Torres del Paine- Part 2

We awoke in camp to spectacular views.  The clouds had lifted as we hiked the day before, revealing glaciers nestled high in the Patagonian peaks.  Waterfalls poured down the mountainsides feeding into the turquoise-blue Nordenskjold Lake.  Today, we would backtrack to work our way up past Francés Glacier into the heart of Torres del Paine National Park.  There we would find Mirador Británico.  As we backtracked, we would actually be hiking past our campground so we would try to secure our site and continue the out-and-back with just daypacks.  Here is our trek as it appears on Strava:

We heaved our 50+ pound packs onto our backs and began the trek back toward where we had come the day before.  Naturally, Eli began to complain, pointing out to me that we would have to do this same trek for a third time tomorrow!  His grievance was justified.  It was not easy going.  This particular section of trail undulated over rocky creek beds and over low-laying ridges feeding down toward the lake we were paralleling.

The reason for our back-and-forth was a nerve-wracking delay to the start of this dream trip.  During the pandemic Chile maintained strict regulations at the border.  I didn't realize I had neglected to upload extra documentation until the day we were supposed to fly!  After nearly canceling the trip we arrived in Patagonia a week later than expected.  I had to restructure our itinerary but, in the end, we were able to make it work by ferrying to a different starting point in the park and, as mentioned, backtracking over this two-mile section of trail.  I reasoned with my son that if we had to do the same hike three times, 'What better place in the world!?  Over 99% of the people in the world will never get to hike along this beautiful section of trail and we get to do it three times!'  Needless to say, my watertight logic didn't make the hiking any easier.

We were able to drop our packs in camp and secure our campsite.  We were just a little uneasy as we ate lunch with a bird of prey perched on a low branch, watching us all the while!  We could feel the energy and excitement return to our bodies as we set out again with much lighter day packs filled with nothing more than the essentials.  But we quickly realized it wasn't easy-going.  Almost as soon as we left camp we turned north and began to climb up into the heart of Torres del Paine.  Undaunted, Eli and I fell into a good rhythm putting miles behind us.  The weather had warmed significantly now that the sun was shining.  Thankfully our path was shaded as we weaved through trees lining the Rio del Francés.  The river roiled with the melt-off from the massive glacier high above.  

Glacier Francés was quickly drawing nearer as we continued to climb.  Then the view that Eli would later say was his favorite in the entire park came into site.  Alive and moving, chunks of ice would break off and, seconds later, we would hear them crash.  The glacier was so large it engulfed our entire panorama.  

Most visitors to Parque Nacional Torres del Paine stop at Glacier Francés.  However, Eli and I continued deeper into the park setting our sights on Mirador Británico.  The trail continued along the same river and we stopped to filter more drinking water.  Though we were still climbing, the path didn't seem to be as steep.  We found a shelter that somebody before us had built, apparently as a rest station for weary travelers with the benefit of some shelter in case of bad weather.  

We pressed on- still steadily climbing.  We were growing tired.  Either we were slowing down or Mirador Británico had appeared closer on the map.  Maybe both.  Then, the trail finally leveled and we entered into a bowl nestled in the heart of the Torres' mountain range.  It was like stepping out onto a lunar landscape.  Almost 360 degrees of jagged spires surrounded us.  All the while the sun glared down on us.  

  

We had made it to Mirador Británico!  After taking in the other-worldly terrain we began our descent.  With our light packs we were now moving a lot faster back down toward camp.  As we passed by Glacier Francés, possibly for the last time in our lives, we took one more picture.  

Long days would grace our time at the bottom of the world as the sun remained in the sky until 10:30 in the evening.  We arrived back in camp with plenty of daylight.  The sun shone high as we cooked up dinner with other backpackers in the designated cook station. Eli and I recalled the amazing events of the day.  Tomorrow we would make our way to the Chileno base camp from which we would climb to the iconic towers for which the National Park and even Patagonia was known.  

How's Life?- Snapshot

How's Life?- Snapshot

Solo Trip

When I was younger, I remember trying to get away by myself on occasions.  But my extroverted self was always miserable without having someone to share the experience with.  My first time backpacking in a National Park was by myself.  It was a disaster.  I ended up sitting depressed in my tent on what was supposed to be a two week hike through the Great Smokey Mountains.  For two days I ate all my beef jerky and macaroni and cheese before limping back out the way I had come in.  In recent years, however, I am learning the value of getting away alone to pray and seek the Lord on important matters.  I've done it several times now and it has always proven to be an experience where God gives me great peace and clarity.  And to satisfy my innate desire to share these experiences I decided to document my most recent solo trip and share it here.  

The rain had been pouring down for five days.  I had my mountain bike in the back of the Jeep and was headed to one of my favorite places to get away to in Paraguay.  As I turned off the paved road rain drummed on the canvas roof.  An occasional drip would make it through and splash on the analog dials of the 92' truck.  Strangely, it gave me an excited feeling, like I was driving a tent through the elements as I slopped over 30 kilometers of mud roads.  Along the way I listened to my Bible-reading and a good audio book, all the while drinking ice-cold tereré.  Finally, I made the slow climb up to Salto Suizo.  To ensure a chill time, I would be staying in a giant wine barrel converted into a one-room cabin. 

After the rains, Salto Suizo's waterfall was swollen.  I had never seen it so full.  From the top, beyond the cascading rapids, a giant plume of mist stretched out over the forest.  I entered in among the darkness of the tress as I made my way down winding stairs that would take me to the bottom of the falls.  The roar grew and wind and water hit my face as I approached the pool into which the water plunged.   

After a good night's sleep in my barrel the sun was shining for the first time in five days.  I was looking forward to a good ride along some single-track on my mountain bike.  After breakfast I took out a pen and paper and mapped out the mountains and valleys of life's joy and pain on a timeline.  From that I extrapolated the personal, masculine, and family values that I have formed over the years.  It was so profound to see this on paper!  I humbly recognized what a rare gift it is to have values worth living and dying for.  For me, this clarity has come from hearing God's voice in His Word and being willing to follow where He has led my family and I.  It's not always safe and is rarely easy but it is the most secure path to be on.  There, sitting under the trees with the distant roar of the waterfall I thanked God for His goodness.  Then I set out on my mountain bike!

After five days of rain the trail was gnarly! Large rocks covered the soft mud. Bamboo lay across the path. If I could get my front wheel over these obstacles my back tire would follow. I slowly cranked up the steep sections of the path. On the downhill sections I would use my back brake to control my speed over and in between the slippery rocks until splashing through a stream and starting another climb. Dozens of yellow butterflies scattered as I rolled through patches of sunlight in the forest. Large blue morpho butterflies actually flew with me, riding on my slipstream in the narrow passages through the woods. I passed cows grazing in pastures with colorful wooden houses overlooking the sloping hills. An occasional cactus plant towered along the side of the trail.

But soon the trail opened up and the hills gave way to one long downhill.  I whizzed down the orange road past a small chapel and brightly colored clothing on barbed wire fences, drying after days of rain.  The climate was perfect!  In Paraguay, it's normally pushing 100 degrees for more than half the year.  This was one of those rare days when the sun was shining and it wasn't too hot.  When I came to a wooden bridge crossing a shady stream I stopped to capture the lush scenery.  I was trying an experiment by brining my DSLR camera with me- combining my two loves of photography and mountain biking.  The one limitation is you can't take any action shots without breaking your camera or worse!  But the quieter moments were easier to capture.  

I started the long climb back up to Salto Suizo and returned covered in mud.  Not only had the trail been sloppy but at one of the narrower stream crossings my front wheel sank into the mud bringing me to an abrupt stop.  I couldn't clip my feet out quick enough and had fallen into the muck with my bike.  It was all part of the adventure and the best part was about to come.  I pedaled past my wine barrel to where the stream poured over the edge of the cliff.  I carried my bike straight down into a pool just above the waterfall.  The cold and refreshing water washed over my bike and me, removing all the mud.  What a great ride!

I now realize that stepping away from the immediate stresses of life to spend purposeful time alone in nature can be so beneficial.  Outwardly, there's little to show for these times.  But the gains that come from the inward clarity and resolve to continue living life purposefully are more than I can express in writing.  The next day, it was already time to hit the road.  The sun was shining so I took the roof off of the Jeep and loaded up my things.  Solo trips are great... and getting to share them isn't bad either!  

Welcomed Back by the Paraguayan Landscape

It's good to be back in the heart of South America where in many ways it feels like home.  Paraguay's beauty is subtle.  One has to slow down to notice it and take time to appreciate it.  I thought I'd get our blog posts going again with some photos I've taken of the Paraguayan landscape since our return.  

For missionary kids, Paraguay's streams and waterfalls make for amazing places to explore...

... and of course, cool off!

Modest sized mountains overlook the landscape.  For those who climb them they offer views stretching to the horizon by day and reveal sunsets and burning fields by night.  

The highest of these mountains, Tres Kandú, continually overlooks our camp where newly finished cabins weather the elements.

Golden Orb spiders have taken up residence above the stream at camp.  These giant garden spider's webs literally shine golden in the sunlight!  They are also incredibly strong.

The Monk Parakeets have multiplied in the tall Eucalyptus trees so much so that they are becoming a problem.  Ever social, dozens of these green and blue birds squawk all day long and eat the farmer's corn in the surrounding fields.  When one of the Monk Parakeets fell from a nest and broke it's wing it was taken in as a pet.  

Another bird that I've been seeing at camp is this Campo Flicker. 

In Paraguay the landscape never lacks beauty to be enjoyed by those who stop to look up...

... or hold still long enough to appreciate it!