Christi and I shuffle around our freezing 6-bed dorm at 7 am trying not to disturb the other, still snoring, occupants as we prepare for our long hike (28 km / 17 miles) to the French Valley and back. We leave the refugio at 8:15 am. The first 2 hours are over relatively flat ground beside Lake Skottsberg to reach the entrance to the French Valley at the Italian campsite. From there, it’s 3 more hours, sometimes scrambling over huge boulders, sometimes crossing rivers, and always staring spell-bound at the gorgeous scenery (particularly the aquamarine waters of Lago Pehoe – and glinting on the horizon the refugio Paine Grande) to the end of the French Valley and the viewpoint.
Clinging, sometimes precariously, to the Paine Grande Mountains is the French Valley glacier. And it’s no surprise when a rather large section breaks off. The avalanche occurs on the far side of the French river from where we’re hiking and initially it feels as if we’re watching a disaster movie with the volume muted. But then, after a few seconds delay, there’s a tremendous rumbling sound, like a jet soaring overhead, and a blast of cold air saturated with fine droplets of water slams into Christi and I. Even at this distance the power of nature is unmistakable.
We arrive at the British campsite at 12.30 pm. According to our map, the viewpoint is 2 km further on up a steep incline. I’m game, but Christi is content to remain at the British campsite and eat her lunch. After 20 minutes of scrambling I make it to a box canyon surrounded by many peaks, all clear and all standing proud (as with much else in this part of the world the peaks are often covered in low cloud so for once I get lucky). The views are magnificent.
Our return hike is smooth and easy until the last hour when the rain comes and the temperatures plummet. Thank goodness for the waterproof trousers we rented in Puerto Natales. Christi hikes on in silence no longer enjoying herself. Distant views of the refugio coincide with an end to the rainstorm. At 6:15 pm, 10 hours and some 27 km later, we finally make it back to refugio Paine Grande. And no amount of grunting, farting, and snoring in the dorm tonight keeps us from a fantastic night’s sleep.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching ride
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