Looking back on it now, I may have been in danger of losing my life but it is really something we brought upon ourselves. Ourselves being Ricardo, another solo traveler I met on the trail and myself.
The stroy starts at Las Horquetas, one of the many entrances to the trail and involves several small river crossings which require you to take off your shoes (Ford the river). The first kilometer was uneventful and took me along an old jeep trail up the hills until the land flattened out. At this point I really thought I had entered the Shire. Seriously, even places I have been to in England and Wales don't fit the description as well as this place. I really half expected some sort of animatronic Gandalf to come around the corner and greet me with fireworks, ale and pipeweed. This stretch continued for the rest of the first day with the rivers gradually becoming larger (Caulk the wagon and float across) and an increase in the density of the surrounding forest. I made camp that night at on of the larger, designated camping grounds next to the river and this is where I met Ricardo.
Day 2 proved to be entirely different than the first. I didnt bring any trekking poles with me and I can say they would have made the hike up the mountain much, much easier. I started early and from what I know, I was the first person to leave the camp. Three quarters of the second day was spent climbing uphill and was somewhat challenging but nothing I felt I couldnt handle. Even without trekking poles, I had been covering some ground up until the trees broke away and the terrain turned to scree. One of the major downsides of this trail is that it is poorly marked throughout and I came to a point where I could either go left or right across very steep and dangerous scree slopes, or continue straight and cross n ice field. Ive never crossed an icefield before and I really thought it was something too dangerous to attempt. After an hour spent deliberating I finally decided take off my pack, carry it on a length of 550 cord behind me and cross the ice. The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly on the ice without trekking polls as the descent became steeper and more dangerous. This is the point, right before the final, near vertical, downward scree slope where I encountered Ricardo again and at first, I really thought he was some kind of figment of my imagination or guardian spirit come to carry me off the mountain. Together we made it down the rocky slope and finished the day by crossing several more kilometers of rock and forest.
The night before day three, Ricardo and I agreed to continue together but to take the direct route south back to town since we were both pressed for time. This is where we made our first mistake. Even after talking to several of the other groups, we came to the conclusion that the path was real but it was also extremely difficult to find.
Again, we started early and followed the map up until we found a place to leave the trail and cross the rapids as safely as possible (Take a ferry across). Amazingly enough, after crossing the river we came out directly on top of the hard to find, southward trail. We also had no problem of following it for a good 45 minutes. Here is where we made our second mistake; leaving the trail and heading downward towards the river. Even though the lonely planet guide showed the trail to be just alongside the river, it wasnt there. We spent the next 7 hours covering a distance of maybe 3 kilometers by crawling uphill or half scrambling half falling downhill in the humid forests on the western side of the river. All while in a constant search for water. After coming to the conclusion that we could no longer follow alongside the river, we made the first good decision of the day by heading straight up to the top of the mountain. I really dont know how to describe the amount of effort it took us but at one point we had to take our pack off and shimmy them up via 550 cord over a vertical ledge. Throughout the entire third day we contemplated turning back or even camping on the mountainside for the night. Really, the lack of water was our biggest concern. Eventually we made it to the top and the trees gave way to grasslands where we heard the sound of cows and eventually we found the path back down to the city. The walk back seemed like some kind of victory hike with a beautiful view of the town surrounded by mountains with a sunset to tie it all together. Reassured that we were going to live, we found a hostel and finished the night at a local restaurant that had been fashioned out of an old bus. The food was good and the sleep was even better.
All in all, we most likely would have made it out of there alive but with the unbelievably slow progress and being pushed for time without water for parts of the trip really put things into perspective. The terrain out here is deceiving to say the least.