Patagonia Need I Say More? or End of the World?

Punta Arenas.  Ruta del Fin del Mundo.  The name of the road translates as The Route of the End of the World, where the road ends at the southern tip of South America.  That is where our ship was going to dock for a couple of nights. Even though the end of the Earth is a cool place to be, it was not the image that I had in my head from childhood of the lands down there while growing up in North America.  Patagonia was the jutting peaks with snow at the tops and turquoise blue water at the bottoms.

My beloved said that if I really wanted to make a visit to that enchanted land, I had her blessing. I started to look for the “best of Patagonia” on the internet.  What I found was a place called Explora Lodge.  Rated as one of the top ten lodges in the world, the views from the location were exactly what I was hoping for.  I wanted to have two dusks and two dawns in exactly that spot.  I booked two nights, and later our friend Laura said she would like to join us.  So we set it up for the three of us to take the four and a half hour trip from Punta Arenas to Torres del Paine and four and a half hours back in time to rejoin our ship.

Our 7:00 PM departure for the ship got pushed back to 2:00 in the afternoon, then to 12:00 noon. Unfortunately, that meant that we would not get to spend any time in the park on our final day there.  We would just have to make the most of the time that we did have.  Get pictures, experience the views, and be there.

We arrived early, but our driver never got the message and showed up on time.  It was a misty morning with a light rain, and I worried a bit about a weather report suggesting that we might not be seeing the sun during our two nights at Explora Lodge.  There are things you can do something about, and there are things that you can’t.  That was part of my wanting to have two nights instead of just one.

Robin picked us up in a large SUV, and I was invited to sit up front with him since I was keen on getting some photos along our long ride through the country between Punta Arenas and Torres del Paine. His English was better than my Spanish, and both Dusty and Laura appreciated the banter about his family and the area.

Robin proved to be an interesting man with a fascinating past. His father had three fishing boats and had once met Jaques Cousteau.  It turned out the the Calypso had broken down near Punta Arenas and his father had given them a tow back to port.  And then there was the time they discovered bronze cannon balls while digging near the fort in southern Chile.  It’s cool to just listen to the stories of everyday people as you travel the world.

Robin pointed out the sign saying this was the route to the end of the world, and I took a picture.  There was a bird that he called a ñandú. A lot like an ostrich, he said.  I took a picture and later found that it was a lesser rhea, or Darwin’s Rhea.  Then he spotted a baby guanaco.  He called it a chulingo.  While llamas and alpacas are domesticated, this cousin is only found in the wild, and here was a cute one out in a field looking at us.

This was all I could get with my phone camera

Robin stopped and let me get out on the almost deserted highway to take a better shot. I had my long lens on my camera and set it to get the best shot that I could, and pressed the shutter, but nothing happened. I looked at the back of my camera, and a big red exclamation point indicated that the SD card malfunctioned. I tried a half dozen things to get it to reset, and everything I did failed. All I could think was that I was going on this rare photographic journey only to be relegated to cell phone shots for the duration. Crap!

I took a quick shot with my phone just to have the memory and skulked back to the van.  For the next several miles, there was silence as I went through every option I could think of using what I had brought with me.  When I finally changed to an old SD card from Tahiti about three years ago, the camera came to life, and it indicated that I could put about 3000 more shots onto this card before I reached its limit.  I could breathe again, and the conversation came back to life.

The wide open spaces with short grass and distant mountains reminded me at times of the Central Valley in California, alternating with the savannah of Kenya. When we approached a large pond, the birdlife was obvious, and there were geese, gulls, teals, and caracaras in abundance. I didn’t even need to get out of the car to take pictures. I just rolled down the window, and there they were.

We made two more brief stops for pictures before our lunch break. The first was a first for me: the largest bird of prey in the world, the Andean Condor. It wouldn’t be the last, but it was certainly breathtaking to be able to see this rare bird soaring in the wild and not inside some zoo somewhere. The second stop was to make up for my guanaco sighting where my camera had failed earlier. Cute guys, and I would definitely be seeing a lot more of them before we left Chile.

Further on, Robin pointed out some signs on the side of the road warning people not to cross the fence due to the presence of land mines.  It was a bit shocking to hear, but the tensions between Chile and Argentina had been at such a level during the Beagle conflict in 1987 that mines had been placed along the border between the two nations.  I wisely listened to the sound advice.

On the road to our hotel, across the road from Morro Chico, where the condors' nests are, was a small restaurant in the middle of relatively nowhere. The wind was whipping the flag on the pole in front, and the bushes seemed to have a permanent lean toward the south from the ever-present winds. There was a little bell out front that they asked us to ring on the way out for good fortune or whatever, and inside were about eight or ten little tables and a coffee machine next to the freshly baked desserts. It was halfway through our 4 1/2 hour drive to the Explora Lodge and time for lunch. A diner inside asked where we were going, and when we told him, he insisted that we must absolutely visit the Grey Glacier while we were at the lodge. There were plenty of options to consider while we were there, but that would definitely be one of them.

After a hearty lunch and coffee for Dusty and me and a Chilean beer for Laura, we rang the bell and continued toward the mountains in the distance. Around an hour later, we were ascending the hills leading to the mountains covered in snow that were the iconic pointed peaks of Patagonia. Just past the Milodon Cave, where they celebrate the prehistoric sloth/bear that populated the area about twelve thousand years ago, the nicely paved road became severely potholed. After that, the asphalt turned to gravel. Robin said minor road improvements had been made when President Piñera came to visit Explora Lodge after retirement in 2022, but those improvements had long since deteriorated.

What the road lacked in drivability, it made up for in scenery.  The mountains got taller and the lakes bigger and bluer as we climbed higher.  Clouds began to gather, and there was the occasional drizzle along with the ever-present wind, and I could have cared less.  it was gorgeous.  The photographer in me wanted better light, but we had two nights at the lodge, and I had faith that it would clear up at some point.

On the shore of Lake Pehoe was the Explora Lodge, ranked as one of the best lodges in the world. Location, location, location. From almost every vantage point in the lodge, including from the bed, you had an unobstructed view across the lake of the iconic “horns” of Torres del Paine. The lake was a turquoise blue, and there was a waterfall running next to the lodge that emptied the glacial melt from the mountains, filling the lake.

We scurried as best we could out of the van after a four and a half hour ride to the entrance of the lodge through a light wind-driven rain. A young lady introduced herself, and I promptly forgot her name while Robin and another attendant grabbed our backpack and duffle from the back of the van. While we were checking in, they informed us that there would be a briefing for new visitors at 6:00 to explain the outings included with our visit. Normally, the minimum visit is three nights, but we would miss our ship if we stayed more than two. We knew people from the ship that were going to make the round trip to our lodge in one day without even spending one night. The location was that good.

After taking advantage of the open bar included in the reservation, we went to the briefing to learn about the options for our activities the next day. There was the Gray Glacier hike, nine miles and pretty physical. I could do it, but probably not either Dusty or Laura. There was a five-kilometer hike that was rated easy, finishing at a Chilean barbecue. It was agreed that all three of us would enjoy that. There would be clear views of the three towers, mountains that are synonymous with the park, and arguably some of the most recognized mountains in the world. Laura had really wanted to do some horseback riding while she was there, and I agreed that I would go too, and Dusty could return to the lodge to relax after the hike and barbecue.

There were boardwalks running toward the mountains and lake in front of the lodge, as well as toward the waterfall behind. Dusty and I made use of both paths and tried our best to stay warm and dry as we did. The clouds were starting to part, showing little patches of blue sky and rays of sun here and there. It was starting to look better and better.

We forced ourselves back inside because it was getting close to dinner time, and they had a reputation for everything being high-level service.  The meal and wine were no disappointment. The light outside kept calling me, and before we got to dessert, I had wandered outside again to find a caracara watching me check out the view.  The whole setting was kind of surreal.

Long story short, we finally got to our room and reluctantly closed the blinds of the magnificent picture window.

It was about four o’clock in the morning when I decided to open the blinds and take a peek.  With my full night vision unrestricted by artificial light, I looked out on the starlit mountains with thousands of brilliant pinpoints dotting the sky behind.  First, I woke Dusty up to show her. Second, I put on my pants, jacket, and slippers to go downstairs and out to the boardwalk for a better look with my camera in hand.  I went down toward the water and then up to a little hilltop overlook.  Each place had something special in the way I would see things.

The challenge of taking pictures with almost no light was not insignificant.  I tried with the phone, and the three-second image was pretty sloppy. I made two or three adjustments to my Olympus camera and started to get stuff that I liked.  One third of a second did not get enough light.  Three seconds began to show shake from not having a tripod on the camera.  One full second braced just so got me clear images where I later noticed that I could see the Southern Cross just above the mountain on the right.  It was cold, and I was not really dressed for it, so after about twenty minutes I forced myself to go back inside.

I managed to sleep a bit over the next hour or so until the light on the horizon told me that dawn was approaching. Jacket, pants, slippers, and camera on, and then out again.  This time I climbed to the little hilltop and turned around to see the sunrise.  The glow was lovely, and it slowly lit the precious mountains that I had been obsessed with since I first saw them. The scattered clouds in the east picked up the first golden glow of the new day.  The bright white snow and western clouds showed with the shades of gray that Ansel Adams was famous for photographing.

Watching and waiting for the spark of the new day to paint the mountains, the woman who greeted me the day before walked out and again greeted me by name.  Someday I may be better with names, but this was not that day.  I found it a bit amazing that she remembered me.  She said that she had been there for about a year and a half and was still mesmerized by the view that I was trying to capture on this first morning of mine. She walked on, and I kept trying to get myself to go back inside.  Each time that I walked toward the lodge and looked over my shoulder, the light kept calling me back. For over a half hour, I found myself moving here and there and stopping to gaze in wonder at the beauty of this place.  Yeah.  I really liked it.

When I got back to the room, I opened the blinds again like I was revealing a work of art. And I was. Dusty was able to see the same show from the comfort and warmth of our bed. Pretty good situation for her to get the best of both worlds.

Laura joined us during breakfast, and then we met at the assigned place at the assigned time to meet with our guide, Ariel. The hike would be about 5.6 kilometers and was rated as easy, but we had been learning that easy here might mean different things to different people.

Our group of seven people would be driven about an hour to the opposite side of the park with views of the three towers along the way.  We would then take our hike and finish off at an old sheep ranch where we would have our barbecue.  Ariel kept saying that he hoped we would catch a glimpse of a puma along the way.  When I questioned him on the reality of his comments, he said that it was more than just a wish. It was a real possibility. All the eyes were peeled in search of that special sighting except for the two sleeping in the back seat of the van.  I think that they had overly enthusiastically taken advantage of the open bar.

We started to see peaks of the famous three towers between other obstructions, including clouds and lower mountains. Reentering the park, there were five or six big buses that I was grateful we had sidestepped with our private tour. The lake that looked up at the three towers was the stop for the classic view they chose for us. The clouds kept it from being a perfect day, but there they were. We could see all three of them. And, with any luck, I could clean up the pictures afterward with a little digital editing.

After our photo stop, it was about another ten minutes to the trailhead. We all got out and grabbed our hiking poles for the walk through the hills with breathtaking views. There was a long climb through the woods that made me wonder for a bit if it was going to be too much for Dusty. She did great, and after crossing some open fields, we came to a huge lake that was almost perfect. Ariel told us that sometimes there are flamingos on the lake, and the sight is spectacular. I started counting up more reasons that I wanted to get back here someday. But I was here today, and it was really pretty great. The reflections on the water and the vistas were just too cool. We walked down along the edge of the water where the mud had dried and hardened. I looked at some of the animals' footprints, and they told me a story about a fox following some birds. Maybe that didn’t happen, but I keep telling stories in my mind.

Walking and talking and just being there.  We answered a few questions about what it was like on the ship for years, and then we got back to what mattered.  The fields of wild rye that the guanacos were dining on and the meal that was waiting for us just a mile or so down the hill.

The gauchos are not gone.  They are preparing wonderful fire-roasted lamb, beef, and more.  They are dancing the Chamamé and serving up Calafate Sours.

(The Calafate Sour was the local drink. It was made with the berries of the calafate plant, which grew wild all over the area, and Pisco, which was the distilled moscato wine that was the base for the famous Pisco Sour. We were told that if you ate the calafate berry, you would return to Patagonia. The drink was actually pretty good, and yes, I did grab one of the berries along the trail and pop it in my mouth. I would really love to get back here someday.)

The preparation and serving of our authentic Chilean barbecue were all done in a renovated building on an old sheep ranch.  From salad to dessert, we were dining on the real flavors of the area.  I enjoyed it, and then we prepared for the second half of our day.  Dusty would catch a ride back to the lodge after a long walk and a big meal. Laura and I would get on a horse for the first time in many, many years.

Most of the horses had names that I could recognize from their Spanish roots.  Not mine. Besu Lemu was the name of my horse. I believe Laura had Sombrero.  As soon as I mounted the grey/white horse, I was worried that I had made a mistake.  My center of gravity was way too high, and I was sure that I would slide off to one side or another.  The horses knew what to do and would follow the one in front of them on a route that they had done a hundred times or more.  Besu Lemu decided that we would be the one following the leader, Nelson.

Our guides for the two-hour horseback ride, Ginger and Sophie, had briefed us on what we needed to do and fitted us with some chaps and helmets to keep our legs clean and cover the insurance requirements.  The ride took us back in the direction of where we had hiked in, and soon I was looking down on the fields of rye with a half dozen or more guanacos grazing below us from the back of my horse, following a gaucho in Patagonia.  Did I really just say that?  Yep.  I was really there and had kind of figured out the balance part by watching the guys who really knew how to do it.  Put a little more weight on the stirrups, and pretty soon you aren’t shifting from side to side. You are actually riding the horse instead of just sitting on it.

By the time we got to the overlook at the far end of our ride, I was pretty comfortable, and Laura was beaming.  I handed the phone to Ginger to get a couple of pictures of us, and she took a spin around the two of us to catch us in “action” as we started the return trip to the stables.

I never fell off, and the horses were not hurt in the carrying of the two plus gringos to the overlook and back.  We dismounted on the same big step where we mounted back at the little ranch and made ready to return to the lodge.

On the way back, Ginger was with us, and I said that all we lacked for the day was a good shot of a puma. And since we were hoping to get the shot of the puma, let’s make it a shot in the sunshine with the three Towers in the background.

As we passed the lake where we got our pictures of the Towers, another one of the guests asked the driver to stop. There was a guanaco. It was standing up on the ledge above us. It turned out to be several of them, backlit by the sky with the three Towers just to the left of them. Apparently, our request for a puma had been misinterpreted and replaced with multiple guanacos. At least we got a pretty good look at an iconic scene that screamed Patagonia!

We made it back in plenty of time to have another lovely meal as the clouds started to gather. By the next morning, there was a light rain falling just as it had on our arrival.  We were supposed to stop at the same spot for lunch as we had on our ride in.  Unfortunately, they were not open on Sunday.  Fortunately, we needed the time to get to the ship before it departed, and that little change in plans worked to our advantage.

The mountains turned to hills.  The hills to valleys. The valleys to open prairies. And with the open spaces, there were more guanacos to stop and take pictures of before we arrived at the docks to bid farewell to Punta Arenas and Patagonia.

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