Our first night was the capstone to a wet, windy inaugural hiking day in Torres del Paine. I could tell I would be hiking in my rain jacket for the next few days and my hat would probably never leave my head until I was back in Puerto Natales. I also noted that the wind velocity has the power to pluck any of us and our unwieldy packs off ridge lines and lake shores if we are not diligent about staying balanced on two feet at all times. Holy wind!
The circuit has a scattering of campsites and refuges (refugios) and they outline the shapes of the hiking circuits (the “W,” the “O”) with ~ 10 – 15 kilometers spaced in between for day hikes. While these are places to settle in for the night to cook and sleep with your crews, they also came with their unique cultures. I picked up on this fairly quickly, and we discussed as a group throughout the trip.
We were camping in tents and staying in pre-designated spaces for our four nights (note: reservations at campsites during high season, on which we were at the cusp in December, are hard to come by and the campsites are fairly full each night as a result). During our first night at Refugio Grey, my hiking mates and I quickly developed a connection and fondness for our guides, Javier (Javi, pronounced Hah-vee) and Donilo. We were a mighty group of five looking after each other, and there was an unspoken egalitarian nature to our time together.
Our hiking crew preparing dinner on the first night at Refugio Grey, Javi and Donilo middle and right (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).
For example, Javi mentioned that typically guides and porters would eat separately from their hiking groups, or the porters would be convene with other porters while guides and hikers stayed together for meals. We all ate together around the same table, and helped wth meals and dishes. None of us had interest in being separated for any aspect of our time together, but the historic stratification of humanity, even in hiking Torres del Paine, stuck with me throughout the trip. I had a flashback from my time hiking the Inca Trail to Macchu Picchu in Peru in 2006 and I remembered the fleet of porters supporting our group of 10 travelers. Our porters were all men, small in height but huge in capacity for lifting heavy bags and running the trail at warp speed, while still leaving enough time to set up tents and dinner in time for our arrival each night. In retrospect, I had a pang of regret for not considering the value of integrating proactively with our porters then, to deepen my Spanish proficiency while interrupting the “privilege strata.” I was not nearly woke then as I am now.
A windless moment for a photo between Refugio Grey and Paine Grande.
Dinner and breakfast at Refugio Grey were cozy occasions in a communal kitchen space filled with other guided groups and independent travelers huddled around stoves and long picnic tables. There were plastic bags of dried food and oatmeal components on every table. It was difficult to determine where one group’s items ended and another’s began. The floor was dirty, the water from the tap was freezing, there was never enough soap to really clean our dishes, and the windows steamed up at the peak hours of usage. The volume of “Spanglish” negotiations was high. Javi and Danilo’s fame within the guide community was evident based on their “Che” references and high fives with other guides. It was clear these guides had all done this circuit a hundred times with travelers like us, and yet the park offered a limitless amount of awe and inspiration. They loved their jobs, they told us. The vibration of the space had a buena onda, a good energy or vibe. It felt light, inclusive and warm. Fun.
The morning before leaving Refugio Grey, I took the morning to do some calisthenics as part of my lower back therapy, and I wandered into the refugio, which had a restaurant, bar and a few rooms for overnight stays instead of camping. I was amazed. Picture an “apres-ski” situation in any western U.S. ski town, with boisterous guests circling tables in the bar, decked in the finest outdoor gear brands, with wet boots lined up around the wood stove. The languages in the air were English, German, Italian and Dutch. A few British accents as well. The room was white in race with a few Latino guides waiting in the hallway (presumably for their guests). I found a corner to do my exercises, noting through the window a group of guides (including my own) huddled outside the camping kitchen with cigarettes and joints. I put two and two together — those guides outside were paired up with these gringos inside. Outside, inside.
Javi, me and Emily waiting for the ferry to Paine Grande and at the start of our selfie craze (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).
I also noted my own familiarity within the refugio — the clientele, the money required to buy things there, the comforts it provided (like heat). I knew how to navigate this space and I fit in, literally wearing the uniform of a white face, Patagonia puffs and money in my pocket. (I also appreciated the heat, I confess).
We started our hike to the next campsite about midday, and I was pleased to move on and reunite with my crew — all of us.
