Trekking Patagonia’s Dientes de Navarino Circuit

Patagonia is a place that tests you, and the Dientes de Navarino Trek might just be its ultimate challenge. Remote, rugged, and raw, this trail winds across Navarino Island, deep in Chilean Patagonia, through some of the last truly untouched landscapes.

Over four unforgettable days, we battled fierce winds, crossed alpine valleys, camped beneath jagged peaks, and felt the raw spirit that makes hiking in Patagonia unlike anywhere else. For those looking for the best hiking in Patagonia, the Dientes Circuit offers a true wilderness expedition, far from the crowds, far from the easy tourist routes, and rich in the kind of adventure that stays with you long after the trail ends. 
This is our 2025 trip recap of the Dientes de Navarino Circuit—one of the wildest trekking routes in Patagonia, and the southernmost hiking trail in the world.

The first stage of Chilean Patagonia’s Dientes de Navarino trek begins just outside Puerto Williams, where a narrow trail disappears into dense subantarctic forest. It’s an immediate immersion into the wild—gnarled lenga trees twisted by the wind, their branches draped in green moss and old man’s beard lichen. The ground is soft and spongy, thick with roots, and the scent of damp earth and wood smoke from distant chimneys lingers in the air. Seabirds call from above and from time to time we get to see the silhouette of the mighty Condor. The world gets quiet.

A steady climb leads us out of the forest and up to the windswept ridge of Cerro Bandera, where the first real views of the rugged Dientes de Navarino mountain range hit like a punch to the chest. The strong winds blow against us. The silhouettes of the Dientes massif rise in the distance, wild and untouched. Behind us, the Beagle Channel, stretching between Chile and Argentina, reminds of how far south we really are.

Beyond the ridge, the trail continues across alpine terrain—open, exposed, and raw. Patches of snow cling to the slopes even in summer, and small tarns mirror the ever-changing sky. The landscape shifts constantly between rocky outcrops, muddy bogs, and hidden streams.

After hours of walking through this stark beauty, we reach Laguna del Salto, tucked beneath towering granite spires. The wind is often fierce in this area, and the cold settles in early. We had planned to set up camp right beside the lagoon, sheltered beneath the spires and close to the water’s edge—but Patagonia had other plans. Weeks of relentless rain had turned the entire area into a soggy, swampy mess. What had looked like the perfect place to camp for the night on the map was now a flooded basin of mud and standing water.

With no dry ground in sight, we shouldered our packs once more and pushed on, climbing a few more miles uphill toward higher ground. The wind picked up, the air grew colder, and the terrain turned more rugged, but we eventually found a solid, dry spot nestled above the treeline. Not quite the cozy lakeside camp we had imagined, but it came with sweeping mountain views, a little less bog, and a whole lot more wild. Out here, adaptation is part of every Patagonian adventure.

We packed up camp under blue skies, loaded our packs, and set out deeper into the jagged belly of Navarino. The trail immediately began to climb through a rugged, glacially-carved valley—wild, quiet, and empty except for the wind and the occasional call of a caracara. The landscape became more remote with every step. We could see the last stretch of the lenga forest behind us, giving way to rocky terrain and exposed ridgelines.

Our first challenge of the day was Paso Australia, a steep, scree-covered slope that tests both legs and balance, with loose rock shifting under every step. The trail is faint at times, forcing you to find your own line through sliding scree and lingering snow patches. But the reward is worth every breath—the top of the pass opens up to incredible panoramic views: jagged peaks in every direction, scattered alpine lakes below, and the untamed spine of the Dientes massif dominating the horizon.

A short descent leads through a narrow saddle, where the wind picks up and the terrain turns surreal—huge slabs of fractured rock, twisted ridges, and the kind of silence that only truly remote places know. From there, the trail winds towards Paso de los Dientes, a narrower crossing guarded by a natural rock corridor. It’s like stepping through a gate into another world.

The descent was easier than from Paso de los Dientes. As we dropped lower into the valley, the world seemed to slow down. Cradled by granite towers and rimmed by new lenga forests, a remote alpine lake came into view—wild, empty, and unbelievably beautiful. We had arrived at one of the most iconic spots in the Dientes de Navarino range: Laguna de los Dientes. Its deep blue waters mirrored the ever changing Patagonian sky, while the surrounding forests, bursting with fiery autumn colors, added a striking contrast to the stark, rocky slopes.

A towering, sharp-edged peak, Cerro Gabriel, rises dramatically beside the lagoon, standing like a sentinel over the landscape. This camp is one of the most breathtaking of our Chilean Patagonia trek, offering unmatched views and a deep sense of isolation.  The wind was relentless and the ground uneven, but settling into our remote camp made us reflect on why we still seek out places like this. Watching the evening light cast long shadows over the mountains and listening to the distant rush of the wind reminded us that truly wild places still exist—places where nature remains pristine, far from the noise of civilization. Out here, we were put back in touch with something far greater than ourselves. A world that’s raw, wild, and unforgettable.

Boots off, hot food, and a sunset that lit the peaks of Torre Oeste del Paso Primero and Cerro Appárnix (a yagan word meaning “Star”) on fire. This is what we came for.

Everyone had just settled into their tents when a message came through the inReach: “Expect strong winds in a few hours. Seek shelter immediately.” The group, exhausted from the day’s trek, had no idea what the night had in store.
Quietly, we grabbed our headlamps and moved from tent to tent, checking every peg and tightening every guyline, making sure nothing was left to chance. The wind was coming fast, and out here, that meant one thing: be ready or be caught off guard. It was just another part of the work we do to keep everyone safe at all times—most of the group never even noticed, and that’s exactly how we wanted it.

The night had been rough. Really rough. The wind slammed into our camp with full force, rattling tents and tearing through the valley like a freight train. Sleep was nearly impossible for most, as gusts howled relentlessly until the early hours of the morning. By 4 or 5 AM, the storm finally eased off, leaving behind a campsite of tired hikers and a silence that felt almost eerie after such a wild night.

Despite the sleepless hours, we packed up and pushed forward, leaving Laguna de los Dientes behind as we climbed straight into the heart of the Dientes de Navarino range. The trail wasted no time in testing us: steep, exposed, and battered by the storm. Paso Ventarrón lived up to its name, throwing fierce gusts our way as we scrambled over loose rock and barren slopes. The landscape felt otherworldly, like stepping onto another planet—harsh, rugged, and completely untamed.

Then came Paso Guerrico, a steep descent into a hidden valley tucked away from the winds. The contrast was striking. After the exposed, windblown ridges, we dropped into a sheltered basin where twisted lenga trees clung to the slopes. Turquoise lakes framed by ghostly dead trees scattered across the valley floor like forgotten jewels. It was the kind of scenery that made every step worth the trek.

The next stretch was a mix of everything Patagonia is famous for—boggy, muddy sections that tried to swallow our boots, rugged ridges that tested our endurance, and a final tough climb that had us digging deep for energy. But then, just as the fatigue started to settle in, we crested the last hill and laid eyes on Laguna Martillo, a windswept, serene lake tucked away deep in the mountains.

Our final camp sat beside another remote lagoon, nestled between the mountains & low forests. It was quieter, more isolated, and the perfect place to rest after one of the toughest days on the trail.

Tired legs, windburned faces, and grins all around—this adventure was Patagonia at its rawest. No filters, no easy paths, just the wild, beautiful struggle.

We woke to the stillness of the mountains, camped near one of the upper lagoons past Laguna Martillo. The wind had finally eased, and a stretch of clear sky hinted at good weather for our final day on the trail. Just a few days earlier, the forecast had promised the worst—strong winds and heavy rains for the last day of the trek. Instead, the morning greeted us with blue skies and calm air, a rare and unexpected gift from Patagonia. Tired, a little weathered, but fueled by the kind of energy that only comes when the end is in sight, we packed our gear one last time and set out.

What awaited us was one final climb: Paso Virginia, the highest point of the Dientes Circuit, and a fitting farewell to this wild corner of the world. The ascent was steep and steady, weaving first through dense, muddy forests, then rising into rocky terrain. As we gained elevation, the air grew colder, the wind returned with force, and the landscape began to open up behind us.

At the top, we stood together in silence, taking it all in. The Beagle Channel stretched endlessly to the east and west, distant Argentinian peaks lining the horizon, and the raw, beautiful chaos of the Dientes massif unfolded behind us. It was the kind of view that makes you stop—not just to catch your breath, but to truly relish in how far you’ve come.

Then came the descent—long, steep, and unforgiving. The trail dropped sharply through scree fields and loose terrain, demanding constant focus. Knees burned, packs pulled at our shoulders, and the forest beyond the lagoon felt impossibly far away. But eventually, step by step, the trees returned. The lenga forest welcomed us back like an old friend. Its twisted trunks, moss-covered branches, and earthy scents were a familiar comfort.

The hours that followed were slow but steady, as we trekked through dense forests, deep, muddy terrain, and swampy plains created by the “castoreras” (beaver dams) that stretched on for miles. And then… squelch, plop, slurp… we were stuck in the mud. No chance of escaping clean now! So we embraced it and went all in, wading through mud pods, ankle to knee deep, for about 30 minutes, until we finally reached the forest again.

By the time we hit the gravel road, boots caked in mud and legs heavy with the miles, there was a quiet satisfaction that enveloped the group. No fanfare, no crowds—just the feeling of having crossed a wild, remote, and untamed land on our own terms.

The Dientes de Navarino didn’t make it easy—but that’s the point. They gave us wind, storms, beauty, and silence. A true adventure, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.