It was now day three on the Fjällräven Classic Chile 2024. Today would see Three Points of the Compass hugging the shores of the beautiful Lago Porteno, Lago Maravilla and Lago del Toro in southern Patagonia.

• Fjällräven Classic Chile 2024: check-in
• Fjällräven Classic Chile 2024- Day 1 ‘The Forest day’
• Fjällräven Classic Chile 2024- Day 2 ‘The Mountain day’
• Fjällräven Classic Chile 2024- Day 4 ‘The Torres del Paine day’

Day 3 of Classic Chile is the ‘Lakes Day’ and is very well named. Having camped close to Lago Porteno overnight, the trail today crosses the saddle between two rises before descending to cross a bridge between two lakes, then sweeps up and round across La Peninsula. It then visits it’s mid-day checkpoint. The afternoon wiggles its way across the dry stuff between the water, heading to Camp Three, on the shore of the ‘Bull Lake’. I was looking forward to it immensely.

It had got a bit breezy yesterday evening and I did wonder if my elevated pitch was going to be troublesome, despite the shelter from trees. But the wind died down and other than just a little rain, the night was settled and quiet. The only bit of excitement had been when I found the tent floor flooding from what appears to be a newly sprung leak in the neck of my Evernew bladder. I suppose it was overdue as it is a decade old now and has been used constantly over thousands of miles and dozens of trails.

An owl had sat above the tent, softly calling for what seemed to be hours on end. I was woken by the clattering of boxes and revving of engines. It sounded as though the Fjällräven staff wanted an early start with their packing up. I went outside the shelter for a pee and to wipe the fly dry of the rain, allowing it to further dry in the slight breeze before I packed up. My hope of early rays of morning sun were thwarted by a grey overcast sky. Returning to the inner, to sit on my pad with quilt draped around me, I brewed a large mug of tea and resolutely opened a Real Turmat Blueberry and Vanilla Muesli for my breakfast. It was as unappetising as I had thought it might be.. But I forced the 414kcal down, gagging slightly as I did so.

Once I had packed up I made my way back down to the check point tent and left my pack there while I visited one of the portaloos bought in by pick-up truck. Then, a little before nine, it was simply join the slow stream of hikers walking out of camp, and wend my way through the trees. There were many small groups of green parakeets flying between and perching in the treetops but in my ignorance I couldn’t I.D. any. I was following the lovely easy path that first handrailed the shore of Lago Porteno, before abandoning it, crossing a fence line back into cattle country, and slowly climbing up to cross between hills before dropping down to the next lake. The bones of perished livestock occasionally littered the ground, widely scattered by corvids. A stark warning that this can be hard country out of season or when the weather kicks in.

Having dropped down to the shore of a small lake the path left it to again climb over a short rise before dropping again to cross a wide wooden road bridge that separated two lakes. Many hikers were pausing here, taking breaks for snacks, to inspect feet, collect water, or annoy everyone by flying a drone far too close while capturing that apparently ‘all-important’ aerial shot. I carried on walking. The trail at first gradually climbed through the grasslands, then got steeper as it went back into the trees, beginning to switchback on the sandy/gritty climb.

The trail again opened up, with wide views. I met a party of four Brit hikers climbing here. All much fitter than me. Also obviously more observant, as they were talking about the Condor they had just seen. I mentioned that I hadn’t yet seen one. They were surprised and was told they had seen ‘many’. I must pay more attention as it is on my wish-list of wildlife I want to see in Patagonia. I took it easy on the ups, being passed by many. I, in turn, would leapfrog them further on as they paused for breaks. There is more than one way of tackling an incline.

I met a couple of hikers along here that had completed a large number of the various Classics, as evidenced by their various patches attached to the emergency square of orange on their packs. Neither had walked one of the newest members, the UK Classic. This was on their to-do list, though they told me it had moved location as a landowner had been upset by the last event. The UK Classic isn’t currently on my wish list as I live in the UK and can visit those locations any time I wish and need no assistance with logistics. But for others, it is more about the event, the camaraderie.

Though fairly early in the season, many flowers were beginning to bloom. I passed a great many yellow orchids and flowering calafate, but most vivid amongst the flowers, were those of the evergreen Chilean firetree. It’s vivid red tendrils were really quite striking.

I began the steady drop down to the dark shoreline of a relatively small inlet of Lago del Toro, the larger expanse of water hidden from view. Check point 5 is Los Maitenes, reached 11.5km from last nights halt, and is directly on the edge of the stony shore. A handful of hikers took the opportunity for a dip in the freezing waters. Not for me thanks. Instead I wandered off to one side, dumped my pack and dug out my headnet. Todays lunch was going to be Real Turmat Chilli and mosquitoes. But before that, I joined the queue for one of the crepes being provided at the check point tent.

For some reason I was a little tired after lunch, probably as a result of the initial ever-repeating ups and downs that followed, some of which were quite steep. It was lovely walking though, with frequent changes in direction as it wended its way between the lakes. One steeper section had a rope with which to haul up. I didn’t use it, but would guess that it would be almost essential if the trail were wet from rain.

Having again gained some height, the trail settled down for a sort of ridge walk for a while. I tried to get photos of a large hawk moving through the trees and perching here, but as usual, failed miserably. I often saw small to medium sized birds of prey over the four day hike but they proved to be very difficult to get clear views of.

The trail became a track and I fell in walking with Kimberley (U.S.) and Amanda (Canada). We swung along in fine style, chatting about anything and everything. We briefly explored what looked to be a burnt our gaucho homestead. It looked as though it had either somehow caught alight and then fired up the now dead trees on the nearby lake, or the other way round following lightening strike to the trees. It must have been an extremely frightening time if there were any occupants at the time.

Having stopped for photos at the El Toro Mirador, we continued down the track. It became wider and better made as we approached Patagonia Camp, an upmarket glamping ‘hotel’. We first walked through the bin area, complete with contractors van blaring out loud music, which was a bit of a shock after two and a half days in the wilds. Beyond that we came to the smart wooden boardwalks that snaked out to lakeside buildings and platforms. What appeared to be the manager of the site was on the road and told us we were welcome to visit the bar. Enough said, we walked out and found the smart looking establishment with its large and empty outside patio area.

While we were removing our packs, to leave them outside before venturing in, what appeared to be an officious maitre d’ came out to address us. We were, he assured us, welcome to come in and buy a beer. We were, he regretted to inform us, not welcome to stay, and must immediately take any purchases off premises. We should, of course, have then regretfully told him where to stuff it. But the three of us fancied a beer so complied. We entered the smart bar, empty of anyone other than four members of staff and the officious hawk, that hovered around us while we made our purchases and, with a flourish, opened the door for us to leave, thanking us for our custom and reiterating where the borders of the hotel could be found. We returned to the bin area (within hotel confines) to drink them as we had seen some benches there. While slightly rankled, the beers were excellent. It is possible that the alcohol went straight to Kimberley’s head as she was keen to wave at the hotel as we left. Well, that might of been what she did.

Other than a brief pause for photos at a small waterfall, it was only another hours walk from there to tonight’s Camp 3. Reached 9.7km after the interim check point. Lago Toro was another camp close to water and was widely spread out as there was no large clear expanse of ground.

The final lake of the day all looked very sedate and pretty today but Lago del Toro roughly translates as the ‘Bull Lake’. It is apparently named after the tall swells generated on the water, the name stemming from the lake’s tendency to be frequently angry. This is another product of the ferocious winds that can be created in Southern Patagonia. I had fortunately been spared them so far, but was still wary.

At the check point I received a stamp in both my hiking passport and personal journal. Again, I was offered the opportunity to camp either close to the water or deeper within the forest, I opted for the latter. It was a bit of a maze of paths around the forest and one of the volunteers was tasked with guiding new arrivals to unutilized clearings. He led four of us to a group of small cleared patches of ground and I opted for the largest amongst these as not only was it large enough for the fairly large footprint of the Durston, but also a few metres away from the girls, thinking they may prefer the solitary snoring male in their midst just that little more distant.

Once the tent was up I somehow found my way down to the waters edge to collect water, getting a little lost finding my way back to the tent afterward. I sat in the zipped up shelter for a stripped off tent wash. Then massaging feet and rubbing footbalm in. Both my heels were a bit sore tonight for some reason. Possibly too many miles on hard track. I dressed in my sleep clothes and put windproof trousers and my puffy on, before brewing a mug of tea and going down to join the girls for a natter, leaving them as they prepped their meals.

A struggling hiker we had passed earlier came into camp and pitched near us. She was exhausted, in pain and it was plain to see that it was possibly unwise for her to continue. But that was a decision for her to make. A couple of the Fjällräven organisers come to chat to her later and she was offered the option of withdrawing from the Classic with transport out.

I returned to the tent for my own meal. Then check the map for tomorrow and write up my journal. It had been yet another good day, despite my slightly sore feet, but they would be fine come tomorrow morning. I settled fairly early to sleep but it wasn’t the quietest of camps. There was a degree of noise from other Classic hikers and it seemed there was a bit of penultimate night mania going on. Final day on trail tomorrow.