Day 3 : little sleep, during the night the wind and rain picked up to incredible levels. It really did feel like the roof of the hostel was going to blow off, god only knows how the poor people camping felt.

So, on what is supposed to be the best day in terms of scenery, and also the longest day in terms of distance (28.1km), we set out in our finest rainwear amid a howling gale and driving rain. Perfect. On the plus side, our finest rainwear consisted of matching full length blue camouflage poncho-type things from Decathlon. Oh we looked good :)

We'd caught up with the Swiss/German girls from our hostel in Puerto Natales and so trekked with them and an American girl they'd met en route. After 5.5km we reached the Campamento Italiano, a miserable place if ever I've seen one. No sign of any facilities except a tumble down shack where poor campers were attempting to heat water for their pot noodles. It also served as an unofficial storage hut for people to leave their heavy backpacks before hiking up into the Valle Francés. We duly dumped the bulk of our stuff and headed up, with the exception of Koreana (the American) who had twisted her ankle the day before and so skipped the round trip up the valley and headed straight for the next refuge.

We trudged up, everyone we met coming down saying they had made it as far as the first lookout point and turned back. Even Dani and Irene had admitted defeat at this point. Making it to the lookout, we looked out over a misty glacier, a misty valley and driving rain. All set to head back down, Sabrina (Swiss) suddenly decided she wanted to go all the way to the top. Partly through the fear of missing out on something and partly through not wanting her to go up alone, Fabrice and I decided to go with her. Carola (German) had had enough and headed back down to the Campamento Italiano to wait for us. We were under the impression the top was only another 20 mins or so.

After over an hour walking in the same conditions we reached the Camp Britanico. Not actually a camp site these days, tumble down shack doesn't come close to describing the shelter here. Of the few people we met en route no one had progressed beyond this point. We figured they might be right, the last section was supposedly the hardest and consisted of clambering up a 2km steep slope of loose rocks. Not the wisest move in the circumstances. We ate our lunches and returned to the bottom.

Happily the rain and clouds cleared somewhat on the way down and so we got a fair view of the valley after all. The wind kept up its assault however. Carola had long since given up on us and had headed to the next refuge before we got back to the Italian camp.

Referring back to the no fires rule, the final 7.6km were mostly through an area that suffered a devastating fire a couple of years or so ago. The entire mountainside was decimated, only a few small green shoots are starting to come through. A depressing sight.

The three of us finally stumbled into the Paine Grande refuge early evening, where everyone was sharing war stories about the day's conditions. People being literally blown off their feet was not uncommon.

Fabrice and I were in a private room with proper bedding (as opposed to a rented sleeping bag) that night, well earned 'luxury'! The bottle of wine plus further glasses were also well deserved. Let's just say our loud card playing table got a few disapproving glances from other folk!