22/10/2025
Windows to the Towers
Torres del Paine, Chile
“This is the last chance to turn back and enjoy a beer in Refugio Chileno.” Alice and Nico, our very savvy guides, warned as they grabbed the crampons from their bags.
I looked up at the dense clouds blowing fast from where the Towers should be. Patagonia was being kind to us with a dry day, but it still didn’t look very promising for THE view, the vast, expansive view I’ve always wanted to see.
A friend’s Italian cadence and Chilean accent echoed in my mind with the advice he gave me a few years ago during a cold, rainy hike around Osorno Volcano: “You have to shoot Patagonia as it is! Snowy, sunny, rainy, windy.”
My legs were complaining as I tried to keep up with our group, comprised of many serious hikers, and I could see a bit of genuine worry in Alice’s face as she checked on me.
I’m no athlete, but I’m no stranger to hiking either. I knew this was going to be the most ambitious single-day hike I’d ever done, and by then I was well aware that going all the way was going to be a very, very “type 2 fun” thing for me to do. But we did see a short glimpse of the towers' peaks before from Refugio Chileno, and I’d been waiting years to come here, so I was committed and hoping for the best. “I’ll be ok, I can do this.” I tried reassuring Alice somewhat successfully.
“It’s a tight trail, and there’ll be other people walking up and down, so we have to be careful and keep moving. Wait until the top for pictures, ok?” She said. “Sure…” I responded.
After some 20 minutes under the trees, the forest opened into a steep, winding, snowy uphill. Soon, the clouds opened up briefly, revealing a short whisper of the towers. I made sure my feet were steady and looked at Alice, who was still a few steps behind with another hiker. She smiled and shook her head as I pointed my camera as fast as I could without losing my balance. I barely managed to frame Evan opposite the Towers and snap a couple pics before the clouds rushed back in.
"Who knows if we'll see them again, so it's ok." Alice said with a playful shove to get me moving. "Just make sure to be ready to walk when we catch up with you."
As I ascended more, the wind gusts got way stronger, making the myriad snowflakes hitting my face feel like needles and forcing me to close my eyes and take a knee to keep my balance. My legs were not happy with those extra lunges and a little voice in the back of my head kept giving me crap for trading a beer in the warmth of the Refugio for a steep hike in a blizzard. But then, after one of those gusts stopped, I opened my eyes and saw the peaks over a line of hikers coming down from the Mirador.
Again, I steadied my legs and made sure I wasn't in anyone's way, then snapped a couple frames, maybe a little too late, but the view stopped that annoying little voice, replacing it with the renewed hope of catching a window at the top, where most of the group was already waiting.
I reached the Mirador just in time to hear the park ranger's 5-minute warning before closing. The towers were nowhere to be seen by the time the ranger asked us to head back. I made sure to be the last to take the trail, hoping for one final glimpse before it was my turn. Nothing.
I was a few steps down, when the group started pointing behind me. Before I was even turning I was already reaching for the camera, ready for the last window to the Towers opening up behind the ranger.
In the end I didn't get the photo I was hoping for, but Patagonia doesn't need perfect weather to be beautiful. She’s naturally wild and challenging and I feel I managed to capture some of that. I am grateful for these images and this awesome experience shared with an awesome group of people, and for those little glimpses of the towers. They felt like Patagonia's reward for making the hike with no guarantees, and her invitation to come back soon looking for the photo I wanted.
