south america

Patagonia Pt. 2

My hostel was bustling with excited travelers, gathered together talking about the next day’s big hike. They all met each other for the first time that night, and I wondered how they could easily make friends. I was sitting awkwardly in the back, reorganizing the contents of my backpack, feeling hyperconscious of my every move. I was doing the same hike as they were. I could have joined in, but my debilitating social anxiety made it impossible.

Throughout my childhood and even into college, my anxiety impaired basic living. As a child, asking for a to-go bag at a restaurant had me pacing back and forth for 15 minutes until my mom finally used her signature stare to get me to ask. Sophomore year of college, something shifted. I believe it was a combination of studying abroad, a supportive relationship, and a joyful roommate situation that resulted in a confidence boost and noticeable maturation. I thought I was past the crippling anxiety, but every so often, it returns.

Instead of worrying about it further, I decided to go to bed. I had to wake up at 5 am anyway.

The next morning I hoisted my monster backpack onto my shoulders and felt a wave of worry. It felt heavy, and I wasn’t even walking yet! I removed a few food items in hopes that it would lighten the load then made my way to the bus station.

The bus stopped at Laguna Amarga, where they checked our reservations.

“What trek are you doing?” The park ranger asked me in English.

“The O-Circuit,” I responded.

“How many in your party?”

“Just me.”

The ranger looked up from his clipboard, said “wow,” and told me to get on the green bus in the corner.

I followed his directions and found a seat. After some time longer, we arrived at the Centro de Bienvenido, where the various workers went through my paperwork and finally pointed me to the trailhead.

At this point, it was 9:30 am. I looked out, and a massive mountain with wispy clouds at its summit and a sparkling white glacier in its valley stood before me. I asked a man to take my photo before finally stepping onto the trail.

As I took the first steps towards the mountain, my stomach filled with butterflies, and I smiled big. Holy shit! I am hiking in Patagonia! For a moment, my backpack did not feel heavy even though the trail was steadily rising in elevation. I felt ecstatic! If I could have jumped for joy, I would have.

El Centro de Bienvenido to Campamiento Serón (Campsite #1) was 9.5 miles point-to-point with 1,000 ft of elevation gain and 860 feet of elevation loss.

It was a beautiful introduction to the Patagonian backcountry. Forests of Lenga trees, viewpoints of healthy rivers, and distant snowy peaks. At times, strong winds forced me to stop and squat to keep my balance.

At noon I realized that I was less than two miles away from the campsite, and I was a little surprised at how easy it was. So, I stopped to walk through a small river while snacking on some Oreos. Two young, sun-kissed backpackers headed in the opposite direction saw me and smiled.

“Fresca!” I said, smiling back.

“Uhh, sorry, we don’t speak Spanish!” They responded apologetically in English, but not American.

“Oh. I was saying that it’s cold, but it feels great! I recommend coming in.”

They looked at each other. “Ok!”

They slipped off their shoes and walked into the river with me. They were two men in their twenties who recently finished their mandatory service in the Israeli military. Now they were celebrating their freedom by hitchhiking and camping throughout South America. They also mentioned that the Torres del Paine trails were a little too easy for their liking.

“There’s too much bureaucracy! How can you enjoy nature this way? We went camping in Tierra del Fuego. Now THAT was a backpacking trip. It was wild. When you’re done here, let us know if you want to go on a real adventure.”

Part of me believes they were a little bitter since they were turned away at the campsite for lacking a reservation, but anyway, after 30 minutes of laughing and talking, it was time to part ways. One was headed to Stanford in the fall, so maybe we would see each other in California. The other would be a park ranger in Israel. He invited me to visit. Who knows if it was an empty gesture, but I would like to think it was genuine.

I thought about connecting with them after the O-Circuit, but I wanted to see if I could even complete this trek before attempting a “real adventure.” I slipped my shoes back on and walked the final few miles to the campsite feeling euphoric when I finally arrived.

After checking in at the cabin, I sat on its front steps to take it all in.

“Oh, you’re American!” said a young woman jauntily. (She said, “hola,” to me on the trail about an hour before this moment.)

“I figured you were American when I saw the REI tent, and now I just saw your passport. Oh, me? I’m not American. I’m Canadian!” Although I thought the hike was easy-ish, I was still tired. She, on the other hand, was fresh and energetic.

“Want to look for a spot together?” she asked. I agreed, and we talked while we shopped for flat plots of land. We finally settled on a space beside a green tent. Two Dutchmen emerged from that tent, smiling and handsome.

“Looks like we’re neighbors!” They exclaimed as they helped us set up our tents in the blustering wind.

Next thing you know, all of us were gathered together, along with a few other people, at a table. We talked, laughed, reviewed travel plans, and shared our excitement. At that moment, I was ten-ish miles into the Patagonian backcountry swapping travel stories with a group of international strangers, feeling free. The anxiety from the night before felt like a lifetime away.

And it was only day one.

Hiking Info

Centro de Bienvenido to Campamiento Serón

Length: 14.3 km (8.8 miles).
Elevation Gain: 304.8 m (1,000 ft.)
Terrain: Easy dirt trails. Splits between horse trails and hiking trails. Horse trails are rougher in condition, so don’t go on those. When descending into the valley, the terrain can get slippery. Can be muddy throughout.
Other Notes: Trail is incredibly well-marked. A bit of the hike is beneath large trees but eventually opens up to large open fields and high viewpoints into the valley. High winds and rain are common.

Patagonia Pt. 1

I’ve been in Chile for a little over a week now, slowly working my way south from Santiago towards Patagonia where I am trekking the 85-mile O Circuit in Torres del Paine National Park. (I heard that 85 miles are just the straight-shot distances between campsites and not the actual length of the trails!) After six nights in Santiago and two nights in Punta Arenas, I have arrived at Puerto Natales, my last stop. Tomorrow morning I’ll take a bus to the trailhead and begin my trek. As the hike looms closer, I’m trying to channel my inner Cheryl Strayed in Wild, or Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love. Both women were tangled in messy life situations until they carved their way out by physically removing themselves from the mess. Sometimes, all you need is some distance to put things into perspective. Sometimes, all you need is simply to worry about the next step.

^{View from Cerro Santa Lucía in Santaigo.}

With the many logistical hurdles of this trip, taking steps one at a time is the only way I stay sane. To quickly recap all I’ve been through up till now, I spent a week in Santiago eating Nutella and backlogging writing for work. Afterward, I took a flight to Punta Arenas, a small town (but largest in Patagonia) in the southernmost part of the continent, and stayed there for two nights. I left on a bus this morning for Puerto Natales. Each of those steps required many little ones. Additionally, as a solo female traveler, I’m constantly vigilant yet simultaneously making sure I enjoy myself.

^{Admiring the awesome bike lanes in Punta Arenas.}

The whole experience is a challenge, privilege, joy, and blessing. It is messy and sometimes scary and tiring, but worth it. Maybe that is why travel is the means of healing for so many book and movie characters. It mimics all the ups and downs of life and teaches you that the whole experience can be beautiful. Take this afternoon as an example.

I reserved a bed at a gorgeously unique adobe-like hostal. The only issue (that initially began as a super cool idea) was that it was up in the countryside hills and far from the city center. Not too bad, but there were only two roads to get there. Road #1 had two aggressive, sometimes violent, large guard dogs. They are chained 50% of the time. Road #2 had four similarly large dogs that only act aggressively. They are never chained, but will most likely not lunge. Getting to the hostal was hard enough without GPS, but sprinting from dogs was a bonus. Unfortunately, after settling into my hostal, I needed to leave again to buy groceries for my trek.

^{Heading to my hostal in Puerto Natales.}

“Tengo miedo.” I’m scared. I laughed nervously.

“Yeah, they’re scary, huh? All you need to do is stand your ground and say, ‘FUERA!’” The young woman who worked at the hostal responded to me in English while leaning against the front desk. She had a partly shaved head, purple highlights, and avant-garde tattoos.

It was getting late, and I needed to go. The woman gave me a thumbs up and a “buenos suerte” as I walked out the door. I nervously paced outside for 15 minutes before finally walking down road #2.

I rounded the corner and thought, “You are Walter Mitty getting on that helicopter in Greenland. You are Cheryl Strayed traversing the PCT trail buried in icy snow. You are brave!”

The dogs lay curled up on the side of the road. “Cute,” I effortfully thought while adrenaline heated my body, urging me to run. The good news was that the dogs were sleeping deeply enough that I could quickly walk around them, delaying my opportunity to face them, at least until I had to return.

After stocking up on all my meals for the week, I began the long walk back, hoping the dogs were still asleep. “You are brave!” I repeated in my mind as I left the town center, as I crossed the stream, and as I made my way up the hills towards my hostal.

I walked alone, up the dirt path, between tall yellow grass. The snowy Patagonia mountains were visible in the distance. Colorful homes and a glacier-blue lake painted the foreground of my panoramic view. As I looked out in awe, two dogs stepped out of the grass and onto the road before me. My eyes widened. Tails in the air, they barked and bounded towards me.

“YOU ARE A BRAVE WOMAN!” I screamed internally. My heart was pounding!

I took out the baguette from my grocery bag and swung it like a sword. “FUERA!” I said!

Weird, but it worked! They continued to bark but they stopped running. As I walked through, still swinging my baguette, the dogs moved to the side and barked until my back was towards them.

Heart still pounding, I speed-walked into the hostal and plopped into a chair. The woman with purple hair asked how it went, and I gave her the story. She laughed and said she was proud.

The dog experience may not seem like a big deal, especially if you live in an area where fierce dogs roam free, but hey you gotta cut me some slack. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, where we’ve got 99 problems, but stray dogs ain’t one. Regardless, having to face them was unexpected, scary, and undesirable BUT I believe I am a little better because of it.

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Anyway, see ya in a week. Torres del Paine, here I come.

Jess Outdoors

Trails, Travel & Gratitude

The Making of a Brave Woman