No turning back now.
All uphill.
Our place of rest for the night.
Christmas Eve would be our last and most difficult trekking day as we attempted to reach the base of the towers, the famous three granite peaks which give the park its name, Las Torres Del Paine. The best time to attempt the climb is before sunrise, supposedly to catch a glimpse of the morning sun hitting the peaks. Alarm bells went off at 3am. The ascent to the towers was approx 2 hrs and with the sun rising at 5am there was no room for slacking. Trying to brave the bitter cold in the dark was pure hell but we kept our thoughts on the sunrise. We started off at a good pace, perhaps too eager, using all our energy before the final horrendous part of the trek which was a never ending steep incline full of huge boulders. When we finally reached the top, the sun was trapped behind clouds which moved in from nowhere and we felt a little cheated after putting in so much effort.
Las Torres Del Paine
Minus temperatures with cutting winds, numb fingers and icy toes. I was cursing everyone who had promised us the glorious sunrise as it never appeared. The trek was worthwhile for anyone who likes to suffer was my initial thought, as the biting cold just had me thinking in one thing, Christmas Eve! I could feel the heat of a roaring fire in my mind with Ella Fitzgerald in the background. Oh how I longed for a Black Russian. Despite my wondering mind torturing me, the views were breathtaking and you can't help but feel a sense of achievement. The most enjoyable part for us both was making our way back down the mountain watching the many suffering trekkers who still had a long way to go.
Coming to the end of the entire trek, a huge Christmas dinner was waiting for us in the lodge at the bottom of the mountains. Poor Bruno got food poisoning and spent the rest of the day in bed missing out on the huge banquet of delicious food.
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