Hiking the W in Torres del Paine National Park

I walk like I'm trying not to wake the baby. I have blisters on the majority of my toes, and before my shower today, I smelled so bad the sleeping bag was threatening not to sleep with me anymore. My legs wobble like a newborn calf, I've been consuming nothing but dehydrated food, I ache in body parts I didn't know I even had, and I'm only on day three of five. Somehow, someway, I still have unfettered, no show of flagging peace and satisfaction, the kind that comes from accomplishing something just slightly tougher than you should be taking on. Hiking the "W" in Parque Nacional del Torres del Paine is my first time carrying my own gear- tent, sleeping bag, mat, gas stove, and food for five days. Luckily, the glacier water is delicious and "safe to drink", I'm assured. But if you haven't heard from me in a while, assume the water is not "safe to drink" and I've died from giardiasis. Lloyd hates to hike, and I use that strong word consciously here. So, I am left to heft my gear myself. My travelling companions have been just shy of completely deranged. At the first camp which sits at the foot of the lake that Glacier Grey spills into, I saw a German man swim out to an iceberg and clambour onto it. I caught him as he walked back to his tent and asked him if he had done it before, secretly hoping he would encourage me to try it myself. He told me it was very sharp, and I looked down to where a beed of crimson began to form on his knee. He promptly wiped up the blood and sucked it off his finger, quickly and with the look of a guilty six year old. He also shaved his entire body, eyebrows included. Later, I came across a young Chilean woman sitting in the scrub just off the trail, shoveling berries she was plucking off the bushes around her into her indigo dyed mouth. Then, during my hike up the Valle Frances from the Campesito Italiano, I asked the world's worst photographer to take my picture. At first, he forgot to actually push the button. After showing him the photo was not actually taken, the picture I was left with was a photo of my moments before I actually smiled, so I have this dumb, relaxed sweaty look on my face I hope I don't usually wear with the glacier behind me, just not in the frame with me. Sigh. I did, however, see horses rolling in the wildflowers, mountains towering around my tiny self, and slept like the dead despite the famous Patagonian winds trying to get into my tent at me.