Tierra del Fuego: Los Cuernos

Flo and I make a break for it. There's no pre-ordained excursion, just a map and park pass, and a burning desire to see that other phantasmagoric formation in Torres del Paine, the Cuernos. Like so many of the mountain ranges we've encountered in Patagonia, these look like the Archetype of Mountain. They correspond to the ideal Platonic form somewhere in a parallel world, and look like they may be blueprints for other mountain ranges. These wild pyramids could have been sculpted by feverish giants, the Mountain Gods in a playful mood.

We're almost warned against going for the devastation surrounding the Cuernos themselves, however. Irresponsible campers making an illicit fire set whole swathes of the park aflame on December 23rd. The irrepressible Patagonia winds saw to it that their folly blazed across hectares, consuming even the islands in the middle of Lago Nordenskjold. It smells like it's still burning around here. Whatever devastation the wind didn't accomplish the smouldering roots did. We cross paths several times with yellow-clad Bomberos in the countryside, still battling the smoking peat. Japanese gardens turned to cemeteries. 

It means we are the only people in the place. Jas and Iris naturally prefer the playful corridors of Tierra, and Flo and I are glad to forge out on our own. It's mysterious and magical, but also disturbing, the real Tierra del Fuego. The blackened trees look like agonized roots reaching for the sky in an upturned landscape. Where the roots themselves are exposed they've been bleached white, like so many bones in the scorched moss. Some of them are in fact bones, that splinter and break apart when you lift them up. We make our way against winds that pin you to the place you're standing, to the Mirador de los Cuernos. And we wait. 

We wait for the sky to clear. It's been cloudy all morning, and Tierra's expedition to see the peaks was cancelled for lack of visibility. These Mountain Gods are fickle. But Flo and are are determined. At first there is sun on the distant slopes, then a glimpse of the glacier beyond, and fleetingly, we catch the Cuerno Central. 

This is the spectacle of Patagonia, every minute the skies change, and change profoundly, so that the mountains themselves and the earth beneath your feet seem to have moved in the minutes you've been standing there.