I first saw the Torres del Paine peaks on a shelf in my uncle’s house. Their National Geographic gold frame made them seem fictional, like art in a far away museum.
I’d waited to see if they were real since I was old enough to raise up on tip toes and peek at the magazines.
Standing right in front of them today, I’d never expected to feel disappointed. How could I possibly feel sad?
Because I missed it.
I’d hiked eight days only to miss the fabled sunrise at the Torres towers. Or, so it seemed.
Early to rise
Lou and I had trekked the entire “O Circuit” for eight magical days in Torres del Paine park. This was the final day, reaching the Torres, the towers themselves at sunrise.
We’d gotten up at 3:30am and eaten oatmeal frozen by the subzero morning.
We carried just a single headlamp between us so anything outside of that spotlight was a mystery.
Phurmph whineeeeeey!
As if to prove it, we nearly walked into a giant white horse hidden in the ice fog.
Half blind, we’d hiked together up the slick mountain path. Were we walking on a frozen stream? Or, had the water chosen the trail as the path of least resistance?
All we could do was shrug and try not to slip.
I wonder if we should have started our trek at the towers, on fresh legs.
Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.
Lou and I take a breather. We’ve just arrived on another false summit. Ahead in the fresh dawn, headlamps zigzag up the next hill.
The little lights bobble up and down like they’re laughing at us. We helplessly watch as first light hits the peaks beyond.
We continue upwards.
Pain and glory
Pain shoots through my knees with each step. They had swollen up after the endless steep descent at The Pass days before. It feels like a betrayal by my body.
I’m not good at slowing down. I’m not good at being not good at things.
One of my hiking poles breaks from a combination of the cold, rocks, and frustration.
Something had to give.
Lou keeps pace beside me. My guilt of her missing the first light on the towers makes me glad it’s dark.
“The light is still best in the mornings, for photos…” I say through tight teeth.
We lumber on to the actual summit. The Torres peaks are still yawning with the yellow morning sun.
We’ve arrived just moments too late.
The towers had hidden in the clouds on the first day of the hike. We’d been waiting this moment to finally see them up close.
Lou and I slouch on scattered boulders around the alpine lake and grab some cookies. Sugar can work miracles on mood when you’re cold and hungry.
At the pinnacle
“I was thinking of going on ahead and just meeting you here,” Lou admits.
My heart drops. My weak knees, my weakness, had held her back.
“I’ve always been that person: fixated on goals. But, I realised this friendship, this team was way more important,” she stares up at the sky.
“The achievement didn’t really matter. Just that we did it together.”
I squeeze her hand. It’s exactly what I needed to hear but didn’t know it.
We had seen the whole trek through together.
Through thick and thin, limp-y and whingy: in sickness and health, trail style. It’s how we’d become “trail wives.”
“This has changed my life,” she says and I’m nodding before she even finishes the statement.
How precious is this gift?
After all, sunrise happens every day. But, having someone choose to be there with you even when things get tough, is far rarer.
“You know, this is fucking incredible. We hiked over 160 kilometres and the towers are right there…” I say.
We’d made it to the place I’d dreamt of since childhood. The place I’d convinced Lou to hike eight days to reach.
Truly, the view is amazing in the dawning light of gratitude.
Change is constant
There are certain laws in the universe that dictate once you accept something as it is, it changes.
“Look!” Suddenly, the hue on the towers shifts. Bright pink begins coating the tips of the stone pillars.
I’d forgotten. Mountain sunlight always takes extra time to rise over the hills.
“No way…” We hadn’t missed it. In the darkness, our eyes had fooled us.
Sunrise is happening now.
Our hearts rise with it. First, rosy pink softens the rocks. Then, the orange of the granite catches fire.
The towers become a flame in the sky.
“They’re real,” I say not knowing whether I’d said it outloud or to myself.
We sit in silence for an eternity lasting five minutes.
You’ve gotta have friends
“Hey, want some chocolate?” A voice breaks the vision.
We rush to meet our friends ahead, clamouring over rocks – sore knees be damned.
We’re unstoppable. We’ve done it!
Together with this trekking tribe, we’d completed the full “O” Torres del Paine circuit. It took eight days to arrive here, trading snacks and shoulder rubs.
We all curl up in our sleeping bags, seated side by side, shivering and eating sugar.
The wind is freezing but we’re high above it: victorious for reaching the journey’s end.
The towers and the adventure to reach them was something out of fiction. Often, we’d catch each other humming the Lord of the Rings theme music.
We’d even dubbed ourselves “The Fellowship of the O.”
Now, as the sunrise reflects off the mountain tops, we’ve come full circle.
Like any good book, we’d done it in the best way possible – together.
