A few weeks ago I headed out for a solo trek through Cochamo Valley. Only a few hours from Puerto Varas, it has been hailed as the new Yosemite, a climber's mecca perched above a damp, dark rainforest alongside the Cochamo River, whose hues range from clear to teal. To get there, you have to wade through mud, cross a river on a slippery trunk and brush the brambles from your shins. With a pack, it takes around five hours to reach a new refugio with a panorama of granite peaks. From there, trails sprout to waterfalls, granite walls and peaks. Goodbye world. 


This past spring was one of rainiest on record in Chile. The ground was wet and oozing. The sun—when it surfaced—a frail lemon ray lost in grey horizons.


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