I spent the next hour trying to avoid this wind, which was of course impossible. I would hide behind trees when gusts would blow, then when the winds would calm back down, to maybe 40 mph, I would rush from my hiding spot and quickly move to the next spot that would hopefully be somewhat protected. I wasn’t always successful. There were several times I was pushed backwards down the trail. Not metaphorically pushed backwards, actually pushed backwards. I felt as if I had drunk 10 beers before I set out on the trail. I couldn’t keep a straight line, I was stumbling around rocks, tripping into trees. At one point I had to hug a tree for about 15 seconds to keep from being blown down to the ground. If I hadn’t grabbed the tree I most surely would have eaten some dirt and rocks of the trail. Without exaggerating, these gusts of wind were the strongest I’ve ever directly experienced. I didn’t have a way of measuring the wind gusts, but I’m certain they were in the 80-100 mph range. I quite simply couldn’t move forward in those gusts, I had to wait them out. As if to grant me some sort of solace during those moments I hid from the wind, the park would grant me marvelous views of Los Cuernos Mountain, one of the most unusual and striking mountains in the park. It seems to have been rent in two by a giant sword, and is encircled by a belt of gray granite. Most striking are the coal black peaks that sit atop the grey granite belt. These unique features gave the mountain its name, for from afar the mountain looks like the horns of a bull, and in Spanish Los Cuernos means “the horns”.

When I finally rolled into camp that night, I was completely and utterly exhausted. I had hiked for almost 12 hours, 2 hours of which was very steep uphill hiking. I had drunk plenty of water, but I still felt like I was dehydrated and overheated. My feet were killing, my knees hurt, and I couldn’t touch my shoulders without grimacing in pain. I was spent. At least I would have a good nights sleep. Wrong. The winds that nearly blew me off trail continued all night long. There were moments when I legitimately thought my tent would be blown away with me inside of it. I caught a few zzz’s in between gusts.

The next day was to be a much easier hike. Only about 8 hours total, and that over “flat” ground. Thankfully it rained the entire time, because who would want to hike in dry weather? My rain gear kept me dry for about 5 hours, then it threw in the towel. Wetness began to creep in. By the time I got to the Paine Grande camp I was wet to the bone. Underneath my rain jacket and rain pants were sopping wet clothes. My boots had become mobile puddles. It was also still raining when I got to camp, so I got to experience the joy of setting up a tent in the rain, while completely drenched, and putting my drenched belongings inside of a now wet tent. To be fair, the inside of the tent was actually relatively dry after it was set up.

However, for all the suffering that the park can inflict on those who visit, it will reward with equal measure. For when I awoke the next morning, the rain that had soaked me the day before had fallen as snow on the mountains around me. The black tips of Los Cuernos were no longer visible as they had been dusted white. Paine Grande, the largest mountain in the park was now even more beautiful than before. It gave me new energy and a sense of excitement for my hike up to camp Grey, where the southern Patagonian ice field stretches an icy finger into the park.

The hike to camp grey seemed like a walk in the park. There wasn’t any wind (well, no wind in Patagonia means a steady 10 mph wind), it didn’t rain at all, the sun was shining, and it was warm. I walked with snowcapped peaks on my right, and the glacier-fed lake Grey on my left. As I crested a rise I saw camp grey, and beyond it the massive glacier Grey. A sight that literally made me gasp aloud. One doesn’t expect to see such an enormous amount of white and blue ice sitting in a valley surrounded by green grass, flowers, and 60 degree weather. Nevertheless, there it was in all its icy glory. I dropped my gear off at camp and headed towards the glacier to book a kayak trip on the lake.

Kayaking around the icebergs of the glacier was sublime. The various shades of blue in the ice was mesmerizing. The sound of icebergs calving off the glacier and crashing into the lake was both astounding and frightening. We kayaked towards the glacier until we got within about 600 feet of this 100 square mile behemoth, its face 4 miles wide and 100 feet tall. We wouldn’t go closer, for occassionally the glacier will calve off house-sized icebergs that send ice shards flying hundreds of feet and cause massive tsunami waves to radiate out into the lake.

Its hard to pick my favorite highlight from the park, but the time I spent around Glacier Grey is certainly one of them. The day after I kayaked around the glacier, I hiked a few hours further north to glimpse even grander views of this wandering field of ice. I spent two hours looking out across the patchwork of blue and white while I ate a picnic lunch, listening to the wind howl down the valley and watching the clouds wander around the mountaintops surrounding me. It was a perfect ending to an absolutely epic time spent in this wild and wonderful piece of nature.