solo hiking expedition in the patagonia region of chile

The Greater Patagonian Trail is a long distance hiking trail that runs from Santiago to the southernmost point of mainland South America. It sets itself apart from other international long distance trails, aka thru-hikes, due to some hikers disregarding that it’s even a ‘trail’ at all. The scattered route is elusive at many points, requiring route finding skills and interweaving through questionable cow tracks and dense forests. The punishing landscapes can be cruelly beautiful, but that’s not all Patagonia demands — there’s also the unavoidable requirement to know Spanish.

I had heard about the GPT while hiking to Everest Base Camp in Nepal the year before. It seemed fitting as the next phase of my hiking portfolio. Certain life happenings beckoned me to go at this trail alone. Bold, I know, but it paid off dividends in a spiritual uncovering of self-reliance.

On a more grounded note, I came equipped with the minimum requirements — survival Spanish, one other infamously rugged international thru hike under my belt (New Zealand’s Te Araroa), and a basic knowledge of backcountry survival skills. I had a Spot GPS, Maps.me app, and the equipment needed to attempt 1 month of hiking the difficult trail. In retrospect I may have been ill-prepared considering the demands of the landscape, but with a sprinkle of grit, dash of bravery and young luck on my side I was able to complete three tenacious sections of Patagonia’s namesake hiking trail.

I emerged from the GPT with a newfound respect for the extremities of nature. I also had my fair share of tales to tell. I lost the ‘trail’ many times, only to be rerouted to a beautiful hot springs. I was taken in by a friendly farmer who shared his mountaineering stories over tea and sandwiches. I got on the wrong bus headed to the wrong town. One section in particular wasn’t even a section, but instead a remote and dangerous mountain scramble, that I fortunately was able to hitch around for a better route. That route ended up being frequented by Chilean cowboys, otherwise known as Gauchos. I was caught in a hypothermia-threatening hail storm and rescued by friendly mine workers. And on my final day, when I thought I would have a celebratory walk to the last volcano on my trek, the route suddenly disappeared and I had to improvise with my own route through a dense forest — a predicted three hour breeze that turned into a 20-hour horrifying grand finale.

The trail was my own re-wilding voyage. It came at a time when I needed a simple reminder that there’s more to life than continually increasing the speed. So I flew to Santiago, gravitated to the sections that called to me most, and ultimately traded planning for intuition. I dissolved into Chile’s magical remoteness and was rewarded.

Rumi once said “follow your soul, it knows the way.”

Post Trail Rambles

In February I took off for a month long solo voyage on the Greater Patagonian Trail. Patagonia wasn’t a destination; it’s exactly where I felt I needed to be. A self-chosen journey that started long before the flight.

As I trekked each day with my belongings in my rucksack to rhythm of my own two feet on the trail, completely alone with my thoughts, passing very few hikers, towns or Chilean cowboys, I realized that the wild demands your best self.

There’s a pure way to ask yourself to show up. To re-connect. To slow down time. I find the best way to do this for me is to surrender to nature and isolate myself in the wilderness. It’s a sacred space for synchronicity. Where I can unleash my thoughts. Experience stillness. Breathe in the fullness of the moment. I find that time slows down this way. Maybe it’s the mind moving in a flow state. Or the simplicity the body feels with moving forward, drinking natural spring water, and having a sun-down sun-up sleep pattern. I don’t know what it is - I didn’t want to overthink it out there.

Just walk, travel, write.

Let it all flow in the fertile soil of the foreign land.

So I walked. I walked for a month. By myself. But hardly alone, surrounded by the birds, the wind, the wildlife, the sun, the full moon, and magical mountain country.

As I walked into the illustrious, monstrous, rugged Patagonian Andes mountains, I promised myself to have an unedited, uncensored, take-the-plunge experience. To just simply explore and make sense of it all later.

So I made room for the surprises. I opened my heart to an unknown journey with very little plans, just a trail to follow. I guess I fully leaned into it, as Pema Chodron suggests. And what unraveled was much more complex than the foreign language, far away land, and disappearing “trail” that I faced.

Kerouac wisely once said that someday I’ll find the words, and they’ll be simple.

As I attempt to place the pieces of my Patagonia puzzle together, I’m realizing more and more that maybe there is no final solution or grand puzzle masterpiece.