In Patagonia, the natural beauty is guaranteed. A puma sighting isn’t – but I got lucky

The trouble with trying to spot a puma in Chilean Patagonia is that you start to think you’re seeing one everywhere. Lurking behind the rocks on a grassy hill. Stalking the ground right outside your hotel window. Every twitch in a bush, each sway of a branch is suspicious, surely hiding the camouflaged cat in its midst.

Maybe that’s just the disorienting effect of travelling to the edge of the Earth. In April, I traded in a Toronto spring for the autumn of Chile. For the next four days, I’d be exploring Torres del Paine National Park, a sprawling playground for wildlife lovers and hiking buffs, a bucket-list destination for hearty adventurers who aren’t afraid of, say, running into a predator.

Sure, spotting the elusive puma was on my wishlist, but that’s icing-on-the-cake territory here, where all the “wild beauty” – practically a catchphrase in these parts – will distract even the most jaded traveller. Those seemingly ordinary-looking birds flying over the mountain peaks? Those are Andean condors, one of the largest flying birds on the planet with a wingspan of up to 10 feet. (Their sheer size is the only way I can spot them from so far away.) The pink birds dotting the lake? Flamingoes, of course. On a hike one afternoon, a showy armadillo toddles over and poses for photos with the confidence of a supermodel.

Safaris in northern Kenya are a lesson in conservation (with plenty of epic animal sightings)

With its three distinct granite towers, the peaks of Torres del Paine were our North Star, the breathtaking background in all our photos and the signature of any giftshop postcard. Jagged mountain ranges and rolling hills reflect in the unspoiled turquoise lakes (swimming is strictly prohibited here). The churning water of Salto Grande waterfall spins clouds of mist against the slate-grey sky. More than once we witnessed the faint but unmistakable rumble of snow tumbling down the face of the mountain, an avalanche in our midst.

The home base for my group is Tierra Patagonia, the low-slung luxury lodge that looks like a bunker tucked into the curve of the earth, located just outside the national park. From the outside, the place looks unremarkable until you step inside the gleaming lobby and take in the soaring lenga wood walls and massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Sarmiento. At the lobby’s centre, a crackling wood-burning fireplace invites travellers to gather round and take a load off.

My room is spacious and comfortable, outfitted with a massive ensuite bathroom with soaker tub and accompanying bath salts, a heated towel rack and thoughtful amenities such as a roll-on vial of calming essentials oils to lull me to sleep.

A TV would be out of place here and there isn’t one in my room. The unspoken message is relax and restore yourself – but then get back outside. Near the entrance, a buffet of trail mix and granola bars is stationed next to the water bottle refill tap, a reminder to pack sustenance before you head out on your next adventure.

Shoulder season travel requires preparing for all manner of weather, sometimes in a single day. We are gently warned about this, and Patagonia delivers.

On a crisp early-morning hike, our breath appears like smoke against the still-dark sky. Our guide leads us across gentle rolling hills of Vega Castillo Wetlands, a protected area on a private ranch just outside the park where nearly 100 species of birds, from black-necked swans to long-tailed meadowlarks, find sanctuary. As daylight breaks, we pick our way through the grassy slopes and come across tufts of wool and a pile of scattered bones, the remnants of a sheep who met its untimely end. Nearby, a tell-tale sign: a singular puma paw print marks the muddy ground, as if taunting us.

A Northwest Passage cruise reveals a winter wonderland, but it’s the people I won’t forget

One day, the weather surprises us with clear skies and full sun. It’s time to conquer the French Valley hike, the 15-kilometre out-and-back trail named after the French-speaking Belgian rancher who once farmed the land.

A catamaran called the Hielos Patagonicos whisks us across the aquamarine waters of Lake Pehoé, where we sit admiring the view amid the churning water. There’s a nervous buzz of anticipation as we ride along eyeing each other, all headed for our own adventures. Some passengers are heading off to conquer the legendary W-trek, the 80-km hike named after the zig-zag path it cuts around the base of the mountains.

Our windy trail takes us along the shores of glacial Lake Skottsberg, across streams and rocky slopes and rickety wooden bridges. By the time we reach our checkpoint for lunch, I’m stripped down to my base layer and smearing on more sunscreen to avoid a burn. Calves screaming and wind-whipped, we inhale our sandwiches and water before the 7.5-km return hike, during which I spot a spider the size of a toonie that nobody can identify.

Back at the hotel, we gather around the fireplace and swap hiking stories over wine and dinner and gear up for our final adventure, the Grey Glacier tour.

The sky is dark and threatening rain the next morning as we trek across the pebbled Grey Beach en route to board our tour boat. We trudge past a massive blue iceberg near the shore and by the time our catamaran cruises past Grey Glacier, the largest in the park, it’s snowing. Beyond us are the Southern Patagonian ice fields, one of the world’s most vast tracts of frozen land. The mood on the boat is buoyant and giddy as we take turns snapping photos of the ice formation, save for a quiet moment of reflection. One of the guides points out how much of the glacier has melted over the years.

On the boat, I meet an American couple on their honeymoon, who had yet to see the elusive puma. “Have you seen one?” they ask.

Gleefully, I launch into the story I would go on to tell dozens of times: Two days earlier, our group had spent a brisk morning hiking and pulled over to the side of the road to scarf down lunch in the van. It was too cold to eat outside and I was famished – I was always hungry here, maybe my body’s survival instinct kicking in. As I bit into my sandwich, our guide gasped. We followed his gaze to the side of the road, where a golden-coloured puma was trotting by in plain sight.

We hightailed it out of the van clutching our phones, eyes trained on the cat as it crossed the road and sniffed its way through a rocky hillside. Without a plan, we scrambled up a nearby hill, slipping through the mud and sidestepping boulders until we reached the top. Somewhere along the way, the puma disappeared.

Breathless, hearts pounding, we stood there in the tall grass and waited for a reappearance that would never come. But it happened. We’d seen a puma.

If you go

Pack sunscreen, a hat, gloves, waterproof hiking boots and plenty of layers (including a waterproof jacket) for adventures in every kind of weather. Seasons are flipped here – spring arrives in October and most hotels in the area are closed from late April to September for winter.

Tierra Patagonia hotel is about an hour away from Teniente Julio Gallardo airport in Puerto Natales. The hotel arranges ground transportation, excursions and prepares packed lunches for day trips. Rooms start at $3,300 a night and include all meals, snacks, open bar, spa access, park entrance fees and some excursions, such as horseback riding. Newer offerings such as helicopter adventures and kayaking around the glaciers are an additional cost.

Be sure to set aside time for the spa, pool and hot tub which offer stunning views of the outdoors; you’ll be thankful for them after a day of hiking. Treatments are an extra fee. (No kids under 10 at the hotel.)

The writer travelled courtesy of Tierra Patagonia, which neither approved nor reviewed the article. Stories are based on merit; The Globe does not guarantee coverage.