Day 4 – Move Camp to Refugio Los Cuernos
Day four was our longest hike of the trip at eight miles, but after descending the 1200-ish feet we had climbed to get Chileno, it was relatively flat. A sign grabbed my attention as we passed an intersection of the trail where horses would cross. There was an arrow on the sign pointing kinda down the trail with the heading of “Los Cuernos”, which was where we were heading. There was another sign below the intersection that stated “Make Way For Horses” so it was very evident this trail was meant for horses…but was it also the trail to Cuernos? We assumed we needed to backtrack all the way down the mountain to the point of the trail where we had veered off two days before, but this sign looked like maybe we should be using this trail instead. After analyzing and hemming and hawing over it for a few minutes, Kim noticed some boot prints on the trail and that was enough to convince her we should take it so we re-routed ourselves.
We cut into the mountain side where the trail weaved through the fields of bushes and the last lingering wildflowers of the Patagonian summer. While the trail was maintained enough to easily follow, it was clearly not as well traveled as the other. Again, between the timing of our departure and this off the beaten path trail, we found ourselves alone for a couple hours. On the flip side, the trail was in a more natural state so we frequently found ourselves navigating areas where water wasn’t draining well and large mud puddle or other squishy, sloshy obstacles were created. Usually there were rocks or boards or a way around that had been stomped down enough to see to help us through, but sometimes we had to wing it.
One particular time, we were hopping along some rocks and my foot slipped off the last rock (luckily clear of the water, I probably didn’t need to be on the rock by this point) and down I went. I don’t know what it is, but when I fall, it feels like a slow motion event. So as I’m falling backward (pack weight), I see that I am going to land in the bushes. However, the bushes are so thick that I can’t really see what the ground does under them so I am concerned that I may continue backward onto my back. It’s not a big deal, we weren’t on a cliff side or anything dangerous, it’s just what my mind processed in this moment of a slow motion advancement toward the ground. Because of that, I was really focused on keeping my body as forward as I could which meant I was not focused on my feet at all. I landed against the bush as expected and the bush, while prickly and uncomfortable, was thick enough to keep me from falling backward. However my body was positioned so far forward that my right foot that had slipped was nearly completely under me with my knee pointing up to the sky, like a very awkward supported single leg squat with my left leg was just flailing about trying to figure out what to do with itself. At this point, I must have made some kind of noise because Kim had turned around to see me on the ground and as a truly good friend does, she busted out laughing and I did the same. As we’re laughing, I was attempting to get up but the position of my right foot under me, my left foot having no leverage to get any sort of under me, and the prickly bush preventing me from putting my hands down behind me to push, left me stuck. Which must have worried Kim because she immediately stopped laughing to ask if I was okay which made me laugh even harder because I literally could not move other than wiggle around a bit.
She came to my rescue and braced herself in front of me and gave me her hand so I could pull myself up. Then, after confirmation I really was okay, the laughing commenced. We tend to have one of us fall once a trip and then we are good so the good news was, the fall was over!
We stopped for a break where there was an amazing viewpoint above a lake we had come to. We could see quite a few people walking on the other side of the lake and realized that was the main trail we had bypassede. We were so thankful we took this alternative route because we had only passed two people going the opposite direction since we cut off! After we finished our snacks (what’s a break without a snack?!) and found our way around and partially through the largest mud puddle yet, we were met with a solo hiker going the way we came from. She asked if we came from Chileno and we confirmed and provided a description of what was ahead. She thanked us, saying she wasn’t sure if she was on the right trail or not. Not far behind her was another couple asking a similar question. They referred to the trail we were on as the short cut but they weren’t sure if they were on an actual trail or not. We confirmed and sent them on their way. This seemed a little odd to us because the trail was pretty obvious but then we came to a small hill that was mostly a ginormous rock and made our way down the other side where we saw other people going the same direction we were, and figured this was where the two trails came back together. We crossed a small creek and headed up another hill where we saw a small sign pointing toward the rock and labeled “Chileno Short Cut”. From here, because the hill was basically a big rock with some plants growing here and there, any section between the plants could have been “the trail.” We had come down the rock at least 50 feet from where the sign was posted thinking we were on the trail. No wonder they were confused; the trail was nowhere near as obvious as the cutoff where we had left the main trail. Perhaps this was a reason why we didn’t see many people!
We crossed a mostly dry creek bed on another fun suspension bridge and then wound up a hill where a new lake opened up to us. Lake Nordenskjold is quite possibly the bluest lake I have ever seen in my life. You could take this lake, Photoshop some palm trees in, and you’d think you were in the Caribbean. It was breathtaking. I probably had 20 different pictures of different angles in a half mile because I was so mesmerized every time I looked at it!
We watched the dark clouds roll in above us and pretty soon the sky started spitting on us. At first, we ignored it because it seemed to come and go but eventually we stopped to put our waterproof covers over our packs because it was getting a little more consistent. After walking in a gentle rain for 45 minutes or so, we carefully lowered ourselves down wet slippery rocks and steep loose terrain with a rope tied to trees. We weren’t sure if the rope was meant as a boundary or was there for assistance, but we were grateful for it.
We spent the afternoon in a corner of the bar next to a window overlooking Lake Nordenskjold. We watched waterspouts form all over the lake as the weather intensified. The waves were capped with white and the wind gusts would slam into the building, shaking the windows next to us.
As we waited for dinner in a different section of the building, I had a view out the window of an incredible snow shelf on a mountain. It may have been part of the Frances Glacier, but I’m not positive. Glacier or not, here we were in March in the southern hemisphere; summer is over, the leaves are changing colors, and there is still a massive snow shelf. The weather was whipping and we would hear what we thought were intermittent short bursts of thunder. All of a sudden, while I was kinda spacing off out the window, I watch snow start to fall from a part of the snow shelf. I think it hit me that something was happening, but I wasn’t quite sure what. I’m not sure if I actually said any words or just made some sort of grunting sound as I pointed out the window to get Kim to turn around. Then it seemed everyone was pointing and turning and staring out the same window as more and more of the snow came down and crashed onto the shelf below it. We watched an avalanche!
Day 5 – Move Camp to…
It didn’t let up all night and it was amazing how the tent took it; it almost seemed more stable than the building! The rain fly over the tent was somewhat loose and it whipped and hammered against the tent, sometimes startling me with a sudden slap that seemed to hit just perfect it sent an echo through the tent. The structure itself held firm though, potentially thanks to the protection of the close surrounding trees, and considering the ruckus occuring all night with the weather, I slept pretty well.
Check out the difference in water level in front of our tent when we arrived the day before vs returning from breakfast.
We had a very short three mile day with less than 500 feet incline ahead of us. This gave us a lot of cushion in regards to time as we checked out the weather forecast and watched the clouds. The rain had dumped relentlessly all night and continued through the morning, but the forecast showed it should lighten up around mid morning. However as the rain lightened, the wind was expected to increase. It was showing a pretty consistent 60-75 km/h with gusts between 85 and 95 km/h all afternoon (35-45 mph with gusts 52-59 mph though we didn’t have a way to see this conversion at the time and the kmph numbers were very intimidating!) This seems like a good time to remind you that we were required to reserve our overnights in advance which meant we didn’t have flexibility in our plan; we had to move camp, there was no hiding out for the day.
We decided we would rather brave the wind than get slapped in the face with the rain, plus we couldn’t check in at our next spot until 2:30 and it wouldn’t take more than a couple hours to get there since it didn’t seem like a day we’d do much sitting and staring. So we hung around our window spot in the bar later into the morning than normal, doing our sitting and staring indoors with hot beverages.
The waterspouts continued in addition to storm surges where we would watch a sheet of water be pushed up and off the lake forming a visible wall in the air. These were the beginning of the wind gusts we would soon be venturing out into!
There was a solid break in the rain as we headed out of camp. We snaked our way through thickets of trees to begin which offered us some protection from the wind and increased our confidence. Soon we lost our tree cover and began getting hit with the wind gusts. We’d be walking along, leaning into the wind and then all of a sudden a gust would hit us from the side, forcing us to stop and wait for it to pass because picking up a foot was all the help the wind needed to knock us over. One of my favorite things about hiking with Kim is when things out of our control get tough and it would be so easy to get angry or frustrated or cranky; we laugh. That’s not to say we haven’t both had our fair share when the situation gets overwhelming and brings other emotions, but at this point, we were laughing. The gusts were so hard and so constant, we’d walk five or ten steps and feel one coming and yell, “Brace!” and we’d both hold our wide stance position waiting to see which direction the wind was going to push us.
We stepped out of the way to let a group pass us going the opposite direction and there was a guide at the end who stopped and pointed out a stream of water coming off the mountain high above. He said that the stream has turned into a river by the time it gets to the bottom and we were coming up on it. He told us we’ll easily know when and if we walk up the river, there is a point where it is lower and more narrow which makes it easier to cross.
The trail turned down to the “beach” of rocks to make our way across and I noticed the storm surges were still creating the walls of water on the lake so I pulled my phone out of my pocket to have it ready to try and capture a video. A gust came so we “Brace!” and I started recording. However, by the time the gust was on us, it had already come off the water so I didn’t get the imagery I was hoping for and taking some of my focus away from keeping my body upright nearly caused my second fall. I put my phone back in my pocket telling myself, “This is how people get hurt Tina, put your damn phone away!”
We saw the river and the guide wasn’t joking; it was probably 15 feet wide and a couple feet deep where the crossing was. There were some people up ahead of us, going in our same direction so we followed them along the rocky bank upriver. We quickly caught up to a couple people who were clearly struggling with stability on the rocks and moving very slowly. About this time, a strong gust hit us from behind and it was one of those moments when my brain worked quick enough to tell me to sit my ass down with control rather than trying to regain my balance on top of a bunch of rocks increasing the possibility of falling and having all kinds of angles to twist or crush something. So I lowered myself to the rock pile and was turning around to face Kim and saw her also ducking down. She was directly behind the slower people and their guide popped around a bush up ahead and was shouting back to them while frantically waving his arms up and down, “Get down! Get down! Get down!” trying to guide them to protect themselves from their totally exposed position to the wind.
Kim and I continued laughing as we struggled back to our feet under the weight of our packs and the unstable rocky surface. Thankfully, the guide ahead instructed the people in front of us to step to the side and allow us to pass so we didn’t have to continue to fight the sneak attack gusts.
We crossed the river easier than it initially looked using a sign stake laid out as a bridge between rocks, made our way back down the rocks to the trail, and were quickly back within trees. We took a moment to catch our breaths, working through the last ten minutes of insanity aloud.
Other than one stretch of trail along the beach, which would have been a wonderful sit and stare spot on a decent weather day, the rest of the trail was within the trees so the wind was broken up before hitting us. At this point though, a good portion of the trail had become the best way for the water coming down off the mountain to get to the lake so we were basically walking along flowing streams. Early on, we had used rocks and edges and paths around puddles to keep our feet relatively dry but at some point it became impossible when puddles were higher than our shoes and not only seeped in from the bottom, but also gushed in over the top. So now we were just splashing along through ankle deep water.
After a set of switchbacks up the one incline we had for the day (more laughter because we had been joking up to this point how no one liked their switchbacks like Idaho because every other incline was just steep and up; more often using rocks or tree roots to support the climb than switching the trail back and forth…), we came to Refugio Frances.
This was where the tour itinerary we copied would have had us staying but when we attempted to book it, there were no open spots so we reserved a spot at the next campsite, Italiano. This wasn’t a huge deal though because our next day was a day hike up the middle arm of the “W” which was the biggest elevation change of nearly 1800 feet even though it’s only a bit over three miles, which means it’s steep. According to the online maps, Italiano which was just slightly up the middle arm so staying there would eliminate some backtracking and slightly shorten what was sure to be a tough day. So after a quick break at Frances, we continued on.
We took the turn up the middle arm toward two buildings in a wide open field at the base of the French Valley we would be climbing the next day. There was no sign welcoming us to Italiano as the other campsites had and we didn’t see tents or other structures we were accustomed to seeing as we entered a campsite and I started getting concerned. The first building was roped off so we continued on to the next and I was grateful to see half of it was restrooms (with so many people, it wasn’t easy to find a squatting place along the trail!) I dropped my pack and headed in. Up to this point, like our tents, the bathrooms at the campsite were pretty luxurious compared to the vault toilets I expected and they did an excellent job keeping them clean considering the amount of people using them every day. These bathrooms made me slow as soon as I passed through the entrance. I found three of the four doors were NAILED shut, so clearly out of order and the fourth was occupied. I walked out, my concerns heightened; we were spending two nights here. At some point during this it also donned on me the lack of people that were around. Every other campsite was very active, whether it was hikers coming in or leaving or the workers taking advantage of the time the hikers were gone to enjoy their own meals or rush around cleaning things up. However, there was almost no one here.
A large group came in behind us and lined their bags up next to ours on the wall and someone walked around to the front of the building where Kim and I were standing and trying to figure out what was going on. The man knocked on a closed door that was covered with maps and random “pack it in pack it out” type signs and appeared to be shut off. The door opened and a ranger emerged. After the two had a conversation, I asked the ranger about the camping area. He said this wasn’t an active campsite and there was no overnighting allowed. I assured him we had used a company and had two nights, along with meals, booked here. He looked very confused, shaking his head and said that was impossible. Luckily, we had printed all our confirmations and brought them with us along with the spreadsheet I had compiled everything to for a quick reference so Kim went to get the paper from her bag while I continued with the ranger asking what we were supposed to do. He said we probably needed to return to Frances, but I told him we were not able to get reservations there which was why we were staying here. He continued shaking his head and saying it was impossible.
Kim returned with the confirmation from the company who booked our overnights and it showed we had two nights at Refugio Frances, not Italiano. Step one, apologize to the ranger and move past that. Step two, feel the cold, wet and brutality of the day all hit at once knowing we had to backtrack back to Frances because I had made an error on the spreadsheet we were referring to. I apologized to Kim, who was not phased at all, or at least didn’t show it. If anything, she appeared relieved we wouldn’t be staying here. Which was probably the logical response, but knowing this was due to my error, I wasn’t thinking logically.
On the walk back to Frances, my feet were freezing thanks to the break at what we thought was Italiano when the warmth from continued movement had escaped me. I was doing my best not to be cranky, but I had no laughter left in me. I thought back to our back and forth with the company who booked the campsites for us after we were unable to confirm them directly on the websites and realized my error.
I had swapped Italiano for Frances on the spreadsheet because of it’s location based on the online maps. When I provided our desired schedule to the booking company, we were told we couldn’t stay at Italiano and our option was Frances. I don’t remember if we were told Italiano was no longer in service or just that we couldn’t stay there, but that is what put the thought that Frances was not available in my mind. I remembered the interaction, but I hadn’t updated the spreadsheet from Italiano back to Frances. I can’t tell you how many times I went in and out of that spreadsheet, making updates and confirming information, and studying the hiking routes to get estimated distances and elevation…not once did I question the names of our campsites.
The hike back wasn’t as long as I thought it was and even with the added miles, we were still too early for check in. The restaurant/bar was packed with people and after standing in the little free space we could find, we decided it was more comfortable outside so we found some rocks, protected from the rain under some thick trees to wait. A couple woodpeckers entertained us and brought some lightness back in though we were both quiet, ready to get out of our wet and cold shoes.
Once we got our tent, we got into dry clothes and snuggled into our sleeping bags to warm up (while eating snacks and extra jelly belly’s). Dinner time approached and I was suddenly facing a very serious choice. My hiking shoes were soaked and I was dry. I had my sandals, but it was freezing out I was pretty sure the ground was going to be muddy. Did I want to worry about wet muddy feet when we got back? I also had my camp slippers which would keep my feet warm and dry, which was ideal, but did I want to get my slippers all muddy and potentially wet enough if the rain came back that it would seep through to the inside? I ended up putting my wet socks and shoes back on and rolling my warm dry pants up so the bottoms didn’t soak up the water.
We made our way to the bar/restaurant and found a space to wait out of the way. 7:00 hit and a line formed going up to the counter where people were picking up boxed dinners. This was different from the seated service we had grown accustomed to, but not a big deal. We joined the line and when we got to the counter, the worker couldn’t confirm our names. Kim showed her our ticket and she said we were in the wrong place, we needed to go down the hill to the refugio dining hall and our dinner would be there. Heavy sigh.
We made our way down a long winding gravel road to the bottom of the hill and found the dining area overlooking the lake. The woman across from us at our table asked if we spoke Spanish and Kim pointed to me and I told her very little but I was trying to learn. She was trying to learn English and we were pretty close to the same level of knowledge in each language. It was easily my favorite conversation I have ever had using Spanish. She would speak to me in broken English and because I could understand that easily enough without trying to translate an understanding of Spanish words in my head, I could reply to her using my broken Spanish which she could understand what I was trying to say so we went back and forth speaking the languages we were trying to learn without having to try and understand it as well. It was still exhausting to ask my brain to work that way after a long day, but it was fun.
After dinner, we really realized how long the hill was that we had come down as we tiredly walked back up it to get to our tent and warm sleeping bags.
Day 6 – Day Hike to Mirador Britanico
…or so we thought.
We had heard the day before that the trail up the French Valley, which is the middle arm of the “W” was closed due to weather. That made sense, it was insane. This day was gorgeous. The sun was out, the sky was blue and the wind was very mild.
I remembered all the puddles that were unavoidable along the trail the day before and figured there was no way they had dried up overnight so I put my still wet socks from the day before back on and covered them up with my still wet shoes. We hiked back to where we believed Italiano to be which was the gateway to the valley. Among other things (I’m assuming), the ranger was there to prevent or allow people front entering and as we walked up the path, he was standing guard at the first building.
Unfortunately he was there to turn people away; the trail was closed again. A lot of people were expressing their extreme disappointment, especially with such a beautiful day. I took the view that there was nothing for this ranger, or whoever made the call, to gain by not allowing people up the trail so if it was closed, it was probably for a good reason. It’s like when a flight is delayed because there is something wrong with the plane…you will not hear me complaining; I have no desire to get on a plane with known damage.
We turned around and headed back to Frances where we spent the day in the refugio dining hall reading (Kim) and working in a puzzle book (me) and re-hydrating. The great thing was, we didn’t lose many miles because the only restroom was up the long hill so our plan of rehydrating with lots of fluids meant many walks up and down that hill!
At each refugio when we checked in, they would give us a quick run through of the layout and check out time and such and each place would say hot showers are available 24/7. We knew from a sign on the door the day before that the showers here at Frances were cleaned between 1 and 2 so Kim decided to take advantage of a down day and get one of those hot showers they advertised. She planned to be there right at 2:00 so it was fresh and clean and not very busy. She was thrilled that everything was working according to plan when she entered the shower house and it was sparkling clean and empty. This is where the plan went to hell…the hot water wasn’t working. And unfortunately, she didn’t realize this until she was already committed. She was in the shower for a couple minutes and it just wasn’t getting warm. Kim’s way tougher than me in this scenario. First, I wouldn’t have stepped into the shower until I felt hot water coming out. Yes, I realize this wastes some water…I save resources elsewhere. Second, if I did find myself in a shower not getting warm, I would not stick my head under that stream of cold water. Kim’s a badass though and she walks into the diner freshly clean with obviously washed, wet hair. I ask her if it was amazing and she remains totally calm, with a straight face, and simply says, “the hot water wasn’t working.”
We finished the afternoon playing a dice game with a few people from I don’t remember where and a long conversation with a lovely gay couple from Germany, one who had one of those laughs that is so full of joy it’s contagious and I would find myself laughing along at things that had nothing to do with me simply because his laughter encouraged me to. Even though we didn’t get to hike, it was a delightful day.
