Vicente Perez Rosales National Park
Chile
Arriving in the small city Puerto Varas was a shock to the system. For weeks now we had seen nothing more than tiny country towns; this felt like a sprawling metropolis. Traffic, traffic lights, pedestrians, decent supermarkets, more stores and restaurants than we could count - it was overwhelming. The best part was the large, relatively quiet Lake Llanquihue, with volcanoes Osorno and Calbuco standing proud in the background. Climbing Osorno was my primary goal for this region.
Paso Desolacion
Distance: 24.5 km
Hiking Time: 6:06 hr
Ascent: 1,065 m
Before tackling Osorno’s summit, we explored its slopes. The clear blue skies of the last few days were replaced with grey drizzly clouds for our hike along a trail known as Paso Desolacion. I didn't hold out much hope of seeing anything.
A sandy surface provided a not-so-easy start, meandering through a light and airy wooded area. Patches of blue to begin to appear 45 minutes into the trek, but Osorno remained stubbornly hidden. Slowly but surely, the clouds dissipated to reveal the perfectly conical volcano in all its glory. From that point on it was a beautiful summer's day.
Several kilometres later, the gradient increased substantially as it led all the way up to Mirador La Picada. It was the best view we would see all day. Osorno still stood clear and tall, but behind us was the expansive Lago Todos Los Santos. A string of clouds floated just above the water, and distant mountains poked out above the haze. It was incredible.
Continuing on, we left the trees behind but not the steepness. Gravel intertwined with the sand, but it didn’t make the going any easier. Most of the time it was 3 steps up, one slide down. As we climbed higher above the clouds, the incline slowly became more manageable. The route traversed across a plain where to our left stood Osorno and to the right was the snow-dotted Cerro La Picada. It was an amazing sight, one that didn't change for the next hour or so.
We reached a point about 2 kilometres before the end of the trail where the route turned downhill to a road. There didn't seem much point completing this section, so we turned around early and headed back, nervous about how we were going to manage the steep gravelly sand section while going downhill.
On the return leg we unexpectedly found ourselves on an alternate but parallel track, closer to the edge of the cliff. It was a slightly longer route and therefore marginally less steep, but the main difference was the terrain. Rather than tiny stones that threatened to send us hurtling down the mountain, this track was covered in a thick layer of soft sand. This allowed us to easily glide down the path, the sand absorbing our impact and preventing almost certain disaster that the gravel offered. Not only did we not slip or slide, but there weren't even any near misses. We were extremely fortunate to locate that detour.
The clouds that had been sitting over Lago Todos Los Santos had disappeared by the afternoon, leaving an unimpeded stretch of blue surrounded by snowy mountains that we hadn't seen this morning. Further down the trail we detoured via the Los Alerces Mirador, but it showed us nothing other than an obstructed view of the lake and Osorno. After this it was gradual descent through the forest all the way back to our car.
Osorno Volcano
Distance: 10 km
Hiking Time: 6:04 hr
Ascent: 1,525 m
Osorno Volcano stared down on us from everywhere in the region. It's perfectly pointed peak, draped in a thick layer of snow, was just asking to be climbed. I found a guide through the Information Centre in Puerto Varas and organised to take on the behemoth that lay just across the lake. Danny was happy to let me go gallivanting up the mountain without him. He was also happy not to have a 4 a.m. start like I did.
I was joined at the start point by my guide and one other hiker, a Brazilian woman. It was 5.30 a.m. and we were standing at the bottom of a stationary chairlift, staring up at the imposing peak. As we began climbing up the loose scree slope, the sun gradually rose beside us, lighting up the distant scenery in a myriad of warm colours. Lake Llanquihue, the same lake that Puerto Varas sits on, slowly came into view, and eventually we could see the entirety of its broad expanse (almost 50 km across). Calbuco Volcano was also prominent, its white tip standing off to the side.
It took an hour to reach the refuge at the top of the chairlift, where our guide informed us that we would eat stop to breakfast. I didn't know we would be having a breakfast break and had eaten mine back at the car. Given it was only 3°C, sitting around waiting for the other two to finish was not enjoyable.
An eternity later we continued on, where we encountered small patches of snow on the ground. A series of tents were set up for people crazy enough to sleep up here, where they could make an early start to the summit. After another hour we hit ice, which meant it was time to gear up with our crampons and helmet. The peak looked deceivingly close, but we knew it would be hours before we set foot on it. A cold wind was blowing, and I was keen to get moving again.
We only hiked for half an hour before our guide told us we were taking a 20-minute break. He wanted the sun to be a little higher in the sky, softening the ice to make it easier to walk on. While waiting, he gave us numerous demonstrations of what to do if we went sliding down the mountain. Although this was incredibly important to know, the thought of careening to my death increased my anxiety levels considerably.
Once the guide was happy with the softness of the snow, he roped us up together and, with ice axe in hand, we plodded our way up the increasingly steep slope. Pushing myself up the incline was enormously laborious, my legs aching and my heart pounding. I wondered repeatedly if I could make it to the top. Even at a ridiculously slow pace, I was always out of breath. If I glanced directly below me to where we had come from, I immediately suffered vertigo. I tried to focus solely on the path ahead.
As we approached the top we copped the full force of the wind howling down the mountain, freezing us to the core. A burst of adrenaline pushed me to finish point, arriving just before midday. The summit was wide and gently rounded, which meant a lot of people could stand up here but it was difficult to see over the edge. Surrounding us was a ring of white-capped mountains and volcanoes, with tiny puffs of clouds dotted along peaks. Despite the mesmerising sight, the chilling wind caused us to seek shelter after only a few minutes.
Just below the summit was a cave, where others groups had also congregated. One step inside the entrance and the roaring wind instantly stopped, as though someone had placed noise-cancelling headphones on me. The silence was deafening. Our guide led us further into the cave, where a ridged, icy roof formed chambers above the dirt floor. It extended quite far into the mountain, but we could only follow the tunnel for a short distance. The patterns in the ice were fascinating; it was a shame that there were no lights to exhibit the striking sight.
I was extremely worried about the descent, certain I would fall on my arse continuously (at least I knew what to do if I went hurtling down the mountain). The ice had softened a little more, causing us to skid with each stride but allowing our crampons to reliably catch us every time. Each time my foot came down, tiny balls of ice were sent racing down the slope - I was glad there was no one else below us. In the end it was much easier than expected, and before we knew it we were on the flatter sections of snow. The only downside was that my borrowed ice boots were slightly too small for me, resulting in my toes being smashed against the front of the shoe with each step. I was in agony, but I was also eager to return to the car asap, so I pushed on.
Instead of trying to navigate the slippery scree slope, we travelled as far as we could on the ice, making it all the way past the refuge at the chairlift (it is much easier to go up on rocks and down on ice). At the end of the snow we removed our crampons and walked the last section on scree in the blazing hot sun. Gratefully, it wasn't nearly as unstable as it seemed, and we glided all the way back down to the car park.
At the bottom, our guide boasted that our overall time on the mountain was just under 10 hours, much quicker than the average 12 hours. To me, it didn't matter what time we did it in. I loved the scenery on the trek and was very glad to gain more experience using crampons on ice. It was definitely going down as one of my highlights in Chile.
