Televisions are rare in Patagonia. You may find one in a bar or restaurante, but almost never in hosterias. It had probably been six weeks since we watched a TV. In my view this was a blessing. But at Lago Grey we checked the news anyhow, most of it bad, as news always is. That is why it is called news after all. Conflict — read drama — gets our attention and attention means ratings. At Lago Grey my old alma mater CNN informed us of a mass shooting, this one at Michigan State (when would this madness end?) while a massive storm was battering New England. The Kansas City Chiefs had beaten the Philadelphia Eagles in the Super Bowl (since beginning our odyssey we had missed two World Series, two Super Bowls, and one World Cup); and a Chinese balloon had been shot out of the sky creating concerns that either China or aliens might be preparing to attack. If the aliens were coming, Cyn and I guessed a Chinese invasion was moot.

The base of the Paine Mountains live cheek by jowl with Grey Glacier, and the great spiked mountains brood above the lake and the glacier that spills from their left like a beckoning blue hand. This close to the mountains you find yourself stopping again and again to look at the spectacle, the mountain’s razor sharp peaks thrusting into the sky as if straining to perforate it.

The great Blue Towers of Patagonia generate massive clouds which the wind pulls slowly away in resolute and ragged sheets. The mist and clouds are so big that it can feel as though the mountains and not the clouds are moving across the sky. The peaks and glaciers, lakes and rivers create so much weather it turns them into a massive shell game, often leaving them cloud enshrouded, like Kilimanjaro or Mount Fuji or the Matterhorn. But this morning the weather is perfect.

We awoke to gaze at the great towers outside our Hosteria Lago window. I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from their dramatic crags and so simply goggled. The evening before, we had returned from our horseback ride to settle into our new digs. Avis had taken our broken Symbol away and replaced it with an identical Symbol that had even more mileage on it than the previous version. We could only hope it would take more battering. We checked the connections, which were tight, and we were provided a pair of pliers just in case the roads rattled the battery loose again.

The road south to Torres del Paine looks smooth and broad as the German Autobahn … at first. It was like this when we passed the Mylodon Cave we had visited with Luciano, and the cliffs we hiked above Lake Sophia, and continues as you ride fluidly toward encroaching mountains to the left and in front of you. The views are so stunning they can make you wreck the car.