Cerro Torre’s climbing history is as dramatic as its granite walls — marked by legendary attempts, bitter controversies, and some of alpinism’s greatest debates.

For a long time, the peak was regarded as one of the last great unclimbed challenges in the world, and early attempts to scale Cerro Torre were met with failure. In 1952, an expedition led by French climbers Guido Magnone and Lionel Terray made history by summiting nearby Fitz Roy. But Cerro Torre, standing even more defiantly against the sky, remained unconquered. Terray famously described it as an “impossible mountain,” reflecting the extreme difficulty posed by its sheer granite faces and volatile weather. A few years later, in 1958, an Italian team led by Walter Bonatti planned an ascent but was ultimately forced to abandon their attempt — they didn’t even make it halfway up the mountain.

Early failures cemented Cerro Torre’s reputation as one of the world’s most formidable peaks. But what followed was more than just a battle against ice and stone — soon it became a battle over truth itself.

The idea of standing atop Cerro Torre’s summit became an obsession for the world’s elite climbers, a prize so alluring that some were willing to risk everything for it. And in this relentless pursuit, ambition and truth would soon collide in one of the most contentious chapters in mountaineering history.

The first claimed ascent by Italian climber Cesare Maestri in 1959 remains one of the most controversial in mountaineering history, due in no small part to a complete absence of physical evidence. Maestri set out to conquer Cerro Torre alongside fellow Italian Cesarino Fava and Austrian climber Toni Egger. According to Maestri, he and Egger reached the summit on January 31st, but on the descent, Egger was tragically swept away by an avalanche, taking their camera — and the only photographic proof of their success — with him. Maestri barely survived the ordeal, but after being found almost buried in the snow by Fava, he declared with unwavering certainty that they had reached the summit.

His account was soon met with doubt and skepticism, and to this day, no physical evidence of their ascent has ever been found. Yet, until his death in 2021, Maestri never wavered in his claim.

In 1970, fueled by anger, Maestri returned. He and his team used a gasoline-powered compressor drill to bolt their way up the Southeast Ridge — creating the infamous “Compressor Route.” During his 54-day-long assault on the mountain, Maestri placed more than 400 bolts and ladders to aid his ascent, yet upon reaching the summit ridge he refused to climb the final ice mushroom, dismissing it as an impermanent feature that did not constitute the true summit. The climbing community was appalled, with many seeing his methods as an attempt to dominate the mountain rather than climb it.

Put on your boots and get going. If you’ve got a companion, take a rope with you and a couple of pitons for your belays, but nothing else. I’m already on my way, ready for anything – even for retreat, if I meet the impossible. I’m not going to be killing any dragons, but if anyone wants to come with me, we’ll go to the top together on the routes we can do without branding ourselves murderers.

Reinhold Messner in “The Murder of the Impossible”, Mountain #15, 1971

The bolts and the questions they raised would haunt Cerro Torre for decades: in 2012, American climber Hayden Kennedy and Canadian Jason Kruk made the first ‘fair means’ ascent of the Southeast Ridge and, on their descent, removed many of Maestri’s bolts — an act celebrated by some as a restoration of the mountain’s integrity, condemned by others as the erasure of history.

Despite the years of controversy and Maestri’s contested claims, Cerro Torre remained an untamed prize, waiting for a true ascent. In 1974, an Italian team led by Casimiro Ferrari set out to accomplish what no one had yet done—reach the true summit of Cerro Torre without controversy. Their chosen route: the West Face, a line of ice-choked gullies and sheer rock that had never been climbed. Unlike Maestri’s bolt-heavy siege, Ferrari and his team committed to a traditional alpine approach, relying on their skill, endurance, and the mountain’s natural features rather than excessive fixed protection.

The ascent was grueling. Patagonia’s notorious weather battered the team with relentless storms, forcing them to retreat multiple times. Days of waiting in freezing conditions tested their patience and resolve. Yet, when a brief window of opportunity finally appeared, Ferrari, along with Daniele Chiappa, Mario Conti, and Pino Negri, launched their summit push. Climbing through a labyrinth of vertical ice formations, they overcame treacherous conditions and, on January 13, 1974, stood atop Cerro Torre—its unmistakable ice mushroom beneath their feet.

Their achievement was undeniable. They had reached the true summit by fair means, cementing their place in mountaineering history. While the debates surrounding Cerro Torre would continue for decades, Ferrari’s ascent marked the moment when the mountain was finally, unquestionably conquered.

While summiting Cerro Torre is reserved for experienced climbers, trekking in the surrounding Parque Nacional Los Glaciares provides breathtaking views of this legendary peak. There are few places on Earth where raw wilderness feels as untamed as in the mountains of southern Patagonia. Here, the land is shaped by ice and wind, with jagged peaks rising from vast glacial valleys, their spires piercing the sky. The trails weave through shifting landscapes — dense lenga forests, open alpine meadows, and barren, wind-scoured ridges — where the sheer scale and force of nature is overwhelming. Weather moves swiftly, transforming a tranquil morning into a battle against sudden gusts and gale-force winds — snow can fall in any season. Trekking in this terrain is not just about reaching a viewpoint (or mirador as they are called here) — it is about immersing yourself in a landscape that feels wild, unpredictable, and fascinatingly unwelcoming.

Among the most popular routes around Cerro Torre are the treks to Laguna Torre and Loma del Pliegue Tumbado. One leads to a glacial lake at the foot of the mountain, where icebergs drift silently on milky grey waters. The other climbs high above the valleys, revealing a sweeping view of the entire Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre range. Both trails offer moments of solitude and awe — whether standing at the lake’s edge, staring into the clouds, or reaching a windswept summit where the mountains stretch beyond the horizon.