Day 3: Dickson campsite - Los Perros campsite 10 km
Today is a short day of only 10 km or four hours and I slept well on my rented mattress. But once I wake up I immediately head out. For the first time there is no wind and the mosquitoes seize their chance. They fly around my head, in my nose, my ears and even my mouth. Only moving helps. The route leads into the forest and even there the mosquitoes don't leave me alone. It is almost impossible to stop for the view or a photo. Gradually the path climbs up. The forest is always different, sometimes grey, thin trunks with moss, then open again with lots of undergrowth and streams. After a while the path flattens out and it becomes easier. The mosquitoes are also decreasing. Kevin, an older Canadian, overtakes me. After three km I arrive at a viewpoint where I see the Torres glacier in the distance. Looking back I see Dickson Lake and above it the Dickson Glacier. When I descend, there are rivers. The first river sounds like a slow train, the second as a freight train. On the bridge as we cross river there are great views of the Perros Glacier and a rugged peak. It's a picture like you see on postcards. Another bridge was destroyed by a tree that recently fell on it. The wood splinters are still yellow, but the hikers have already found a new path around it. At the next bridge it is another two km to Los Perros, although the wooden information boards are not always reliable and often vandalised, with the number of kilometers still to be walked scratched off.Unexpectedly, the route leaves the forest and I climb up over loose stones. The Perros Glacier approaches, but disappears from view behind a scree slope. The red posts lead underneath, but I want to go up, see what's on the other side. I follow one of the many winding paths uphill and am rewarded with a fantastic view of the Perros Glacier right in front of me. A white wall of snow, through which the blue shines, with a single tongue reaching out to a teal lake. How incredibly beautiful. I sit on a rock, take off my backpack and enjoy. Behind me, a packhorse rider passes along the trail, the only way to supply this isolated cabin. Although both horses move very calmly along the path, they quickly disappear around another hill. Right on top of the rubble slope I'm right in the wind and I hoist my backpack again for the last kilometer to Los Perros. After a few more hills of rounded rocks I descend to a stone plain along a roaring river. It is not easy to walk and I feel my feet. The hut remains hidden for a long time, but then I see some solar panels on a field. I first report to the ranger hut, where Kevin is already sitting on a bench. Then we walk on to the campsite, under the trees of a fairly dark forest. Only here and there a single ray of sunshine reaches through the foliage. It is also the one campsite with only cold water in the showers. In front of the hut are the two horses, pink nets empty next to them. I pitch my tent next to the three Americans and rent another mattress for the night. An hour later the horses leave again, amid great interest from the hikers.

Day 4: Los Perros campsite – Grey campsite, 15 km
Could it be more perfect? A bright day, little wind and great views from the John Garner Pass on the immense Gray Glacier. In my head I know that I enjoyed it immensely and later I will certainly look back with pleasure on the photos and videos I made. But I'm beat. My feet hurt and I'm also mentally exhausted. What a very intense day... The first hikers leave in darkness for what is known as a long and tough stage. I wait for the sun to rise and leave at 06:00, an hour before the latest departure time. Immediately from the campsite the trail starts to climb through the forest. Quite steep too, sometimes with short zigzags, but sometimes also straight uphill. Once a bit higher, the path flattens out a bit. Here it is very muddy and planks, branches and tree trunks help me get over the worst muck. Slowly I climb higher and higher, until I reach the tree line and a stone valley with small clumps of forest stretches out before me. Far in the distance I see the pass, a slightly lower mountain between two higher ones. I undulate across the stones, following the red posts and paint marks. Sometimes I descend and there is shelter in a forest for a while before I brave the wind again on the open plain. Fortunately it's not too bad, the wind is blowing, but I'm not blown off my socks. A narrow gorge appears on the right, through which a river squeezes. We walk right past it before turning away from it again.Slowly a small glacier comes into view, hanging over a rock with an arc-shaped pattern in the stones. A geologist could tell me what this means, I remain curious. The John Garner Pass is closing in, sandwiched between the 2,048-meter-high Blanco Sur and the lower 1,766-meter Mount Amistad. I only have to climb a hundred meters at the most, but then I see small dots creeping upwards along a waterfall. It's a short, strenuous climb and I often pause to catch my breath. Looking back I see small groups of hikers with colorful rain covers on their backpacks making their own, strenuous way up. Once above the waterfall, the trail gradually ascends to the pass at 1,180 meters. There is even snow still. Gray peaks with white spots appear over the pass. The higher I go, the more I see of them, like a scratch card slowly revealing a picture. And then I am at the top and the full panorama unfolds before me. It's too much to capture in a photo. Glacier Grey, a sea of ​​ice, from the crumbling estuary to the flanks of three distinct mountains, all contributing to the cold current. A large piece has crumbled at the edge and I see the clear blue of anoxic ice. Ahead, a pale blue vein ripples through the ice, as if there were an ice river just below the surface. The center of the glacier is a plain of rugged spikes, an army of whimsical gargoyles. Ahead, the ice ripples gracefully, translucent with blue. The glacier has so many faces, I can't get enough of it. Lower on the slope I see hikers walking closer to the glacier, although they are still high above it.I follow them quickly, because there is so much to see. The path down consists of mild zigzags and I think to myself: Oh, this is not too bad. Closer to the glacier I can see the blue wound better and the shapes continue to fascinate. I take pictures until I've captured every detail and then follow the route to a forest with some apprehension. And that's where it starts. The descent. Steep stairs that make your knees rattle. Sandy parts where you lean on your trekking poles with your full weight to stay upright. Stone puzzles where you have to choose where your foot fits best for the next difficult step. Had it rained, an accident or two would have been inevitable. It feels like it’s taking hours and that's accurate, it really does takes hours. It is hard. It's wearisome. Through the trees the glacier comes closer, although I never get level with it. I see the edge, white ice floating on the water. At a stream, the trees give way, creating a beautiful viewpoint of the glacier. Several hikers stop here for lunch, but my gut grumbles at the effort required and I continue to the hut I don't expect much further on. At Paso hut I throw off my backpack and sink down on a wooden tree trunk chair. At the ranger hut there is a book under a shelter ready to register me, but first I have to eat something. I prepare a pan of trail mix and work it in my stomach. Only after a visit to the latrine do I write my name and passport number in the book and refill my water bottle. Then I quickly move on. The surroundings of the hut look dark and unattractive and building materials are scattered here and there. I'm glad I'm staying at refugio Grey and not here. But first I have to get there. The route descends a little further, but not so painfully steep anymore and the forest looks friendlier, with long grass and small birds. I just don't have much of an eye for nature anymore. It's warm, but I don't have the energy to take off my backpack and my jacket. Even grabbing the package of cookies from the top compartment is too difficult. I better grit my teeth now and keep going. There are three suspension bridges that bounce nicely. After the second I meet day trippers who are on their way from Refugio Gray to the glacier. I dream of coca cola and noticeably experience the consequences of sugar deficiency. An American spontaneously offers me a pack of M&Ms and with that I make it to the campsite. I dump my backpack between the trees before I have reported to the refugio. It is still quite a distance from the campsite to the refugio and the first thing I do is storm into the shop for a coke. Shoes off, sugar in. Delicious. After half an hour I check in, rent another mattress and when I have set up my tent, I stumble back to the refugio for a nice hot shower. I don't feel like cooking and because this refugio is supplied by boat, there is even a real restaurant. Together with Kevin and two Americans I enjoy a hamburger, some pizza and my third can of coke. Satisfied I start to feel tired and bumble back to my tent. In retrospect I am glad that I am far from the refugio, because it is busy. This is the start and end point of the W-trek, which coincides with the southern part of the O-circuit and you can walk in two directions. In addition, the boat brings day trippers who make the trek up to the Grey Glacier. On the porch, the walkers are having a party with music and loud chatting. No, give me the comfortable silence of a forest any day.

Day 5: Gray campsite – Frances campsite, 19 km
I leave the hustle and bustle of refugio Grey behind and hit the road around 08:00. I haven't fully recovered from yesterday and decide to take it easy. The route is easy, few rocks and lots of gravel. When I have to climb, the trail goes up smoothly with calm zigzags. There is a lot of dead forest here, the trees show traces of fire. There have been multiple wildfires in Torres del Paine, a cigarette not put out entirely, a gas burner that fell over, someone trying to burn toilet paper. Hence, smoking and open fire in the national park is now strictly prohibited. The fine can be up to two million pesos and up to three years in prison. Looking back, I see a rainbow over the glacier. A bit vague at first, but later bigger and brighter. I keep taking pictures, because the higher I get, the more beautiful the view. The perspective changes every time, the rainbow is draped slightly differently across the mountains and it remains fascinatingly beautiful. A few deep blue icebergs float in the water and although the path remains high above them, I can get them close enough with my zoom lens to see the unusual shapes the water has carved. Once above the tree line it is not cold. The wind is strong, but warm and I walk in a T-shirt for the first time. I lather myself in sun screen. The daily UV radiation risk is stated in each refugio and it’s always high. They do not sell less than factor 50. There are now more day trippers with light backpacks or even a single bottle of water, but it's still not theme park conditions. We pass each other and I am alone again. With so many viewpoints I am moving slowly. Each time a new side path tempts me to take a last look at the glacier, until it finally disappears behind the hills. Fortunately, the last three km to Paine Grande are fairly flat through a narrow valley. It is a huge hut, with a terrace, large restaurant and countless hikers coming and going. The water of Lagos Pehoe stretching out in front of the hut is so blue you wouldn't believe it if you saw it on TV. On the covered porch I take off my shoes and stretch out on a rickety bench. I put my seat mat under my mangled feet for that little bit of extra comfort. I've been hiking on trail runners in the Netherlands for several years and my new mountain boots lack the cushioning I'm used to.After an hour's rest I hike on and only then see what I hadn't noticed on the way there. A chain of rugged peaks, black at the top but a thick white band below. How could that be? The path is very easy from here, fairly flat and few rocks. Here and there rangers have closed trails with branches and tree stumps and it seems that the route to Refugio Italiano has even been diverted entirely for nature restoration. A closed path has the familiar red posts, but I follow the main path that winds gently to the mysterious peaks. Lago Skottsberg appears over a hill and although I expect some waterfowl, the lake remains empty. A condor briefly skims past, but it disappears from sight silently and without even a single wing beat. The view of the peaks is getting more and more beautiful and they are also getting closer. There are many streams flowing across the trail, but they are not deep enough to worry me with my high mountain boots. Eventually my feet start to tingle again and I look forward to sitting on the veranda at Italiano's with a coke. But I am disappointed. It is a ranger station, but not a refuge. There is nothing to get except water. It is busy with walkers who make the trek from here to Mirador del Frances or Brittanico. I also had this on my wish list, but after yesterday I don't have the energy for another strenuous six hour hike, even with only a daypack. With 19 km this is also quite a long day already. I stretch out in the sun on a large wooden platform. Laze around for half an hour. According to the guidepost it is only two km from here to camping Frances, but the distances on the signs and guideposts are not quite right, I have already realized. After just one km on the GPS I see the sign that announces the campsite. It is rather unfavorably situated on a steep, wooded mountainside and I pitch my tent on one of the wooden platforms. I lay the pegs flat and pin them under heavy rocks. It doesn't look pretty and the rain fly is not very tight, but it works.

Day 6: Frances campsite - refugio Chileno, 19 km
The morning starts with rain and I turn over in my cozy sleeping bag. An hour later it is dry and I pack my backpack after all. The route ascends and I enjoy the view of the deep blue water of Lagos Nordenskjold and the green hills beyond. There must be a road on the other side, because on a distant hill a cloud of dust is moving remarkably fast. The route runs right along the water across a stone beach and then goes back into the hills. After two hours I arrive at refugio Los Cuernos. I buy a coke and M&M's and take care of my toes on the terrace. This morning I put on fresh socks, but I feel friction and without tape, hiking will quickly become painful. Other hikers trickle in and we talk about tomorrow as we head to Base del Torres, the highlight of both the O and W treks and the destination of busloads of day trippers. Like me, several hikers have plans to leave before sunrise so we can see the sun shine its first light over the iconic rock formation. But first I have to get to refugio Chileno, the ideal springboard for the trek to Base del Torres. With my toes well wrapped I continue, the path rises briefly and then remains fairly flat. That means I can keep hiking swiftly and I enjoy doing so. A falcon of some kind lands a few feet from my feet and continues to scurry about while I snap photos.Again the path crosses several streams where hikers can refresh themselves in the wonderfully fresh water or cool their overheated feet. I think it's still a little too early for a rest and walk on until I too start to get thirsty and look for the next stream. When I see a glacier high above me and a white ribbon of water crashing down the rocks, I know the next river is not very far away. And what a river! Water tumbles playfully across the rocks, while a graceful suspension bridge sways under the slow feet of hikers, all eager to take a selfie in the middle of the bridge, or at least a photo of those spectacular mountains in the background. It's a small paradise and I'm certainly not the only one who wants to take the time to enjoy it. On the other bank of the Rio del Arriero, countless hikers have settled into the shade of the sparse bushes, the standard lunch of the refugios in cardboard bags at their feet. All shady spots along the river are occupied, but the path runs a little closer to the forest under the trees. A beautiful specimen has grown quite a bit horizontally and then reaches upwards as it should. The thick trunk feels like a beach chair and I can stretch my legs wonderfully. Shoes off, pan of trail mix and I'm fine. I see many familiar faces pass by and make new acquaintances. After a nice lazy hour I force my feet back into the tightness of my mountain boots and set off. I feel more relaxed than the past few days, when I set off early, reached the campsite in the early afternoon and then napped and rested. Today I don't care what time I arrive exactly. It's about the hike, not the end goal.At the fork in the path to Central or Chileno I choose the last option. On the map it is only a short distance from here to the refugio and I expect to see the hut pretty soon. But either I’m a fool or can’t read maps correctly. I follow the path along a lake and see in the depths the path to Central, which looks like a fairly straight and boring gravel road. My path undulates up and down, the rugged peaks now behind me. When the route descends a bit, the path becomes swampy with considerable mud puddles. An American couple carefully picks their way around it through the grass. I see a stone and some old tree trunks just below the surface of the water and I hop across to the other side. Hill after hill I expect to see the cabin, but still nothing. We approach a gorge with a beautifully meandering river in the depths. The path from Central joins us and the route is graced by day trippers. There is a lot of wind, the highest point is not called Paso Viento or Windy Pass, for nothing. I struggle to stay steady on my feet and steady the camera, but I do my best for this view. The river meanders through the depths, squeezed tightly between a green mountain and gray stones. The road winds down to the left and far into the distance… Do I see the hut there? The sight gives me the extra energy I need and I quickly walk down and cross the bridge for a final climb of no more than two meters to the refugio. This time I have a real and very expensive bed in the cabin because the campsite was fully booked. A hot shower later and I settle down on the terrace in the sun, although I quickly go back inside to put on socks. Sandals are fine, but you can't escape the wind even here. In front of the terrace are a number of packhorses, pink nets with empty beer kegs next to them. After an hour they are loaded up and two cowboys leave under the curious gaze of photographing and filming tourists. They descend slightly and carefully cross the river. As one of those curious and filming tourists, I think it was nice bonus. Quickly head in and sleep, because tomorrow will be an extremely early day.

Day 7: Refugio Chileno - Hotel Las Torres, 14 km
The alarm goes off at 03:30, while it is still pitch black outside the hut. I pack the last things in my daypack and put on my headlamp. Outside the refugio, a large group of hikers is also ready for departure. I follow them into the dark forest path, but their headlamps soon disappear from view. I can't see beyond the beam of light, but it's just enough to see the tree roots and stones on the path. Yet it soon starts to haunt my head. What if I miss a turn and get lost? I scold myself. So far the route and marking is idiot-proof and I don't expect that to change here. Every now and then there are wooden posts with reflective strips that indicate the direction and I am reassured. Still, I'm happy when I see some headlamps again after a while and catch up with some hikers. When I look up I see countless stars. A night bird sounds from the forest, but sounds nothing like an owl. And then from a clearing in the woods I see three bright lights in the distance, high above me, but too low to be stars. Oops! They're headlamps, but that high? That promises to be hard. I persevere and after an hour the forest path comes to an end at the turn to a ranger station. Here the path also ceases to be easy. It's starting to climb.First with neatly laid rock steps, then loose sand and finally a random stack of rocks. The route dives into the forest and continues to climb, occasionally I stop at a stream to drink. I hoist myself up on my trekking poles and get above the tree line. Numerous posts point the way over a scree slope. The route weaves up and down and over a heap more rocks I can already see the dark shapes of the Torres. Behind me the clouds are turning a beautiful red. Will I be too late? When I have to go around another stone slope with a wide arc, I get grumpy, I'm done with it. A rope and warning signs prevent a direct route to our goal because it is too dangerous. Grumblegrumble. So close and then turn around? But then the path suddenly becomes easy again and it is only a short distance down to the lake at the foot of the Torres del Paine, the three slender towers that give the national park a unique and recognizable silhouette from miles away. They stand out darkly against the deep blue sky, a cotton wool cloud around the leftmost peak. There is a strong wind and many hikers seek shelter near the rocks, waiting for the morning light. Some even brought a sleeping bag to keep warm. I pull my sweater, buff and hat out of my pack, but my camelback has leaked again and my gloves are soaking wet. I warm my numb fingers under my armpits and wait with the other hikers for the sun to creep over the scree.Although the sky is getting lighter and the towers are becoming more and more apparent, the rocks don't get the warm glow I expected with a sunrise. Fortunately, it remains impressive regardless. Everyone photographs each other and has themselves photographed and I am not left behind. Usually I don't need to be in the picture, but this is very special. The pinnacle of the O trek. I managed to do it, despite my stiff feet, flat mattress and leaky camelback. I have seen fantastic things and have taken beautiful pictures. I have walked all day with a backpack of up to 18 kg. I am proud of myself. Despite the euphoria, the wind becomes too much for me after a while and I no longer wait for the sun to come through. Slowly I start the way back, which is a lot easier this time because I can oversee the path better. I see the zigzags that remained hidden in the dark and alternatives that walkers voted on with their feet. It remains a long descent and then that long stretch through the forest to refugio Chileno. There I can now see the river, with the impressive mountains in the background. I stop for photos, can't say goodbye to the mountains, even though I'm on my way to the end of this trek. Far too soon and not soon enough I return to the refugio. After an unhealthy second breakfast of cola and chocolate chip cookies I start the last stretch to Central. It was chilly in the shade of the refugio, but I have to climb out of the valley again and soon I get warm. The river meanders through the narrow gorge and the higher I get, the more beautiful the view.On Paso Viento the wind is not too bad this time and I take some extra pictures. I descend to the junction of Frances and Central and this time choose the left turn to hotel Las Torres and the central campsite. The first busloads of tourists have arrived and I regularly stop to let large groups pass by. Since they are ascending and I am descending, according to hiking etiquette they have right of way, something I do not begrudge them. But it does pulls me out of my rhythm, which is hard enough to maintain with the uneven stones. My feet are also not happy to stand idle and prefer to keep moving. Once on a wide gravel road I feel my feet tingling and I lie down on the grass for a nap. Take off my shoes, take off my glasses and relax in the sun. When the sun disappears behind a cloud half an hour later, I crawl up again, creaking. Another small descent, where I look out on a gray plain with hikers going directly to Frances. In the background a meandering river where a group of horsemen crosses. For a moment I look back at the mountains that I enjoyed so much. Torres del Paine and the O trek are truly a dream come true. Fortunately, I still have enough dreams for the future. Next stop: Argentina.

*NB: the distances vary per website and the map is not very legible (orange font argh!), so the distances mentioned are not necessarily correct. Only the last day I had GPS on. But the distances are not the most important thing for me. Each stage can easily be done in 1 day in any case.

Watch my YouTube-videos of this hike here.