Rain, Rain, and More Rain in Valle Cochamó: The Yosemite of South America

I.
“Never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right. Unless you were goin’ all the way.”

Dan looked like a wet, grumpy turnip. Katie had the Brown-Frown in full dazzle. I was one nipple hair away from throwing a huge wobbler at anybody who dared make eye contact. And Matt? Well, Matt was stoked no matter what. You know, the kinda positive attitude that makes you wish the guy would step on a landmine.

This was our little hiccup of a crew’s third attempt to approach Cerro Trinidad, a 3,000-foot granite dome that looms high above Valle Cochamó, in Chilean Patagonia. Yes, that’s right, our third try at the approach. After days of rain, after lowering our expectations, after crossing the frigid Rio Cochamó three times, we crawled through bamboo punji sticks, shimmied across slimy logs, and stumbled up through rain-soaked flora to the base. Finally, we laid our clammy hands upon a granite wall that, for beauty and scope, rivals anything in the States, save the Captain and Half Dome.

On a map, Valle Cochamó lies 40 miles east of Puerto Montt, Chile, on the northern edge of the Patagonia region. Katie Brown and the Coloradoans Dan Gambino, Matt Lloyd, and I had assembled in Puerto Montt, bused to the coastal village of Cochamó, and horsepacked three hours into the mythic valle. I had heard stories the year before from Argentinean climbers in Bariloche about Cochamó’s endless granite, multiple 3,000-plus-foot unclimbed walls, and aid and free routes up to 20 pitches. They always added that the tábanos (horseflies) were as big as your eyeballs, the weather was iffy, and the approaches would make you cry for mercy. Argentineans can talk shit like no others, but this time their words rang true.