Dientes de Navarino: The World’s Southernmost Backpacking Circuit

At first, I didn’t understand the Patagonian tagline “four seasons in a day.” But then we hiked Dientes de Navarino. Within 24 hours, we experienced rain, blue skies, wind, hail and more sunshine. What gives, Patagonia?

Welcome to the Very Deep South

Upon arrival to Puerto Williams, we met the vivacious Cecilia, matriarch of El Padrino hostel and camping. Cecilia loaded us into her van and drove us up the street to her house, where she’s set up a campsite and common room with a kitchen and bathrooms in a cozy house behind her own.

In the morning, we went searching for Cecilia to pay for the night’s stay. When we found her in the hostel, she invited us to sit at the dining table for breakfast. “Buenos días, hija! Todos están bienvenidos.” Everyone’s welcome. (Later, I teared up while thanking her for her hospitality. With Christmas upon us, her maternal vibe, topped with a Santa hat, felt like a cozy embrace.)

Hiking Dientes de Navarino

It’s recommended to register with the Carabineros, the Chilean national police force. We added our names to the tome of hikers and set out for the trail.

Although the weather forecast predicted afternoon rain, we enjoyed mostly clear skies with light winds. The trail begins with a steep climb up 2.100 feet to a lookout above Puerto Williams, Chilean flag taut in the strong breeze.

Then the route winds around the side of the mountain atop a trail of talus and scree. I’m still not particularly comfortable along this terrain with steep drop offs, but Connor assured me I’d only fall ten feet.

Through the Sun and Rain

Following a spit of rain along the trail, we arrived to camp with sun and mostly clear skies. I began envisioning an afternoon of drying laundry in the breeze and cycling through sun salutations while overlooking the lake. Ommm.

Um. But then, after setting up our tent, the clouds barreled in and began hailing bite-sized rockets of ice. We spent the afternoon shifting around the tent stakes (Connor) and evaluating the drier moments to run outside and go pee (yours truly). Up went the vestibule and inside we cooked.

Next, again suddenly, this happened.

We passed the early evening dozing in the sunlight and marveling over the wonder of Patagonian weather.

Windy, Winding Trail

The second day of hiking begins with a steep climb near a waterfall. At the top of the pass, the trail meets snow. With the crunching underfoot and flowing stream beside us, I felt serene.

The trail dipped to the other side of the pass to circumvent an alpine lake. Again, we were treated to snow.

The rest of the day is a blur of wind and hills and rocks and muck, all while surrounded by stunning alpine lakes. 

By the time we sat down for lunch, I felt the day’s hike must be almost over. But we’d only gone three of the day’s eight miles. We’d planned to stay at a lake called Laguna Hermosa but couldn’t find a decent campsite. So we wandered further down the path amidst light rain and settled on a damp but windless site.

Connor, our camp chef, made hot chocolate to warm me up. And then, of course, the sun came out. After taking in some sunshine down by the lake, we settled in for dinner (breakthrough of the evening: Oreos stuffed with chunks of chocolate mimic s’mores). While brushing our teeth, a torrential downpour sent us back to the tent.

Connor’s all-season, water resistant tent stood the test of rain.

Behold, I Give You Mud

The third day of the hike was my favorite. The trail meanders around one of the sundry lakes. Already muddy, it was a soppy mess thanks to the previous night’s rain. By lunchtime, I’d already been ankle deep in a puddle of mud.

Following the mud pit is the mud hill, a steep climb that peaks alongside a waterfall overlooking a bundle of lakes. 

I found myself wanting to be more present today, to take in all the details. Meditation techniques were useful: slower breathing, observance of the sounds and sensations around me. Chirping birds, flowing water, crunching snow. Wind on my face. Shloph, pluff, cruck of my poles into the earth.

On the other side of the pass, there’s what feels like a sheer descent along piles of scree. I briefly considered grabbing my sleeping bag and rocketing downward like my brothers and I used to do on our staircase. But Connor showed me how to dig in my heels, lean back with my poles and take slipping steps downhill. A light snowfall accompanied our descending traverse.

We rounded the alpine lake, practically running to a standalone campsite with a 360-degree view: on one side, Lago de los Guanacos; on the other, Tierra del Fuego. 

We set up camp with a bit of sunshine, which gave way to wind and rain. Ah, Patagonia.

Merry Christmas to All!

I woke up on the final day of the hike — which happened to be Christmas morning — to fresh coffee and cookies. Connor had snuck along some of my favorite alfajores from Rapanui in Buenos Aires.

After breakfast, I ventured outside as snow began to fall. We packed and it gained momentum. By the time we crossed the river to the path, the snow was in full force.

As we descended into the forest, the snow flurries clung to our jackets but not the ground. The densely forested trail felt like an obstacle course: Step across that log to avoid the mud pit. Grab that branch and swing across the stream.

With Connor managing most of the way finding, I enjoyed the challenge of less straightforward terrain. I’ll admit that I occasionally called in for help. “Connor? Did you go through these branches or above that trunk?”

Back in town, most hikers complain about the last day’s trail because following the thick forest, it opens up to cow pastures and mud and … no trail. Left to your own devices, you have to aim for the road and sidestep cow pies along the way. We leapfrogged over the grass and arrived — finally! — to the road.

At the end of the trail, there’s a five mile walk back to town. Most people hitch a ride. Because of the holiday, traffic was thin, but we were rescued by a guy in an SUV wearing a gaucho cap. He was en route to a Christmas meal, with all the meat in the trunk. So we happily held our backpacks across our laps and asked about life on the island. He dropped us off at Cecilia’s campgrounds. After showering, we drank wine in the sunshine and, when it set, headed inside to cook. There we met a couple of beaver hunters who were pulling apart the meat of their latest trapping from just a day before.

Tips for Hiking the Circuit

Pack extra food and fuel just in case weather keeps you inside your tent for more days than expected.

Bring big black plastic bags for your belongings; the rain comes suddenly and sometimes intensely.

Give wiggle room in your day’s schedule in case you need to hike further; we found that some campsites are significantly better than others. This required us to add an hour or so to some day’s treks.

Start your day early. We experienced rain mostly in the afternoon.