The Torres del Paine National Park is comprised of enormous snow-covered mountains, glaciers, emerald-green lakes, rivers, and enough beautiful trails to satisfy even the pickiest trekker. We had not made actual plans to visit Torres del Paine, though we had longed to see what this famous "W" trail was all about. Throughout our travels, we plan very little in advance, staying as long as we enjoy a place. We happened to arrive in southern Chile at the tail end of the trekking season. It was to be the last week during which even some of the refugios were still open. After 3 days at sea on the passenger-freight carrier called the Navimag, we stayed in Puerto Natales for 3 days in order to attend informational meetings for park visitors, get sized for and rent camping gear, stock up on backpacker-friendly food, and research the cheapest and most reliable way to take a local bus to the park. On the day we arrived, the sun was shining and the midday temperature was a comfortable 60 degrees. Awesome.

In our eagerness to start trekking, we set out on a well-worn trail behind a handful of other backpackers, glancing at but not studying the directional sign that had about 20 different routes pointing in all different directions and feeling our hearts flutter that we were actually here after so many years of dreaming about these mountains. Trekking along happily, we soaked in the scenery and filled our lungs with fresh mountain air. Four hours later, we stopped for a picnic lunch and pulled out the map to check how much further we had to walk. As it turned out, we accidently had started trekking on the "O" trail, a loop that generally takes 9-11 days. We had only enough time and food for the "W" trail, a 4 day trek. After a good laugh, we turned around and returned to the starting point, at which point we had already covered a distance that exceeded what most hikers do in the first day. We then continued on another five hours to reach the first of two camps that put us within striking distance of seeing the famous Three Towers at sunrise the next day. The last 100 meters were so windy that we were forced to lean into the wind almost entirely, digging our trekking poles into the ground with all of our might, and crouch down to lower our center of gravity in hopes of making it easier to walk. I could have done without that. I couldn't imagine walking 10 minutes further due to the cramping in my legs at this point.

The next morning, we awoke at 4 am and jumped into our boots and started moving immediately to get warm. There wasn't a drop of sunlight yet so we kept our headlamps on as we navigated the trail. I was so thankful to leave my backpack in our camp because I was still exhausted from the day before. Chris was less fatigued than I, so wore a backpack with the camera equipment, water, and snacks. An hour later, we reached the other camp and saw half-asleep campers emerging from their tents with headlamps lighting the way to the path. The trail went straight up after leaving that camp, so our teeth finally quit chattering which made the pitch-black trek more pleasant. The last 30 minutes were tough as the trail got steeper, more narrow, and turned from dirt to big rocks which made footing very unstable, especially since it was difficult to see more than a couple of feet ahead of you and pick out the next best step. Some trekkers that we passed were discussing turning around since the trail was getting too tough. "You're in Patagonia! Keep going! It will be worth it!" I wanted to shout. I kept my opinion to myself, largely because I was so exhausted that I had no extra oxygen to spare, and kept hiking.

I took my time getting to the summit though Chris had picked up his pace in order to scout for the best place to set up the tripod before the sun rose and shone on the towers. It was still plenty dark and I didn't want to slow him down later in the day, so would be happy with getting there just in the nick of time. When I arrived at the top of a clearing and saw a small sign that read "trail ends here", I picked out a flat rock and hunkered down in the darkness near some quiet Spanish chatter. It was so cold sitting on the rocks while we waited that many people stood instead and fidgeted to keep warm. As I was sitting there wondering if I wanted to trade some energy for the comfort of being warmer, Chris presented to me his sleeping bag. I had no idea it was in that backpack. He had snuck it in there after I had gotten out of the tent. I looked at him with googly eyes and asked him to share it with me. "No, sweet P. I'm going down to the water to take some photos. I brought it for you." I felt his act of love wrap around me and trap in my body heat as I watched him disappear behind some enormous rocks that had been sitting there a lot longer than I had.

I sat there wrapped in warmth and felt an enormous amount of gratitude, not only for the sleeping bag but also for the mere fact that we were in Patagonia, in Chile, in the Southern Hemisphere, very far from "home", and I wondered what we would see when the sun finally rose. The trek back to camp sure would be easier. What had we missed during that two hour trek? A hint of color pushed its way into the horizon which brought me back to the rock I was sitting on, and I reminded myself not to be too concerned with what would happen but rather what was happening.

Finally, after much anticipation, a cold, blue glow began to envelope the rocks. I had been staring east so as to catch the first glimpse of color as the sun rose, but now turned my back to the sun and faced the towers. The blue glow turned to pale turquoise as the clouds resting on top of the towers began to part. Those wispy clouds teased us with a sneak preview of the tips of the towers hovering 10,000 feet above sea level, then rushed to cover them up with a gust of wind as if to not reveal the full secret. I sat there watching with wide eyes, almost too anxious to blink. Moments later, the turquoise glow finally burst into a bright orange gold on the tips of the towers as the sun itself hit the horizon and cast a ray of light 92,000,000 miles long. It was breathtaking, and I do not use that term lightly and it wasn't the altitude talking. Gold faded to tangerine, tangerine faded to pale yellow, and the entire sky transformed into a well-lit scene out of a perfect painting.

After a sunrise that beat all other sunrises and feeling grateful for a clear day after so many hours of trekking to see such a sight, we headed back down to our camp and had a quick breakfast of instant coffee and stale granola to replenish our energy stores from 4 hours of hiking. You can't win them all I suppose. We broke camp and stuffed our backpacks full of gear, then set off on the day's trek. I needed all 8 hours of our trek that day to soak in what we had just witnessed that morning. I knew it was going to be on my Top Ten list of most memorable moments I had ever experienced. Perhaps one day it would be outdone. Perhaps not. For now, I felt gratitude bigger than the fatigue in my legs and breathlessness in my lungs as I walked down the trail to see what else the park of Torres del Paine had to offer.