Road tripping

On Day 3 of an impromptu road trip through the Patagonia, Lake District.... having left San Martin de los Andes on Friday for Bariloche via the Ruta de los Siete Lagos ... hitting practically all seven of the most pristine, glacial lakes, trees of yellow, red and gold set against the snow capped Andes... Lago Lakar, Lago Machonico, Lago Hermoso, Lago Meliquina, Lago Falkner, Lago Espejo. We land up at Villa de Langastura and decide to station ourselves here, at Hosteria Las Ramblas, where our pretty room overlooks the impossibly huge Lago Nahuel Huapi and where we are the only guests because this is the "low" season and summer has ended but ski season has not yet begun (in June, July this place, like Caviahue, will be covered in snow snow snow). Yesterday we venture into Bariloche, the biggest of all the towns I've visited yet here in Patagonia (pop: ~100,000); check out the famous and sprawling Lahua Lahua hotel (est 1902); then tiny little Colonia de Suissa, before meeting up with Christian and Florencia who happen to be in Bariloche too. Drinks, dinner and the night ends at 2 am with us back at Hosteria Las Ramblas in the hilariously wide, pillowed white bed.  Today, we are bound for the artisty town of El Bolson, about 2 hours south of Bariloche... where Diego has a good friend Andres who, like him, knows how to fly... so maybe we will fly... see the Andes with all its colors and snow from up above.  Then tomorrow, a 15 hour ride awaits in Deigo's trusty 4 wheel drive camionetta back to BsAs... where I will run assorted pre-NYC errands ie like maybe trimming my by-now unruly long hair... or maybe not ...

Now in San Martin.. soon home again

I'm in the prettily, Swiss-like alpine ski town of San Martin de los Andes by sprawling Lago Lacar, three days now. Realized during my last week in Caviahue how I was crazy to spend my last week in Argentina back in Buenos Aires - much as I love this city. That covering more ground while still in beautiful Patagonia and so near to its Lake District made so much more sense.  DUH!! :)

It was hard enough to leave Caviahue so I'm glad at least to still be surrounded by nature, near another grand lake if not any longer near my favorite volcano. My eventful month there ended in the best possible way, with new good friends and the strongest hope to return to them one day soon soon.  Marseilla, Nestor, Jorge, Valdo, and of course ... beloved Ginny. We had such great fun together. Funny to think how it all started with this woman calling to me from her window as I got off the bus (with her signature "woooohooooo!"), then me rolling her limited edition Cardon Chevy truck the very next day. Ehem.

We've come a long way, babeee!!!  My Dancing Queen-text messaging-Pachamama praying-mate drinking-truck driver cussing-nature loving-Janis Joplin singing- newest dear friend.

After all we'd been through, my last weekend in Caviahue was appropriately CELEBRATORY. First there was my 10k Copohue-Caviahue race, which I dreaded a bit for its by-now notorious loose gravely road. But it was so fine, an exhilarating run against the wind through the desert lunar landscape - capped with friends cheering on along the way & waiting at the finish line.  Ahhh, the pleasure of running a race with only 15 other people - when your friends can actually find you amongst the crowd.

AND you get a trophy - which I did (along with practically every one else, but still)! For coming in third of the women. Complete with stage-based ceremony and administrative kisses of congratulations. The race also doubled as a celebration of Caviahue's 25th anniversary and on this - the most perfect and uncharacteristicaly summerlike day - a massive chori-pan bar-b-que was shared by all the town. I had three. 

Then that same night, we had a lovely dinner at Marseilla and Nestor's who prepared milanese napolitano and the torta de chocolata of the century. Their home is still under construction, soon to double as a restuarant they hope to open by next summer. Yet despite the bare, cement walls and flourescent light bulb hanging, meals at their place are always so festive and warm.  I was glad for one last one before I go.

Now here in San Martin, Caviahue feels already like another time. Back "on the road" again, I am quickly reminded why traveling is so much fun when I meet Kristen at the Hostel Puma and we spend the next 2 days laughing our heads off at assorted, random things. What is the reason we bond so much more quickly, cut through so much bullshit so much faster and develop lasting friendships with people under these most tenuous of circumstances? There are probably several I could list, but whatever they are, it's true I've met the most amazing women on this journey - Lila, Mariola, Mariane, Ginny, now Kristen - and having done so has made it that much more meaningful and eye opening and life affirming and FUN for me.

I am coming home a wiser woman for sure as result of the connections I've made along the way; the travelin' experiences of these past few months; the countries and places I've seen; the things I've done volunteering all about and especially being with Ginny in Caviahue. I feel lucky and blessed to have done every bit of it and ready now too, in a way I wasn't before, to go home to those that await.  Or as Ginny puts it, to be "homeward bound to REAL y PROVEN LOVE."  Yep, I even (almost) can't wait.

Hasta luego!

Back to the scene of the crime

It's beautiful today - about 50 F, sunny and actually windLESS - so Ginny and I are making a break for it, back to her chakra in El Huecu.  There's a birthday party there tonight; her daugher Sky will be there; and Ginny is getting sick of the hotel. Or rather, being all cooped up in it.  At the chakra she has her garden, can sit in her yard, hang out with Sky and Jorge. Her horses are gone - elsewhere for the winter - but it'll be enough to be out and bask in the sun. We're both feeling a little bit tentative about the drive though - only about 1 1/2 hr from Caviahue but down that same long rupio aka gravel road we headed down last time, when the car turned and rolled around all over. She'll be wearing her corset again fer sure. And this time no way in hell I'm driving. Haven't driven since, in fact, not that I won't ever again - just for now happy to stay away from extended stretches of gravel. Anyway, we're both looking forward to the change of scenery.   Back by Monday!

Love, me

Laguna Escondida

Woke up feeling very lethargic today. Though life in Caviahue is far from crazy I do think the intensity of the new routine, feelings, and thoughts rushing through my head these past few weeks finally caught up with me. Wasn't tired, just drained. So at around 4:30 when Ginny headed for her afternoon apt at the gym, I set out for a walk, in search of a nice tree or rock upon which to rest and gaze upon the lake or something else pretty.  Ended up walking in the opposite direction from usual towards Volcan Copohue instead of Laguna Caviahue, and following a series of yellow arrows all the way up to Laguna Escondida. I'd forgotten about this place, which I'd noted for my to-do list during my first week here.

So it was nice to happenstancingly happen upon it, nestled unassumingly among the pine trees and rocks after a comfortable 45 minute climb, quietly catching the late afternoon sun. There was noone on the trail or at the lake but me and the silence was broken only by the sounds of hammers coming from Caviahue down below (I would guess about 90% of this town is under construction, there are so many new homes, hosterias, etc. with the highly triangulated snow-proof roofs being built per the week).

I realize I want to live in a place where happening upon random lakes is possible, where taking off from where you live for an invigorating if short walk in nature with your dog can be easily accomplished.  This has been a growing realization in general over the past few months. Though having been to Laguna Escondida and back in under 2 hours and feeling entirely better and happier for it, it is now more of a pressing need. 

And so, and so...?

Well, the Internet is back up and I'm sitting here now in the common living room at the Hotel Oriplata facing views of the Andes all around... light and the big open sky pouring in. The weather has taken a turn in the past two days and now it really does feel like winter is coming... lots of cold wind and rain and last night, 2000 feet higher in nearby Copohue where we went for dinner, there was even sleet. Higher still, the surrounding mountains and Volcan de Copohue are already snow capped.

And me, I am dressing warm and continuing to love every moment of my time with Ginny in Caviahue. We have by now become good friends, and fallen into a comfortable routine based mostly on gymnasio/rehab apts, meals and snacks, occassional naps and working on her book. I do my best to provide help and support wherever needed, but Ginny has such a great disposition, we also spend a lot of our time together just talking and laughing. I feel i am learning so much from her... from being here.

Today, Sunday April 18th, is the end of my second week in Caviahue... now just 2 more to go. I am still trying to run a lot to prepare for the May 1st race. Also continuing to meet such great people... everyone in tiny Caviahue has been so welcoming and nice... despite my still broken Spanish. Ginny says this place feels like Colorado 30 years ago... still so small, developing, full of good, down to earth people who love the outdoors. The number of tourists who come grows a bit each year.

I've also been able to see a bit more of the surrounding area ... Laguna Huacupe, the Rio and Salto Lagrio, and nearby Copahue with its volcanic thermal baths... a few days ago one of my new friends, a guy named Baldo, took me on a small road trip to see where the Mapuche live, their shack-like homes barely perceptible in the vast mountainside. The Mapuche are more or less "nomad cowboys," moving their herds of goats, cows and sheep wherever the weather is warmest, sometimes as far as 800 km away which can take about 8 days. You can see these "arroyos" (as they're called) on the roads, the men on their horses, donkies carrying their belongings, and dogs barking as the herds amble along. Everyone around here knows to drive more slowly this time of year lest they inadvertently hit a cow. Meanwhile, in the mountainside, the Mapuche houses stand deserted, awaiting their return again in the summer...

Other highlights of these past 2 weeks: attending the gaucho Fiesta Provincial del Pasto with Jorge; habitual drinking of mate; my first taste of chivo or goat (amazing!); homemade pizza dinner at Marseilla and Nestor's house; "rock picking" with Diego and Mariano; volcanic mud baths at the Caviahue banos; spotting the two largest, most brilliant, fullblown rainbows I have ever seen in just one half-rainy late afternoon; experiencing the bife de chorizo at Nito's Parilla; ... and more ... and more!!!

But I believe this update will do for now.

Lots of love,
Karen

Drinking mate*

Ginny is teaching me to drink mate.* Once and for all. Mate is a traditional hot herbal drink drunk ceremoniously throughout South America, and very heavily, characteristically, by the Argentines. It is more ritual than beverage, passed around with a silver bombilla in a small gourd by a servador(a) who is also responsible for replenishing the hot (but not boiling!) water in the bowl as it makes its way from person to person. I saw the mate being passed for the first time on a bus in El Chalten. The driver was drinking it with his driving partner who kept passing the mate between them.  When I finally got my own first taste of it in Ushuai, it was bitter and almost burned my tongue through the bombilla.

Mate is definitely an acquired taste. Children learn to drink it with a bit of sugar or honey mixed in. Ginny says it took her almost a year to get into it.  But to be Argentine - especially in el campo where she has spent most of her past 25 years here working and living with the gauchos on her estancia - is to love and appreciate the mate. Beyond its plentiful nutritional qualities, mate is about the comraderie or when you drink it alone and the mood is right, the spiritual, peaceful aspect of it. As an artist, Ginny says it can also serve as a gateway to your creativity, if you are inclined that way to begin with. Or if you are a gaucho, mate can help to enhance your strength and endurance in the field.

This morning, after showing me how to prepare the mate, Ginny said a Native American prayer honoring the Four Directions: east, south, west, then north. Ginny also added a prayer to the above beings and to the inner core of the mother earth, the pachamama.  Lastly, she said a prayer to her body, thanking it and telling it that she loves it and believes in it. Then we drank the mate.  Under Ginny's tutelage, I think I might be learning to get into it too.

PS You can read up on the mate and see a picture of the gourd should you desire at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mate_(beverage)

*Mate is properly spelled with an accent mark on the "e" which, unfortunately, I can't perform on this here lousy blogger dashboard. So please note it's not pronounced "mate" as in "checkmate." Gracias!

Hotel Oriplata, Caviahue, Patagonia, AR

Back safe and sound with Ginny at the Hotel Oriplata life has developed a really nice rhythmn all its own.

Caviahue is a tiny town, still very much in development, that sits on the banks of a beautiful - albeit, highly acidic - blue lake, the sky and the Andes all around. Many who live here divide their year between here and Buenos Aires, others are "lifers" who run the few shops, hotels, restaurants, etc that have sprung up. July will be busy for ski season but right now there's hardly anyone here at all. At the Hotel Oriplata where Ginny has been living, for example, it's really just Ginny and me going about our business. Enrique, Juana and the rest of the staff are like family to her now, as are the few close friends she's made in town since she arrived 3 months ago. She's easy to love: spirited, spunky and perpetually full of good humor - even as she struggles to overcome the trials and tribulations of her MS.

Ginny is here for her rehabilation because Caviahue has thermal/mud baths that are good for it (I'm hoping while I'm here to find out if they're good for my psoriasis too!).  Our days are divided between her morning and afternoon appointments at the gymansium, and all the hours in between seem to go so fast. We've hardly started on her book, but hopefully will make some good progress this week. She's had quite a life and I'm excited for her to capture it in writing - though figuring out how to organize all the milestones, loves, losses, and anecdotes into some kind of order is going to be hard work. Right now, I just want to get as much of it down in her voice as possible before I leave.

The other thing I hope to be doing is training for the 1/2 marathon I just found out happens to be taking place here in Caviahue on May 1st (!!!).  What an amazing way it would be to draw this all to a close. Running a full marathon has never been a goal, but this would be my third 1/2 and running it at ~1900 meters sure would be a nice keepsake to take home from Patagonia - along with everything else! :)

Ooops I must run (haha) ... bye for now...!! xoxo

We the Living

A SMALL NOTE: I wrote this the same night of the accident described below, Ginny and I still high with the cool fact of our survival.  4 days later we are still high with it - even though Ginny has since discovered her $40,000 truck was not insured. Ehem. Still, she's been greeting every morning with "hey baby, we're a walking miracle!" And maybe that's the lesson therein, something to remind myself of every day.

* *

I had my first car accident today. The car out of control, spinning spinning everywhere then, all of sudden, flipping all the way over just like in the movies, kind of accident. Crushed windshield glass like candy and Ginny and I just dangling there by our seatbelts. Our thank-you-God, lifesaving seatbelts.

Ginny’s voice sounds close and calm, but I can’t turn my head around to see her. “Karen, turn off the engine,” she says, it feels like over and over. Yes we had just stopped to fill the tank in Loncupue. I understand what she means but I can’t find the keys, barely know where the steering wheel is at. I also cannot believe we are alive, and Ginny sounds so normal like she’s asking me to roll up the window because the breeze is bothering her. I am shaking and trying to find the keys to turn the engine off, but the space around me is too small to maneuver so I focus on trying to get out of the car instead. Figure that way I can turn around get the keys out, come back around get Ginny out too.

Crawling out is hard, barely manage it through the window because it’s gotten much smaller. But I do, it’s amazing, I’m pulling my body through and nothing even hurts. How is this possible? How is this happening? And I have I killed Ginny?! I’ve definitely fucked up her car. The sun is shiny bright same as it was before we flipped like in the movies. I feel the loose gravel on my palms. The gravel that did this, made the car swerve then swerve again. It’s a long, long gravely road from Loncupue to El Huecu where we were headed to spend Easter weekend at Ginny’s chacra there. I was enjoying the scenery, the vast open Patagonia space, the late afternoon sun on the left side of my face. It was just beginning to set, casting the distant high desert mountains in shades of blue.

I was also focusing really hard on my driving because I’d just learned to drive Ginny’s S10 Chevie truck that morning. Things were going pretty well: I was driving stick! I’d made it this far, driven about an hour from Hotel Oriplata to Loncupue for money and gas, aware the whole time of the Patagonia wind. Now we were close, just another ½ hour or so away. But then the car veered suddenly off the road, and I tried to set it right, then I hit the brakes. Big mistake.

By the time I come around to Ginny’s side of the car, I am weeping. With disbelief, with regret, with shock - though not it seems with pain. Nothing appears to hurt. My sunglasses even appear to still be on my head. And Ginny is there too, by her side of the car, on her back, cell phone in hand. Is she texting someone?! Holy shit. Does this mean she is okay? I think she is laughing. Yes she is laughing. My new 61-year old friend with MS who uses a walker and sometimes a wheelchair and decided to wear her back brace right before we got in the car “just in case” has managed to pull herself out of her window and is lying on her back by the side of the gravel road and she is laughing.

There are any number of reactions one could have when the person they just met and entrusted with their car, totals it and almost kills them both in the process. Ginny’s immediate reaction is gratitude. “Thank god we are okay, can you believe we are okay?? This is the most important thing!!” she keeps asking me, hugging me. Her second reaction is laughter. And triumph. Within just a few moments of our car rolling over and nearly killing us, a few people stop along the side of the road to help us. Together, we collect our things from the car, our backpacks, our groceries. Ginny’s mate set. I’ve found my camera and am taking pictures of the car with it from all angles for the insurance company. For posterity.

Then Ginny wants me to take a picture of her. With arms raised in front of her truck like the champion in a boxing ring. Then standing by the passenger side of the car, beaming face poised over the dangling rearview mirror. Then we take one together. By now, I am smiling too.

One of the last things we pull out of Ginny’s crushed truck is a small book she had in the back seat, We The Living by Ayn Rand. The irony is far from lost on us and we decide we must each take a picture with it. We realize we could have died today but we didn’t. Our seatbelts saved us, or the roll bar on Ginny’s very well made truck saved us, or maybe God (?!) saved us.

I am still considering the significance of this, because I do believe every moment, especially the hardest, offers up something for me to learn. That's how we make sense of things. Feeling that truck spin uncontrollably then flip, and not knowing how this story would end, will go down as one of the scariest moments I’ve ever had. There wasn’t even any time for flashbacks! I know the story could have ended very differently. Thankfully, it ended up like this.

~11 pm, Saturday, April 2, 2010

We the Living.

Ushuai, Ushuai

How the name rolls nicely off the tongue. As if being at el fin del mundo isn´t romantical enough, the name itself sounds like a dream. Or like something wonderful to eat. Have yet to find out if it has any significance or how exactly Ushuai came to be called Ushuai though I am curious. Either way, I rather unexpectedly fell in love with it, the idea to visit at all more of an afterthought with time left to kill after Torres del Paine before SJ set off.

Maybe it was the penguins we visited first off on a catamaran tour of the Beagle Channel. Undeniably as adorable as you expect them to be, waddling and playful and full of torpedo-like energy diving in and out of the frigid water (we did confirm with Captain Sergio that were we to fall in we´d die of hypothermia within the first 5 minutes - making the lifevests aboard the boat quite pointless we thought). Seeing them was pretty amazing, especially when one seemed to stop below the boat to look up and right at me. I swear he was making eye contact. (I have pictures!)

Or maybe it was the proximity of things. And how short the walk to the Old Prison and Maritime Museum (yes these are one and the same) or the best hot chocolate. Or to the local favorite Irish bar The Dublin which we visited 4 nights in a row, making conversation with really nice and actually engaging people who had just returned from filming a 9 part documentary miniseries in Antartica, or piloting ships around the world, or were just traveling through like us. Despite being a small Patagonian port town, Ushuai also had a distint international buzz that made it seem larger than it was without being intimidating.

And from most every vantage point, you can see the Beagle Channel and the ships docked there and the glaciers that hover on the northern side. So that even if you´re just heading to the supermarket via San Martin street, you´re reminded you´re at the end of the world because that´s what it looks like when you look around. On my last day in Ushuai, I also walked down San Martin street and past the supermarket to go visit Glacier Martial, just 7 km away. I WALKED to a glacier - from downtown!

Our hostel Yakush also helped make Ushuai feel like home. Having by now honed our expertise in hostels, it was hands down the coziest place SJ and I stayed in in Patagonia. We prepared and ate our meals in a large light-filled communal kitchen where everyone talked to one another as they hustled around the stove and drank from their respective really good and highly affordable bottles of Argentian wine. Light filled also during dinnertime because the sun doesn´t begin to set in Ushuai (or the rest of Patagonia for that matter) until around 9 pm.

So Ushuai is now on my growing list of fantasy places to live one day, alongside New Mexico and Paris and Barcelona. Whether or not this ever happens, it was the perfect place to conclude my time in Patagonia, before heading back up north to face the civilization that more closely resembles what I know, with its bustle and traffic and attainable horizons.

W Trek, Torres Del Paine 11/26 - 11/30

Finishing the W trek through Torres Del Paine park in Chile is one of the best things I´ve ever done: a four day trek through the vast and everchanging Patagonian landscape of glaciers and lakes, streams and waterfalls, granite peaks and frozen valleys, and lots of desert scrub; through intense colors and contending emotionally as well as physically at times with wind, snow, rain and sun. It was beautiful and it was tough and when I finished it I was never more tired or more high on so much beauty and the accomplishment of what I´d done (my biggest big deal of a hike so far in life). Below is a day by day replay of the incredible experience we had:

Thursday, 11/26: We´ve spent the whole day busing back from El Chalten so Staci Jon and I are kind of tired and cranky when we finally arrive back in Puerto Natales at 9:30 pm. It is also very cold and windy as we make our way from the bus stop in the growing darkness via the supermercado to stock up on some snacks for the trek. Then over to the Patagonian Adventure Hostel, run by the lovely Marissa and Jorge who´ve helped arrange everything: our bus to the park the next day, reservations at the refugios, the prepared meals we said we wanted. We barely have enough energy to repack our bags for the 4 day trip ahead, send some check-in emails back home and roll into our bunks for sleep. Everyone at the hostel is backpacking too and are either returning from or heading out to TDP the next morning as well. Our ¨big day¨ is finally here. Lying in bed, I am a small bundle of excitement and nerves and fall asleep at last to the sound of the wind blowing loudly outside the window.

Friday, 11/27: The bus picks us up promptly at 7:30 am - fortunately it is ¨door to door¨ service so we are still finishing our toast with butter and jam for breakfast at about 7:25. We arrive at the Laguna Amarga entrance to the park by about 9, at Refugio Las Torres shortly thereafter and are off on our very first trek in TDP by 11. Today is a long day, about 19 km roundtrìp and we are off to see the so called ¨crown jewels¨ of the park, Los Torres: the three gigantic pilars of granite created by glacial forces and towering at 2900 m/ 9400 ft. We are clearly energized and excited about our very first day, but what I don´t anticìpate - even though I´ve tasted and heard plenty of it - is the crazy wind. Going at 70+ kph. A guide on his way down warns about it, tells us it is dangerous and to be careful, and that a woman was knocked down just the other day and broke her arm. When we get to Passiage de Veinte we see what he means. It is a narrow path of a passage across the side of the mountain, where you can easily lose your footing if the wind is determined enough about it. I make it through a few panic attacks, a challenging final 1 hour climb over rocks and boulders, to arrive at last with one final step in front of the Torres. For a perfect view. On what has turned out to be a crystal clear day. We are lucky it seems and what lies before us erases all of the frustration and near tears that came before. It is like a movie set. We don´t stay very long because it is so cold up there too, so we turn soon thereafter to begin our descent back through the Ascencio Valley.

Saturday, 11/28: Today is an easy day. Only a 11k one way stretch along Lake Nordenskjald. The sun is out and at some point it becomes warm enough to wear shorts. We have our full packs with us today but compared to yesterday this feels like a stroll. The wind is kinder too. The views are beautiful, serene and pastoral by Day 1 standards with its scrub and harsh deserty mountains and rocks. We arrive at our next ¨home¨, Refugio Los Cuernos, by 4:30 pm and manage also to score bunkbeds even though we were told they were ¨sold out¨ and we´d need to camp. So our mood are high as we settle in. The evening comes to a pleasant end over a few card games (ie ¨Ässhole¨) with our fellow bunkmates, Alex and Carly, pisco sour(s) prepared by Emiliano, and a nice hot dinner of steak with vegetables and rice.

Sunday, 11/29: We are mentally prepared for Day 3 through the high valley to be our longest day (23k) and we eat appropriately at breakfast: some nice porridge, a bowl of scrambled eggs, toast with lots of butter and jam. The trek consists of a steep trail into and out of Valle Francés into the heart of the Paine Massif via Campamento Italiano (where we get to leave our backpacks hidden in the wood shed!); and a final, relatively easy 2 hour stretch along Lago Skottsberg. Snow flurries see us off and last for most of our visit in the valley itself. It makes for fairly poor visibility but we do get to see a roaring river, three avalanches (!) and the valley´s famous peak formation with fancy names like Mascara, Espada, Hoja, Catedrál... I find myself walking alone for much of the hike along Lago Skottsberg as SJ, Cary and Alex are all at assorted paces up ahead, and at one point too, I see a pair of condors soaring up above. They are beautiful to watch, with their ginormous wing spans and graceful arcs around each other. When we do all finally convene at Refugio Paine Grande, SJ, Carly, Alex and I celebrate our final night with more pisco sours - which I have offically decided taste better here in Chile.

Monday, 11/30: We do a relatively easy 12k today to see Glacier Grey. SJ and I are feeling pretty spent on this, our last day, so it is a bit of an effort to set off - especially after we hit a minor snowstorm about 15 minutes into the trek. We have decided to go only as far as the first mirador vs all the way to Glacier Grey itself and we arrive admidst very strong cold winds. It´s fairly overcast too but we do get some pretty impressive if a bit cloudy and appropriately grey views - all very ethereal, surreal-seeming. We turn back knowing we have offically completed the ¨W¨ of which Glacier Grey trail is the last little arm (per the shape on the trail map). At 6:30, our catamaran sets off across Lago Pehoé to take us to Gaurderia Pudeto for us bus back to Puerto Natales. We arrive tired but hungry and arrange to meet our new posse of trekking friends for a dinner of woodfire pizza, after depositing our backpacks at our respective hostels near the Plaza des Armas. We agree noone can shower before dinner so we all arrive glamorously dirty and smelly and noone cares.

And there you have it. Good to finally get this out, and I´m sorry for the delay. There are so many details not captured here, so many images emblazoned on my brain that I hope I remember forever. Along with the high that being here in Patagonia has inspired in me for the first time, making me fully feel how truly majestic and beautiful life can be and how anything at all that we might want is possible, if only we can imagine it.

Wind

We got our first taste of the big bad Patagonia wind today, on our trek to Laguna Torre. Coming up over the final mounds of boulders upon the glacial lake that was our destination it suddenly picked up something fierce and we spent lunch hunkered behind a makeshift wall of stones we found stacked there, munching on avocado and cheese sandwhiches and watching a bird repeatedly attempt to fly against it, to absolutely no avail. In his introduction to Chatwins In Patagonia, Nicholas Shakespeare notes this:

You know you are in Patagonia when you see rodados patagonicos, the basalt pebbles left behind by glaciers, and the jarilla, the low bush that is its dominant flora. Patagonia may also be described by its climate. The wind that blows with terrible force from October to March - in Chatwins expression, [stripping men raw] - made Antoine de Saint-Exuperys plane fly backwards instead of forward.

But my favorite excerpt from the book is Chatwins own which reading again now that I am here sums up this place perfectly. It is from a letter to his wife that he wrote while here in 1976:

On no previous journey am I conscious of having done more. Patagonia is as I expected but more so, inspiring violent bouts of love and hate. Physically it is magnificent, a series of graded steps or barricas which are the cliff lines of prehistoric seas and unusually full of fossilised oyster shells... In the east, you suddenly confront the great wall of the cordillera with bright turquoise lakes (some are milky white and others a pale jade green) with unbelievable colors to the rocks. Sometimes it seems that the Almightly has been playing at making Napolitan ice cream.

Now that we have tasted of this wind, Staci Jon and I feel a little less naive about what potentially (most likely, inevitably) awaits in Torre del Paine. Also, having hiked a 15 miles to Fitz Roy then 9 miles to Laguna Torre the next day, we feel we have built up some good physical stamina. So there are no illusions here and we like to believe being in El Chalten has helped us get a bit more mentally prepared. But today, we will be sitting on buses all day making our way back to Puerto Natales and looking forward to the rest.

Patagonia - Day 1 - 4

Coming upon the end of Day 4 in Patagonia. In El Chalten to be exact, where we just spent the day on our very first trek to Glacieres Los Tres to see the most spectacular, most highly recommended view of Mount Fitz Roy.

We had very good weather, the first very sunny, aprx 60 degree day. Set out at 9:30 am for the trailhead straight from our little backpacking hostel, La Rancho Grande. Perfect T shirt weather. Words cannot describe how spectacular it is here, the granite, snowcapped peaks, the rapidly changing vistas from lakes to glaciers to desert scrub, the wide open, most expansive skies I have ever seen, the amazing scents of earth and wind, then everything together the most intense, most spectacular of combinations. I am taking loads of pictures, trying hoping to convey what it is I am seeing, even Macchu Piccu not this intense, not this consistently heart pacingly exhilirating.

Tomorrow we do another recommended day hike, to Mount Torre. Days here so long, the sunlight lasts till about 9 pm so no worries about running out of time. But it adds to the trippiness of the ageless landscape. The sun so bright, the sky so blue at such unexpected times and you are on a perpetual sun-induced high, despite any physical exertion and fatigue. Coupled by the mental trippiness of so much expansivenss of space all around. So it is like jetlag on acid (yes, like I know).

So yes so far, Staci Jon and I are having an amazing time. And today she had a pretty special birthday with the Fitz Roy trek. We are dorming it at the hostel and she has the top bunk, sweet girl. And today twas was so nice to get out. Been sitting on our asses (mostly) since meeting on our flight from Santiago because Patagonia bus rides are so very long: first Punta Arenas - Puerto Natales (4 hours), then Puerto Natales - El Calafate (aprx 6 hrs plus Chile/Argentinia border control), then El Calafate - El Chalten (about 3 hours). We were so excited to wake up today, don our fabulous pleated hiking pants, and actually TREK. Friday, we head at last to Torres del Paine and will stay at refugios along the way + 1 night tent camping. Supposed to be one of the most spectular hikes in the world, we are praying praying the weather will be kind to us. El Chalten a good omen so far.

Love love love (and happiness) from Patagonia, Karen
(Tuesday, 11/24 10:16 pm)