Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

The buffet breakfast this morning was the most impressive of the trip — but we didn’t realize that there was a made-to-order omelet station until we were on our way out. Bummer. Burt made a quick run to the North Face store for more gear before our transfer arrived to take us on the 7-hour journey north.

We booked our trek with Cascada Expediciones, a travel company based out of Santiago. There are many ways to experience Torres del Paine — from the über-luxurious 5-star explora to basic self-camping. Cascada hit the sweet spot, providing some luxuries while not breaking the bank. Plus, it had been named one of the best adventure travel outfitters by National Geographic. So, we would be in good hands.

After a stop at the airport to pick up a couple from Denmark, we started on the 3-hour drive to Puerto Natales. The paved road stretched for miles and miles into the horizon. There were gauchos rounding up cattle. A lake filled with flamingos. Sheep gazing in an endless field. This was Patagonia.

We had some solid Chilean sandwiches before passing through Puerto Natales, a small but lively place of about 18,000 situated on the banks of Seno Última Esperanza (Last Hope Sound). Just outside of town is the Cueva de Milodón, a cave where a German pioneer by the name of Hermann Eberhard discovered the partial remains of a giant ground sloth in the 1890s. The massive prehistoric cave was formed by glacial waves that ate into sedimentary rock. And although the mylodons were hunted to extinction, there is an amazingly tacky replica perfect for tourists to pose with today.

The road turned to gravel, and soon dust was filling the van. Perhaps the air conditioning was malfunctioning, the driver said. He advised putting jackets over the vents for the remaining 3-hour drive. When the Danish folks raised an eyebrow, he pulled over to give us all a breath of fresh air.

Entering the park, we passed gazing guanacos, llama-like animals, flocks of ñandú, which look like ostriches, and an armadillo scurrying across the road.

Our destination was EcoCamp, which sits at the base of the Torres del Paine (Towers of Paine) on the northeast side of the park. The camp isn’t an “ecocamp” — it’s an actual ecocamp in every sense of the word. It is run by renewable energy sources (both wind and solar), has compost toilets and biodegradable soaps in the bathroom. Yet, this no-impact commitment does not come at the expense of comfort.

Our dome, #10, had commanding views of the jaw-dropping Torres, those iconic granite pillars, which were visible through a clear segment of the roof.

The guides, Hernán, Eduardo and Jonathan, met us down at the dining dome with pisco sours for a trip briefing. We were given a brief history of the park, which has been part of Unesco’s Biosphere Reserve since 1978, before getting into the details of our “W” trek — so named because of the route’s resemblance to the letter.

After an overnight here, we would start a three-day hike, staying at basic refugios the first two nights. We would then return to the EcoCamp, which would serve as our base for the remainder of the trek. All together, we would cover 80 kilometers, or about 50 miles. Burt looked at me. I looked at him. What had we gotten ourselves into?

Dinner was tomato soup, steak with a pumpkin puree and rice pudding. Afterward, we had a chance to meet the rest of our group, who (somewhat surprisingly) was all from the U.S. There were several twenty-something guys traveling with their folks. A couple from Atlanta; another from Colorado Springs; and a solo traveler who worked for an outdoor adventure travel company. All seemed friendly and outgoing; many had done a trip like this before. “What about you guys?” they asked.

We grabbed one last microbrew from the keg and walked back to our dome under the clearest of night’s skies. There wasn’t time to linger though. Tomorrow would be a big day.

Punta Arenas, Chile

A bowl of cornflakes and cup of mediocre coffee got us on our way this morning. We checked out of the hotel and met Juan Cabral, our taxi driver and tour guide for the day. Our plan was to visit the beautiful Tierra del Fuego National Park, which sits about 12 kilometers from town. It runs from the Beagle Channel up to Fagnano Lake, which we visited yesterday.

We didn’t have a lot of time before our flight, so we opted to hike the Senda Costera, a 6.5 kilometer trail that meanders along the bay. The path brought us through dense Lenga woods and across the round, polished stones lining the shore.

The hike was described as medium difficulty and we plowed through it in about 2.5 hours. “That was fast,” Juan said as we loaded back into his Chevrolet Corsa and he handed us bottles of water and delicious dulce de leche choco-pies. We felt good — maybe we were in better shape for our upcoming trek in Torres del Paine than we thought. Or maybe not.

Juan brought us to the end of National Road 3, which is also the termination of the 17,848 kilometer Pan-American Highway. We had him snap a photo while vowing to one day drive here from Alaska.

Afterward, we walked out on the wooden platforms until you could go no further. This was it, the End of the World. Literally.

Juan was big on taking photos, so we obliged when he pulled to the shoulder for a scenic overlook of Ushuaia. Snow, which had been falling just 20 minutes earlier, cleared up and we were treated with a great final view.

The airport was quiet and we had no problems checking in. Our Lan flight to Punta Arenas left more or less on time. My seatmate was a true global traveler, a corporate attorney from San Diego who had been to over 100 countries. Inevitably the question arose: which was your favorite? Her answer: Antarctica, which she had visited four times.

We were landing not more than 30 minutes after we had taken off. After a Chilean immigration stamp, we hit up the ATM, hailed a cab and made our way to Cabo de Hornos, supposedly the nicest hotel in town. Located on the central Plaza Muñoz Gamero, it didn’t have much character, but our 7th floor room was spacious and had great panoramas of the Strait of Magellan.

Punta Arenas is a pretty low-key city, essentially serving as a departure point for trips to Torres del Paine. We strolled through the Plaza, surrounded by exotic pine trees, and checked out the monument commemorating the 400th anniversary of Magellan’s voyage. Afterward, we walked to the Cemeterio Municipal, a quiet and sprawling place just outside the city center.

The sun was starting to set and the wind was picking up so we returned to the hotel. We had pisco sours at the bar and then set out for dinner. The front desk clerk pointed us in the wrong direction causing us to have trouble finding the restaurant — we ultimately ended up at Puerto Viejo. We split a salad and then both had steaks and fries (surprise). Burt got a terrible frozen tiramisu for dessert, further bolstering our belief that finding a decent dessert in South America is impossible.

Our 7-day trek in Torres del Paine, the crown jewel of South America’s national parks, departs tomorrow morning.