This January, I travelled to the end of the earth to experience the popularly named Eighth Wonder of the World. As most tourists who have wandered all the way down to southern Patagonia, my mind was fixed on one thing: hiking to las Tres Torres, or the Three Towers. Besides having seen images of these mountains for as long as I could remember, every travel site, blog, and even government website about Chilean tourism pointed to this exact destination. At a 21 kilometer distance and 800 meter climb, it would be the longest hike I had attempted, but I was determined.
The landscape of the southern Patagonian mountains had a pull on me unlike any I'd witnessed before. I had seen las Tres Torres in photos and films, but gazing on them with my own eyes was impactful; a more intimate experience. I couldn't tear my eyes away and found myself constantly seeking their view.
The origins of the Towers' name comes from a Tehuelche word. The Tehuelche, an Indigenous people from eastern Patagonia, use paine to describe something blue. The mountains' distinctive blue hue and unique granite formation brings hundreds of thousands of tourists to the park each year. Numbers declined in 2020, but have rebounded again since the pandemic.
Torres del Paine National Park was created in 1959 and declared a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in 1978. The park used to have free entry until 2011, when a tourist burned toilet paper in the woods, starting a forest fire that ravaged over 17,000 hectares of land. Since then, the park has introduced measures to control tourism, such as instating an entrance fee.
Tourism in Torres del Paine
Every year, there are more and more tourists that come here. - Tomás Rodriguez
On my first venture out into the Torres del Paine National Park, Tomás Rodriguez showed us a site of Patagonian indigenous history. A much less visited area than las Torres, we encountered only one other group along our path. Rodriguez shared with me his thoughts on tourism in the park, including the increasing numbers he's seen flock to the area and the importance of community-based tourism in addition to the mainstream natural sites. "Cultural excursions are lacking," he said. In his previous job working in the Chilean rainforest, Rodriguez had taken tourists to learn about local craftsmanship from community members, such as spinning sheep's wool into intricate patterns. His passion is ecotourism, where excursions educate guests and can make a difference, especially for the local community.
Being out on the steppe brought a sense of remoteness difficult to find in today's world. Guanacos, animals closely related to llamas, roamed around us, grazing and occasionally calling out in warning to each other. Their warning sound helps protect them from the Patagonian puma. Pumas used to be hunted by estancias, large ranches bordering the park, but recently some estancias such as Cerro Guido have been shifting to conservation efforts. Rodriguez explained that this shift began after tourism surpassed estancias as the largest source of income in the area. Now estancias are investing in tourism by converting to hotels, hosting horseback riding excursions, and aiding puma conservation to bring more tourists into town.
As we drove toward the Towers in the early morning light, I thought about why I wanted to climb to the base. Of course, in part, I wanted to do the bucket-list hike that everyone who goes to southern Patagonia wants to do. But upon further reflection, I also found myself excited to spend time on the mountain's natural path, to see how I’d respond to the challenge, and curious what the overall experience would bring.
Hiking Las Torres
On the way up, we didn't come across many people. We arrived at 8:00am to get a head start over the bus crowds. Magdalena Schroeder, our hiking guide, kept us at a steady pace throughout the challenging uphill climb. The path first took us up a steep dusty incline, into welcome respite under the cool forest trees, and lastly to a grueling final push up rocky steps to las Torres' base. With over 300 people hiking this route per day, Schroeder explained that it was not uncommon for tourists to underestimate its difficulty and overestimate their ability, putting their own safety at risk.
Hiking up the last stretch to the base was the most difficult part. I kept myself going with the knowledge that the jaw-dropping view of las Torres was just around the corner. A clear path lay before me, with only a few hundred paces in between. I could see the wear to the mountain Rodriguez warned me about from frequent hikers, represented by erosion on the path and the slopes falling away.
Finally, I had made it to the top. Las Torres lived up to their namesake as they towered above the glacial lake, mystically shrouded by wisps of clouds. It had been a sparsely populated ascent, so I was surprised to find a smattering of people already gathered there.
As we began our descent, the crowds only grew in size. Stopping to let people pass and quickly skirting around others became the new normal. On the positive side, I did not see any trash on the paths, so it seemed the park's "pack it in, pack it out" rule was well adhered to. However, at the rest stop on our way back down, we saw a couple hiking with their dog, breaking the regulation against bringing animals inside the park. Schroeder swiftly reported the incident to a park ranger. "Today it's a dog, tomorrow it's a fire," she explained, emphasizing the importance of enforcement. Allowing even one small infraction could lead to other, larger violations with dangerous repercussions.
With the popularity of the park growing, people are starting to think about how its management may need to adjust. Rodriguez had the idea that the park could change its regulations determining how many tourists are allowed to enter at one time. The eight-day O Circuit in Torres del Paine, for example, is already managed through reservations. But the hike to las Torres base lacks such regulations.
Towards the bottom of the hike, I came upon a beautiful section of forest with no one else around. I stood still, closing my eyes, and listened to the wind gusting through the branches above me. As a visitor to awe-inspiring natural places, I seek to learn the best and most responsible way I can be a tourist. Rodriguez, Schroeder, and many other champions of ecotourism are doing their part to create a more thoughtful traveling environment for the benefit of the natural world and the local communities. As I walked back across the bridge that signaled both the beginning and the end of the Torres hike, l reflected that my goal is to continue to do so, too.