A valley shrouded only in rumors

A blog post by Adam. It was day three of our hike through Torres del Paine National Park in Chile. We woke up to rainy, cloudy weather. One of our bunk mates (we were staying in a dorm room at one of the park's refuges) notified us that they had heard that due to the weather it was possible that Valle Frances (our destination) might be closed. Without much of a backup plan, and potentially seven and a half hours of hiking ahead of us, we decided we couldn't wait for the clouds to break.

The hike was wet, particularly when we reached a spot in the trail where a stream had swollen into a small pond of ankle deep water covering the entire path. We peeled off our shoes and socks, pulled up our pants, and waded through ice cold water. As we sat at the far edge of the pond, reapplying our socks and shoes, a couple hikers unhappily came down the trail. They said they too had planned to go to Valle Frances but had turned around when they discovered the trail was closed. Still without much of a backup plan, we marched onward hoping that perhaps by the time we arrived the trail would be reopened.

An hour later we arrived at the ranger cabin at the base of the Valle Frances trailhead with no sign that the trail was closed. We figured perhaps it had reopened, but the first person we saw said that yes indeed the trail was closed an hour from the base (the end of the trail, with amazing views of the entire valley lay 2.5 hours from the ranger station). We then asked the ranger, who said the trail was open all the way. Strange, we thought. We consulted one more group of hikers after talking to the ranger and they too confirmed that you could only go an hour up the trail. We figured an hour was still better than nothing, and after setting up our tent for the night, we set out on the trail.

Just at this moment, the clouds broke, the sky turned blue, and the sun shown bright. The storm was over and it was a new day. We continued up the trail for an hour to the first viewpoint - perhaps the most beautiful viewpoint I've ever seen. In front of us was a massive mountain with glaciers and waterfalls in every direction. To our right was a mountain with various layers of rocks. Behind us were a series of lakes with mountains in the background. With blue sky and the sun beaming down, it was amazing.

We looked around for trail closure signs, but saw nothing. We continued on, coming across someone we had met earlier on the trail. We asked him about the trail closure and he commented that you could get within a kilometer of the end. And so on we hiked. Until, as it turned out, the end of the trail. There was a sign that in some distant past the trail may have continued for another kilometer, but that old trail wasn't on any map, and it wasn't clear where it even began. What we found was just as incredible as the lower viewpoint...a cathedral of peaks surrounding us with a truly magnificent 360 degree view. We tried to take pictures, but it was impossible to capture. For more than 30 minutes we sat there in awe.

As it turned out, it was the sunniest afternoon we had thus far during our time in Patagonia, and we had seen the most incredible views of our lives. The constant talk of trail closures had all proved to be false. But how quickly the rumors had spread...how many people had given up on the French Valley because of the rumors? If we too had turned back and told others what we had heard how many more might have avoided the French Valley on the most perfect afternoon. The French Valley blew me away, but so did the power of rumors. I guess you really can't believe everything you hear, and in this case it was hard to believe what we saw - the most stunning valley in the most rare of Patagonian weather.