It was payback time! We awoke to find that the view of Los Cuernos from our bedroom window was but a grey sheet, with rain sweeping across the flats just in front of the refugio, driven by strong and icy westerly winds. The forecast was for gusts up to 100kph and a maximum of 4C. Paine was preparing to test our mettle.

After final adjustments of our wet weather gear and pack covers to make sure there were no gaps, we set off with the wind at our backs (one advantage of doing the trek from west to east). The sound of the wind was drowned by the sound of the rain beating on our hoods, as we strode up the sodden track to start a steady climb through low shrubby vegetation up and over the saddle between Lagos Pehoe and Skottsberg. Crossing the low pass, we were almost blown off our feet by a couple of sudden gusts that caught us from behind. However, once we dropped into the sheltered leeward side of the saddle, we were protected from the worst of the wind and the rain just took on a steady rhythmic drumming on our raingear.

Wet start to day 3

The vegetation soon became denser, shrubs thicker and taller with groves of low beeches overgrowing the track, as we wended our way around the slope on the northern edge of Lago Skottsberg, crossing several wooden walkways in wetter areas. It no longer mattered for us, as the rain had found its way in - gloves and boots were sodden, while beneath our raingear, the perspiration was dampening our clothing - strange how you can cook on such a cold day.

Still, the forest birds (finch, thrush and robin) were singing as they flitted in amongst the shrubs and trees, and the glowing red splashes of of ciruelilla in full bloom that lined the path kept our spirits up. Below, gusts whipped across the lake surface, driving sheets of spray ahead of them.

Eventually we left the lake to continue around the slope into deeper beech forest to reach the rushing torrent of Rio del Frances, crossing the suspension bridge to find the welcome three-sided shelter at Camping Italiano. Together, with other sheltering trekkers, we sat in a sodden huddle, eating chocolate and comparing impressions of the day so far. However, it was not weather to dilly-dally; we were here to visit the Valle de Frances and it was time to bite the bullet and head off, leaving our big pack in the shelter.

Without packs, we climbed quite quickly up beside the river, passing beneath the gnarly lichen-covered trunks of mature beech, before emerging into a rock-garden of jumbled mossy boulders and dwarf beech (the perfect Japanese garden). From here we had our first views of Glacier Frances, its gravelly lower section terminating at the river. The weather seemed to be clearing slightly and we could now see hanging glacier, pristine white and high above.

Gravel cover terminus of lower Glacier Frances

Continuing on, we crossed a small scree slope and a sidestream just below a small waterfall, before climbing steeply up to a rocky morain ridgeline covered in gnarled beech. The track led us along the narrow ridge to another stream rushing down between rock ribs and another steep climb up beside it to reach an open rock platform.

Too bad you can't photograph the wind - we were barely able to stand upright

We were greeted with a magnificent view of the glacier disappearing into the mists swirling around Paine Grande. Snow flurries and several fierce wind gusts had us standing obliquely to admire the glacier, as mini-avalanches of snow and ice slid down from its upper to lower levels.

The sun shines over Lago Nordenskjold far below

Even better, behind, the ghostly shapes of the Cuernos appeared through the clouds for a few minutes; the setting was surreal.

Below, the sky had cleared enough to see distant Lago Nordenskjold. Ahead, beside the sharp profile of Aleta de Tiburon, the upper valley and Campamento Britannico still lay hidden in the mists and, with the fierce winds and weather starting to close in again, we decided not to push our luck by climbing higher as planned, and headed back down again.

Soon we were back at the shelter having lunch, before once more heading out. The rain had eased to passing showers but the wind was still fierce, almost forcing us into a trot as we crossed open grasslands to start a winding climb to cross a rock-face plunging down from Los Cuernos and into the lake.

As we crested the spur, a sudden gust of wind from behind blew the poor Nello off the track and into the bushes (apparently you haven't lived the Paine experience unless you are blown off your feet). Pride being the only injury, we pushed on to the eastern side of the spur, once again more protected and with views stretching down the length of Lago Nordenskjold to distant Refugio Los Cuernos - it spurred us on, making a zig-zagging rapid descent of the ridge through thickets of red-flowering ciruelilla and low beech to reach the lake shore.

Here we crossed a small beach of black and white pebbles, followed by a couple of even smaller white boulder beaches. Finally, the track led us across the quartz boulder bed of a stream flowing from a waterfall that tumbled down from the misty heights of Los Cuernos and on to the refugio.

I looked out the window of the bunkroom - if this is "debil", bring it on! - white clouds were drifting across a blue sky, a condor soared across the tops of Los Cuernos high above the refugio and there was hardly any wind. Even better, our boots and clothes were dry again, having spent the night sitting around one of the pot-belly stoves. The mood of the trekkers in the hut was palpably high and everyone was keen to head on. Perhaps the mountain rewards those who face up to the wild weather and don't curl up and spend the day in bend.

Soon we were back on the track, crossing a fast-flowing stream via a wooden bridge and climbing steadily up a hill to the east of the refugio. Views opened up back over the lake and, as we reached the crest, we farewelled Cerro Paine Grande, its dark shape still brooding behind a veil of white mists.

Across the lake, the grass-covered hills appeared bright green, contrasting with the turquoise colour of the lake. Once again the track was lined with the pinwheels of ciruelillas, firy red and orange in the bright sunlight, while below small cream flowering herbs were out in abundance. It was a glorious morning and the birds of Paine were singing - even a frog joined in the chorus.

By now, the landscape was gradually becoming drier as we passed through areas of grassland and prostrate shrubs with only scatterings of stunted beech. The variety of landscapes in such a small area has to be one of main attractions of the national park.

We pushed on eastward, crossing the white boulder bed of a stream racing down from the heights of Almirante Nieve, before eventually climbing again to reach the shores of a small lake, home to a pair of Upland geese. We were now walking in T-shirts (hardly believable after the weather of yesterday), winding our way around the lake shore and crossing the boggy grasslands behind to climb slowly, but surely across the gentle slope leading up to the Ascencio Valley.

Eventually, we joined up with another walking track leading up from Refugio Torres, just below a saddle overlooking the gorge and valley of the Rio Ascencio. Our gaze followed the silver stream below up to the distant Refugio Chileno, our new home for the night. The track had suddenly become busy as we had joined up with the "must-do" walk of the park - a day trip in to view the famous Torres del Paine.

The file of people descended from the saddle to cross a scree slope, climb over a small but steep spur and cross a rustic wooden bridge to arrive at the refugio in its beautiful beech forest setting beside the river. We had pushed through this section fairly quickly to reach the refugio in under 4 hours, with the succesful aim of getting one of the lower level bunks, rather than sleeping just below the ceiling on the third tier. Now we could relax and enjoy our lunch, looking up at the tops of two of the Torres, peeking over a ridge high up the valley.

The Torres were enticing and the weather can be fickle - soon we were off again, following the rushing Rio Ascencio up its narrow valley, clad in the bright green new leaves of beech trees. From the number of people returning, it seemed like the change of shift at the Mirador del Torres.

After an hour of meandering through this forest, we emerged at the clearing of Campamento Torres - ahead the snow-capped ranges lining the Valle de Silencio looked like a black-and-white photo as dark grey clouds drifted in from the west.

Monochrome landscape of the Valle del Silencio

Our goal, however, was in a different direction, the mirador of the Torres, less than a kilometre away, but 400m higher up at the end of steep boulder morain. Climbing up first beside it, then scrambling up the bigger central blocks, we emerged at the crest to a collective wow!

The panorama of the Torres, hidden until the very last steps, was superb. Guarded by the black wall of Cerro Nid de Condor to the right, the four rock spires towered high above a natural amphitheatre. The green glacial lake at its base was separated from the towers by the ice and snow of a glacier extending from the central bowl to their left. Further left, the steep ochre walls of Cerro Almirante Nieto completed the cirque.

We sat at this spot for an hour, watching the cloud swirling about the towers amidst the odd snow flurry. Gradually the sky lightened and patches of blue sky opened up, giving a different ambiance to the the Torres. This is certainly one of the great alpine views of the world.

Julie and Nicola returned at 9am with smiles on their faces - their timing had been perfect and they managed to watch the sun rise and bathe the Torres in a golden light just before the mists rolled in. Well done!! For us it was an easy day - a mainly downhill stroll out from the refugio to the end of the track - and our calf muscles, sore after four hard days of walking, were pleased with that. We retraced our steps along the gorge of the Rio Ascencio, climbing once again to the saddle, before heading downhill toward Hosteria Torres.

Soon we arrived at the flat and, passing the luxury Hosteria de Torres, strolled along the gravel road to the less opulent but very comfortable Albergue de Torres, where we waited for the shuttle bus to take us to the Park entrance and our bus back to Puerto Natales.