Torres del Paine | The Highs and Lows of our Self-Guided W-Trek

Five days and four nights of exhaustion, beauty and glory. Our self-guided W-Trek in Torres del Paine was one of the most difficult tasks we’ve taken on and it was entirely worth it. Though we often questioned our sanity, we finished strong and proud of our physical, mental and emotional capabilities.

Here’s the day-by-day story of our experience. Grab a cup of tea or glass of wine and settle in to read all about the ups and downs of the magnificent W-Trek.

Day 1 | Las Torres | A Towering Ta-da

25kms / 8 hours

Our first glimpse of the park came through the window, wiping sleep from our eyes after the ever awkward bus nap. Los Torres – or ‘Towers’, which have become the postcard picture for the park – loomed from beyond far away mountains. Jagged, stark, piercing pillars of granite. Distinct and striking, though their tops were still swaddled in thick white fog. Since we were doing the trek from East to West, atypical of the more common path of West to East, we knew we’d see them early on, but we didn’t expect to see them right away. Yet there they stood, luring us onward.

Eager to get a closer look we ditched our bags at camp and hit the trail. The first kilometre was deceivingly easy – a flat, sandy trail past the gorgeous Torres Central Hotel, winding over bridges and through fields. We were still in awe over the breathtaking scenery when our trip took a turn up the mountain.

Then we hit our first taste of the immense beauty of the W-Trek. It was called the Windy Pass – a plateau situated high over a rushing river, the fields and mountains of Patagonia in the distance behind us. This cycle of challenge and reward would become a theme throughout the trek.

Pressing on, we were relieved the path took a decline and were again filled with energy, while at the same time realizing every decline would now mean an incline on our return. Streams occasionally flowed under our path giving us a new appreciation for waterfalls as we filled our bottles and took the first sip of ice-cold, refreshing glacier water. Delish.

The traffic on the path was constant. We met people returning from sunrise treks to Las Torres and others who had stopped for a snack or a selfie. We were even passed by horses carrying loads to and from the camps.

It wasn’t long before we were crossing the same river we were once straining to see. Camp Chileno met us on the other side – a beautiful site climbing up the hills leading away from the rushing blue waters. Hikers staying at Chileno for the night enjoyed ice cold beers upon their arrival, which obviously made us jealous. Mostly we were just happy we didn’t have to carry our heavy packs as far as they did. We hiked on, into the forest beyond and upwards once again.

The last kilometre to Las Torres is notoriously vertical. We heard we’d be on all fours at points and expected it to take at least 45 minutes, so we were mentally prepared. Or so we thought.

Rocks began to form a makeshift staircase through the forest with trees becoming railings and handles. It took every limb and muscle to propel us forward, clambering over boulders, through mud, over streams, all the while the trail getting steadily steeper. This is also when we knew for sure we made the right decision by not renting trekking poles. We emerged from the shadowy forest into the scorching sun and stood for a moment to face the final rocky mountain. Massive rocks seemed artfully placed above to obstruct any hint of Las Torres and a thick fog hung above. Would we even see The towers when we got there?

A few kind hikers (including a 12-year-old who made us feel especially old) passed by in the opposite direction with words of reassurance: “you’re so close!” But the worst was yet to come.

It was rocky, dusty, hot and after around 30 minutes our calves were burning. We took frequent water breaks, stepping to the side to let other hikers pass in both directions, making sure to turn and admire the view behind us over the valley. Perseverance became the name of the game and after a few hundred steps more, the cliff levelled out. Our breathing returned to normal, and our anticipation grew. We were approaching the final ta-da.

Almost instantly the environment transformed. Scorching sun was replaced with cool, damp mountain air. Hoards of people were spread out in every direction. Water bottles and hiking poles were traded for cameras.

Our jaws literally dropped, not only from the disbelief of finally making it, but by just how worth it the journey was. We were struck by the vast pool of rich turquoise water, so seemingly out of place after an hour of dry mountain air. The surrounding viewpoint was a vast bed of rocks spreading out from the waterfront, almost like a massive quarry, littered with people taking it all in. And then: the towers.

Two massive spires on the right stood impressively tall, almost magnetically clearing the clouds surrounding the tops. While the third smaller tower on the left was completely enveloped.

We found our own boulder to take it all in. The scene held our attention for hours – the calm and colourful waters catching flutters of wind and sun, hundreds of people surrounding us, some cheering excitedly while getting ‘the shot’ in front of the lake. All the while we waited to see if we would actually see the towers in all their glory.

Then, by some natural miracle, the clouds started to lift.

We could hear others coming to the same realization and we soon had a small crowd around us. First, the middle tower, then the right, and after a bit of coaxing the final tower was completely visible, standing against the blue sky. We were grinning from ear to ear.

It was a wonderful way to end the first half of the hike and it gave us considerable motivation for the way back to camp. After 4 more hours, we were back at Torres Central to cook dinner, stretch our aching bodies and tuck in for the night. It seemed like we might actually be able to do this.

Day 2 | The Long Haul to Frances Valley

19km / 7 hours

Day two was a point A to point B kind of day. It was also our most dreaded because we had to carry our full packs the whole way.

We woke with the sun and peeked out of our tent in hopes of seeing the Towers glowing red. Alas, it was too foggy. Surprisingly we weren’t terribly sore from day one so we hit the trail before it got too crowded.

We were quite proud of our ability to forge on with our packs, now a part of us like turtle shells whether we liked it or not.

Our first reward of the day was the serene Laguna Inge. The blue water and surrounding greenery was unbelievably vibrant in the mid-morning sun. The scene was impossible to capture, and soon even more so as we met the first devastation of our journey. No, it wasn’t a bad fall or vicious animal but in the moment it felt like the worst case scenario…Laura’s camera had a mechanical malfunction. No more fancy photos for the rest of this magnificent journey. iPhone pics from here on out.

After a minor meltdown we continued on, the beauty of our surroundings having a healing effect. The second lake of the day Lago Nordenskjold, was long and narrow (much like Chile, come to think of it). It would stay by our side for the remainder of the day.

The sun sat high as our lakeside path wound up, down and around the hills. Clear sky above, calm water below, not a sound or movement – it was a feeling of tranquility unlike any we’ve experienced.

Around midday the traffic on the path picked up slightly and we exchanged a friendly ‘hola’ with hikers at various points on their journey. Still, it was significantly quieter than the previous day and we often found ourselves pleasantly alone with nature for long stretches of time.

Our turtle shells started to take their toll. Thankfully a particularly steep hill rewarded us yet again with a cliff overlooking the lake that now stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions. We relieved our aching backs of their packs and gave our feet a long break. A trio of Condors soared through the sky in front of us.

While we could have stayed all afternoon soaking up the sun and sharing stories with fellow hikers we were eager to get to Sector Frances, so we picked ourselves up and carried on.

The cute Cuernos camp provided the perfect pit stop with the nicest bathrooms in the park. We felt refreshed – only 2.5km to go. For the first time all day we were low enough to be lakeside. The path routed us along a small stone beach, shaded by trees from the afternoon sun where other hikers stopped to bathe and soak their sore feet in the icy water.

Little did we know that the last stretch would be the most trying. Our posture was failing from carrying our packs, the soles of our feet felt bare and our legs were definitely not ready for the final hill.

It took us about twice as long as it should have but we were soon seeing sign posts for our proverbial finish line. The descent into camp gave us our first glimpse of the mountains towering over this section of the park. Their tops blanketed in snow and ice while their bottoms reached out into green forest. We could hear the distinct crashing of avalanches from far away, a thunderous, unsettling sound that startled us at first, but became ordinary throughout the night.

We were shown to our dome at the Frances Refugio and were immediately thankful that the campsite had been fully booked by the time we started to plan our route. The backup plan of staying in a dome – with a real bed and hot water – may have been expensive, but man, did we ever enjoy that shower.

After a much deserved beer and wine to drown the sorrows of a broken camera and aid our aching muscles, we enjoyed sunset and dinner with a couple of German fellows who had been misinformed that the camps had kitchens so hadn’t packed any cooking supplies. We were more than happy to share the remains of our first propane tank, and even more happy when they offered a glass of wine in return. Early to bed was an easy call with soft pillows and the shelter of our cozy dome.

Day 3 | Britanico Lookout | A Panoramic Paradise

24km / 9 hours

We rose before the sun to get a head-start on our longest day of the trek, thankful that we only had to carry our packs for a third of it. We downed some lukewarm tea from the ‘hot’ water station, some of our own pre-made breakfast wraps, and were on our way to Italiano, one of the park’s free (and least glamorous) camps.

The forty-five minute walk proved easy and uneventful, our bags two meals lighter and our muscles rejuvenated from a decent sleep. Upon arriving at Italiano we happily dropped our bags on the makeshift wooden rack and haphazardly wrapped a poncho around them in case of rain.

We set out into Frances valley and away from the lake that had become our familiar companion. After emerging from the forest surrounding Italiano we were flanked by mountains on either side. To the left, the snow-capped, avalanche-creating mountains we’d first glimpsed the day before, only now we were close enough to see where the snow and ice gave way to the late Summer weather and transform into cascading waterfalls. To the right, a sheer granite wall so steep that it held no snow whatsoever.

Halfway through the hike we arrived at Frances lookout. The view of the surrounding mountains and the lake behind us was spectacular. Now even closer to the mountains, we became captivated by the cracking and crashing of ice and snow as it fell from the cliffs. Much like thunder and lighting, you could hear the boom before the fall, so the game among hikers was to find where the sound was coming from before it disappeared.

We could have spent the morning here watching avalanches and taking endless photos as the sun rose behind the granite formations. But with more hikers behind us than ahead we wanted to get to Britanico while we still had a chance for a serene moment on a prime rock.

We continued through fields of rocks and forest and began bracing ourselves for another precarious vertical climb. Much to our delight it came far closer to the finale than we had expected and was easier than previous hikes. After all, we were pros now (not).

Ascending to Brittanico lookout was like stepping out of a cave, with an epic 360 view that was previously concealed by our surroundings. It was nearly impossible to know where to look or how to capture it. Countless granite spires spiked up all around, with a vast green forest below and blue waters in the distance. In a lot of ways it was just as impressive as the towers, but that’s the beauty of Torres del Paine – never ceasing to amaze.

Thankfully we arrived when less than a dozen other hikers had settled onto various rocks around the lookout which was way smaller than Las Torres. The ‘top’ spot was occupied by an endless stream of photos but we still found an ideal rock from which to appreciate the view.

It wasn’t long before hikers were climbing up to the lookout in every direction. No longer serene, we got our fill and got moving.

On the way back we stopped for lunch on a rock by the river and listened to the sound of avalanches in the distance, enjoying the fresh glacial water that kept our bottles constantly filled. We also made sure to take in the avalanches and waterfalls one last time before descending toward Italiano. For some reason, this return trip took way longer than expected and felt like it was never going to end. Hiking is like that – sometimes the way home is harder than the way there.

While our backs weren’t pleased as we collected our packs from the dozens now piled in a long line at Italiano, our feet couldn’t have been happier with the wooden path across the swing bridge toward Paine Grande, our next camp for the night.

The transition from lush forest to the desolate scene before us was chilling. Careless hikers started a fire in 2011 that forced the park to be closed, hundreds of tourists to be evacuated and tens of thousands of acres to be destroyed. This, after a fire in 2005 had already wiped out thousands of acres. Our hike was spent reflecting on how we can so easily do devastating damage to the beautiful planet we should desperately be trying to save.

The wooden path abruptly transitioned back to dirt as the inclines and declines of rolling hills began once again, this time with a startling new twist: the famous Patagonian wind. The force almost knocked us off our feet as we came over the first hill. It was the strongest we’ve ever felt. Heads down, Martin’s hat secured by a rope of twine, and a steady hand on our sunglasses, we hiked on. Two steps forward, one step back.

The wind continued as Paine Grande – aptly named for the vast tent city sprawling toward the hills from Lake Pehoe – came into view. Eager to take refuge from the wind we stashed our bags in our tent and hit the showers. Since the wind is so common in this valley, the cooking area was sheltered and we enjoyed a hot meal before settling in for one of the most intense sleeps of our lives.

Day 4 | Grey Glacier | Blown Away by Nature

30km / 9 hours

It’s hard to talk about Day 4 without first mentioning the night before. Gale-force winds shook our tent with a deafening howl that persisted from dusk til dawn. We barely slept a wink. On top of that we woke stuffy and cold, and Laura was covered in spider bites up to her cheeks. Only our bladders could force us out of our sleeping bags.

Needless to say it was a rough start, but nevertheless, we hit the trail repeating ‘last day…last day’ in our minds as a motivational mantra. At least we were leaving our bags behind in our tent for another stay at Paine Grande.

Against the wind, we set out towards Sector Grey and Grey Glacier. The path turned upward yet again and we seriously considered turning back for the first time on the trek. We’d accomplished enough, hadn’t we? How impressive could this glacier be? Not ones to give up easily we trekked on, counting down every step and every minute. Almost on cue we hit a plateau that reminded us why we were on this quest – an ice-blue lake with icebergs floating by, and in the distance, one of the largest ice fields in the world. We marvelled at the scene before us, at once feeling assured and humbled by the beauty of Torres del Paine.

Approaching Grey Mirador (lookout) we could see a hint of the Glacier Grey in the distance. Even from far away it was impressive and just to lay eyes on it felt like an achievement. The lookout ahead was situated on a cliff hanging over the lake and fellow hikers were taking selfies with Grey glacier behind them. We didn’t think it was possible but the wind got even fiercer. We could hardly stand as we edged onto the cliff. Each step felt like a risk, as if one false move could suddenly send us flying back to where we started. Straight to jail. No passing go. Or in this case, no seeing Grey Glacier.

Yet there we stood on the lookout in the middle of this tug-of-war. Squinting, we could just see the glacier across the lake. We gripped our phones for fear they might fly out of our hands, snapped a couple of pics and quickly moved on.

Our arrival at Camp Grey was a relief even though the Glacier was nowhere in sight. Muskoka chairs on the deck were a nice reminder of home and a welcome place to relax in the peaceful sunshine.

From there the walk to the final lookout was a breeze (figuratively this time). We found the perfect rock to sit and take it all in. What better view could you get for lunch? The bay before us was filled with icebergs that had broken off and were floating to gather on the shore. And on the other side, Glacier Grey – a massive, strikingly blue wave of ice, frozen in time and cracking under its own weight. More than anything it was a powerful reminder of what nature could create.

We hiked along the peninsula and closer to the Glacier but were still separated by a few kilometres of lake water. Without shelling out the cash to kayak up to the Glacier, or hike on it, the only way to get closer was to continue hiking (gah!). The path that continues past Grey, toward Paso, is part of the O-trek. It connects the two arms of the ‘W’ in a circuit that is longer and more challenging. It’s also a one-way path as it was meant to be hiked downhill…which also meant an incredibly challenging uphill.

Something came over us in that moment. We had come this far. We had sweat away our lack of sleep and stuffy noses enough to ignore our aching legs and feet. So instead of listening to our bodies, we listened to the part of our hearts that fuels our love for travel, nature and curiosity. Onwards and upwards.

The next half hour was a silent and steadily paced hike. When we came to a clearing looking out over the lake the Glacier was even closer. A little further still and we had arrived at one of three swing bridges overlooking the lake.

It was totally and undeniably worth it. Not only was the view better but what an epic way to end this incredibly challenging journey than with a rush of adrenaline. The swing bridge connected two mountains broken apart but a rushing river and waterfalls that flowed into the lake of glacial melt and icebergs bobbing around below like ice in a cocktail. We took turns crossing the bridge and enjoying one last look at the magnificent scene, elated over how far we had come on this long adventure.

Day 5 | A journey of reflection

Our sleep that night was much more peaceful without the wind threatening to blow our tent away. But it wouldn’t be Patagonia if the next natural challenge didn’t swoop right in to take its place. In this case, the cold. When we finally rose in the morning there was frost on the tent that cracked as we got out.

With our hike completed we didn’t have any expectations for Day 5 – it was really just about getting back to Puerto Natales for a much deserved bottle (or two) of wine. But Torres del Paine had a few final surprises for us.

First, a morning trip to the bathroom sent Martin running back to the tent for a phone to capture a pack of baby culpeos (Patagonian foxes) frolicking in the high grass.

Then, as we had time to kill before our Pehoe ferry we went for a walk down to the water. We took a seat in a spot that was free of geese droppings and it wasn’t long before we spotted the culprits swimming our way. The family of geese were cautious on their approach but still stepped one by one onto the shore. We stayed perfectly still as the goslings pecked the grass around us, their parents standing guard and eyeing us up. It was a peaceful moment and we almost missed our ferry for fear of alarming them. But we had to say goodbye, not just to the wildlife but to Torres del Paine.

We were happy to snag a standing spot on top of the boat so we could face the park we had spent the last four days walking through. The mountain ranges that had been our markers. The snow strewn mountains where we saw our first avalanches. The steep granite cliffs that welcomed us on day one and were by our sides through day three. Seeing them all together gave us a lasting moment of contemplation of what we accomplished on our self-guided W-Trek.

If you’re taking on the W-Trek self-guided, check out our post on everything you need to know to plan your trek, including a free downloadable packing list and meal plan.

Or if you want to experience Patagonia but aren’t into the overnight trekking, consider El Chalten instead.

Have you been to Torres del Paine? What other multi-day treks should we add to our bucket list?