of wild horses heading our way. What a breathtaking, serene moment in cowboy country.
For lunch, we stop at the hut of another arriero we met on the way up. With plenty of provisions left, we cook a hearty soup in his outdoor kitchen for all of us.
As we enjoy our post-lunch coffee, we hear footsteps outside. A GPT hiker! We invite him for a plate of soup, and he doesn’t need to be asked twice. He turns out to be German like me. After a quick meal, he’s off again, and we all take a well-earned nap. He must have been moving fast—we don’t see him again.
Our final camp is near a river, perfect for washing off the dust and sweat of the day in a small pool away from the current. I take the opportunity to clean my sticky socks and underwear too. Throughout the journey, I’d been wondering about the bags of flour the mules were hauling. Tonight, I find out—Sopaipillas con queso, a traditional Chilean dish, is on the menu. Delicious!
5 Lagunas & Cerro Tronador
Bariloche
11 February 2024
The Switzerland of Argentina it is called. Why? Mountains, a big lake (Nahuel Huapi) and …. Chocolate! Tons of specialty chocolate shops in the main shopping street of this busy touristy mountain town.
I drive down from Pucon to meet with Jens, a member of my Te Araroa trail family, for a week of hiking between Argentina and Chile. Looking forward to it!
Laguna Negra
12 February 2024 | 25°C
We kick off the morning with a hearty breakfast at the hostel, featuring thick slices of “real bread”. After days of tortilla wraps and soft buns, a dark, crusty loaf feels like a luxury.
Afterward, we head to the bus stop, where a few other backpackers are already waiting. Thirty minutes pass, and still no sign of our bus to Colonia Suiza. I ask the driver of another bus, who says ours should arrive in about 20 minutes. Looks like we just missed it. Time for more food, suggests my hiker’s stomach, so we grab a few empanadas to pass the time. The Argentinian ones are tiny compared to their Chilean counterparts, where one is practically a meal.
Once we finally reach Colonia Suiza, the starting point of our hike, we’re eager to hit the trail.
It feels incredible to be back in nature, surrounded by mountains. We begin our hike through a forest, following a stream with cool, refreshing water—a nice warm-up before tackling the rocky terrain that lies ahead. I’m loving it already.
It’s hard to believe there’s a lagoon hidden somewhere up there.
Surprisingly, we come across a hut and quite a few people, but we manage to find free campsites right by the water. A refreshing swim helps wash away the day’s sweat. As the sun sets, we enjoy dinner with a beautiful view. Civilization feels like it’s miles away. Absolutely perfect.
Lagunas Lluvu & Cretton
13 February 2024 | 29°C
Data of the day:
19km
6hrs walking time
2 passes
1680m elevation gain
1730m elevation loss
Our day starts at 8am after camping right at the shore of Laguna Negra.
“It takes 5-6 hours to the next lake” an Argentinian couple sitting beside the trail tells us. “Hm, but it’s only 6km” Jens wonders. Is the terrain so difficult? It’s easier and faster with trekking poles, I think while running down the first hill. Though there’s two major passes coming up, it’s the way down that will turn out to be tricky today.
We reach the next lake after 2.5 hours and start our ascent of the first pass after an extended break and power nap at Laguna Lluvu. We tackle the pass in the midday heat, it’s a steady up but at one point we’re up. Yes! Time for the first tricky descent.
There’s huge bolders all over the place. At some point I put my poles away to have my hands free. It feels very long. Time for a break at the bottom. Looking back it seems impossible that someone could get down this rocky steep mountain at all. We stroll down to a (wild) campsite and (involuntarily) try to take a shortcut up to the next pass by following a steam. It’s getting very steep and I often hold on to branches to pull myself up until we get to a point where it gets impossible. At least with heavy packs on our backs. Not the time for experiments at this time of the day.
While backtracking, Jens asks if we should do that pass today or rather camp and leave it for tomorrow. Where are our limits?
After a short conversation we want to give it a go. The sun is not so intense, an ideal moment to tackle a climb like this I think. I wonder though how the downhill on the other side will be? Will it be as sketchy as the last one? Looking at the map it seems pretty steep at least. Reaching the pass feels awesome with first views towards Cerro Tronador.
We can see the next lagoon where we want to camp already … but the way down is not easier than the last one. Very steep and dusty with rocks and stones moving all over the place. A bigger stone starts moving and hits my ankles from behind.
Ouch! It’s already mentally challenging and this did not really help now. I become a bit more cautious and notice a little insecurity. Step by step, I tell myself.
Big relief once I am finally at the bottom where Jens is waiting. “Quick break?” he asks. “No, let’s get going.” We are both already tired but still have to tackle some bush bashing as a trail is hard to find. I fall backwards into a big puddle of mud at some point. Oh well!
Finally a campsite between trees comes into sight. This is us! Exhausted we drop our packs. I walk a bit further to where I hear water and see … a waterfall that drops into a pond! Time to take a bath and wash all the sweat off. Feels like trail magic!
Refugio Viejo (Cerro Tronador)
15 February 2024
It’s hard to spend money in Argentina! At least if you need cash! We need cash for our bus back to the trailhead at Pampa Linda after spending the night in Bariloche, mainly to buy new shoes for me.
All the ATMs we try do not have cash anymore. It’s not just us, also for locals. Picking up money in a supermarket only works with local cards. So we head over to the bus company in the morning claiming that we were not able to get cash … and suddenly what was not possible yesterday - paying by card - works today with a 10% commission fee.
3 hours later we get off the bus at the trailhead to have a quick coffee at one of the the restaurants before heading over to the Argentinan border checkpoint. In order to walk our planned route - which will lead us over to the Chilean side of the Andes again - some paperwork and stamps in our passports and paperwork is required from both countries.
Todays plan is to walk to the checkpoint of the Chilean carabinieros and climb up Cerro Tronador tomorrow. Halfway up we meet an American hiker coming down who tells us it’s just 2-3 hours up to Refugio Viejo from the carabinieros. Hm, could that be an option for today already?
My legs are still a bit tired from the previous days and I feel slow today. At 3.30pm I get to the Chilean border checkpoint where Jens is already having his “late lunch”.
“Are you walking up to the Refugio today? You need to leave at 4.30pm at the latest” one of the carabinieros says. “I first need to eat sth before making a decision” I reply, in the hope that my energy level rises after getting some calories in. In the end my answer is yes and the Carabiniero collects our passports which we will get back once we come back tomorrow. They apparently keep them to keep track of who is up there.
“See you up there” Jens says as we get going. He’s a fast walker with his long legs and would like to stop his time. 1000m of elevation gain over 5.5 kilometers is the challenge. I turn on my Spotify playlist and despite my downer in the morning, I very much enjoy the walk. The temperature in the afternoon is perfect and the views are great.
The terrain starts in the forest, then leads over some grassy area before a longer stone covered stretch and the final 500 meters over a larger snow field. I reach Refugio Viejo after 2h45 (and taking tons of fotos) while Jens was almost an hour faster.
It’s a fascinating location there below the peak of Cerro Tronador right by a giant glacier. Now and then we hear some kind of thunder when snow breaks off and apparently crashes down on the other side of the mountain.
A true wow moment. After cooking a big dinner and watching the sunset, I doze off to the sound of the wind outside while being in my cosy sleeping bag inside.
laguna ilon / Termas Vuriloce
16 February 2024 | 29°C
Lago Coyutué
18 February 2024 | 19°C
Almost 30km the previous day!
Time for a refreshing morning swim at Lago Coyutué. It’s a sunny Sunday morning and I enjoy my coffee with a view over the lake. It’s just 10am and busier than I had expected. Many people seem to come here for a short weekend trip with several colorful tents spreed between the trees.
Hikers at Termas Vuriloche told me that there will be a 10km walk on a dusty gravel road on the way to the road at Ralún and that it is best to „hacer el dedo“ (hitchhike).
Assuming that most people will head back only in the afternoon, I have no big hopes of getting a ride. However, while skiing on my coffee I see two locals walking by talking to a friend in English; looks like they ins day trip showing him around the area.
And indeed they are leaving after some time again. They walk quite slowly so that I easily catch up with them on the 30 minute walk to the parking lot. We get into a conversation during which I learn a lot about local trees and bees. And there it is my ride!
Cochamó
19 February 2024 | 23°C
Cochamo? Picture eating, sleeping, real coffee, and cake. 😅
I hadn’t planned to visit, but a kind lady who gave me a ride from Lake Coyatué suggested this charming little town as the perfect spot to rest and make plans for my next adventure.
By the lake, a strong wind blows, giving me the unmistakable feeling that I've arrived in Patagonia.
A fun fact from this morning: the hostel cat moved her newborn kittens into an empty room next door, sensing it was a safe place for her little ones. So cute!
Ferry Quellon - Puerto Chacabuco
Quellón
21 February 2024 | 17°C
I have hiked several sections in the north so far and am now considering jumping further south to tackle some attractive sections before winter kicks in. While in Puerto Montt, I’m weighing a few options:
Flying down to Ushuaia and traveling north from there.
Cycling a bit further down along the Carretera Austral to Coyhaique, then continuing southbound on foot (and at some point, traveling down to Ushuaia by bus or hitchhiking).
After posting my ideas in the Greater Patagonian Trail Facebook group, a third option emerges: taking a ferry from Chiloé Island to Puerto Chacabuco through the fjords and then continuing from Coyhaique.
Though I really want to bike, this last alternative quickly becomes my option of choice.
It’s a five-hour bus ride from Puerto Montt to Quellón on Chiloé Island. I decide to take the 11am bus to have some time to explore the fisherman’s village.
Arriving in Quellón, I’m unsure if it was a good decision. It looks like the town’s best days are long gone. There’s a port with several fishing boats, but the shore is kind of dirty, and the cloudy skies give it an even sadder touch.
I start wandering around, looking for a place to pass the time until the ferry leaves at 11pm.
On the main street, I discover an optics store where I have my broken reading glasses repaired. Yay! An absolute mood booster. Google Maps then leads me to a promising coffee place on a side street. It’s nicely decorated, and the food is super fresh, including several veggie options. It’s so cozy!
I spend the rest of the day watching the sunset and waiting with other travelers until everyone heads over to the port for boarding at 10pm. It takes a good hour until all vehicles are neatly parked on the deck. Exciting! Looking forward to this trip!
Cisnes
22 February 2024 | 14°C
24 hours on a ferry? Doesn’t that get boring?
If someone hadn’t recommended it to me, I would have had doubts.
Not at all. Luckily, the ferry is only half full, so after leaving the port of Quellón at 11:30pm, I find a whole row of free seats and can fully stretch out my legs, almost like having a real bed. Good thing I brought my sleeping bag!
I wake up around 7am and, looking out of the window, I see several fountains. Whales?
Santo Domingo is just one of several stops along the way. Mostly small settlements with just a few houses. At Puerto Gala, while the ferry is unloading, some locals come on deck to sell food. I buy a portion of fresh “ceviche de salmón” (fresh salmon marinated in lemon juice). Fantastic! Fishing seems to be one of the main sources of income in this rather remote area. Boats instead of cars are the main medium of transport.
I spend a lot of time outside on deck, watching the landscape and talking to people.
Several waterfalls and a glacier pass by. There are also many little islands that have names on the map but are uninhabited. It’s reassuring to know that so much land without humans still exists on this planet.
The majority of cars and people get off at Puerto Cisnes, one of the bigger stops that seems to attract quite a bit of tourism.
As for accommodation, I have no idea where to stay in Puerto Chacabuco. The thought of having to look for a place to camp in a place I don’t know at all and arriving after midnight makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. In Puerto Cisnes, where I finally have phone signal, I call one of the numbers I see on a flyer on a notice board. A friendly lady answers. When I tell her I won’t arrive before 1am, she says, “No problem, I’ll wait for you.”
Puerto Chacabuco
23 February 2024
After a fascinating ride through the fjords, the ferry reaches Puerto Chacabuco at 1:15am. I had already taken a nap on the ferry and feel refreshed. Still, I want to get off as soon as possible since my friendly host, Isabel, is waiting for me. “No worries, I can wait for you,” she said when I called the number I found on a flyer on the ferry.
Cars and trucks disembark first, and though there are just a handful, it takes another 45 minutes until passengers like me finally get their luggage.
The air is fresher than up north, likely because it rained during the day. I reach Isabel’s place after a 15-minute walk, and five minutes after I close the door, it starts raining heavily.
I have a late start the next morning. As Isabel rents rooms and also has a cafeteria next door, breakfast is included. While I am having my coffee, a car arrives and drops of some travellers taking the ferry back at midday. The driver chats with Isabelle and turns out to be my ride to Puerto Aysen. Sweet!
GPT 32 | Cerro Castillo (Las Horquetas)
24 February 2024
“Are you carrying an insulated tent?” asks the lady beside me on the early morning bus.
“I have a good sleeping bag,” I reply, not wanting to explain that insulated tents don't really exist. She’s another kind soul worried about me walking alone on a well-maintained track called “Las Horquetas” in Cerro Castillo National Park.
Despite its popularity, I don't see anyone else until I reach the first campsite, not counting the ranger at the park entrance.
It's too early to set up camp there, but a few tents are already pitched, and the only person around is a guy standing in the middle of the trail, staring at his phone. He has a light pack and looks a bit worn out. A thru-hiker, perhaps? He starts walking quickly, and I only catch up when he stops to take a photo.
“Hi!” I say. “Hi. Are you a GPT hiker?” he replies.
“Yes!” We’re both surprised and curious since neither of us has seen another thru hiker in a long time. We continue together over the pass. Although we camp in different spots—he prefers a small lake tucked away in the bushes while I stick to a flat area close to the trail—we agree to walk together the next day. It's sweet to have some company again!
25 FEBRUARY 2024
The scenery is stunning for most of the day. Glaciers, waterfalls, and the breathtaking Laguna Castillo. It is cloudy in the early morning and I'm so lucky that the sun comes out just as I'm having my delayed breakfast by the lagoon. Sunlight transforms the colors dramatically!
Once we reach the entrance of the national park, there is a group just before us reaching the ranger station and we manage to sneak out without paying. Just to find out thought that its very unlikely to find a ride into Villa Castillo.
Pure happiness after a rather boring walk on a gravel road for 8 kilometers: There is a food truck right beside the Carretera Austral selling homemade, non-standard burgers. Food first!
Next on the list is accommodation. Nordic Backpackers is a combination of a campground and hostel. We opt for a dorm, and later in the evening, a bikepacker joins us. I immediately find it much easier to understand his Spanish. Turns out he’s from Barcelona!
GPT35 | Parque Patagonia
Chile Chico
26 February 2024
My tent is a bit wet in the morning. “Did it rain last night?” I ask Lilian.
“Are you joking?” he replies. Apparently, it rained quite a bit in the early morning hours. Since I wear earplugs when camping on official campgrounds to avoid being woken up by snoring, I didn’t notice a thing. We both head to the supermarket early to resupply for GPT section 35.
Recently, I discovered that eggs are a great source of protein on the trail, so I boil a pack of six in the campground’s kitchen area to take with me. I couldn’t find Nutella in the supermarket, so the eggs will also serve as my breakfast for the next part of the trail.
Another prep task: having a big lunch before heading out. I opt for a large salad with tomatoes, tuna, avocado, and more to satisfy my cravings for veggies, fruit and fresh stuff. Plus a giant yogurt!
Heading out for GPT section 35
27 February 2024
Heading out at midday, we’re not lucky finding a ride to the trailhead, which is about 8 km away. After chatting with a person in a shop, he offers to “make an Uber” and take us for 10,000 CPL (about 10 euros). It's a bit expensive, but since no one accepted our official Uber request, we decide to take our chances.
Unfortunately, there’s a misunderstanding about how far he would take us, and we feel a bit ripped off as we still have to walk 3 km on the road. I’m a bit angry, but Lilian says, “Just forget it.” It still bothers me as we walk up to a pass during a sunny afternoon. However, the walk is nice, and eventually, I let it go.
A safari on a windy plateau
28 February 2024 | 15°C
The previous evening, while lying in my tent, I heard a few animal noises but couldn’t figure out what they were. Definitely not the horses grazing nearby—perhaps cows or sheep in the distance?
In the morning, it turns out the sounds were from a species I hadn’t seen before: guanacos, which look very similar to llamas. We spot the first ones on the way up to the pass. One of them, usually the last in line, seems to act as a guardian, warning the others when we come closer. It’s such a funny sound. 😀
Once we cross the pass, we see dozens of them. They always seem to be a step ahead, almost as if they know where we're going. It feels like being on a safari—we also spot flamingos by a lake, horses, rabbits, geese, and other birds.
If only there wasn’t that never-ending, strong wind! It lasts for many kilometers until we start descending. What a relief!
The afternoon is spent navigating cross-country, frequently checking our GPS to ensure we're heading in the right direction. By early evening, we hit the road, but there isn’t a single vehicle in sight—no ride to the entry of the national park today.
Luckily, we find a sheltered spot surrounded by trees. I wash my feet in the river and sleep like a baby.
Fifty shades of blue
29 February 2024 | 19°C
We are at the road by 7:30 a.m., hoping someone might be heading to the next town. Unfortunately, there isn’t a car in sight for miles, so we start walking the 12 km to the park entrance. We wonder about the ranger—doesn’t he drive to work?
By 9:45, we reach the park entrance. It’s 17,000 CLP for both camping and entrance. Phew!
Which lake is bluer? Lake Jenimeni is stunning with its various shades of blue, making it hard to move on. The shore of the lake is so inviting, perfect for sitting and staring at the water, if only the wind weren’t so strong.
We stroll along the “beach” to Lago Esmeralda and then Lago Azul. Its waters are so intensely turquoise that they seem unreal. We feel lucky the sun is out, allowing us to fully enjoy this natural beauty.
Lilian is ahead, and I lose sight of him once I reach the river. I look around but can’t see anyone. Did he speed so far ahead? I hear a bird whistle but see no one, so I continue through the windy valley to the next campsite. It’s nicely wind-protected and hidden in a small forest with a shelter for eating and a toilet. But no one is there.
Half an hour later, as I’m pitching my tent, I hear another whistling sound. Interesting bird, I think. Suddenly, Lilian walks into the campsite with a whistle in his mouth. 😂
Valle Hermoso & Casa de Piedra
1 March 2024 | 19°C
The weather forecast predicts rain and possibly snow this evening. Should we walk the 30 km to Casa de Piedra, a refuge?
Our morning trek takes us through a long valley over a stony riverbed with dozens of river crossings—thankfully, all easy. The sun touches the mountain tops but doesn’t reach the valley, which remains windy and cloudy.
Despite the stones, we make good progress since the terrain is pretty flat. Then, despite the forecast, the sun comes out in the afternoon! We feel so lucky.
Walking down to Casa de Piedra feels like traversing fields of gold, with dry grass stretching as far as the eye can see. As we reach the bottom of the hills, a vast valley opens up to the west: Valle Chacabuco.
It’s quite windy on the valley floor, and we pick up our pace to reach the campground, especially as dark clouds seem to follow us. But then we have to stop: a handful of guanacos are right beside the trail. They seem used to humans and don’t run away, so we take a little photo shoot.
Casa de Piedra turns out to be a campground with several shelters for cooking and lounging, plus hot showers, toilets, and a common room inside the stone house.
After a 30 km day, we’re happy to have made it here. We eat our dinners in the sheltered area outside, watching the rain pour down in the valley we just came from.
Lago Gutiérrez & a cold night
2 March 2024 | 6°C
We weren’t sure about the weather the previous night, but as I peek out of my tent in the morning, it looks much better than expected. Even a few rays of sunshine!
Surprise, surprise—on my way to the toilet, I see snow on the surrounding mountain tops! It looks like someone has sprinkled powdered sugar on them.
Lago Gutierrez is the next lake coming up. Though I thought I had seen enough lakes, this one shimmers in a deep blue under the morning sun. Another amazing Patagonian morning, complete with the familiar winds.
The walk is nice, but later in the afternoon, I start feeling exhausted. I have a bit of a cold—my nose is running and my throat is itchy. It seems like the wind of the past days has taken its toll. It’s hard to decide which layers to wear; it’s a constant battle between sweating and getting cold. During an additional afternoon break, I make a big pot of hot tea and take a power nap. I’m really tired.
“Would you like to camp here?” Lilian asks during our break.
“No, let’s go at least to the next lake so we have a chance to make it to town tomorrow,” I reply.
Despite a hearty dinner, I sleep cold that night and wake up several times. It seems like my body doesn’t have enough energy to produce heat. 😥
Lago Cochrane
2 March 2024 | 7°C
Despite sleeping cold and waking up early, I look forward to my morning coffee.
The morning involves a bit of up and down until we hit a track packed by a 4WD. Easy walking, yeah! We're so excited that we accidentally get off the trail. No constant checking of the GPS!
Though this route is longer, we decide to stay on it as it eventually leads us back to the regular GPT route. I’m tired of drinking cold water, so whenever we take a break, I pull out my stove for a cup of tea, hoping it’s good for my throat.
We take a late lunch break at the largest lake of this section: Lago Cochrane.
As if to say, "I am the most beautiful of all the lakes," it shimmers in different colors, from dark blue to turquoise, as we walk alongside it to the other end.
It's a warm afternoon, feeling like a summer holiday by the beach. Another great day on the trail!
GPT39 | Monte Fitz Roy
El Chaltén No 1: A Windy Welcome
9 March 2024 | 3°C
When I open my eyes in the overnight bus, I see a huge lake outside my window—Lago Viedma. It’s 7:30 a.m., and we must be very close to El Chaltén already. Although the Mountains around the town are hidden behind some big clouds, I am quite moved and excited once I hop off the bus.
Our objective here is to hike El Circuito de Huemules, which is also Section 40 of the Greater Patagonian Trail, while we wait for a good weather window for a multi-day glacier tour on the Chilean side.
At the visitor center, we learn that it’s going to be very windy for the next few days. This isn’t ideal for the four-day trek that includes two passes, one of which is called Paso del Viento (Windy Pass). Also, the views aren’t great, and we feel it’s a pity to just “rush through” for the sake of having done it.
Let’s wait until tomorrow and see.
There are other treks around, and as the weather changes rapidly here, there might be another chance in a couple of days. Will Cerro Torre or Mount Fitz Roy come out of their cloudy hideaway?
Monte Fitz Roy First Try: A Windy Morning and Hidden Views
11 March 2024 | 4°C
Heavy wind gusts in the morning destroy my emergency blanket, which I used during the night to protect my sleeping bag from rain or snow potentially blowing into my little cave. I am still protected and quite warm, but a few droplets sneak around the corner—not a big deal.
The very first light of the day reveals some shades—the mountain range just in front of me. Magic happens just before the sun rises: the mountains and the glacier are suddenly painted in a shimmering golden color! I have never seen anything like this before.
I make my coffee and breakfast while watching nature’s TV, when someone behind me starts picking up stones, wondering why there is a tent draped over them. “Hola!” I shout. Someone comes around. “Hola. Oh, I was wondering what this is. Sorry.” A group of three is heading up to climb one of the mountains; they say that there is a good weather window in the afternoon.
At 9 a.m., my hiking buddy Lilian, who camped closer to the lake, shows up. “Very windy last night,” he says. Though he pitched his tent in a protected spot behind a big rock, he had to additionally secure his tent with big rocks as the wind direction changed at night.
We both head up to Laguna de Los Tres cross country (no trail). It’s a rather steep climb, but I quite like it as we gain elevation very quickly. No one is in sight until we reach the lagoon, where several people are already walking around. It’s a pretty busy place, but Monte Fitz Roy doesn’t show up—it’s hiding behind the clouds 🥲.
When heading down, a lot of people are walking up. They seem to know that today is a good chance to see the popular mountain. We only realize this a couple of hours later during our lunch break. The clouds move, and move ….. and suddenly the sky is clear. Bummer! We just see the mountain tip from where we are at this point.
A stunning sunrise at Monte Fitz Roy
12 March 2024
My alarm clock rings at 6 a.m. I’m still in a dream and don’t understand what’s happening. Oh yes, I wanted to head up to Monte Fitz Roy for sunrise. Should I really do it or stay in my cozy sleeping bag? I snooze, and ten minutes later, the alarm goes off again. “Come on, get up,” I tell myself. I quickly get dressed, pack some snacks and my sleeping bag, and head out.
Until that point, I thought I might be the only one, but as soon as I look towards the mountain, I not only see a clear sky and the faint image of a mountain but also many little lights along the trail up to the lagoon. It seems a lot of people had the same idea! I start walking quickly, suddenly feeling like I am late. After just 1 km, I have to take off my midlayer as I start sweating already. It’s 400 meters of elevation gain, roughly one hour according to a sign.
Forty-five minutes later, I am very happy and moved as suddenly the mountain that has been hiding in the clouds for the last three days majestically appears in front of me: Monte Fitz Roy. It’s incredibly windy up at the lagoon. I quickly take some photos with another guy before I look for a protected spot behind some rocks.
Good thing I brought my sleeping bag. I wear it like a coat, allowing me to sit and watch the colors on the mountain turn from red to yellow and then white as the sun completely appears. What a fantastic moment. I stay a bit longer until my feet and hands are very cold, then quickly start moving downwards again. What a morning!
El Chaltén No. 2: Gear Repairs, Cake and Tea
13 March 2024 | 1°C
Rain and snow are what the weather gods have in store for the next couple of days.
Checking in with our guide for the glacier tour doesn't bring better news either—the good weather window has moved back as well.
We’re stuck in El Chaltén! It's not a cheap place, but it's also not the worst place to hang out for a day.
I use the time to patch up my tent. Using it as a wind shield has created some tiny holes—oh no! Luckily, my hiking buddy Lilian carries a big strip of DCF repair tape. It’s a bit of tedious work, but I hope I found them all.
My reward in the afternoon: a huge piece of cake and an enormous pot of tea in a lovely café.
Let’s wait, see, and drink tea!
GPT44 | Glacier Perito Moreno
El Calafate
15 March 2024
We still have some time to kill before we can start our glacier tour, but the weather in the El Chaltén area is predicted to be rainy and extremely windy for the next few days.
I’ve been considering heading over to El Calafate. While I’m not too keen on the super touristy spots, the Perito Moreno Glacier is so close now, and we really have nothing else to do. Should we give it a try?
When I first mention it to Lilian, he thinks it's too much of a hassle. However, after spending a day waiting out the rain in El Chaltén, he also starts considering it. We check out bus options and carefully plan our return trip to ensure we make it back in time for our guide meeting in three days.
It's a 3-hour bus ride to El Calafate. Although the journey primarily takes us around Lago Viedma with expansive pampa stretching as far as the eye can see, I spot numerous guanacos grazing along the way and, for the first time, see condors gliding in the sky.
Upon arriving in El Calafate, we look into buses to Perito Moreno and discover that the fare is 40 euros per person. This doesn’t even include the entrance fee to the national park, which is an additional cost! We wonder if it’s really worth it. I check prices at various bus company counters while Lilian searches online, but the price is the same everywhere.
Feeling it’s a bit of a rip-off, we decide to head downtown. On the way, we pass a car rental company. Renting a car for the two of us might be a better option. The price is just under 80 euros, but we would still need to factor in insurance and gas.
Exhausted, we go for lunch to mull over our options. It’s not wise to make a decision on an empty stomach. With free Wi-Fi in the restaurant—since I only have a Chilean SIM card—I check online. I find an offer for roughly 60 euros, including full insurance cover. That’s more like it!
Perito Moreno
16 March 2024
It’s great to have the flexibility of a car, so we set our alarms to make the most of the day. The weather is a bit cloudy with a chance of rain, but it’s our only opportunity today.
There’s very little traffic once we leave El Calafate. The ride is captivating, with Lago Viedma shimmering blue on one side and a mountain range on the other. The road is mostly flat and straight, cutting through the pampa. Although we’re driving a small, slightly old Ford, I soon forget the 80-kilometer speed limit.
It takes us 1.5 hours to reach the parking lot. The overcast skies turn out to be an advantage, as there are fewer people and plenty of opportunities to stand and stare. When the sun finally breaks through, it causes massive chunks of ice to calve off the glacier and crash into the water. Absolutely fascinating! I’m so glad we came!
GPT38 | Glaciar Chico / Campo de Hielo Sur
Candelario Mansilla
18 March 2024
It’s time to head towards Chile again, as the good weather window for the glacier tour is finally approaching. Leo, our guide, wants us to be in Candelario Mansilla by March 18th. It’s a small settlement with just a few houses belonging to the same family and several carabineros working at the border checkpoint.
To get there, we take a tourist bus to Lago Desierto (for which we have to buy a return ticket, as one-way is not possible). Unsure when we’ll have electricity again, we stop at a restaurant by the lake for a coffee and to fully charge our phones (in addition to our already charged power banks).
The walk along the lake is not as scenic as we expected. It’s a bit boring but also protects us from the slight rain and snow. The sky is cloudy and gray, with only a few leaves starting to turn yellow and red.
At 8 p.m., we finally reach the Argentinian border checkpoint, which has a campground tucked away in the trees. We head over to the building, hoping to complete our paperwork, but a friendly border official tells us we’re 15 minutes late and all the systems are shut down already (we learn the next day that it’s just a paper book). Oh well. We pitch our tents and fall asleep after our late dinners.
At exactly 9 a.m., we knock on the door of the Gendarmeria. The paperwork is done quickly, and we head on towards Chile. The actual border is just 5 km away, with the Chilean border checkpoint another 15 km beyond that.
It starts raining on the way down to Candelario. Suddenly, we see a tractor, some bikes, and people pushing a trailer. Someone has given a family of bike packers a ride. We immediately sense that this is our ride to Candelario! I ask the man in the poncho if he can take us. The trailer’s axle is broken, he replies, but we can sit on either side of the tractor if we want. No problem for us!
The trail provides! It’s a very bumpy ride for approximately 12 km, and our butts will hurt the next day, but we are extremely happy about this unexpected taxi ride that saves us from a long, boring walk on a gravel road.
Embarking to Glaciar Chico and Refugio Pantoja
20 March 2024
“Cast off!” We finally embark on our journey. Our guide’s boat, Tempano, named after the Spanish word for “iceberg,” is ready. We put on our life vests and load our gear—ice axes, crampons, snowshoes, and backpacks—into the boat. We then start speeding across Lago O’Higgins. The wind picks up as we approach the glacier, and big chunks of ice float in the water. Fascinating!
After only 30 minutes, we reach the base of Glacier Chico. We drag Tempano out of the water, secure it properly, and begin our trek on the glacier.
The first refuge is only 8 km away. "Not much," thinks the thru-hiker. But it soon dawns on us that walking on a glacier is a completely different game. Navigating the massive crevasses is key—it feels more like traversing a giant labyrinth than following a trail. 🤪
Enjoying the Views at Piedras Rojas
21 March 2024
We reach the next refuge around 1pm. After a small climb up some rocky terrain, it comes into view only as we are almost standing in front of it. It’s another white dome with a metal structure and a thick plastic covering at the bottom.
The scenery is breathtaking with awesome views over the glacier. Time for a quick break and a round of mate.
It feels way too early to stop, but the next refuge is another 8 kilometers away, which in this terrain means another 5 to 6 hours of walking with either crampons or snowshoes, according to our guides. It’s slightly uphill from here. Lilian would like to continue, but I am not so sure. I could do it, but would it be fun and allow us to enjoy the scenery? Will it be dark by the time we get to the next refuge? In the end, we decide to stay.
It's a lovely sunny day, and the setting is just perfect for taking some pictures. Lilian ventures a bit higher up the mountain while I lie on a huge red rock. These rocks are scattered all around and give the refuge its name, Piedras Rojas (Red Stones). The stones are warm, heated by the sun. If I close my eyes, it feels like I am lying on a beach.
Navigating the Glacier to Refugio Garcia Soto
22 March 2024 | 2°C
After a hearty breakfast prepared by our guides, we continue our trek through the glacier's labyrinth. The snow has picked up, giving us a chance to test our snowshoes, crunching through the fresh snow. We also practice walking as a rope team, staying connected to avoid any accidents.
Later in the day, as we already start our ascent to the refugio the familiar shapes of Monte Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre come into view. Leo points them out with a grin. Seeing these famous peaks from a new angle is a nice surprise.
From that point, it is just a short but steep climb to Refugio Garcia Soto. It stands out like an island in this vast snowy area, located on the Chilean side just a stone's throw away from the Argentinian border.
The refuge is a practical hut with a simple kitchen, a table, chairs, and a small dorm with bunk beds. It's basic, but it provides the warmth and comfort.
What to do on a bad Weather Day in the Mountains?
23/24 March 2024
Eat, sleep, drink tea, repeat. That’s the mantra on a bad weather day in the mountains. I find an entertaining German book in the little bookshelf where previous visitors have left some reading material. It seems more like a book someone would buy at an airport and take to the beach for "lightweight reading." How the heck did it get up here?
While we knew we would have one waiting day at Garcia Soto, we wake up to rain the next day as well. Walking in regular terrain is unpleasant but doable; it's a different game on an ice field where snow bridges are the only way to safely move forward. Are they still stable enough?
Leo sets a timeframe until 9 o’clock. If it doesn’t stop before then, we have to stay. Though it’s not very far—only 15km—it will be slow navigating around the crevasses, and we will need time to set up our camp before it gets dark. Unfortunately, the weather gods have no mercy today. While I decide to continue reading “my book,” the guys head out to Cerro Gorra Blanca (“White Hat”) just behind our hut as soon as the wind ceases a bit.
Interestingly, the skies clear up in the late afternoon, and Cerro Torre comes out of his white hideaway. The view from here is fascinating, but it would be even more breathtaking at Circo de los Altares ….
It would be great to get tomorrow and have the same views … We already “lost” one day, and our weather window to get there and back is shrinking. Fingers crossed!
Crossing the Crevasses to Circo de Los Altares
26 March 2024 ⁄ 2°C
“Grieta!” I shout and let myself fall into the snow. Both Lilian and Pipe behind me do the same. Leo, our guide leading the way, just sank a bit more than knee-deep into the snow. It’s not a big deal, but a live demonstration of why we’re all roped together, traversing what is essentially a hidden sea of crevasses.
We had already “practiced” walking as a rope team on the way up the glacier, but now it’s the real deal. Although I know the rope is my lifeline, I dislike being tethered, unable to walk at my own pace. Sigh!
We started early in the morning with our snowshoes on. The first 8 of the 15 kilometers from Refugio Garcia Soto to Circo de los Altares passed pretty quickly. But now, it’s getting super slow.
As the second in our rope team, I meticulously follow Leo’s tracks. Suddenly, the ground vanishes beneath my feet, and I’m floating in the air. Everyone in front and behind me drops to the ground. Half of my body is above the surface while the other half dangles in a small crevasse. Unable to find a foothold, Leo pulls me out, and we continue. Phew!
Did I misstep, or did a snow bridge collapse under my weight?
By 6 pm, we finally reach Circo de los Altares. The day before, Charly had described it as a magical place where towering peaks form a grand circle. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on our side today—the peaks are hidden in clouds. Bummer! Still, I can feel the enchantment of this place as we use our ice axes to carve out a flat spot for our expedition tent. Sleeping on ice tonight. Exciting! Will it be cold?
A long way back to the hut
27 March 2024
Despite the wind shaking our tent, it feels cozy inside. I slept well and didn't feel cold at all—one of my biggest fears hasn’t come true. Yeah! Pipe heats water for the morning mate as always, and we all have a quick breakfast before packing up.
“A sufrir,” says one of our guides as we start walking. Uh-oh. It’s cloudy, but no rain... yet? We've got the same 15 kilometers to trek back.
Snowshoes on, I start trotting behind Leo, trying to find a rhythm. It seems we’re on a better path than yesterday; at least it feels like we’re moving faster. There are ponds of water here and there, and I push away the thought of falling into one. Freeze to death immediately?
I start to feel desperate. It’s the same route back, and sometimes it feels like we’re not moving at all. Frustration and tears well up. But angry with what or whom? It is what it is. It’s just walking. It’s mountains and a lot of snow (and quite a few invisible crevasses). I look for stones or landmarks on the mountains to gauge our progress, but everything feels terribly slow. I feel very tired suddenly. Every step is an effort. Is it really my body or just my mind? It feels like the rope is constantly pulling me. Poor Leo, who is walking in front of me, I think. At the same time, I feel something pulling me back as well.
Leo seems to notice and suggests we switch positions. I am now second to last with just Leo behind me. I put on some music to distract and entertain myself.
At some point, I notice that everything gets easier. I have to slightly pick up the rope in front of me to avoid stepping on it. It seems I am walking faster than Lilian. Is it the music, the switch of positions, or the fact that the sun came out?
The refuge is still not in sight, but I can roughly guess where it is. How long will it be—another hour or more? The sun is out, but the wind has picked up as we start ascending. It’s blowing heavily from the side. I am getting cold, but I don’t want to stop and make everyone else stop to put on another layer. I just want to walk to the sound of the music.
And then suddenly, a familiar pole comes into sight. That’s where the refuge is! As soon as we take off our snowshoes, Charly, who stayed in the hut for maintenance work and cleaning, comes running towards us. “Congrats, you made it!” he shouts against the wind, “There’s food and tea inside”. Heaven! What a ride!
Racing Against the Weather Back to Lago O’Higgins
27 March 2024
With windy and rainy weather forecasted for the next couple of days, navigation on Lago O’Higgins will be impossible, so we need to return to our boat at the base of Glacier Chico today. The distance is roughly 24 kilometers, a stretch we had covered leisurely in 2 days on the way up.
It’s a clear morning, and we have an early start at 8 am. Monte Fitz Roy waves goodbye while Cerro Torre prefers to hide in the clouds. With a last, nostalgic glance, I almost feel a bit melancholic.
The scenery on the way down is equally impressive, with the southern Patagonian ice field just a short walk downhill from the refuge. I almost start running with my crampons on, but watching left and right and taking photos simultaneously proves a bad idea. I fall, and while the frozen ground is excellent for walking without sinking, it is rough on my hands, which start bleeding. Never mind; it doesn’t change my good mood.
Everything looks different today, with most of the snow we saw on the way up now melted. I take my crampons off when I feel confident in my hiking boots' grip. Unfortunately, one of my hiking poles breaks when I accidentally place it in a hole. It’s not a problem at this point, but I will miss it dearly later in the day.
We stop at Piedras Rojas for a brief break, but Leo soon encourages us to push on as we still have some distance to cover.
While strolling over the vast flat surface on top of the glacier called “the highway,” I wonder why he is pushing us so hard. Soon I learn why. As soon as the highway ends, the crevasses become huge, and we head to one side where we must climb over big rocks, followed by a section where we lower ourselves down with a rope.
At one point, we can already see Lago O’Higgins, but as always, the last mile feels the longest. It gets pretty steep towards the end, so I put my crampons back on. It’s too easy to slip when your feet are tired. Then, it’s quick: climbing up and down more rocks, and our boat comes into sight. It will get dark soon, and after some quick high fives, we all jump into the boat. So quickly, in fact, that I totally forgot to take a finisher picture!
Rio Condor
29 March 2024
We’re kind of stuck at Leo’s house by Rio Condor for a few days, as the wind is too strong to navigate the boat out of the relatively sheltered arm of Lago O’Higgins towards Candelario. Although it feels a bit like being stuck, it’s a welcome break after a week of trudging across ice and snow with crampons and snowshoes.
The property, accessible only by boat, sits atop a hill overlooking a stretch of the lake, right next to the mighty Rio Condor.
For the next two days, our walking is limited to Leo’s property—moving from the small family home to the outdoor toilet and a bit further to the Jurte, where the four of us (Lilian, Pipe, Charly, and I) are sleeping.
We enjoy delicious meals from the family garden, fresh eggs from the chickens, and goat meat that Leo bought from a settler on the way back from the glacier.
We sleep a lot, and I take the opportunity to repair some gear. My pack has taken a beating from crampons, a sharp ice axe, snowshoes, and sliding down rocks on the way back.
I also lost my gloves somewhere on the way back from the glacier. It’s a bit sad since I had just received them for my birthday. 🥲 “They got you through some reasonably cold and intense days,” says Lilian. True.
Thank you, gloves. I’ll miss you.
GPT67 | Dientes de Navarino
Puerto Williams
15 April 2024 | 17°C
As the plane rolls across the airfield, it’s only when it parks right in front of our gate that I realize this is the one taking me from Punta Arenas to Puerto Williams. I was expecting something much smaller, but this aircraft looks like it can hold at least 150 passengers. The plane is nearly full, and when I reach my seat, a man is already sitting in it. He seems to know he’s in the wrong spot and asks if I can take his seat, also by the window on the other side. I agree, figuring it might be easier for him to avoid squeezing out of the row.
Lucky me—although I miss seeing Punta Arenas during takeoff, I get a stunning view of the mountain ranges on Isla Navarino as we approach the island. Just a few patches of snow remain on the high peaks here and there. Perfect!
The “airport” at Puerto Williams is little more than a runway and a small airstrip. Everyone disembarks and waits outside as a vehicle with trailers arrives, carrying all the luggage.
Though the town looks quite close, Google Maps says it’s a 50-minute walk to the center, with the port in the way, forcing me to walk around it. I start walking, but after just 5 minutes, a minivan stops and offers me a ride. I gladly accept, chatting with some cheerful locals until they drop me off right in front of the hostel. No need to tell them which one—it’s the only one in town, and of course, they know the owner.
A friendly, energetic woman, greets me with a big hug. When I mention my hiking plans, she suggests I talk to the young couple inside who have just returned from a similar hike.
While they prepare pizza dough in the kitchen, they tell me it took them seven days instead of five to complete the Dientes Trail. A heavy snowstorm the previous week had them stuck in their tent for a day, and crossing some of the steeper passes in knee-deep snow was grueling. Ouch!
Now uncertain, I study the map again. From the plane, I barely saw any snow—has it melted, or did I miss something? I consider an alternative route through the valley and head to the carabineros (police station) to inform them of my plans. The young officer informs me that the trail is technically closed for the season and tries to steer me towards easier day hikes. But that’s not what I came here for. As I persist, he reluctantly hands me a form to document my itinerary, gear, and a waiver acknowledging I’m proceeding at my own risk. I can almost read his thoughts: “Stubborn, reckless tourists.”
Sendero Windhond
16 April 2024 | 12°C
I wake up on an almost flat sleeping pad—looks like my fix in Punta Arenas wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped.
The morning is off to a better start when the lovely owner of Refugio El Padrino insists I join her for breakfast. She even offers to give me a ride to the trailhead, which is a bit out of town. She drops me off on a forest road where a sign marks the beginning of the trail. The first few kilometers through the forest are relatively easy, but a bit tedious as the trail often disappears, requiring constant GPS checks.
Eventually, the forest ends, and I emerge into an open area with intriguing rock formations in the distance. A first glimpse of “Los Dientes”?
I knew wet feet were inevitable today, and the swampy terrain begins here. Beavers have left their mark on the landscape, creating ponds and fallen trees that turn the trail into an obstacle course. Despite the challenges, the walk is fascinating, with the vibrant autumn colors adding a touch of magic.
I stop for lunch by one of the first lakes. It looks like a natural lake, but upon closer inspection, I notice a pile of tree branches at one end. A beaver’s handiwork, perhaps?
Around 3 p.m., I reach the lake where I had initially planned to camp. It’s too early to stop, and walking has become easier on the so-called turbia. I wonder if I can still make it to Refugio Charles today.
As I continue, I find myself in a section of the forest where trees look like they’ve been felled by a giant axe. Was it a storm? A small trail leads straight into the water. Have beavers used these trees as raw material for their new home? Suddenly, I spot a beaver swimming in a small lake. Startled at first, I begin filming from a distance, but it doesn’t seem afraid at all, calmly swimming back and forth.
We watch each other for a while until it grows bored and swims to the other side to nibble on some grass. Though locals may see it as a pest, I find it quite charming. Here, it’s just a curious companion, bothering only a few hikers.
By 6 p.m., I find a flat, dry spot amidst the swampy surroundings and decide to stop for the night. Progress has been slow again, and I’m unsure if I’ll make it to Refugio Charles today. It will be dark by 7 p.m.
Dinner is couscous with veggie meat, cold-soaked—missing a few spices, so I toss in all the dry garlic I have left. It’s kinda okay. A few raindrops hit my tent, but nothing serious. I check the weather again and consider heading up to Monte Bettinelli instead of Lago Windhond tomorrow to enjoy the views and make it back to Puerto Williams before the rain kicks in two days.
As I turn off the light, the swampy, humid smell of my socks reminds me of today’s adventures.
At the Edge of the World: Monte Bettinelli and the Dientes Trail
17 April 2024 | 13°C
I’m heading up to Monte Bettinelli and the Dientes Trail! A quick look at the map shows the junction isn’t far. It’s a bit disappointing not to reach Refugio Charles, but I have to make the best of it.
Suddenly, the forest opens up, and after crossing a small patch of lingering snow, I’m greeted by a vast, flat field of stones stretching out before me. My pace quickens immediately. A few peaks rise in the distance, but there’s no sign of the lake shown on the map. Where is the lake? And which one is Monte Bettinelli? Before I can figure that out, I turn around and am struck by the view. Lago Windhond and the bay with the same name come into sight.
I can’t stop staring and wish I could walk backward for the next few kilometers. I move forward, but every few steps, I stop, turn around, and snap another photo. I squint, trying to make out more islands in the distance. Could those be the Wollaston Islands? It must be. Though Isla Hornos and Cape Horn aren’t visible from here, the view feels magical. I’m so close to the southernmost islands before Antarctica.
Grateful for the clear weather, I feel a surge of excitement and end up missing the turn to Monte Bettinelli. Instead, I climb another hill and have to backtrack to find the right path.
Now I’m wondering: Do I have enough time to reach the plateau, or should I cut across further down? Can I still make it to Laguna El Salto, my planned camp spot for today? Will it be super windy up there? The idea of skipping the summit and heading straight to the valley is tempting, but I’m torn. I start walking down but quickly become frustrated with myself. “Hey, you’re so close to the summit, the weather’s good, and the walk on the rocks is probably easier than the swampy grass below. Stick to the trail!” I push on, and before I know it, I’m at the top, enjoying even more breathtaking views.
Now, I can see not only the south but also the impressive range of “Los Dientes de Navarino,” jagged like teeth that haven’t seen a dentist in a while. Running down the hill is easy across the stones, but once I hit the grassy terrain, I slow down—too easy to twist an ankle here.
Just before reaching the junction with the Dientes Trail, I start to feel weak and tired. I realize I completely forgot to take a lunch break. With an inner urge to keep moving, I quickly down some peanuts for energy, but by the time I reach Laguna Los Dientes, I have to sit down for a longer rest. It’s a serene, secluded spot, and I’m the only one here. If only I could stay, but with rain expected tomorrow, it’s better to cover some more distance today.
The rest works wonders, and soon I’m back on the trail, making quick progress. Two more passes later, and Laguna del Salto comes into view. There are plenty of campsites around the shore, though most are wet, so I settle on a spot slightly higher up by some trees.
Is this my last night on the Greater Patagonian Trail?
The final Descent back to Puerto Williams
With a 60 percent chance of rain forecasted for 8 a.m., I planned to start early and reach Puerto Williams by lunchtime. But it’s hard to leave. Though there’s no sun this morning, the view of the Laguna El Salto and the Dientes, surrounded by more scattered lagoons and autumn-colored trees, is simply too beautiful to rush away from.
The trail ascends and then skirts along the mountainside. There are a few spots where the trail has washed away, and while this isn’t as steep as Paso Virginia, I’m glad I’m not doing this in heavy rain or snow.
As I continue, the Beagle Channel comes into view in the distance, and before I know it, I reach Cerro Bandera, a popular day hike from Puerto Williams, marked by a giant Chilean flag.
Though it’s all downhill from here, my progress is slow. I can’t help but stop and stare across the Beagle Channel. To the left, Ushuaia is visible in the distance, and to the far right, I can see Estancia Haberton on the Argentinian side. Just before the trail dips back into the trees, I spot someone running up the trail. A trail-running photographer? Or a photographing trail runner? Either way, it’s the first person I’ve seen since leaving Puerto Williams two days ago. But instead of striking up a conversation, I prefer to keep gazing across the Beagle Channel.
The clouds hang low, and I watch a ship leaving the port, wondering how sailors felt as they embarked from here toward Cape Horn or even farther. Or how the indigenous Yaghan once paddled across these waters in their small, kayak-like boats. It must have been freezing. Or maybe we’re just softer now?
As I finally make my way into town, I pass some school children who smile and greet me with a friendly “hello” in English. I guess I look like a tourist. :)