May 27, 2011. I had stayed up late the night before packing my backpack for a 6-day/5-night W-trek in the Patagonia. I had my food squared away, my sleeping bag, alcohol fuel, sleeping pad, tent, etc. I wasn’t sure how cold it would get and how much clothing to take, so I went with the easiest solution and just packed all my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts. When I woke up, I was ready to go. I had a light breakfast and hopped on the mini-bus that would take me and five others to Parque Nacional Torres del Paine.
In the bus, David from Australia rode shotgun, William and Gaelle from France sat in the second row, and in the last row sat two more French, Philippe and Corinne, and I. Sitting next to Philippe, we learned that we had much in common. He was an avid traveler, had been to India and Australia, was in to SCUBA diving. He had also worked for about 5 years before deciding to do something else and travel. I was immediately struck by how similar his life story was to mine.
The drive to the park was an hour and a half. We passed a bunch of mountains and fields. It kind of reminded me of the mountains in California. We passed a lake and stopped to take pictures. The wind was heavy and very cold. I took one or two photos and then retreated to the warmth of the minibus. I knew there’d be plenty more opportunities to take photos during the hike.
David, William, Gaelle and I were dropped off at Sede Administrativa CONAF office where we signed in with the park. Although it was sunny, it started raining while we were still in the office so I donned my rain gear. We all started off together down a gravel road and then on to the trail. The trail looked like cornrows in the ground, each row worn by thousands trekking the same route year after year.
The sun was about 20-25 degrees above the horizon, obscured by clouds most of the time. It was interesting to me that it never rose much higher than that in that part of the world. Apart from when the sun actually sets, it always felt really late during the day. Back in Zambia, I used to be able to accurately tell the time by looking at the sun. If I had done that in the Patagonia, it would perpetually be 5:30 pm.

It took us 5 hours to walk to the Refugio y Area de Acampar Paine Grande. There lies a small hostel and area for camping. We utilized the cooking building, a circular house on stilts, and hung out there most of the night. I had brought my Kindle and read an article from the Wall Street Journal to my trailmates. Outside, it was beautiful. The stars shined brightly on a clear dark sky. David said it was like looking at the stars in “high-definition.”
At the campsite, I realized something terrible. I was in such a hurry to leave Easter Island on the morning of my departure that, in addition to not being able to say proper goodbyes to everyone that I had partied with the night before, I also forgot to pack my poncho, which served as a tent footprint and pack cover, and my rainfly! Without the rainfly, my tent was useless to me, 2 lbs. of deadweight that I’d have to lug around for the rest of the trek.
I pitched my tent right on the hostel porch because it would protect me from rain, which was a wise move because it did rain that night.

May 28, 2011. I was up before sunrise. I made some oatmeal and drank a cup of Carnation Instant Breakfast in the dark. The others woke and also prepared their breakfasts. Gaelle and William set out earlier than David and I because their itinerary was a little bit different than hours. David and I set off together towards Campamento Los Guardas. His pace was little bit faster than mine so we ended up not hiking together most of the time. He stopped at Refugio Grey to wait for me and look at the mirador there. I continued past Refugio Grey and on to Campamento Los Guardas so I arrived at the camp before David. I was pretty tired and just wanted to go straight to camp.
I walked out to the mirador and saw Glacier Grey. It extended far out to the horizon. I took a couple of pictures and went back. David arrived and we walked out to the mirador again. This time we just sat perched on a steep cliff and admired the natural beauty.

At one point, I took off my gloves and took a picture of David. Then I asked him to take one of me with my camera.

As I passed my camera to him, the wind blew and my gloves went off the cliff to a lower ledge. I thought they were lost initially because the cliff was so steep and to get to my gloves would require me to maneuver along an edge that was not much wider then my foot. I thought the gloves would be blown even further, but they remained for the moment. So, I started climbing down slowly towards my gloves. All I could think of was maintaining three points of contact with the rock at all times. I had to put the idea of falling to my death out of my mind. What was funny was the fact that I kept saying out loud, “I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m so scared.” I really was!

But the rescue mission was an overwhelming success. I got my gloves back! I climbed back up to where David was perched. We took more pictures, admired the beauty, and then headed back to camp.

Camp for me that night was in a dirty, rat-infested cooking shelter. The rat droppings on the wooden table were a tell-tale sign of its unseen inhabitants. However, the shelter met my criteria for a proper campsite in that it would provide adequate shelter from rain and wind. I brushed the rat droppings off the table with branch and set my sleeping pad and sleeping bag on the table. David and I cooked dinner, ate, and hung the rest of our food from the ceiling to protect it from the rats.
I lit my candle to provide light as David and I stayed up for a while to chat, eat and kill some time. We listened to some jazz on his iPod before he finally retired for the night.
In the middle of the night, I woke several times to the sound of rustling nearby. I turned my pocket LED light on and couldn’t determine the source of the noise so I turned it my light off to sleep. Then, I also felt something on my hair. I sat up in the dark and gave a mild-mannered yell, just loud enough to make a noise that would frighten whatever touched me. Back to sleep. Then I woke up again a few hours later to hear some very loud animal activity, as if two animals were in a fight with one another. David heard it, too, and also added that he heard a splash as if one of the animals fell into the stream nearby.
May 29, 2011. On this morning, as with every night during the trek, I was up before dawn to boil water for my oatmeal and hot chocolate. Long before the sixth morning of the trek, I really began to despise oatmeal. I forced myself to eat it only for load up on the valuable calories that would be needed during the day.
We hiked from Campamento Los Guardas to Campamento Italiano.  This involved 20.6 km of pain.  I had a pain behind my right knee, making it very difficult to walk.  I limped into the camp at the end of the day after crossing the bridge over the Rio del Frances.
 

My first priority in camp was to figure out my sleeping arrangement for the night.  The cooking shelter was in pretty bad shape since there was no table to sleep on and the ground was wet.  There were a bunch of fallen trees strewn about the camp so I immediately went about gathering branches and limbs to build a bed.
 
Inside the cooking shelter, I lay two of the longer branches parallel to one another.  Across these, I lay shorter pieces of wood very close together.  I then put my sleeping pad on top to to test out how even it was.  It was perfect.
 

Next order of business was to build fire.  David had the same idea and had already went about gathering firewood.  We both built our fires and sat in front of them, reflecting on what an unforgettable experience that we were having in the Patagonia.  We were amazed at seeing Glacier Grey the day before and, since it was low season, the park felt even more remote and isolated.  We were days from the nearest road, far removed from civilization.
What made Campamento Italiano even more exciting was Glacier del Frances slowly creeping over the edge of the mountain further up the valley.  About every hour to hour and a half, we heard a tremendous noise echoing like thunder through the valley, Valle Frances, as an avalanche came crashing down off of the mountain.  It was quite a sensation to hear and feel the noise.  A fleeting thought came through my mind that maybe we weren’t safe, that we were in danger of being swallowed by the ice and snow of avalanche.  All the natural forces of gravity, wind, water, and the sun combine to give the park a dynamic energy.  It’s like the park is alive.  It’s always moving, always changing, and it’s far more exciting and exhilarating than the trails I’ve hiked back in Virginia.
May 30, 2011. The next day, David and I explored the upper end of the valley as far as the trail would take us.  It was raining and, as we hiked higher, the rain turned into a wintry mix of snow, sleet and ice.  The trail led right across the river from Glacier del Frances.  There, David and I were treated to one of the most amazing sights that we witnessed on the trail- an avalanche!  We watched the ice fall hundreds of feet off a sheer cliff.  The thunderous sound followed a few seconds later, reverberating through the valley.  Both of us could’ve waited for hours just to see more, but we had more hiking to do and so we pressed on.

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We hiked to Campamento Britanico, where the campsites were crude three-sided windbreaks made from logs.  We had a light snack there.  David had a Snickers bar and some peanuts.  I had some bread, cheese, and salami.
 

The trail to the outlook, or mirador, was covered in snow and ice.  The wintry mix had turned entirely to snow covering the valley in a light grey curtain.  We could still see pretty far, but the true majesty of the valley was obscured somewhat.  It was very cold and very windy up at the mirador.  Still, I was all smiles.  It  just felt great to be out there in nature, experiencing the wild so far removed from the rest of the civilized world.
 

 
We back tracked down the valley to pick up our backpacks at Campamento Italiano and then hiked to the Refugio y Campamento Los Cuernos.  I had picked up two sticks to use as walking sticks.  These alleviated the pain behind my right knee and significantly increased my pace back to normal.  I was no longer a gimp on the trail.

The hike to Los Cuernos was beautiful.  There were great views of the lake.  The trail meandered right up to the lake shore which was covered in smooth black and white rocks.  When I first got to the beach, I immediately plopped down, backpack still attached, and appreciated the gorgeous view.  It seemed that the lake, Lake Nordenskjold, seemed to turn colors depending on the sky.  At times it was grey; other times it was a deep blue, like the deep blue color of the stone on my VMI Ring.  So beautiful!

Across the lake were hills exposing cross-sections of rock that undulated like waves.  You could see semi-circular lines of rock, known in geology jargon as synclines and anticlines.

That night we stayed at the Refugio Los Cuernos.
The refugio was a dump.  The kitchen had dirty dishes in the sink and moldy bread in the cabinets.  David said it was as if the staff just abandoned everything.  I saw a rat climb out of a drawer and into a cabinet.  It was awful.
The beds however were decent enough.  The only thing that kept me from sleeping that night was the cold.  Some Portuguese backpackers who also stayed at the refugio that night had a thermometer and told David next morning that the temperature had dropped to -10 degrees Celsius, or about 14 degrees Fahrenheit overnight.
May 31, 2011. The next section of the trail was approximately 16 km from Los Cuernos to Campamento Torres.  I’ve heard this described in other accounts of the trek as a very boring section of trail.  I thought it was great every step of the way because you continue walking along the lake where each footstep is a new mirador and the trail that leads up Valle Ascencio is right next to the edge of a very steep and exciting slope.  It was not boring at all.  I’d fool around and push rocks off the edge to see how far down they’d go.

At Campamento Torres, I had to build another bed, which by this point had become routine for me.  I made dinner before nightfall and spent a few hours at night just hanging out in the camping shelter.
June 1, 2011. David and I were up extra early so that we could start walking to the famous Torres del Paine mirador before sunrise.  The trail led through a wooded area and then become very rocky as we ascended.  There was ice and snow on some parts of the trail so we had to be extra cautious.  We made it to the Torres well before the sunrise.  We took pictures and watched the towers slowly illuminate as the sunrose.  How they glowed a brilliant orange!



Torres del Paine on a perfect morning like this was just the icing on the cake for me.  By that point, I was already mesmerized by everything I had already seen, the lakes, the glaciers, the mountains and so forth.  As I walked the trail, I thought of every word I could (in both English and Spanish!) to describe the beauty that I was witnessing at every step.  My words and pictures help to communicate, but to get a real sense of the emotion, the awe and the wonder, requires a visit to the park in person.
After seeing the Torres del Paine, David and I proceeded to the Japanese camp which is supposed to be for climbers only.  We wanted to push as high as we could into the Valle Silencio.  Unfortunately, we were constrained by time so we had to turn back before we could make it to any exciting miradors.
We walked all the way to Laguna Amarga to meet the minibuses that would take us back to Puerto Natales.  We passed the Hotel Las Torres and saw some local wildlife called “guanacas,” deer or llama-like creatures.

 
As we drove away, I kept looking back at the mountain behind us.  I was still completely awe-inspired by everything I’d seen during my time in the Parque Nacional Torres del Paine.  I was struck by such emotion that it took me weeks to really process the experience.
This was one of those things in my lifetime that I’ll be able to look back upon many years from now and say to myself, “I’m glad I did that.”

It was Monday, May 23, 2011. Kayla, Javiera, Marnoch and I were all up early to catch buses and part ways after traveling together for the last 4 days. Javiera left the Nuevo Mundo hostel the earliest to catch her bus at 8:35 am to Puerto Montt to be in time for her afternoon flight back to Santiago. Kayla, Marnoch and I left for the bus station at 9 am. Marnoch and I boarded the 9:40 am bus to Puerto Montt, saying our last goodbyes to Kayla who would later leave by bus to Castro where she would spend more time exploring Isla Grande de Chiloe.
Having danced the night away, I slept the entire way back to Puerto Montt. Once Marnoch and I got there, we picked up the backpacking equipment that we left a few days earlier at the Casa Perla hostal, shook hands and then said our goodbyes. Marnoch would proceed north to Bariloche, while I would go south via the Navimag ferry to Puerto Natales in the Patagonia.

I boarded the Navimag at 4:30 am. Since it was low season, there was barely anyone on board. It was four Argentinian men, two British men, one British woman, and roughly 8 Chilenos. I was beginning to get worried that I would be bored out of my mind with hardly anyone to talk to for the 4-day/3-night voyage to the Patagonia. I wrote a few e-mails and downloaded a book on my Kindle just before the ferry set sail from Puerto Montt.

My highlights from the trip are as follows:

• Making friends with the Argentinian film crew.  I definitely enjoyed their conversation.  Thank you, Gustavo M. L., Guillermo K., Gustavo J., and Vicente P.  Since I was alone, they were the first to invite me to sit with them during dinner and I ended up spending more time with them than with any of the other passengers.  They shared one of their Argentinian customs with me, the drinking of mate. It was also very interesting to see them at work on their documentary about Domingo Sarmiento, an historical Argentinian educator.
  

• Making friends with the Brits, Darren, Deb, and Mark.  It always nice to be able to speak English at a normal pace.

• The food.  The Navimag served delicious steak, chicken, and fish.  I usually went up for seconds.  Gustavo joked that he could invite me to his house in Buenos Aires, but I wouldn’t be invited to dinner because I’d eat all his food.
• The scenery.  As we ventured through the channels between the uninhabited islands, it felt like we were moving further and further from civilization – like in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness or Stanley Kubrick’s Apocalypse Now. The gray, winter sky added further to the eerie feeling.  The islands were truly beautiful though.  Some had waterfalls.  Others had snow on their mountain tops.

• The wildlife.  We could see penguins and seals.
• The rainbow near the shipwreck.  Very pretty.

The not-so-great parts of the voyage were:

• The showers had neither hot, nor cold water.  It was good enough for me, but I don’t think most passengers were pleased with it.
• Motion sickness.  As the ferry moved out into the ocean, we could really feel the waves.  I thought it was fun at first, like a roller coaster, but then it later felt like the world was spinning in my head the way it does after drinking too much.  I felt better as soon as they crew played the evening movie, Apocalypto. I suppose it’s because I was visually fixated on something stationary, just as staring at the horizon is supposed to help alleviate seasickness.
  

Overall, I thought the ferry was very relaxing and my accommodations were comfortable.  I finished my book, was entertained by movies that the crew played, I loved the food, and I enjoyed the company of the Argentinians and the Brits.

When I first arrived in Puerto Mont on the morning of May 18, 2011, via an overnight bus from Santiago, I was the only staying at Casa Perla, a small hostel located near the bus station.  An e-mail from the Navimag company later that afternoon said that due to poor weather, my Friday departure date on the ferry to Puerto Natales in the Patagonia would be delayed until the following Monday.
That gave me extra time to explore the nearby island of Chiloe.  The weather was cold and rainy and I wasn’t really all that motivated to make plans to do anything.  Not too long after I had arrived, a Scot named Marnoch showed up.  It was good to have company and someone to talk to.  Later that night, a Chilena named Santiago named Javiera also arrived at the hostel.  Javiera was on vacation for a few days and had plans to also visit Chiloe.
The following day, Javiera, Marnoch, and I went day-hiking in Parque Vicente Perez Rosales.  It rained the entire time, but we had made a pact the night before to go hiking regardless of what the weather was doing.  After our hike, we went to Puerto Varas and hung out a little bit before going back to Puerto Mont.

Back at Puerto Mont, Kayla, an American showed up.  She was living in Buenos Aires, Argentina, but was traveling through Chile at the moment.  Her plans were to visit Chiloe over the next few days, too.  So now our small ad hoc band of travelers had increased by one more!  The next day we took the ferry to Chiloe and stayed at a lovely hostel called Nuevo Mundo in Ancud.
Chiloe is famous for its mythology, its UNESCO-designated wooden churches, its houses on stilts, called palafitas, and its delicious seafood.
 

 


I found that the cities that we visited, Ancud, Castro, Achao were all very picturesque, small, sleepy towns with a wooden church.  My favorite part was going out for drinks and dancing on the last night that we were there on May 21, 2011.
We couldn’t find a place that was open initially.  We wandered the streets in Castro until we heard the sound of music.  We followed that sound and found a karaoke bar full of Chilenos.  The fun thing about Spanish karaoke is that you can fool people into thinking that you really know Spanish as long as you know how to read.  I always have a blast when I read Spanish karaoke.
Our group ordered a tall cylinder of beer and sang to our hearts’ content.  A large group of Chilenos, about 6 girls and 3 guys, invited us to sit with them and so we obliged.  Later, Kayla and I went dancing with them and didn’t get home until late.  Earlier, we had decided against going to that club because we heard there were fights there, but we felt safe since we were with Chileno friends.  I’m glad we went because that was one of the highlights of my visit to Chiloe.
I boarded the Navimag ferry in Puerto Mont the following afternoon, May 23, 2011, for the 4-day voyage to Puerto Natales, my first port of call in the famed Patagonia.
(The other highlight was not getting sick from the mystery shellfish soup that I had bought in the market and cooked at the hostel.  It was good and cheap, and had I known about its existence earlier, I probably would’ve subsisted on it during the entire time I was there.)

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It was May 13, 2011.  I was still on Easter Island, Chile.  I had arranged to rent a horse from Pepe, the local Rapa Nui who I befriend two days earlier.  Rather than go through a formal tour operator, I thought I’d be wise to side-step the middle-man and go directly to a supplier of horses.  By arranging it informally, I know I could get exactly what I wanted:  a horse and the freedom to explore the island unsupervised.  The deal I got from Pepe was decent, $40 USD for an entire day unsupervised.  For the same price, you can get 3-4 hours on a guided tour up Maunga Terevaka, the highest point on Easter Island.
I had asked for Pepe to come pick me up at the campground at 9 am; he showed up sometime around 9:45 and 10:00 am.  I was hoping he’d come earlier because I knew I had a lot of ground to cover during the day, but the cultural concept of time is drastically different in South America than in the U.S.  As a foreigner, it’s important to accept this fact lest one be constantly frustrated with every minute past an expected time.
We rode via motorbike to Pepe’s farm.  While there, Pepe and a buddy, corralled one of the horses so they could put a saddle on it.  Pepe assured me that this was a strong horse that could carry me up Maunga Terevaka, the highest point on Easter Island at 1664.73 ft.  Good, I thought.  I’m going to ride the hell out of this horse and see everything on Easter Island.

As soon as I mounted Pingo and headed towards the road, Pingo started on a fast trot.  This horse was a lot more robust than the docile horse I had ridden a week and a half earlier on a tour with my class at Las Cascadas Resort, outside of Santiago.  Once we got to the rode, Pingo took off on a runaway gallop.  My right foot slipped out of the stirrup and I struggled to gain control of Pingo as we careened off into a field next to the road.  I thought to myself, If I fall off of this horse, I’m going to be in BIG trouble.

I pulled the reins with all my might to get Pingo to stop.  Finally, I got him under control.  I put my foot back into the stirrup.  As soon as I loosened the reins, he started galloping again!  It seemed the entire way leading up to our ascent up Maunga Terevaka was a power struggle!  “Slow down!,” I yelled each time he tried to runaway beneath me.  At one point, I had even considered returning Pingo to exchange him for a slower, more docile horse.
The way up Maunga Terevaka is a lot more complicated than it looks.  Although much of the island is rocky grassland, it’s crisscrossed with private fences.  Luckily, I encountered a Rapa Nui man named Chino who showed me the way.  We trotted together for a little bit before parting ways so that I could begin my ascent.  As we trotted, he could see how robust Pingo was and complemented on how fine a horse Pingo was.
The steep climb up Maunga Terevaka was a welcome respite from the runaway galloping that Pingo was so inclined to do.  As we climbed, I could see the great, blue ocean below, the grassy plain of the island, and Easter Island’s only town, Hanga Roa.  The sky was clear and sunny; the breeze was comfortable.  How lucky I felt to be there at that moment – and more especially so as we finally made it to the top of Maunga Terevaka.
 

 
The top of Maunga Terevaka gave me a 360 degree panorama of the largest terrain features of Easter Island: the Poike Peninsula, Hanga Roa, and Rano Kau volcano to the south.  There isn’t much to the island as it is only 15.3 miles long and 7.6 miles wide.
 

 
I descended the northeast side of the mountain towards Anakena.  We walked on the beach, admiring the bright blue color of the water and the white sands, until we got yelled at by one of the staff there.  I had read the sign that said “No recreational vehicles allowed,” and I thought nothing of it because I didn’t consider a horse to be a vehicle in the same sense as an automobile or a motorbike.  That was fun while it lasted.  Besides, I was getting a little bit frustrated with Pingo because, for some odd reason, he kept wanting to turn left.  A crazy horse he was!
 

 
 
We stopped to talk pictures at the moai before galloping away, following the road that led across the Poike Peninsula.  At this point, both horse and rider interests were aligned with one another.  We encountered buses and cars full of tourists heading in the opposite direction.  We galloped even faster as we approached them.  We were quite the spectacle!
We made our way to Ahu Tongariki, the site that had 15 moai.  As I dismounted to tie Pingo up to a post near the entrance, I heard a French woman ask her husband if I was also a tourist or a local Rapa Nui.  She undoubtedly figured it out as I walked down to the moai to take pictures.
 

 
 
Because of the approaching sunset, Pingo and I had to skip the quarry, which is one of the highlights of the island where the Rapa Nui would construct the moai.  We tried to gallop/trot all the way back to Hanga Roa.  Night came.  By the end of the day, both Pingo and I, were thoroughly exhausted.  He didn’t want to run anymore, and I no longer wanted to be in the saddle.  I had to dismount and pull him behind me.
We finally made it back to the campsite at Mihinoa where I was staying.  We both drank copious amounts of water.  Back at Anakena, I refused to pay $3 for a 500 mL bottle of water so I was very parched.  Pepe came for the horse.
I made dinner and fell asleep on a bench in the kitchen.  I was sore for days from all that cabalgata, but it was well worth it.  It would’ve been nice to have someone there to whom I could express the incredible sensation of being on a horse on top of Easter Island, but that comes with the territory when traveling solo.
 

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I arrived on Easter Island on Sunday, May 8th. I met Casie, a girl from California who was staying at the same place that I was, and we started walking from our campsite at Mihinoa towards the moai statues that lie just north of the harbor at Hanga Roa.
We were walking along the sharp, lava rocks that lined the coast line when we encountered four Rapa Nui women and a 1-year old baby scouring the tide pools. Curiosity, as always, got the best of me and so I went up to them to ask what they were doing.
They said they were picking sea urchins. Of course, I didnt understand them because I dont yet speak Spanish well enough, but I could tell just by looking at what they were collecting in their white, plastic bucket.
I watched as they placed one of the dark, purple sea urchins against the rock and broke it in half with a screwdriver. Then they would put the sea urchin to their mouths and suck out the orange and black slime that was inside of it. 
They offered me to try it, and so I did. I was reluctant at first because of the sharp spines on the sea urchins. Then one of the ladies told me in Spanish that I was supposed to eat the sea urchin like I kiss a woman. (Thank goodness Casie was there to translate because I had no idea what the Rapa Nui woman said!) “¿Con mucho cariño?,” I asked. [meaning “with lots of affection?”]
“Muuah. Muuah!” I pretended like I was kissing the sea urchin affectionately. They laughed. Then with all seriousness, I puckered up and sucked the orange and black slime out of the sea urchin. Tasty it was.  Now I know that you eat sea urchins the same way that you kiss a woman- though I won´t be doing it with as much “cariño.”