In a joint effort with the AAC, MSR, OR & LNT, erratic rock has started the first Patagonian Travelers Recycle Center at the new Puerto Natales Base Camp...
The 'Inner' Circuit
The Inner Circuit
The climbers circumnavigation of the South Tower - 15 days
Torres del Paine
3000 USD per person / max 2
maximum group size - 1 guide / 2 clients
Contact our office about more information
about the Inner Circuit of Torres del Paine.
The following article was written for the Jan 2008 Patagonian newspaper 'Black Sheep'
by Steve Schnieder after a successful completion of the 'Inner Circuit'.
Dec. 13
Hanging in the Toore Bar in Puerto Natales, swilling cerveza. It’s only 11:30 p.m., allowing me to find a seat. It’s interesting how the bars fall in and out of favor here in Natales. A few years ago it was the now-defunct Kawaskar, then it was the Chill-e Bar, now Toore is THE place to party. After a while the Gremlins filter in. The Gremlins are a loose fitting group of boys, Natales born and raised, and bonded by a love for climbing. I met them on my first trip here 12 years ago and seen them grow into young men, now all in their 20s. Hugs go around, we down a few brews, and then I make an early exit at 1:30 a.m., as many of them won’t leave until it’s light out.
Dec. 14
I finally figure out how to get the meteorgram from the National Oceanic Atmospheric Association (NOAA). They forecast good weather for the next five days. Time to go to Paine. I give Marcos a call. He’s free, and so is Rodrigo. In three hours, we’re off to the park, food hastily thrown together, and excitement as we plan our adventure. In past years, I’ve worked in trekking groups with the Gremlins, hired them as porters for my own climbing adventures and gone to the local sport climbing crags and bouldering areas with them, but this is our first dedicated adventure together.
Marcos drives us into the park via the new road. The weather is perfect, the vistas spectacular, and I beg them to stop at every large pullout so I can take photos of the Cuernos del Paine. We pull up to Hosteria de las Torres, and at half past 8 we start the 4-hour journey to Japanese Camp. As we don’t have a climbing permit, we’re not allowed to hunt any summits. Nevertheless, our intended excursion will push the boundaries of trekking. We glide steathily through Camp Torres, as we don’t want the rangers to ask us about our ice axes. We arrive to Japanese Camp just past midnight, erect my Himalayan 47 tent, and make dinner. For years I have dreamed of making this journey, to circumnavigate the South Tower of Paine, linking together the four major valleys of the park: Silencio, Ascension, Bader and Frances, via four high passes. This “Inner Circuit” has never been attempted, and two of the high passes have never been completed.
Dec. 15
After coffee, I ask Marcos, “Do you feel it?” This question is a sort of litmus test that i have used over the last two years for a personality check. “It” could be anything, but if one has to ask what the “It” is, they automatically lose 50 points. Although it’s his second language, Marco immediatedly answers “Yes, I do,” with such an infectious attitude that I am stunned. It’s the first 100 I have ever rewarded. When I first met Marco Pardo he was barely a teen, already inspired with the will to climb. In the last few years, he has married a gorgeous Belgium lady, fathered a beautiful child, and started a successful trekking and sea kayaking business, BellaPatagonia. Rodrigo Restovich is his friend and right-hand man in the business. The weather is not quite up to par, so we make a carry up the Valle del Silencio, and visit with Dave Turner, my great American friend who is attempting to solo the huge face of Escudo, probably the greatest adventure since Shackelton and crew survived a year and a half trapped in Antartica. We go to bed early, anticipating the long day ahead.
Dec. 16
We awake at midnight, and although it is raining, we caffeinate and head out “just for a look.” It’s my wife’s birthday, and although I can’t wish her well in person, I plan to make her proud of me today. At about 3:30 a.m, we arrive at the head of the Valle del Silencio. The way is blocked, except for a narrow gap between the South and Central Towers. We don our crampons, break out the ice axes and huck a left for the gap. The angle steepens as first light hits, illuminating the 3,000-foot walls on either side of the couloir. We move steadily and carefully, arriving at the col between the Towers at 7 a.m. We have reached our first pass.
On the other side, two couloirs drop down in a concave angle that gradually steepens and hides the entire descent. For the first time we rope up and climb together, with me in the lead, placing terrible rock gear on the side for phsycological protection. At the bottom, we cross a crevasse and head right for a nanutek, a towering island of rock amidst the Torres Glacier near the top of Ascension Valley. Here, we take a break to cook, relax, and take in the view. The South and Central Tower rear up into the fog, and the drizzle turns into light snow. We head down, then up to the base of a couloir that I hope will take us into the next valley. The couloir is blocked by a 10-foot bershrund that initially looks impassable. Is this the end of our attempt? But, then I spy a thin tongue of ice on the left that connects to the slope above. It’s the missing link. Four ropelengths of technical mixed climbing on snow and rock challenge us. Ice lies under the snow, requiring careful movement, and our crampons scrape the rock as I lead through on more dicey gear and bad anchors. We all realize this is no-fall territory, and luckily nobody makes a mistake.
I hold my breath as I visit the top of the couloir, expecting a big cliff on the other side, and am SOOOO relieved to find a gradual talus slope that we can walk down. This is Bader valley, and the view takes my breath away. The day has cleared enough to view the hulking masses of the Cuernos del Paine, Mascara, Hoja and Espada. Towering over them in the next Valley is Paine Grande, the highest peak in the park, with a shroud of clouds surfing over and down its summit. Stunning, amazing, spectacular. We reach our second pass 2 p.m. Time to put the petal to the metal. We move down swiftly, too swiftly, as Rodrigo cuts loose a bowling-ball sized rock that gains momentum and hits Marco squarely in the leg. He cringes, and in an instant I envision an epic retreat down the Bader to safety. But luckily the rock hits the back of his boot, reducing the blow, and he is able to continue. We descend, this time more spread out for safety, and arrive at the glacier beneath the south face of the South Tower. The glacier is transluscent blue, like a lake frozen in time, and we take another food break in the middle, admiring the rock towers around us.
Descending a bit further, we turn the corner around an unnamed 300-meter rock formation, and move fast up more frozen terrain. Rodrigo has been here before on a scout mission, so we know the route will go at least up to the head of the Valley. At the valley’s top, at 7 p.m., we drill our first bolt of the mission and make three near vertical rappels into the Valle del Frances, where another glacier awaits us. Our daylight is quickly diminishing, and we take the last food break of our voyage before entering the crux of the entire route. While we can walk to the head of the pass, overlooking the Valle del Silencio, a 400-foot cliff lies on theother side. I have scoped this descent many times, but it’s still the biggest unknown of our trip. Without discussion, I prepare the first anchor, and lead the way. With a big breath, I turn on my headlamp, pound in a pin and a stopper, and rappel into one of the loosest cliffs I have ever seen. I kick off rocks, clearing the path, aware of the responsibility I have for my two Chilean buddies. Every anchor is problematic, requiring all my attention and skill. The descent lasts all night long, but at least the weather is windless and dry.
Dec. 17
On the second anchor, Marcos and I take turns drilling two bolts, each taking about 45 minutes because the rock is so hard. It’s exhausting work, and we sweat while Rodrigo shivers above. On the next anchor
Rodrigo and Marcos share the drilling duties while I nod off. Finally we make the last rappel and touch down on the glacier below, only to find the exclamation point to the inner circuit, a leap of faith over the lip of a bershrund into the soft pow below. Twenty minutes later, on sheltered ground, we shed our lifeline, and come upon our tracks to the first pass at about 5:30 a.m. We have taken 26 hours to complete this circuit. I give our route a name, the Roller Coaster, because of its severe up and down nature. It is really pushing the envelope for trekking. Of course, if I could find some hardy individuals, I would love to guide this path. It’s the most amazing trek I have ever done, and in the few hours that we have to our camp, both Rodrigo and Marco comment on the trek’s incomparable beauty. To see all the four valleys in a day is almost more than we can take in. At one point I turn to Marcos, and look into those shining eyes of his, now swelling shut from exhaustion, and again ask him “Do you feel it?” He answers a bit different this time: “Yes. I feel it.”
We return to camp, 32 hours after leaving it, and like all my successful climbs in Patagonia, it is one of the happiest moments of my life.
The climbers circumnavigation of the South Tower - 15 days
Torres del Paine
3000 USD per person / max 2
maximum group size - 1 guide / 2 clients
Contact our office about more information
about the Inner Circuit of Torres del Paine.
The following article was written for the Jan 2008 Patagonian newspaper 'Black Sheep'
by Steve Schnieder after a successful completion of the 'Inner Circuit'.
Dec. 13
Hanging in the Toore Bar in Puerto Natales, swilling cerveza. It’s only 11:30 p.m., allowing me to find a seat. It’s interesting how the bars fall in and out of favor here in Natales. A few years ago it was the now-defunct Kawaskar, then it was the Chill-e Bar, now Toore is THE place to party. After a while the Gremlins filter in. The Gremlins are a loose fitting group of boys, Natales born and raised, and bonded by a love for climbing. I met them on my first trip here 12 years ago and seen them grow into young men, now all in their 20s. Hugs go around, we down a few brews, and then I make an early exit at 1:30 a.m., as many of them won’t leave until it’s light out.
Dec. 14
I finally figure out how to get the meteorgram from the National Oceanic Atmospheric Association (NOAA). They forecast good weather for the next five days. Time to go to Paine. I give Marcos a call. He’s free, and so is Rodrigo. In three hours, we’re off to the park, food hastily thrown together, and excitement as we plan our adventure. In past years, I’ve worked in trekking groups with the Gremlins, hired them as porters for my own climbing adventures and gone to the local sport climbing crags and bouldering areas with them, but this is our first dedicated adventure together.
Marcos drives us into the park via the new road. The weather is perfect, the vistas spectacular, and I beg them to stop at every large pullout so I can take photos of the Cuernos del Paine. We pull up to Hosteria de las Torres, and at half past 8 we start the 4-hour journey to Japanese Camp. As we don’t have a climbing permit, we’re not allowed to hunt any summits. Nevertheless, our intended excursion will push the boundaries of trekking. We glide steathily through Camp Torres, as we don’t want the rangers to ask us about our ice axes. We arrive to Japanese Camp just past midnight, erect my Himalayan 47 tent, and make dinner. For years I have dreamed of making this journey, to circumnavigate the South Tower of Paine, linking together the four major valleys of the park: Silencio, Ascension, Bader and Frances, via four high passes. This “Inner Circuit” has never been attempted, and two of the high passes have never been completed.
Dec. 15
After coffee, I ask Marcos, “Do you feel it?” This question is a sort of litmus test that i have used over the last two years for a personality check. “It” could be anything, but if one has to ask what the “It” is, they automatically lose 50 points. Although it’s his second language, Marco immediatedly answers “Yes, I do,” with such an infectious attitude that I am stunned. It’s the first 100 I have ever rewarded. When I first met Marco Pardo he was barely a teen, already inspired with the will to climb. In the last few years, he has married a gorgeous Belgium lady, fathered a beautiful child, and started a successful trekking and sea kayaking business, BellaPatagonia. Rodrigo Restovich is his friend and right-hand man in the business. The weather is not quite up to par, so we make a carry up the Valle del Silencio, and visit with Dave Turner, my great American friend who is attempting to solo the huge face of Escudo, probably the greatest adventure since Shackelton and crew survived a year and a half trapped in Antartica. We go to bed early, anticipating the long day ahead.
Dec. 16
We awake at midnight, and although it is raining, we caffeinate and head out “just for a look.” It’s my wife’s birthday, and although I can’t wish her well in person, I plan to make her proud of me today. At about 3:30 a.m, we arrive at the head of the Valle del Silencio. The way is blocked, except for a narrow gap between the South and Central Towers. We don our crampons, break out the ice axes and huck a left for the gap. The angle steepens as first light hits, illuminating the 3,000-foot walls on either side of the couloir. We move steadily and carefully, arriving at the col between the Towers at 7 a.m. We have reached our first pass.
On the other side, two couloirs drop down in a concave angle that gradually steepens and hides the entire descent. For the first time we rope up and climb together, with me in the lead, placing terrible rock gear on the side for phsycological protection. At the bottom, we cross a crevasse and head right for a nanutek, a towering island of rock amidst the Torres Glacier near the top of Ascension Valley. Here, we take a break to cook, relax, and take in the view. The South and Central Tower rear up into the fog, and the drizzle turns into light snow. We head down, then up to the base of a couloir that I hope will take us into the next valley. The couloir is blocked by a 10-foot bershrund that initially looks impassable. Is this the end of our attempt? But, then I spy a thin tongue of ice on the left that connects to the slope above. It’s the missing link. Four ropelengths of technical mixed climbing on snow and rock challenge us. Ice lies under the snow, requiring careful movement, and our crampons scrape the rock as I lead through on more dicey gear and bad anchors. We all realize this is no-fall territory, and luckily nobody makes a mistake.
I hold my breath as I visit the top of the couloir, expecting a big cliff on the other side, and am SOOOO relieved to find a gradual talus slope that we can walk down. This is Bader valley, and the view takes my breath away. The day has cleared enough to view the hulking masses of the Cuernos del Paine, Mascara, Hoja and Espada. Towering over them in the next Valley is Paine Grande, the highest peak in the park, with a shroud of clouds surfing over and down its summit. Stunning, amazing, spectacular. We reach our second pass 2 p.m. Time to put the petal to the metal. We move down swiftly, too swiftly, as Rodrigo cuts loose a bowling-ball sized rock that gains momentum and hits Marco squarely in the leg. He cringes, and in an instant I envision an epic retreat down the Bader to safety. But luckily the rock hits the back of his boot, reducing the blow, and he is able to continue. We descend, this time more spread out for safety, and arrive at the glacier beneath the south face of the South Tower. The glacier is transluscent blue, like a lake frozen in time, and we take another food break in the middle, admiring the rock towers around us.
Descending a bit further, we turn the corner around an unnamed 300-meter rock formation, and move fast up more frozen terrain. Rodrigo has been here before on a scout mission, so we know the route will go at least up to the head of the Valley. At the valley’s top, at 7 p.m., we drill our first bolt of the mission and make three near vertical rappels into the Valle del Frances, where another glacier awaits us. Our daylight is quickly diminishing, and we take the last food break of our voyage before entering the crux of the entire route. While we can walk to the head of the pass, overlooking the Valle del Silencio, a 400-foot cliff lies on theother side. I have scoped this descent many times, but it’s still the biggest unknown of our trip. Without discussion, I prepare the first anchor, and lead the way. With a big breath, I turn on my headlamp, pound in a pin and a stopper, and rappel into one of the loosest cliffs I have ever seen. I kick off rocks, clearing the path, aware of the responsibility I have for my two Chilean buddies. Every anchor is problematic, requiring all my attention and skill. The descent lasts all night long, but at least the weather is windless and dry.
Dec. 17
On the second anchor, Marcos and I take turns drilling two bolts, each taking about 45 minutes because the rock is so hard. It’s exhausting work, and we sweat while Rodrigo shivers above. On the next anchor
Rodrigo and Marcos share the drilling duties while I nod off. Finally we make the last rappel and touch down on the glacier below, only to find the exclamation point to the inner circuit, a leap of faith over the lip of a bershrund into the soft pow below. Twenty minutes later, on sheltered ground, we shed our lifeline, and come upon our tracks to the first pass at about 5:30 a.m. We have taken 26 hours to complete this circuit. I give our route a name, the Roller Coaster, because of its severe up and down nature. It is really pushing the envelope for trekking. Of course, if I could find some hardy individuals, I would love to guide this path. It’s the most amazing trek I have ever done, and in the few hours that we have to our camp, both Rodrigo and Marco comment on the trek’s incomparable beauty. To see all the four valleys in a day is almost more than we can take in. At one point I turn to Marcos, and look into those shining eyes of his, now swelling shut from exhaustion, and again ask him “Do you feel it?” He answers a bit different this time: “Yes. I feel it.”
We return to camp, 32 hours after leaving it, and like all my successful climbs in Patagonia, it is one of the happiest moments of my life.
| 2010 | |
| November 14, 2010 | confirmed |
| November 30, 2010 | |
| December 15, 2010 | pending |
| December 25, 2010 | |
| 2011 | |
| January 10, 2011 | confirmed |
| January 25, 2011 | pending |
| February 12, 2011 | |
| February 19, 2011 | |
| February 26, 2011 |
