Torres Del Paine - Campamento Los Perros – Refugio
Two of the horse riders were South African doctors working in London. True to
nature, they had a fair amount of medicine and offered painkillers. Thanks to them,
I could just about get out of the tent and stand on my feet.
Once the tablets kicked in, and aided by my walking poles, the slow shuffle along
the path began. This wasn’t merely embarrassing but incredibly painful. I kept
telling myself, “It’s only pain” and my usual motto of “Even this will pass”, but these
were empty words. The pace was slow, one step at a time; not even the painkillers
seemed to help after taking almost all of them. It’s amazing what one can do when
there’s no other option. Finally, I stuck the walking poles into the ground and
dragged myself forward; a slow, painful and tedious task.
On shuffling into Dickson, I was immensely proud of myself. It was a task which
seemed impossible just a few hours before. In Dickson, three other trekkers were
waiting for horses. Like the previous night, I thought it essential to pitch the tent
and do all the necessary tasks, like filling up with water, getting food and going to
the toilet. Once inside, there would be no getting up. Even aided by the walking
sticks, it was barely possible to keep moving until all was done. Exhausted, I
flopped into the tent.
Soon, a fierce wind picked up and securing all tent ropes and pegs became crucial.
Crawling on all fours, I hammered in pegs and tightened strings. What a sight I
must’ve been! Still unsure if the tent would hold up in such a strong wind, I
supported it by leaning against the windy side. It blew so strong it became barely
possible to hold it up, even leaning against the side with all my weight.