YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT
The clearest view of Torres de Avellano, captured by drone. By this point, we had already bush-bashed through thick forest and had our feet soaked in high grass swamps. Most of the peaks were still shrouded in fog, adding an air of mystery to the landscape.
“No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometime you'll find
You get what you need…”
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An awesome Rolling Stones song rang loudly in my head as we walked past the magnificent Torres de Avellano, shrouded in thick clouds. These rocky towers remain relatively unknown, barely climbed, yet they rival the world-famous Torres del Paine and Fitz Roy further south. This was supposed to be the highlight of the trek, and photographing them in the golden morning light was meant to be a privilege. However, Pacha Mama had other plans.
As stormy clouds and strong wind gusts intensified, we approached the steep descent to Laguna Torres de Avellano, where the best views were said to be. The only sensible decision was to camp at the last protected site before the pass. We turned on our Garmin InReach to check the latest weather forecast, only to find that the promising stable weather had turned into high chances of rain and cloudiness. We had to cross the pass the next morning, or risk being stuck there for several days with little chance of seeing anything at all.
Fortunately, the sun began to win the battle against the rain and clouds on the other side. As we moved further from the mountain range and into the valleys—traversing thick, overgrown forests, wet high grass swamps, and powerful river currents that nearly swept us away—the warmth of our only star shone more brightly upon us.
No, we didn’t get exactly what we had hoped for, but the variety of landscapes, weather, and challenges we encountered were perhaps exactly what we needed.
Wild horses on our first day of this stage.
The sun was still shining as we ascended the pass. You can spot dry wood attached to my father's backpack. With no gas available for our stove in Villa Cerro Castillo, our only option for a warm meal each evening was to make a campfire. We had become quite adept at digging a pit in the sand and carefully burying the campfire, leaving no trace.
Laguna and peaks of Torres de Avellano shrouded in thick fog, photographed from the top of the pass. The path, marked by cairns on the other side of the pass, had disappeared, and GPS became increasingly essential for navigation.
One of the many settler’s cottages along the way. Few people were seen, as most are abandoned or left in solitude for the approaching winter. Fortunately for our appetites, the planted fruit trees around were abundant, and we feasted on the perfectly ripe Williams pears left on the ground.
Even the rain, when combined with the sun, can turn into magic. Numerous rainbows appeared over the rivers, forests, and plains.
No, it’s not the seaside. Lake General Carrera (also known as Lake Buenos Aires) is a glacial lake on the border with Argentina. Covering 1,850 km², it is the largest lake in Chile. Its original name, Chelenko, in the local Aonikenk language means 'stormy waters,' which might explain the strong winds and waves that frequently disrupt the ferry connection between Puerto Ibañez and Chile Chico.