Could you take on the famed W Trek in Patagonia? Photo / Getty Images
Could you take on the famed W Trek in Patagonia? Photo / Getty Images
A weather-weary hiker finds new confidence on a once-in-a-lifetime trek through Patagonia, Jody Robbins writes
I glance back at the slowly disappearing shapes of Alexis and Olivia, two hikers I’ve only just met, huddled against a gashed rock face as they pop Ibuprofen and apply blister tape.
I try to swallow my pride after they suggest I make a head start on this next ascent, our steepest of the day. I’ve got an extra 9kg and even more years on them, and though my ego is slightly bruised, I know they’re right. I am slower, and they will catch up to me within minutes.
I’m in Patagonia, Chile, hiking along the famed W Trek in Torres del Paine National Park.
A mass of glacier-carved valleys and snow-capped peaks stretching to the horizon, it’s considered one of the world’s most famous backcountry trips.
For hikers, standing before the chiselled spires of Torres del Paine is one of those coveted pinnacle pursuits — a once-in-a-lifetime adventure that takes a whole lot of planning.
The Torres del Paine National Park spans over 227,000ha in Chile. Photo / Fjällräven
For casual hikers like me, it had always seemed out of reach. Enter Fjällräven Classic – a guided backcountry experience that bridges the gap between wild dreams and wilder realities.
I knew Fjällräven as one of those hip outdoor apparel brands. But the firm also leads backcountry treks through some of the most stunning and challenging wilderness areas around the globe.
Patagonia’s W Trek is one of the world’s most famous backcountry trails. Photo / Fjällräven
The firm’s mission is simple: to make it easier for people to experience nature. It provides the logistics (route, food, site reservations), and you bring your gear.
The trek through Patagonia seemed perfect for people like me who appreciate a safety net, legendary landscapes, and a solid wool base layer.
Within hours of starting, I discovered how a low-stakes adventure can change your outlook on the great outdoors.
That’s because the weather in Patagonia is no joke. No matter the season, you can expect torrential rain and even snow. Wind gusts up to 100km/h aren’t unusual.
On Patagonia’s W Trek, a hiker lets go of fears and embraces the unpredictable outdoors. Photo / Fjällräven
Luckily, under the benevolent gaze of the hiking gods, our motley crew, spanning varying ages, abilities, and nationalities, set off under azure skies, albeit a steady breeze.
Hemmed in by striated mountains, we tramped alongside whimsical trees, their neon green leaves fanning out like pages from Dr Seuss.
But this fairytale-like beginning wasn’t to last. Dangling orbs of mistletoe began swinging violently as gusts of wind punched their way into the valley, a stark contrast to the serene setting we’d just experienced.
Those first two hours of the trek would become one of the few dry sections during the five-day expedition. Rain rushed in so fiercely and unrelenting that my water-resistant hiking pants became soaked within minutes. Frantically, I changed into waterproof pants trailside, dignity abandoned to the wind.
Fjällräven Classic offers guided hikes across several wilderness areas globally. Photo / Fjällräven
But that’s the thing about being at the mercy of Mother Nature, I quickly realised. You have to learn to let go.
“All this rain really makes you feel alive,” Ralph from Germany declared hours later as we picked our way across slick rocks, descending into what we hoped would be a sheltered rest stop.
Ralph’s observation struck a chord. I was far from feeling comfortable, but I certainly felt alive. Sheets of rain that render “water-resistant” gear laughable will do that to you.
Like the undulating peaks and valleys along the trail, my mood was up and down throughout the course of each day. There was the initial elation: I’m actually doing this thing I was scared of doing! This was followed by the grim reality of trudging through endless rainstorms because there’s simply no other way forward, and you need to make camp - ideally before nightfall.
I was holding on to feelings of annoyance and unfairness, which had disconnected me from the jaw-dropping craggy mountains I was surrounded by. Technically, I was in Patagonia, but mostly, I was stuck in my head.
Though I couldn’t control the weather, I decided I could control my thoughts and my reactions.
Weather in Patagonia is notoriously unpredictable, with 100km/h winds possible. Photo / Fjällräven
Hiking on nature’s terms became a humbling experience. And it wasn’t like I was the only drenched participant.
In a moment of schadenfreude, I felt grateful I wasn’t the hiker who, on day one, cuddled her rehydrated meal inside her jacket for extra warmth as it steeped. If only she’d sealed it correctly, Thai green curry wouldn’t have exploded between her layers. Being waterlogged is one thing; fragrant curry saturation is quite another.
Expectations were quickly thrown out the window as the rain morphed from sleet into snow. Certain sections of the W Trek became ill-advised to trek. Conscious outdoor recreation, I learned, includes being responsible for your own personal safety.
I missed going up Grey Glacier with its apparently killer viewpoint, but I managed not to linger on that disappointment.
Braving through the weather. Photo / Fjällräven
While experienced mountaineers revere the great outdoors, your average weekend warrior (like me) doesn’t always see the link between our actions, the landscape, and the environment.
Long-term sustainability begins with awareness-building initiatives, like offering organised backcountry treks to novice hikers. People don’t protect what they don’t understand. Exposure to the raw beauty and sheer power of nature ideally leads to respect and more conscious choices.
It was on our blustery fourth day that I left Alexis and Olivia on the trail. Trudging up the path higher and higher, I told myself it was no big deal to hike alone. It’s just that it had been so cold, that my phone and battery charger died. So, in addition to no hiking companions, I had no map.
As I psyched myself up with all the positive affirmations I could muster, the clouds shifted, revealing a glimpse of the Torres del Paine, its magnificent spires shimmering with shards of last year’s snow. Yet, in a flash, the sky closed again and that dazzling view vanished. Something in that moment, however transient, flicked a switch.
Yet without companions to attempt to match pace with or a phone to capture the perfect shot, I find an unexpected freedom.
There was no longer any point comparing my efforts to others. Spoiler alert: There never was.
It was just me and this gorgeous, dramatic landscape with its unpredictable inclement weather. The hours drifted away as I wove along the crests and folds of the trail, navigating suspension bridges over cascading rivers at my own pace.
The park’s iconic towers, Torres del Paine, are granite spires formed by glacial erosion. Photo / Fjällräven
Many hours later, I reached camp, tired yet proud and very much appreciating the celebratory bunting, cold beer, and brownies.
Instead of rushing to set up my tent, I lingered with the other weather-beaten souls. It became a bit of a party, with cheers erupting whenever someone arrived at the check-in point.
In such a short time, we became a community that understood how it’s possible for discomfort and joy to travel the same path.
Tent views. Photo / Fjällräven
Technically, that day wasn’t our hardest (the 9km uphill slog to Mirador Las Torres was to come), but it taught me something crucial: accepting nature on its own terms – rain, wind, and all – opens doors to experiences I never knew I needed.
Even if those experiences come with thoroughly soaked boots and the occasional face full of sleet.
Patagonia covers some 1500km from the gateway capital cities of Santiago in Chile and Buenos Aires in Argentina. The most popular trek in Torre del Paine is the W Trek.
