Day 25 - Puerto Natales.

Creaky with post-hiking stiffness, though not affected as badly as last time, when my body pretty much shut down the moment I came back to Natales.

The weather’s bloody dreadful – alternating between sunny moments and longer stretches of gale-force wind and horizontal sheets of rain. I have no choice but to venture out and do my map work during the calm spells.
Take a stroll along the stormy waters of Last Hope Sound. The snow-capped mountains are mostly obscured by the low clouds and the wind whips up large waves. Two of my friends own copies of a genuine A.K. – a photo of the Sound taken during spectacularly good weather two years ago; Heather’s copy is poster-sized and framed and has pride of place in her living room. Just as I thought – I’m unlikely to have the opportunity to take that photo again.

Nor do I get the opportunity to bollock Fantastico Sur about the rat fiasco in the park; I shall have to send them a strongly-worded email instead. Most places are inexplicably closed on a Saturday; turns out that it’s the Chilean version of Labour Day, which is a problem because I need to find wine for tonight’s party in honour of the guys from Erratic Rock, who are heading off on their travels during the low season. Eventually manage to find a poxy little shop that sells booze.

Bill gives me a couple of recommendations regarding hostels and I go check them out as part of my rounds. He asks me to tell them that he recommended them: “There’s so much animosity in this town! No one wants other people to succeed.” So I go to try and spread a little goodwill. Erratic Rock is still the best hostel, but luckily there are quite a few more decent ones for the guidebook.

After lunch I head to Base Camp, the gear-rental-place-soon-to-become-a-pub next door to Erratic Rock, where they hold talks on Torres del Paine every day at 3pm. It may be off-season, but there are still some guys heading into the park. They’ll have to walk in, because the catamaran stopped running at the end of April.

The talk is done by a little fella called Nacho, who first discussed the logistics – transportation into the park, walking times between campsites – and then moves on to packing. I listen intently, because it’s still not my forte. He tells us an anecdote about his first time camping, buying way too much food, not having his gear in waterproof bags and putting a ‘waterproof cover’ on his rucksack, only to discover that it’s a big sham: they’re bloody useless and he found that his sleeping bag was wet, his change of clothes was wet, and everything was covered in sugar from the pack of sugar he brought with him. His advice? Make sure everything’s in waterproof bags. Have one change of clothes to hike in, and a dry one for night time only. You’ll get wet during the day, and don’t bother wearing Goretex because you’ll sweat like crazy and you’ll need it in the evening to keep your dry set dry. Find a hiking buddy if possible to split food/cooking equipment with. If you have to cross a stream, don’t leap from rock to rock, because that’s a sure way of ending up in the water/with broken ankle; wade in with your boots on but unbuckle your rucksack, so if anything happens, you can untangle yourself from it. Wrap all your food because of mice (and rats!).

Most of this I knew, and I’d add that it’s perfectly okay to cross streams using hiking poles to assist you from rock to rock, as my legs are too short and I can’t jump very far. Impressed with the talk because it really does cover everything our readers will need to know about the park.

Write it up. Go drop off laundry. Go pick up bus tickets to Argentina from Carla. Have a tea break with Bill in the kitchen with Macy Gray the cat on my lap; get introduced to Bruce – a cartographer who does hiking maps of Patagonia and who runs a shelter for homeless dogs and cats in Punta Arenas. We discuss volunteer work there; he gets more support from foreigners than from his Chilean friends, who are just not too bothered about animal welfare. A lot of people keep a dog for couple of years while it’s still young, then get tired of looking after it and just put it out onto the street. They take in this kind of dog - with no street smarts – rather than healthy strays, and sponsor a neutering program. Bruce offers me a tour, but I have to keep moving, so I offer to put in a few days as a volunteer next time.

“Do you have a card?”
“I certainly do,” and I produce my Rough Guides business card. I love having them. Saying “Here’s my card” never gets old for me. He gives me a hiking map of Cabo Froward – the southernmost tip of Chile (not counting the Tierra del Fuego island). Ever since it’s become part of the Sendero de Chile, it’s become easier to do, but it’s still a serious multi-day hike with a couple of streams to swim across. Next time…

Check out 'Baguales' for dinner - it's the new microbrewery/Tex-Mex joint on the square, run by a Californian-Chilean combo. I don't get a chance to taste their dark beer, because they've run out. However, the food's just what a hungry hiker will want to go for - large plates of quesadillas, rice and beans, guacamole, Buffalo wings...The food gets my vote.
Mingle with locals, mountain guides, underfoot cats and children, and hostel guests at the party in the evening. A local reggae band kicks off after spending about seven years setting up their equipment. They’re not half bad. Soon everyone’s dancing and singing along with Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” and “No Woman, No Cry”. I get nostalgic for Jamaica – the Sunday nights at Rae Town, the ghetto behind the Tower Street Prison, everyone swaying to the oldies in a haze of marijuana smoke, myself dancing with a Red Stripe beer in one hand, and a joint in another…