Day 1: Lago Pehoé to the Grey Glacier

The first leg of the trail is reached by crossing Lago Pehoé, a lake of such vibrant turquoise that people crowd the stern of the catamaran I stand on, paralysed by the awe its surreal hue weaves. Tiny particles of silt, formed from glacial erosion that become suspended in water runoff, cause the lake to appear cloudy and lends it a turquoise colour, which has come to be known as “glacial milk.” Once my meditative downward stare is broken, I finally look up: towering above Lago Pehoé is the Macizo del Paine, the central massif of the park. The massif was originally formed when volcanic magma cooled, turning into granite. As the millennia passed, layers of sediment compressed over the rock and, as immense geological pressure forced the formations upwards, glaciers retreated, carving away the softer sediments and forming the mammoth towers we see today. Although seemingly every geological phenomenon in the park can be explained by science, there is still the unshakable sense that what you are seeing could only possibly be borne out of magic.

After landing on the opposite shore, full of energy and optimism, we set out for the Grey Glacier. The first hour or so of this trail is fairly flat, but as the walk progresses, it fluctuates in elevation along a rocky ridge that contours Lago Grey. This leg should only take about 4 hours, and about halfway in – if it is not too windy – you can walk out onto a ledge at the Mirador Grey, where you’ll see the glacier looming at the north shore of the lake. The Grey Glacier is part of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, which runs along the southern Andes, between Argentina and Chile. It’s the third largest ice sheet in the world, after Antarctica and Greenland, and during the last glacial period it covered all of southern Chile. While I am perched out on the mirador, marvelling at this thought, a belligerent thrust of wind knocks me down. The unrelenting winds in Patagonia are notoriously dangerous, known to top even 180 km/h. Sadly, according to a local guide, there were five deaths along the W circuit in 2012. If a strong wind picks up at the wrong moment, it can kick you off the mountain.

Early that evening, we reach Refugio Grey and set up our tent on the adjacent campgrounds. Without the burden of our packs, we trail-run twenty minutes north to inspect the glacier up close. This final sprint of endurance is contrasted by the immense stillness and grandeur of the Grey Glacier before us.

Day 2: The Grey Glacier to Lago Pehoé

Having marvelled at our good fortune for a temperate, calm first day, I awake the next morning to a rainstorm. The best advice for anyone trekking the W is to resign yourself to the fact that you will get wet. Even the best waterproof gear won’t save you. Be smart, but don’t stress. Take extra plastic bags to wrap any clothes or electronics inside your pack. We quickly disassemble our tent and wait underneath an enclosure until the rain dies down.

After twenty minutes we forge ahead and, about an hour into our trek, the sun breaks through and alleviates the damp chill, giving us a fresh boost of energy. Hiking back the way we came, towards Lago Pehoé, I notice things I never saw the first time, including waterfalls pouring over cliffs in the distance. From one of the many tributary streams, we stop to refill our canteens. Unlike bottled water, the water in Patagonia is not “purified,” rather, it is pure. That taste of purity is not the absence of flavour, but – and I mean this in earnest – a taste of genuine freshness.

As the sun bears down on us, we stop to strip layers of clothing, and I notice large swathes of dead trees, standing like charred skeletons, littered amongst the otherwise pristine landscape. If a spark is picked up by the horrendous Patagonian wind, thousands of trees burn within minutes. Thanks to huge fires in 1985, 2005, and 2011 – inadvertently caused by tourists – the park office has banned campfires. Cooking is allowed only by way of small camping stoves, which must be shielded from wind by an enclosure.

Just as we make it back to the shores of Lago Pehoé, a dense fog swoops in, obscuring the Macizo del Paine, and it begins to rain once more. We are supposed to continue on to the next campsite, Campamento Italiano, but as it is in the basin of a valley, it will flood. We change plans, hunker down, and instead set up our tent on the shores of Lago Pehoé. It happens to be New Year’s Eve, and so we are joined by a serendipitous grouping of strangers, who have also gathered inside an enclosure at the refugio to escape the wind and the rain.