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D L M M J V S Objetivo: Glaciar Gray Trek

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21 7 de diciembre Modo: Pies
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31 Distancia: 16 kilómetros
Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, Chile

I woke at 5:00 to the sound of large rain drops falling on the roof of
the Trango. Although the overcast skies made for a dreary morning, the
heavy cloud cover had kept the temperatures elevated overnight. This
j
was very important considering our exposed position here on the bank
of Lago Pehoe. I made a quick check of our campsite,
confirmed that we had a carpa seca and turned back in for
another two hours of rest.
At 7:00, we were startled by the sound of someone
beating their hand on the front of our tent. Andy and I
quickly realized that we had company, but we did not know
!
why. Taking a quick mental lago: lake
carpa: tent
inventory, I was sure that I had not invited seca: dry. mojada = wet
anyone over for the Trango 2 Breakfast carabinero: Chilean police
Ay!: “Oh!” Useful Spanish
Buffet (A real bargain at only $3.99). Still, interjection. “Ay, Dios mio”
means “Oh, my God!”
there was no denying that someone wanted No sabíamos: We did not know.
to see us, and whoever it was, he or she glaciar: glacier
No me digas!: Don’t tell me!
sounded very impatient. mirador: overlook
I unzipped the front of the tent fully expecting to see some scowling
carabinero ready to fine us for violating some sacred camping rule. My
suspicions couldn’t have been more inaccurate. Instead of the Park Führer,
we were greeted by a cute, young, clipboard-toting Chilean named Gabriela
who politely asked what our tent was doing outside of the designated
camping area. We played the total idiot role to perfection saying things
like “Ay, No Sabíamos!, No me digas!” and Gabby seemed convinced of
our honest mistake. We promised to relocate before 10:00 when her
boss and other park officials would be arriving for a routine Saturday site
H O M E S W E E T H O M E inspection.
By 8:45, the sky had cleared and we enjoyed
a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and raisins. Next,
we donned our Mayflower caps and carried
H O G A R D U L C E H O G A R Casa Gringo over to spot #29.

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l At 11:00 we were ready to attack the trail and head north towards
Glaciar Gray. We started through a densely-wooded valley and made our
way up to a lofty lookout that gave us a good view of Lago Gray. Far
below we could see large pieces of glacier that had broken from the pack
and floated downstream. We took a fifteen-minute dried fruit break at
the lookout and resumed our journey northward. Most of the trekkers
that we passed on this segment were Western Europeans. Although few
spoke much Spanish, everyone seemed to communicate fine with a simple,
“Hola.” One hour and a half into the trek, we reached the first Mirador
Glaciar which was incredible. This vantage point gave us a good idea of
just how enormous Glaciar Gray really is. In fact, this particular icy rock
covers the entire lake and stretches northward for over fifty miles. We
decided to snap a few Nikon poses
Glacier Tracking from a blustery overlook before
continuing our quest for front row
4 miles... glacier seats.
The trail was mostly downhill and
a bit treacherous in spots. At one stage,
we had to literally straddle a mountain
stream trying to keep our boots dry.
Further on, we were dodging low
branches and huge black puddles of
mud. The next stage of the trail was
1 mile ...
mile... very flat and winding, reminding me
of the Blue Ridge Mountain trails back
in Virginia. With only four miles to
go, what we thought would be forty
minutes to the glacier base ended up
lasting almost two hours…so much
for those summer internships at Rand

200 yyar
ards...
ards... McNally.
Finally, around 15:00, after a three
and one-half hour total trek, we made
it to the base of Glaciar Gray. Once
there, we sat down at the Glaciar
Mirador where the view was
spectacular and majestically silent. If

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 G l a c i e r T r a c k i n g
...Touc
...Touc hdo
ouchdo wn!
hdown!

you’ve ever found yourself face-to-face with a 2,000 year old glacier, you
know the feeling. The great white-and-blue mass was truly awesome.
Pieces of the giant slab would fall to the icy waters below approximately
every five minutes. We relaxed, ate the rest of our trail mix and took
several photos over a one hour pause for reflection. At 16:00, we decided
to make the return trek back to base camp.
The trek home was similar, yet much faster, due to a higher percentage
of downhills and a ravenous craving for pasta. The highlight was stopping
at a small mountain stream on the way home, soaking our heads and
drinking our fair share of the freshest water this side of Zephyrhills, Florida.
The final hour was almost all downhill and, fortunately, precipitation-
free. At 19:00, we were back at Trango Central anxious for rest and vittles.
Dinner was served shortly thereafter and was quite filling: green pasta
shells relleno con queso y salsa tuco. Dessert consisted of hot cream of
wheat with brown sugar and milk. Andy and I shared k.p. duties and
returned to the carpa for a thirty-minute chat with our new friend, Gabby.
She is a bright, energetic twenty-two year-old from the Chilean seaside
town of Viña del Mar. Before coming here to work at Torres del Paine,
she was a Tourism major at a prestigious university in the capital city of
Santiago. During the peak summer season (November-April), Gabby
works twenty-one days here at the site, followed by seven days of vacation
in Puerto Natales. On the subject of camp etiquette, she reports that we

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 gringos get pretty high marks, surpassed only by those fastidious Germans.
After snapping several group photos, it is obvious that Andy and I are
both vying for young Gabby’s affections, although she does seem more
interested in the blonde than the brunette. I can’t speak for my trail
counterpart, but it is pretty tough courting with confidence after several
days sans shower. Perhaps young Andrew, once an avid Grateful Dead
and Phish follower, is more versed in the fine art of grubby flirtation.
Given the positive vibe going on between the two of them, I resolved to
accept my role as the fun-loving third wheel. Hello, Patagonia! My name
is Jack Tripper.

? ?

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