Grupo La Paz in Patagonian Chile traversed by Antar Machado, Sebastian Pelletti, Hernán Rodriguez

After leaving Puerto Natales on the 20th of February, we disembark on the eastern shore of Fiordo de las Montañas, at the base of Cordillera Riesco. We’d establish advanced camp by evening, below the west ridge of the west tower, ready to begin our traverse at sunrise. At 7:30am the next day, we are on the summit of the first small tower, and rapping to the foot of the west tower, to begin climbing up the ‘white pillar’, a distinguishable feature we had spotted from base camp. We move up the pillar in good time, making the ridge and then the summit by early afternoon, blown away by the beauty of the Cordillera Sarmiento, and endless peaks, glaciers, lakes and canals that surround us. We descend into the col between the west and central towers; a dry summer means that there is little water, however we manage to find a slow trickle, and spend two hours hacking a ledge into the steep morraine so that we can fit our two man tent in for the night.

As night falls, unsuspecting clouds begin to form on the summits of Dama Blanca and Cerro Trono, the two most prominent peaks of ice and rock that stand out amongst the Sarmiento range to the west. As we settle in, the typical Patagonian gusts make themselves present, buffeting our tent, and sending ripping sounds through the narrow col where we are located, as they accelerate between these massive towers. A restless night makes for an even gloomier morning as we open the tent to continue climbing, only to find ourselves trapped in a thick cloud as the wind continues shaking our tent and rain falls intermittently.

We wait patiently, knowing well that our plan to climb two more towers and descend to the east is looking bleak. With no bivy ledges or water, between our current position and the end of the traverse, we begin strategizing as to how we can complete the line with only one day of good weather left on the forecast.

During small breaks in the cloud, we cache our gear at the base of a crack system on the west face of the central tower, and decide that we’ll have to begin at midnight if we want any chance at climbing the two remaining towers.

We wake up trapped in a thick cloud once again, but decide to try our luck. We barely find our gear cache in such poor visibility, and the wall is totally soaked, however our weather report is promising and we venture up the first pitches of wet but abrasive rock. The loud gusts of wind, and the 5 meter bubble of visibility that our headlamps provide, make for an amazing climbing experience as we focus on resolving the few meters of rock in front of us, totally immersed in the experience without any real notion of where we are on a larger scale. The third pitch looks impossible, a smooth wet slab with no gear and little holds guards the entrance to the rest of the crack system we’re following. Our minds fluctuate between thoughts of retreat and positive affirmations that there has to be a way. As we stare into the mist trying to decode the blank rock above, stars begin to glimmer, and almost like magic, the clouds descend below us for a moment, giving us just enough time to notice a crack system further right which seems accessible, before the clouds return, teasing us to continue onwards after having given us that glimmer of hope. We pull onto the summit ridge at first light; only the summits of the towers emerge from the clouds as we hustle across towards the highest point.

An incredible sunrise injects us with renewed energy. We are grateful to have persevered, and have just one summit to go. A few more rappels and we are below the east tower. Hernan leads a spectacular splitter pitch, and then continues fun ridge climbing to the summit of the east tower. The weather is amazing, and we bask in the beauty of this place, its turquoise lakes, rumbling glaciers and shimmering fjords almost distract us before we switch back into action, knowing we have to open a long line of rappels down the east face of the east tower to complete our traverse. Our gear dwindles, but we make it to the valley floor, exhausted, hungry, sunburnt, and euphoric. We recoup and pack our gear again, before beginning the descent up and over the last hills to the east. Some trail running ensues, our legs in autopilot as we try to make it to the Santa María fjord before nightfall. Our captain is as faithful as ever, and on a pristine little peninsula we reunite and begin cruising to Puerto Natales across a glassy fjord that reflects the beauty in the sky and mountains at sunset.

The traverse is like a dream, so many small moments and components that make up a large adventure. Trudging through shellfish and swampland, to glaciers, morraines, vertical pitches and rappels into the unknown. We feel very fortunate to have visited this magical place, and leave with a very humbled sense that only nature and wild places can instil in you.

The route is called Ayayema Wesqar (5.11- 1000m) which means something to the effect of "spirit of the mountains" in the language of the Kaweskar people. The traverse was named this way by Don Francisco, one of the last surviving members of this noble culture, that still inhabit these corners of the Patagonian archipelago in total harmony to this very day.

by Sebastian Pelletti

Thanks to Patagonian fjords, Lippi, Tienda Estilo Alpino and Karun Eyewear for the support.

Link: FB Patagonia Vertical

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