The Location
Before packing my bags and heading south for the winter I
solicited the Boulder Trail Runners for running suggestions. Peter Bakwin and
Buzz Burrell both were quick to chime in. Among the many routes they offered
was the Dientes de Navarino circuit accessed from Puerto Williams,
Chile—southernmost city/town/village/whatever-you-want-to-call-it in the world!
Getting to Puerto Williams is a bit easier now than it was when these two guys
did the circuit. There are essentially daily boats from multiple carriers that
depart Ushuaia for Puerto Navarino (a small port with two families living
there) where you hop in a van for 50 kilometers or so to arrive in Puerto
Williams.
While in Ushuaia I did a few good runs, but nothing overly
spectacular. The city itself was bigger than I had hoped, noisy, full of
loud/obnoxious street racing’ish cars, and just overall unpleasant. I refused
to accept Ushuaia as El Fin del Mundo. In my eyes the end of the world should
be much smaller and quieter—tranquilo. It should also be rugged and isolated
with a surreal beauty that can be daunting at times.
Puerto Williams is where I found these things; the rugged
isolation was everywhere. There is the potential to go out in the mountains for
weeks there and never see another human being. These types of environments are
what I love. Cliché as it sounds; it’s in places like this where you’re
reminded just how insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things.
Intro to the Circuit
Typically, when I tell locals, park rangers, or trekkers
about my running plans I get the same reaction—a look of disbelief that
simultaneously says you’re an idiot, you’re full of crap, and you’re probably
going to get yourself killed. I thought the looks/reactions I received in
Bariloche, Chalten, and Ushuaia were bad, but they were nothing compared to
those in Puerto Williams.
Apparently not too many people try to do this circuit in one
day. And by not too many I mean that (from info in town from the locals,
Carabineros, etc.) I’m possibly the
second or third party to try it one day, but I have a feeling there has to be
others. Peter, Buzz, Lisa, and Stephanie did the loop in 11:26 back in
2005—starting and finishing at Plaza de la Virgen. Someone told me a group of
English fell runners have done it in 8-9 hours, but I can’t find any record of
that anywhere (not saying it didn’t happen just can’t find any proof). I may
possibly be the first person to do it solo in one day, but again I’m sure
someone else has likely already done this—just can’t find any record. I can’t
possibly fool myself into thinking that I’m the only trail runner in the world
dumb enough to go down here and do this route solo in one day…
So, I decided to approach this circuit with a goal of
besting 11:26. Starting at Plaza de la Virgen there is about 1.2 miles of
gravel road running to reach the trail head. The trail finishes about 4.5-5
miles west of the Plaza. Everything else is technical mountain trails with a
total absence of cruiser singletrack. In total, the circuit is around 54’ish
kilometers when you start and finish at the Plaza.
.JPG) |
| Starting Point--Plaza de la Virgen |
Disappointment in the Dientes—First Try on the Circuit
After scouting out the weather for a few days I decided on
the 14th of March as THE day. After my morning coffee, a small
breakfast, and my last minute preparations Cecilia (owner of Refugio El
Padrino) was gracious enough to escort me to the Carabineros (police) to let
them know that the dumb gringo was planning to do a 5-day trek in one day and
give me a ride to the Plaza de la Virgen for the start.
Around 8:30 AM, mas o menos, I took off. From the start my
legs felt lethargic as I struggled to find a rhythm running up the 1.2’ish mile
gravel road in the frigid morning air. I eventually reached the peak of Cerro
Bandera and was rewarded with a great view off the Beagle Channel and Puerto
Williams down below. The trail then cruised along the mountain side for a few
kilometers deeper into the valley. The descent down to Laguna del Salta was a
bit of a death trap—sharp talus covered with frost from the brisk morning.
After almost falling several times I finally opted to put on my Microspikes for
the descent and risk dulling them prematurely. The fun wasn’t over after the descent.
I still had to boulder hop from the northeast shore to the southwest shore of
the laguna with the dreaded ice still mocking me every step of the way.
.JPG) |
| Pretty cold start to the day |
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| View from Cerro Bandera |
The climb from Laguna del Salto to Paso Primero was a fun
slog through a small, muddy stream of cascading snow melt with mud sometimes
coming to about 6-inches above my ankles. I got duped into one or two side
trips between Paso Primero and Paso Australia since they were marked with
cairns just like the main trail. After Paso Australia I got to play in a few
snow fields before popping over Paso de los Dientes for another stretch of icy
talus and boulder hopping. Again, the stretch from Paso de los Dientes until
first glimpse of Laguna de los Dientes was scenic yet uneventful—seemingly
never-ending boulder hopping for the most part.
 |
| Between Paso Primero and Paso Australia |
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| Boulder hopping |
Laguna de los Dientes is where things got a bit interesting.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the trail markers split in both directions
around the laguna. I chose to head south—I chose poorly. After slogging my way
through beaver-devastated shorelines I found myself at the southern edge of the
laguna. I was debating heading back to where I first caught glimpse of the
laguna (and the last trail marker I had seen) when I noticed a couple of
cairns. There were no other cairns to be found after though. I searched around
for over an hour trying to find the trail.
.JPG) |
| Beaver damage everywhere. |
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| View from Cerro Bandera as I retreated back to the warmth of El Padrino |
I was a bit sickened at my problems with route finding.
Mainly because the day I chose to do the route turned out to be perfect in
every way—no wind, no precipitation, and shirtless-running temperatures.
Damnit…
Stats for the day:
Miles—24
Vertical—7,600 feet
Time—10 hours 45
minutes
Who Actually Learns the Lesson the First Time?—Second Try
on the Circuit
I sat in Refugio El Padrino for the next few days as I
watched the weather turn to absolute crap—rain, wind, clouds, and cold. This
sickened me even more. I came to the end of the earth—a place notorious for
predictably unpredictable weather—and blew my one shot at completing the
circuit in near-perfect weather conditions. I kept watching the weather
forecast though…Just in case.
About four days after my failed attempt another glorious day
came out of nowhere. Armed with better route information (I thought at the
time) I prepared for another go. This time I set out to do everything on my
own—let the Carabineros know I’m an idiot and make my way on foot to the start
at Plaza de la Virgen (a 20 minute warm-up). It didn’t take long to warm-up
because the morning was surprisingly hot compared to the morning of my first
attempt.
My legs felt fresh and ready to go from the beginning. I was
making great time up to Cerro Bandera and looked to top out in about 45 minutes
or so—10 minutes faster than previous. About 10 minutes from the summit some
stomach issues needed to be addressed. This gave me the opportunity to shed
some layers and get everything resituated so it wasn’t that much of a
disappointment. Nature calls sometimes, right?
 |
| Heading into the valley towards the Dientes |
Having already covered this section of the trail made it
pretty easy this time around. I arrived at the south shore of Laguna del Salto
in 2:18—12 minutes faster than before. I seemed to dispose of the trail pretty
effortlessly until I arrived at the shore of Laguna de los Dientes at the 3:41
mark—almost 2 hours faster than previous. With the kilometers quickly passing I
began thinking that the 11:26 goal was totally do-able. And then I lost the trail…for
the first time…
 |
| All smiles after 2-3 hours on my feet |
 |
| Moving from Paso Primero to Paso Australia |
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| View after Paso Australia |
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| First glimpse of Laguna de los Dientes |
It seems that the map I have was made in 2003. Ten years is
a LONG time for a plague of beavers to dramatically alter the landscape. This
means the map that I bought is now nowhere near accurate in terms of depicting
bodies of water for the area, which makes it incredibly easy to lose the
friggin’ trail. Fortunately, the topography is one thing the beavers can’t
change.
I confused one of these beaver flood zones as Laguna
Escondida and with a very brief glance at my map confirmed this. So, without a
cairn in sight I decided to push up-and-over some random mountain pass, which
turned out to be somewhat difficult. Things didn’t really get interesting until
I topped out on the pass and caught glimpse of this big, beautiful lake—Laguna
Esondida. Damnit…
I was now faced with the decision of going back down and
around Cerro Gabriel to get to Laguna Escondida the safe way (on the actual
trail) or descending about a 40-60% grade (depending on route finding) of loose scree/talus/boulders to get
down. I really didn’t feel like backtracking so I let the shit-show commence.
Shortly after committing to the sketchy descent I realized
it was a mistake and I’d likely get injured, but I had already committed and
going up didn’t really seem like a good option now. With each step I watched
layers of scree and talus go sliding down the mountain side. A boulder or two
would occasionally gain some momentum and crash down the slope all the way to
the bottom to make sure I was aware of how stupid this idea really was.
When I finally reached the shore of Laguna Escondida and
rejoined the trail I had been out for over 5.5 hours (5:32 to be exact). It
took me almost 2 hours to cover 1.5 kilometers of the official trail by
detouring up-and-over the sketchy pass, which I now call Paso del Idiota (Pass
of the Idiot). I still held on to a faint hope of besting the 11:26 mark, but I
didn’t have much more tolerance for route-finding errors.
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| Looking at the descent that awaited me from Paso del Idiota |
The trail from Laguna Escondida, over Paso Ventarron, and
down towards Laguna Hermosa was technical, but well-marked and runnable. Around
Laguna Hermosa is where I encountered my next route-finding error. Again, the
cairns just seemed to disappear. Without the trail in sight I took matters into
my own hands yet again and proceeded up-and-over an even sketchier pass than
Paso del Idiota—I called this pass Paso ‘thehellwasIthinking.
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| On the way to Paso Ventarron |
The descent down this pass was pretty much equivalent to the
descent down Paso del Idiota, but the big difference was the ascent. The ascent
was about 60% grade of alarmingly loose scree, talus, and boulders that proved
nearly impossible to climb. I opted to bust out the Microspikes again and
utilize the snow/ice that I had been trying to avoid. One slip on the snow/ice
would lead to me sliding about 100 meters or more down to the bottom where some
nice, soft rocks awaited to break my fall (or break something). So I climbed
with my left side on the snow and my right side in the rocks to hopefully allow
for easy exit from the snow if I should lose traction.
From Paso ‘thehellwasIthinking I caught a glipse of the
unmistakable Laguna Martillo with the Montes Lindenmayer mountain range—a
pretty spectacular sight. I made my way towards the southeast shoreline where I
finally rejoined with the trail and could enjoy the comfort that only cairns
can provide. Upon reaching the shoreline I realized that my right shoe was
completely blown out. The upper was separated from the sole from heal-to-toe,
which would essentially eliminate all running I could do for the remainder of
the circuit.
 |
| Shores of Laguna Martillo |
I began the muddy, boggy slog from the shores of Laguna
Martillo to the beginning of the final challenging ascent to Paso Virginia. Of
course, I got off trail again. After some mindless wandering without a cairn in
sight I had decided to just follow the valley in a northwesterly direction back
to the main coastal road. This idea didn’t last for too long since I quickly
realized the deathtrap I would be facing—ridiculous amount of downed trees
mostly hidden under thick layers of undergrowth that would break under the
slightest amount of weight. So I decided to head upward above treeline in
search of Paso Virginia in hopes that I could somehow get back to signs of
civilization before dark. The path of least resistance proved to be a small
mountain stream with countless downed trees crisscrossing it. I eventually got
above treeline to notice a roaring mountain stream, cascading gradually down
the slope—just like the Lonely Planet guidebook said. Upon further inspection,
I found a cairn!
I stumbled from cairn-to-cairn like a drunken idiot with hobo shoes until I topped out at Paso Virginia and eventually got my first glimpse of the other side. Laguna los Guanacos, a beautiful valley, and the Beagle Channel all seemed so close. I finally had my first sighting of the route back to civilization! Perhaps the most comforting feeling was looking down and being able to see a well-defined trail for a significant distance, which convinced me that I would make it back before dark. Oh, how deceiving looks can be…
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| View from Paso Virginia of Laguna de los Guanacos and the Beagle Channel |
The descent from Paso Virginia to the shores of Laguna los Guanacos
included a steep-as-hell section of scree surfing, which would normally be much
welcomed fun. However, in shitty shoes sans socks this proved to be extremely
painful with every poke and prod from the larger, sharper rocks. Once I got to
the northern shore of Laguna los Guanacos I ran into David and Paula (two
guides who were staying at the same hostel as me) at around 7:30 PM. I chatted
with them for a bit, politely refused their offerings of food, and nodded with
them in agreement that I should be able to easily cover the remaining 2.1 km
back to the road before dark. I had about an hour to cover the last 2.1 km before
darkness set in—easy, right? Not at all.
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| Looking back at the descent from Paso Virginia that included two sections of talus surfing. |
Almost immediately after parting ways with David and Paula I
began a section of bushwhacking with mud coming up to 4-5 inches above my
ankles in places—the entire time hoping the soles of my shoes would just stay
attached for a little while longer. I eventually reached the moderate relief of
an obvious trail, but had to endure sharp rocks piercing my feet once more. And
then the true shit-show started; meandering through thorn bushes, prickly
plants, and a mixture other things that hurt like hell as I wandered aimlessly
in the dark among a maze of cattle trails. Fortunately, I knew where I needed
to go—down.
Eventually, I bottomed out somewhat in a small river bed and
then had no idea what direction I needed to go. I put my watch in compass mode
and just started moving north crisscrossing the river, hopping up and over
downed trees, and barging through thorn bushes. After doing this for a while I
emerged from the forest to a flat, grassy area with some big, unknown object
looming in the distance. As I got closer I soon realized it was a ~10 feet high
cattle fence. Much to my relief, as I neared the fence I soon realized that
just in front was the main coastal road! I had just completed the Dientes de
Navarino solo and self-supported in 14’ish hours! Now I just had to run about 8
kilometers on a gravel road with destroyed shoes to get back to town. Shit…
After a few minutes of searching for the motivation to run I
set off in a trot, slowly increasing my cadence until I hit a decent running
pace, with the intent of not stopping again until I reached town. I could
already tell that it was going to be a miserable experience with my feet
sliding off the soles of my shoes with each step.
A couple minutes into running I noticed a light shining in
the distance. I covered my headlamp to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating or
something. Then I heard voices. As I neared I realized it was Max and Jorrit,
two friends staying at my hostel, who got a bit worried about me when it was
dark and I hadn’t returned yet. So they borrowed the hostel owner’s car to come
see if they could find me. When I
reached them it was a no-brainer for me—I was taking a ride back. My intent was
to close the loop back to Plaza de la Virgen, but given the
circumstances—busted shoes and not on FKT pace—I decided that simply doing the
trail section was more than enough. I took a beer from the guys, hopped in the
car, and rode back into town completely exhausted after 14.5 hours or so on my
feet in the rugged, isolated mountains.
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| What my shoes looked like for half of the 14+ hour outing |
I consumed only 600 calories in VFuel gels and a few liters
of water during the entire day and never really felt dehydrated or lacking in energy.
I’m continually amazed at how much activity I can do with little-to-no VFuels
during the course of the run.
Stats for the day:
Miles—25
Vertical—10,000 feet
Time—14 hours 17
minutes
Best part of the entire day (besides being in the mountains
for 14 hours) was returning back to the hostel where the owner, Cecilia, had
prepared an amazing seafood soup for dinner. The soup seemed to warm every part
of my body that had started to freeze during the last few hours of wandering
around in the dark.
Big thanks to:
·
VFuel for the energy to play in the mountains
all day long
·
Cecelia and Refugio El Padrino in Puerto
Williams, Chile for making me feel at home
·
Max and Jorrit for greeting me at the finish
with a beer and giving me a ride back home
·
Peter Bakwin for route information and sharing
the wealth of knowledge he has
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