Torres del Paine / inglés

Torres del Paine Every summit unveils its horizon / Chile

chronicle / photography: armando rivera

translation: Sergio Obregรณn

Derechos reservados para el grupo:

Torres del Paine Every summit unveils its horizon / Chile

For Jasmina and Sergio, accomplice translators in these paths.

I‘m less than one kilometer away Besides, this is the first time I am faced from reaching the peak of Torres with a path of such degree of difficulty: del Paine, in the South of Chile, regard- the temperature is 5 Celsius. The previed as -for its geological beauty- as the eighth wonder of the world. On the final slope -with an inclination of more than 60 degrees between the thick snow and the rocks- I reflect on the text I will share with the persons that in different corners of the world share with me in the virtual space. Like a blow on my emotions -when I look up and see the impressive granite architecture- the words “every summit unveils its horizon� are imposed on me.

ous night snowfall covered the landscape with a singular beauty. The immediate horizon has taken round shapes and the trees are loaded with an unmatched whiteness. It is a sunny day. There is more than a meter of snow in some stretches of the first nine kilometers. This is one of the first days of the 2017 winter.

We hired the services of a local guide; a robust guy about 30 years old; with us there is a young man of about 25 years from Santiago, from whom I feel the need to keep a prudential distance…distance that I will understand later on. However, he has an interchangeable lens camera. This secret fascination for photography gives me hope. Besides, my friend Christelle Gondoin, a young Frenchwoman, who practices triathlon and lives in New Caledonia, is with us. A unique group without a doubt.

Our guide is not very fond of dialogue, so I decide to advance at my own pace.

Now walking alone, silence creates for me the option to meditate. Without intending to, I am more than a kilometer ahead of them. At a curve I see them, at a distance, at the beginning of a slope; they are three small points, who with difficulty struggle with the snow. With the warmth that the walk imposes, I find myself soaked in sweat.

This dawn the light has created an impressive landscape; the granite rocks have turned mauve in color, they catch fire, only to minutes later rest on the gray of the cold horizon. On the path, among woods and rocks, the architecture of Torres del Paine reveals itself a piece at a time. You can – step by step – put together a painting layer by layer. Questions explode in my head, ¿How can beauty find such a perfect balance?

I turn and see the guide making signs to me; I sense he’s asking me to wait. I am fearless but not irresponsible. My hands are frozen, and my fingers numb since I have been taking some pictures for reference. My high-mountain gloves hang from my wrists, with the clumsiness that the cold imposes, I put them back on.

I wait for the rest, taking small jumps so I do not get cold. As they got closer, Christelle looked at me in surprise, her face saying: “How can you walk so fast with so much snow?” I smile and wipe my nose with my glove with some discre-

tion. It is kind of cold. The guide gives us the exact instructions about what is ahead waiting for us on this last stretch of the climb. We listen carefully to his dramatic narration of what is expecting us. What’s more, we see the steep and arrogant peak over our horizon. Suddenly, he starts to walk; we follow him, walking in silence. At another crossroads he proposes a shorter path, but we would have to wade a nearly frozen stream. The three of us nod in agreement. It looks as if we have to climb the mountain by the

river. I take some steps, and bend my left foot, which I hurt for being irresponsible in Mexico. I thrust my walking stick into the mountain so I don’t fall down. I lean heavily on the injured foot so that the ligament can find its place and let me continue. Nobody notices, I am the last one now.

I start to lag behind because each step has turned into torture. After coming out of the river, we have to -again- skirt the mountain, the snow is one meter high. I seize the moment and put my

boot in the snow waiting for my foot to cool down a little…it works, it hurts less; but I’m about 200 meters behind, which for me is perfect, because in the silence of my steps, the questions are ringing in my head again: Who am I to have the privilege of seeing this landscape? How would it be destroyed if a thousand people were to walk this path every day?

I keep walking, slowly, when the words fall like drops in the storm, because the necessary and fundamental questions

arise; “Every summit unveils its horizon.” Will I be applauded by a chronicle that explains beauty or because National Geographic publishes one of my pictures on its cover?

Then, my memories evoke an old movie, “The Bridges of Madison County.”

I remember the dialogue, when she tells him that he is an artist, because of his photographs, and he answers with conviction that he is not. She insists and tells him that he is a “National Geographic” photographer; To which Robert - the protagonist – responds: “National” is interested in a photo with a good setting, well focused and little text; a terrible criticism for the photographers of that magazine. The novel was written in 1992; but it is set in the sixties.

Perhaps the next step is denser, because I begin to elucidate where I stand as a human being, with no positional radicalisms. I take two more steps, with that tone of defeat, I continue to the final ascent and in my human sense I reflect on “the butterfly effect.” Criticism, then, is with some coherence - how I can affect the balance of nature, because I have the privilege to climb, take pictures - so that the editors of “national” - in Washington - gloat in the spurious. In the supposed defense of the planet, and also socialize it in my networks. Infinity of variables not considered to evaluate our impact on the planet.

mental questions, perhaps with no an answer. What will be left for us as a postindustrial society?

Will the logic of production find its balance or will we destroy ourselves?

Every summit unveils its horizon

I just read that a block of ice broke away in Antarctica; one of the largest icebergs we’ve ever documented was created. Such breaking away of ice is the result of global warming. Nevertheless, we are still following this “capitalist” logic of production. Like the tiles of a finite domino, more questions arise. I do not have the answers.

Therefore, the thesis of all my follow- The descent began slowly, before the ing chronicles will have this condition. majesty of nature one does not want I will be aware; I will ask the funda- to leave. But the cold, in particular,

was beginning to take its toll; I could not put my gloves on, my fingers were numb again because I took some more pictures at the summit. At that moment, the young Chilean man asks for some time to make some commercial photos, he places - in the middle of the beautiful frozen lagoon - a can of an energizing drink with the Torres del Paine as background.

I watch the scene, I’m even tempted to share some details on how to make picture better: but I restrain myself, this is not what I want to happen to the planet.

where the slope is not as steep, my friend Christelle puts up her open hand and offers it to me as a sign of success. I extend my own hand. We have conquered a very intense route. I am 52 years old, and old man compared to them. I smile; I think this is why she slapped my hand with such delight.

Now, as I finish this chronicle, I am in the city of Santiago - on a 13th floor - from my window I see how a beast of steely fauces - a caterpillar bulldozer – lacerates the earth to give rise to civilization, I We still have 10 more kilometers to walk sense another building, and drink a speto get back to the route. On the way back, cial reserve organic wine. ar we saw puma tracks, the feline watched us during our trip. I had a strange feeling.

We, with our steps, our smell and conversations broke its balance. Christelle takes some pictures of the footprint.

The hours of light in the Austral winter are very short. We must get back before it gets dark, and it happens at four in the afternoon. When we reach the path,

Vista de Puerto Natales

armando rivera escritor / periodista de viajes

Sergio Obregón Translator

blog: brújula del nómada armar0764@gmail.com facebook.com/armandoriveraescritor

¿correo?@gmail.com facebook.com/sergio.obregon.52

Pequeña referencia del explorador. La distancia desde Santiago a Torres del Paine es de más de 2,800 kilómetros. Existen múltiples formas para llegar, una opción es abordar un avión desde Santaigo hasta las ciudad de Punta Arenas. Luego tomar un bus hasta Puerto Natales. Entre las posibilidades de hospedaje, la ciudad de Puerto Natales, tiene una oferta variada en todos los precios; incluso en el parque hay un hotel. La expedición también incluye hacer sendero de varios días.

Vista del hotel en Torres del Paine