Hiking in Patagonia: Dark Skies, Icy Ridges, and—If You’re Lucky—New Friends

My plan was to hike O Trek, a circuitous trail that crosses a steep mountain pass and runs past a spectacular glacier, but I began to question my resolve. The “Self-Guided” program I had signed up for with Vertice Travel, a local concessionaire, called for me to spend nights at campgrounds that supplied meals, a tent and a sleeping bag. But reaching them often involved challenging hikes up to 12 hours long over scree-covered slopes and windswept, icy ridges. 

So Long, Solo

That first day, I backtracked up and down trails, sidestepping a cluster of horses who raised their heads to stare at me. I considered returning to the park entrance and renting a room at a luxury lodge. But on the verge of giving up, I ran into David Catz and Brian Trost, two young hikers from Argentina, carrying giant backpacks and camera equipment. 

“Hike with us!” said David. 

Turned out I had been on the trail after all. After my new friends and I built a small dam of rocks and tree branches to ford a stream, we hiked for hours along a winding trail through open pastures and lush forests. Setting aside ambitions for a soul-searching trek, I fell into comforting chats about past trips and our hopes of seeing the park’s pumas and giant condors.

The darkening sky was spitting rain when we reached the Seron Campground, where dinner and a tent awaited. I was so exhausted and cold that everything felt like a major task, from removing my hiking boots to waiting to wash up in the grimy shower stall. 

Our Group Expands

By the third day, an esprit de corps developed among our growing band of hikers, which included an Australian welder and a British financial consultant. “Here, I am alone, but never lonely,” said Jason Chen, a Stanford sophomore, who preferred hiking to “partying in Cabo with my friends.”

On the most difficult day, we started out on a steep trail in the morning while it was still dark, wearing headlamps to make it over the John Garner Pass. We emerged above the tree line into a snowy expanse, where we were blasted by screeching gusts of wind. Sunrise danced through layers of clouds, reflected brilliantly in a chilly lake we passed. 

When we hit the crest, we paused to take in the view of the massive Grey Glacier below, pockmarked with deep fissures and canyons, then began our descent along icy ridgelines. There we faced a new challenge: black ice. Still, my spirits were buoyed by fellow hikers who cheered as each of us careened on our rear ends down steep trails that had morphed into icy chutes.

The Post-Trek Effect 

It was late afternoon when we made it safely off the mountain, with four hours to the next campground. I left behind Brian and David, who were bogged down with their camping gear. Something inside me had indeed changed. I found myself blithely hopping through fields and clambering up part of the elusive trail that pierced a small waterfall, maneuvers that would have terrified me only days earlier.