W Route Day 2 - to Los Cuernos

Though the previous day was very windy, the forecast for this day called for minimal winds, plus clouds and rain.  However, first thing in the morning at Refugio Chileno there was still a nice view of the peaks.  What a ridiculous forecast!

Refugio Chileno at first light

Sarah enjoyed her bottom bunk position.  She's lucky she wasn't assigned the third level bunk, or we would have had to tie her in.

As it turned out, weather forecasts are pretty accurate here.  Within no time clouds moved in, the view disappeared and we got some stiff rain.  We waited a bit for the rain to abate & then headed out on what supposed to be our easiest full day of hiking.  It would be mostly flat (up and down), out of the eastern leg of the W and around most of the bottom of the right side of the W, hugging the shoulder of the Paine Massif, with views of the surrounding lakes.

Sarah suited up against wind and rain in proper Vancouverite fashion.  Go team Arc'Teryx, woot!

I opted for the classic "skin dries faster than cloth in the rain" method of dress, especially since there wasn't much wind at the start & hiking kept me plenty warm enough.

Rain covers in place on our packs, we began the 11+ km traverse, through regular sprinkles and lots of cloud.

Sarah was happy to be in the real outdoors again - happy enough to strike a jaunty pose!

Chad takes a break overlooking the oddly Scandinavian-named Lago Nordenskjöld.  The foothills are quite barren, being largely scrub grass and shrubs.  In recent times forest fires aren't exactly uncommon in the park.

Oh my God, what's this?  It's Sarah, balancing confidently on rocks in a creek bed.  Just a few months ago this kind of gently challenging trail feature would have sent her back to the nearest hotel in panicked tears - but look at her now!  Like I said, mountain woman.

After a couple of hours hiking the wind picked up and the rain increased.  The good looking peaks above us were getting beaten by fairly strong gusts, which blew massive plumes of snow off their heights - very wintry and extreme-looking stuff.

Note the condor circling on the right

Cold wind gusts would also hit the lake, raising sheets of water vapour on their leading edge (though you can't see them in this photo).  When near the lake, this also gave a convenient visual warning of when a big gust was about to hit.

This weather made for some really cool-looking hardcore mountain views of the peaks directly uphill of us.

Cuernos Del Paine - the part of the massif directly above our next stop at Refugio Cuernos - was mostly obscured by clouds and snow.  But the glimpses we caught through the weather were very impressive.

Sarah felt a bit chilly in the wind and cold, but hung in there.  In the top right of the above photo you can see a ton of clouds pouring out of the French Valley, which runs to the right (the middle arm of the W).  That was part of tomorrow's hike - gulp.

It got windy and rainy enough that even I had to throw on the gore-tex, though bare legs were still more comfy (if a bit chilly) than pants in the rain.

We arrived at Refugio Cuernos, nestled in a gorge below Cuernos Del Paine, and theoretically a bit protected from the wind.  It's not a very good theory - there was a lot of wind, including many strong gusts from the lake side, surprisingly.  We later learned Cuernos had the reputation of being the windiest camp on the route.

Looking upwards from the refugio - the photo doesn't do it justice.  There is a sheer granite wall hundreds of metres high, then behind and far above it rise the snow-covered peaks of Cuernos.  A truly grand setting.

The Cost of Cheaping Out

We had decided, to save on costs, we would spend one night in a tent rather than in a refugio, and put the savings towards a single hot meal on our last night of the trek.  This was our tent night.  On the positive side, the tents were already set up semi-permanently on platforms nestled in some low trees, providing a bit (I say a BIT) of shelter and wind cover.  And we had great sleeping pads to insulate ourselves from the ground.  And we were allowed to use the refugio for eating, hanging out and getting hot water for tea.

However, we didn't account for a couple of things that are doubly relevant for camping in the "shoulder season" in Patagonia.  1) The tents, being of the "3-season" variety, had non-closeable mesh panels in them, so that despite being covered by a full fly they still caused a stiff breeze to blow through the interior of the tent, given the high winds outside.  2) More importantly, our rental sleeping bags, which were originally rated for -9 C weather, had been used and handled and washed so much over the years that I estimate they were really about +15 C bags now.  And it was going down to only a few degrees above freezing this night, with a brisk wind.

(Unfortunately, we were so busy keeping warm that we neglected to take photos of said tent and sleeping bags, etc.)

I did a little testing, and if I put on all the clothes I brought on the trek PLUS my gore-tex jacket, I didn't think I'd get hypothermia.  But I didn't want to sleep in my gore-tex, so I removed it and opted for: 2 pairs of socks, long underwear, hiking pants, long-sleeve synthetic undershirt, long-sleeve synthetic shirt, light fleece waffle sweater, heavyweight fleece Arc'Teryx sweater and a windproof toque.  Sarah was clothed similarly.  After another sandwich supper and a hot chocolate to warm up, we ran outside and dove into our chilly nylon home.

In a word, it sucked.  I can't recall ever being this cold for an entire night.  I blame it 95% on the sleeping bag and 5% on the tent.  It certainly wasn't the weather - both Sarah and I had been perfectly comfortable in much colder conditions using our own gear.  But those damned sleeping bags were about as warm as a cotton sheet, and completely transparent to any sort of wind.  I pulled the neck of the sleeping bag tight to a 15 cm breathing hole around my face, but even that was too much cold wind to remain acceptably warm.  To optimally conserve heat, I ended up ducking my head entirely into the sleeping bag, and plugging the sleeping bag face hole with the top of my head (encased as it was in my windproof toque).  This allowed my warm breath to help heat up the interior of my sleeping bag - which was so porous that I was certainly in no danger of suffocating.  In fact, there was so little useful fill left in the sleeping bag that as dawn approached, I could actually see light through the wall of the sleeping bag.  (How did those things feel so heavy and pillowy while retaining so little insulation?)

[Sarah's comment on the cold night: Is Chad exaggerating?  No!  My sleeping attire consisted of a pair of cotton socks, two pairs of wool socks, long underwear, my fleece jacket wrapped around my waist, a t-shirt, a wool shirt, a waffle shirt, another waffle shirt, a toque, and mitts and I still suffered the whole night too.  Worth it only for the story, definitely not for the measly $50 USD that we saved.]

We survived, but it was an awfully fitful night's sleep for us both!  And the next day was by far the longest hike of the trek...