Calafate and Chalten, a set on Flickr.
whirlwind tour of Perito Moreno Glacier and a couple gorgeous days with Fitz Roy/Cerro Torre
Sunday, January 1, 2012
to be a law abiding tourist I must go to Argentina
My second trip to Torres Del Paine ended on a wonderful note. I had no idea at the time that it would be the last time that I, or anyone, would see the park like that. Less than two weeks later, a large portion of the park was consumed in a man-made fire. This served as a reminder to me how special this trip really is, how blessed I am to get to be here...there is no guarantee of a second chance and right now is the moment that matters.
After I returned from my second visit, I walked in the door of Erratic Rock and was welcomed home. I took a day to wash clothes and repack my bag before heading out one more time. This time I was going to be gone for nearly a week. I was crossing the border to Argentina. First stop would be Calafate and after spending the spending the night there, I would be making my way on to El Chalten. My desire to go to these places was two-fold: I wanted to see Perito Moreno Glacier and Fitz Roy Mountain, and I needed to cross the border because my visa in Chile was about to expire. I couldn't believe it, but I was coming up on 3 months here in Chile and the law required that I had to leave. I could come back, but first I had to leave. So, to be a law abiding tourist, I went to Argentina.
I couldn't of had better weather. I have been told that this season in Patagonia has been totally unusual. There has been lots of sun and the very little rain. For tourism it has been great and has given tons of people the opportunity to see mountain peaks normally hidden in clouds. With the exception of a few hours of rain the very first day, the weather was absolutely agreeable. A few high clouds, deep blue skies and dramatic sunsets followed me along my journey.
Another part of my added bonus to working in the hostel was that Bill knows people and can get you deals sometimes. So I got a free bus ride to Calafate, a tour of Perito Moreno Glacier and 2 free nights in a hostel in Calafate. All said and done this would have cost me a pretty penny, but I paid my way through doing dishes and cooking lunches, dinners and breakfasts. In the end, I feel as if I am still getting the better end of this deal. But he offered, and I very gratefully accepted.
It was weird though, the whole being on a tour thing. I forgot how much I kind of hate tours. I don't like having someone tell me what I should find interesting and for how long. That was the one downside. Perito Moreno glacier is amazing. The observation terraces are set up so close it feels like you can reach out and touch the ice. You don't have to wait long, and you will hear the crash of ice as it calves..if you're lucky you might get to see some too. Unfortunately you are on a timeline and you share the view with crowds of other tourists pushing and shoving to get in front. I recognize that I am a tourist...but I'm not the loud, shoving kind. Before I knew it the driver was back and he was telling me that we had to go. My time at the glacier was up. I took in the view one last time before piling back into the van. At least I was staying the night in the town, the following day I would keep on toward el Chalten, but the rest of these poor chaps were going back to Natales in the same day. Yuck.
I barely slept that night. I can't complain, I was staying for free...but I was couchsurfing in the common space in a hostel that had a bar with music until around 4 am and breakfast set up began at 6. I had the early morning bus anyway, so I figured I would just sleep on the way to El Chalten. It was a couple hour ride. I considered it my power nap.
I woke up to see the Fitz Roy in the distance. It was wearing a cloud hat but, still, there it was. It was a pretty day, that was warm enough with big puffy clouds. Camping in the park is free. No point in paying to sleep in hostel when the trails are right there, the campgrounds are well located and my gear is waiting to be used. So I got off the bus and started my first hike. They are easy trails, nothing too steep and really easy to follow. The views are beautiful and did remind me of Torres del Paine on a smaller scale. I set up camp the first day so I could get up to the lookout for Fitz Roy in the morning. It also allowed me to watch the clouds shift long enough to see the peak of it when they broke. It was a quick hike up to the lookout in the morning, and worth the effort. It was hours before I saw any other day hikers and by then I was well on my way to my next campsite.
The following day I moved camp to the base of Cerro Torre. It didn't take too long to get there so I had the whole day to enjoy the view of the towers, the glacier and the lake. I was sitting there admiring the view when a young guy asked me if he could sit next to me and offered me matte. But of course. So the two of us sat there together, drinking matte until the hot water ran out, swapping stories and taking in the afternoon. His name was Gaston, and he was a chef in town. He was originally from Buenos Aires and came out to El Chalten on an invitation from his friend who opened a restaurant in town. It was his day off, and he liked to get on the trails on his free days. But eventually it started to get late and he needed to being the 2 hour walk back to town. Before he left he insisted that I come to the restaurant the following day. It was an invitations that I simply couldn't refuse.
Coming down from the trail that third day was tough. It was a perfect clear blue sky and all the mountains were out in their full glory. I had a met a sweet family in the campground and had been quasi-adopted by them. A husband, wife and their 13yr old son were taking a 2 month trip through patagonia. How cool is that?! They were a great family and before we said goodbye I gave them a bunch of information for when they got to Natales. Maybe I have started to assimilate into the Chilean culture, because I felt like they really were family by the time a day had passed, and it was a wonderful treat to see them and chat with them when they got into the hostel a few days later. Either way, that afternoon when I was heading into town to find a place to stay, I passed right by La Tapera, the restaurant where Gaston works. I saw him vigorously waving at me through the window and told me to wait for him. He rushed outside and asked me if I was coming to eat. I missed lunch, which is when he was expecting me, so he told me to come back for dinner, an early dinner at 6. That would be a normal time for me to have dinner back home, but down here, that will earn you some crazy looks from people. Dinner here is normally after 8 or 9 at night. But he was inviting me and he wanted to be able to chat a bit before the actual paying patrons came in.
I am still thinking about that dinner. I was told I could order anything on the menu, but I gave it back to him and just told him to make his favorite thing. That may have been the best decision I have made in a really long time. He disappeared for a while and came back with a culinary masterpiece: beet crepe filled with pumpkin, tomato, garlic cream, mozzarella and then covered in Roquefort. I may of had an affair with that meal, and was lost for a moment in a purely sensual experience, taste, smell, sight, texture...euphoria. Its been weeks, and I am still thinking about it. I thanked my chef friend and promised to send EVERYONE to the restaurant. I have kept my word. If it was easier to get to I would have gone back half a dozen times by now.
My last day in El Chalten I awoke to another perfect day. I got up to do my last day-hike. This is not a town of early risers and like the days before it was hours before I saw another face. From the top of the lookout I got a clear view of Fitz Roy, Cerro Torre with the glacier and lake, and the sweeping valley below until it met Lago Argentina. Once I saw the line of people making their way up from the town I figured it was best to go and protect the sanctity of this place at least in my mind. I have discovered that more often than not, I prefer solitude. It's not that I dislike people...ok, well, maybe a little, but so many people seem to lack basic respect for these pristine places and my attention goes to them instead of the beauty that surrounds me. I'd had such a nice morning and afternoon, it just made sense to head down before the crowds.
It was almost like watching my life in rewind: back on the bus, doze to El Calafate, not sleep on a hostel couch with bar music playing, back on early bus, cross border...Natales.
I walked in the door to Erratic Rock.
"Welcome home, kiddo!"
Yeah, it's good to be back. Especially since I don't have to worry about getting deported.
After I returned from my second visit, I walked in the door of Erratic Rock and was welcomed home. I took a day to wash clothes and repack my bag before heading out one more time. This time I was going to be gone for nearly a week. I was crossing the border to Argentina. First stop would be Calafate and after spending the spending the night there, I would be making my way on to El Chalten. My desire to go to these places was two-fold: I wanted to see Perito Moreno Glacier and Fitz Roy Mountain, and I needed to cross the border because my visa in Chile was about to expire. I couldn't believe it, but I was coming up on 3 months here in Chile and the law required that I had to leave. I could come back, but first I had to leave. So, to be a law abiding tourist, I went to Argentina.
I couldn't of had better weather. I have been told that this season in Patagonia has been totally unusual. There has been lots of sun and the very little rain. For tourism it has been great and has given tons of people the opportunity to see mountain peaks normally hidden in clouds. With the exception of a few hours of rain the very first day, the weather was absolutely agreeable. A few high clouds, deep blue skies and dramatic sunsets followed me along my journey.
Another part of my added bonus to working in the hostel was that Bill knows people and can get you deals sometimes. So I got a free bus ride to Calafate, a tour of Perito Moreno Glacier and 2 free nights in a hostel in Calafate. All said and done this would have cost me a pretty penny, but I paid my way through doing dishes and cooking lunches, dinners and breakfasts. In the end, I feel as if I am still getting the better end of this deal. But he offered, and I very gratefully accepted.
It was weird though, the whole being on a tour thing. I forgot how much I kind of hate tours. I don't like having someone tell me what I should find interesting and for how long. That was the one downside. Perito Moreno glacier is amazing. The observation terraces are set up so close it feels like you can reach out and touch the ice. You don't have to wait long, and you will hear the crash of ice as it calves..if you're lucky you might get to see some too. Unfortunately you are on a timeline and you share the view with crowds of other tourists pushing and shoving to get in front. I recognize that I am a tourist...but I'm not the loud, shoving kind. Before I knew it the driver was back and he was telling me that we had to go. My time at the glacier was up. I took in the view one last time before piling back into the van. At least I was staying the night in the town, the following day I would keep on toward el Chalten, but the rest of these poor chaps were going back to Natales in the same day. Yuck.
I barely slept that night. I can't complain, I was staying for free...but I was couchsurfing in the common space in a hostel that had a bar with music until around 4 am and breakfast set up began at 6. I had the early morning bus anyway, so I figured I would just sleep on the way to El Chalten. It was a couple hour ride. I considered it my power nap.
I woke up to see the Fitz Roy in the distance. It was wearing a cloud hat but, still, there it was. It was a pretty day, that was warm enough with big puffy clouds. Camping in the park is free. No point in paying to sleep in hostel when the trails are right there, the campgrounds are well located and my gear is waiting to be used. So I got off the bus and started my first hike. They are easy trails, nothing too steep and really easy to follow. The views are beautiful and did remind me of Torres del Paine on a smaller scale. I set up camp the first day so I could get up to the lookout for Fitz Roy in the morning. It also allowed me to watch the clouds shift long enough to see the peak of it when they broke. It was a quick hike up to the lookout in the morning, and worth the effort. It was hours before I saw any other day hikers and by then I was well on my way to my next campsite.
The following day I moved camp to the base of Cerro Torre. It didn't take too long to get there so I had the whole day to enjoy the view of the towers, the glacier and the lake. I was sitting there admiring the view when a young guy asked me if he could sit next to me and offered me matte. But of course. So the two of us sat there together, drinking matte until the hot water ran out, swapping stories and taking in the afternoon. His name was Gaston, and he was a chef in town. He was originally from Buenos Aires and came out to El Chalten on an invitation from his friend who opened a restaurant in town. It was his day off, and he liked to get on the trails on his free days. But eventually it started to get late and he needed to being the 2 hour walk back to town. Before he left he insisted that I come to the restaurant the following day. It was an invitations that I simply couldn't refuse.
Coming down from the trail that third day was tough. It was a perfect clear blue sky and all the mountains were out in their full glory. I had a met a sweet family in the campground and had been quasi-adopted by them. A husband, wife and their 13yr old son were taking a 2 month trip through patagonia. How cool is that?! They were a great family and before we said goodbye I gave them a bunch of information for when they got to Natales. Maybe I have started to assimilate into the Chilean culture, because I felt like they really were family by the time a day had passed, and it was a wonderful treat to see them and chat with them when they got into the hostel a few days later. Either way, that afternoon when I was heading into town to find a place to stay, I passed right by La Tapera, the restaurant where Gaston works. I saw him vigorously waving at me through the window and told me to wait for him. He rushed outside and asked me if I was coming to eat. I missed lunch, which is when he was expecting me, so he told me to come back for dinner, an early dinner at 6. That would be a normal time for me to have dinner back home, but down here, that will earn you some crazy looks from people. Dinner here is normally after 8 or 9 at night. But he was inviting me and he wanted to be able to chat a bit before the actual paying patrons came in.
I am still thinking about that dinner. I was told I could order anything on the menu, but I gave it back to him and just told him to make his favorite thing. That may have been the best decision I have made in a really long time. He disappeared for a while and came back with a culinary masterpiece: beet crepe filled with pumpkin, tomato, garlic cream, mozzarella and then covered in Roquefort. I may of had an affair with that meal, and was lost for a moment in a purely sensual experience, taste, smell, sight, texture...euphoria. Its been weeks, and I am still thinking about it. I thanked my chef friend and promised to send EVERYONE to the restaurant. I have kept my word. If it was easier to get to I would have gone back half a dozen times by now.
My last day in El Chalten I awoke to another perfect day. I got up to do my last day-hike. This is not a town of early risers and like the days before it was hours before I saw another face. From the top of the lookout I got a clear view of Fitz Roy, Cerro Torre with the glacier and lake, and the sweeping valley below until it met Lago Argentina. Once I saw the line of people making their way up from the town I figured it was best to go and protect the sanctity of this place at least in my mind. I have discovered that more often than not, I prefer solitude. It's not that I dislike people...ok, well, maybe a little, but so many people seem to lack basic respect for these pristine places and my attention goes to them instead of the beauty that surrounds me. I'd had such a nice morning and afternoon, it just made sense to head down before the crowds.
It was almost like watching my life in rewind: back on the bus, doze to El Calafate, not sleep on a hostel couch with bar music playing, back on early bus, cross border...Natales.
I walked in the door to Erratic Rock.
"Welcome home, kiddo!"
Yeah, it's good to be back. Especially since I don't have to worry about getting deported.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Fire in the park
Fire in the park, a set on Flickr.
the pictures i took from the first day. sadly it has gotten much, much worse. the view in the foreground in all of these pictures has now been consumed by the fire.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
A call to action
A call to action
It's with a heaviness in my heart and a saddness in my soul that I write this entry. Torres del Paine is burning. It's an act of recklessness, selfishness and stupidity. No fires are allowed in the park, it's one of the few rules to protect this incredible place. Anyone who has been here knows why, the winds in Patagonia are a force unto themselves. But a group of people thought this rule didn't apply to them. With a mixture of despair and anger I watched thick red/brown clouds spill over the ridges and fill the whole valley with smoke...and i cried.
It was just luck that I was able to get back to the park. My friend Mauricio is a guide and had some clients coming in and he invited me to tag along under the title of his assistant. Yesterday went fine, and I was able to visit parts of the park I had not seen before.
Sadly, today we woke up to the news that there is a fire in the park and the circuit is closed, the w is closed and they are trying to evacuate the park. We were on different trails off the main circuit and could see the smoke like a haze over the base of Paine Grande and the curenos. When we arrived at the trail head he was stopped by some of his friends that are rangers here and they asked for his help to fight the fires. He knows the park well and has fought fires before. He agreed and asked me to do him a favor. Of course I agreed, anything I can do to help.
He asked me to lead the clients on two small hikes so he could go help the firefighters and guide them through back routes to where they need to be. With a fierceness in his face he told me: I have to go. It's like watching my house burn. I can't just stay here and do nothing. They need my help and I can help. I have to go, will you do this for me?
If my heart felt like it was breaking I can't imagine how he must have felt. I fell in love with this place and am just barely getting to know it. He has invested years of his life here. If there is anything I can do, without a doubt I will do it. So I led the treks while he ran off with the firefighters.
The fire started somewhere between guardos and grey, in the old-growth forests that borders magnificent Glacier Grey. This part of the park is home to the elusive Huemules, foxes and a rich blanket of flora specific to the bosque.
I believe in the power of the collective. I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that the thoughts, prayers, vibrations, words, actions of one individual can make a profound impact...and that impact is magnified within our families, friends and communities.
I am asking you all to do your part and collectively we can hold in our consciousness the safety and well-being of all of those who rushed in to fight the fire and for a quick and harmonious end to it.
I saw young men, old men, military personnel, park rangers, gauchos and guides leave everything behind and in a moment load up horses, on foot, in cars and boats to reach the beginnings of the blaze and to battle it. This is their home. This is their prize. This is their livelihood and they are struggling to save it.
Friends I have met in my time here in Natales and in the park are there. I hold them and their families wrapped so firm in loving thought and ask you to do the same.
It's at times like this that we all are forced to remember that we are the caretakers of this world. It is an incredible responsibility. Our actions do make a difference...for better or worse. Let us now do our part to try and support those who need it in any way we can.
This is my prayer: to know that love is the force at work. To know that strength, courage and wisdom are guiding the men who face this fire. To know that this can and will be resolved quickly, harmoniously and without loss of life. With hope and faith...I pray.
It's with a heaviness in my heart and a saddness in my soul that I write this entry. Torres del Paine is burning. It's an act of recklessness, selfishness and stupidity. No fires are allowed in the park, it's one of the few rules to protect this incredible place. Anyone who has been here knows why, the winds in Patagonia are a force unto themselves. But a group of people thought this rule didn't apply to them. With a mixture of despair and anger I watched thick red/brown clouds spill over the ridges and fill the whole valley with smoke...and i cried.
It was just luck that I was able to get back to the park. My friend Mauricio is a guide and had some clients coming in and he invited me to tag along under the title of his assistant. Yesterday went fine, and I was able to visit parts of the park I had not seen before.
Sadly, today we woke up to the news that there is a fire in the park and the circuit is closed, the w is closed and they are trying to evacuate the park. We were on different trails off the main circuit and could see the smoke like a haze over the base of Paine Grande and the curenos. When we arrived at the trail head he was stopped by some of his friends that are rangers here and they asked for his help to fight the fires. He knows the park well and has fought fires before. He agreed and asked me to do him a favor. Of course I agreed, anything I can do to help.
He asked me to lead the clients on two small hikes so he could go help the firefighters and guide them through back routes to where they need to be. With a fierceness in his face he told me: I have to go. It's like watching my house burn. I can't just stay here and do nothing. They need my help and I can help. I have to go, will you do this for me?
If my heart felt like it was breaking I can't imagine how he must have felt. I fell in love with this place and am just barely getting to know it. He has invested years of his life here. If there is anything I can do, without a doubt I will do it. So I led the treks while he ran off with the firefighters.
The fire started somewhere between guardos and grey, in the old-growth forests that borders magnificent Glacier Grey. This part of the park is home to the elusive Huemules, foxes and a rich blanket of flora specific to the bosque.
I believe in the power of the collective. I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that the thoughts, prayers, vibrations, words, actions of one individual can make a profound impact...and that impact is magnified within our families, friends and communities.
I am asking you all to do your part and collectively we can hold in our consciousness the safety and well-being of all of those who rushed in to fight the fire and for a quick and harmonious end to it.
I saw young men, old men, military personnel, park rangers, gauchos and guides leave everything behind and in a moment load up horses, on foot, in cars and boats to reach the beginnings of the blaze and to battle it. This is their home. This is their prize. This is their livelihood and they are struggling to save it.
Friends I have met in my time here in Natales and in the park are there. I hold them and their families wrapped so firm in loving thought and ask you to do the same.
It's at times like this that we all are forced to remember that we are the caretakers of this world. It is an incredible responsibility. Our actions do make a difference...for better or worse. Let us now do our part to try and support those who need it in any way we can.
This is my prayer: to know that love is the force at work. To know that strength, courage and wisdom are guiding the men who face this fire. To know that this can and will be resolved quickly, harmoniously and without loss of life. With hope and faith...I pray.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Making peace with Torres Del Paine
I have never experienced childbirth (other than my personal entry into this world), but have been told that it is one of God's greatest miracles. Apparently, the mother soon after experiencing the pain and trauma quickly forgets and is ready to endure the process once more. If it weren't for this lapse in sanity and memory the human species would have ceased to exist long, long ago.
I think Torres Del Paine was my practice run at childbirth. When I was going through it, there were times I could think of nothing more than getting out of it and of course by then it's too late. Clearly there were times that I was overjoyed and in my euphoria fell in love with the park, almost giddy with the beauty of it. I had my moments of trial and told myself that I would go back and make peace. I knew that I would be spending a decent amount of time here in Puerto Natales and would have a chance or two to get back. But the way I hobbled out of there with Robert, I figured it would be weeks before the thought would genuinely cross my mind again.
Wouldn't you know it? I was wrong. It was only a matter of days before I was itching to get back. I was in the hostel talking to all the new groups of faces coming and going. I was answering questions about the park, selling tickets to get them there, recommending routes, storing gear...it was non-stop, absolutely relentless, park, park, park, park, park. The weather was all of a sudden perfect. I mean, not a cloud in the sky, a nice cool breeze, postcard perfect. People were coming back sun-burned! I kept hearing that the weather was totally unusual, and that guides have never seen anything like this. Before I knew it, I was scheming ways to get back. I was eating, drinking, sleeping, and cooking with plans of the park milling in my mind. I had to get back. It was like that itch you aren't supposed to scratch...but it would feel so good!
Bill had left town for a couple days. Julie had left to go to the park with her sister and some friends. I was there by myself, having a blast at the hostel, but looking with longing out the window at those clear blue skies and wondered what the French Valley must look like on a day like this. I never got to see it with Robert, and even if the weather had been clear, with the funk I was in, I'm not sure it would have mattered.
When Bill came back he told me that I should take advantage of this weather and head back into the park to see the valley. I didn't give him long enough to think about what he said, agreed and ran out the door to stock up on food. The following morning I would be on the 7:30 bus to the park for at least 3 days maybe 4. I was like a little kid packing my backpack to go back. It was like I had completely forgotten about the moment where I wanted to cry and cursed myself for agreeing to go in the first place. All I could remember was the beauty of the place; the burning, the pain, the cold...that was some distant inkling of some experience a long time ago. It couldn't have been THAT difficult, I was just being dramatic.
Morning came and I flew out of bed. My bag was packed the night before, I ate my hearty breakfast, and was waiting for the bus to come. Here it comes! I waved goodbye and skipped out the front door with a cheeseball grin plastered on my face. I scanned the sky and noticed that there were some clouds in the distance...but nothing too serious. I also noticed that there was a bit of breeze. I shrugged it off...it'll be fine I told myself. It will be perfect.
Oh silly rabbit. Fast forward 2.5 hours.
I'm walking down the trail, the wind is getting stronger, it's a little chilly and it's starting to rain. It's fine, I tell myself. It will be fine. The weather will change and it will be beautiful.
Fast forward 1 hour.
I'm still walking down the trail, the wind is something out of hell, it's miserable cold, it's heavily raining, my clothes and shoes are completely soaked and water squishes out when I step...and I still have at least 3 more hours to go before I get to the first camp. I am alone, so I can't even complain to anyone. Yeah, this pretty much blows. What the hell was I thinking?! There is a line from Forrest Gump when he is in Vietnam that kept playing in my head: "a little bit of stinging rain, big 'ol fat ran, rain that flew in sideways, and rain that seemed to come up from underneath." It actually hurt to get hit with this stuff. With the power of the wind behind it, it felt like little rocks pelting my face.
So there I was, just like I wanted...but not. I spent days thinking about coming back, then I got there, and was already trying to figure out how to get out! Isn't that just the way things always go?
I picked up the pace. I just wanted to get to a camp and figure out what I was going to do. My original plan was to hike all the way from the administration to Campamento Italiano...but with the weather I was considering stopping at Paine Grande. I was wondering how in the world I was going to set up my tent alone in that wind. The rain was annoying, but the wind was enough to blow me over, how was I supposed to set up my tent?! I kept looking up the sky to see if there was a break in sight. There was nothing...just a blanket of grey with no end. Shit! Why did I want to do this again?!
The view along this path is supposed to be amazing. But every time I looked up all I got was smacked in the face with stinging rain. Super. Really, this is just fantastic.
Then, just like typical Patagonia, the rain stopped. The clouds were still there, but at least the rain stopped and the wind was turned down about 4 notches. I stole a glance from my hooded jacket to see if I could see anything. Nope...those might be mountains, but I can't tell. Head down, keep walking.
It got lighter. I looked up. HOLY MOTHER OF LUCIFER! BAM!! There are the Cuernos. I stopped dead in my tracks, my arms went limp, my jaw dropped and eventually the corners of my lips turned up creating that thing called a smile. So that's what I was walking toward. Wow. I forgot all about the wet and the cold. I forgot about my plans of retreat. I was staring in wonder at this amazing thing in front of me.
The trail was almost to the mirador (lookout) of the infamous Cuernos, Paine Grande, and Lago Pehoe. Parts of Paine Grande were still covered in clouds but they were rolling and changing form so fast I could see what was below them. Lago Pehoe was more incredible than I remembered. The blue of it, it seems fake. If I could pull out a 150color crayon box I'd find this color blue labeled Caribbean Turquoise and even that wouldn't do it justice because it looks like the light is coming from within, like this lake glows.
I took an obscene amount of pictures of the water, of the Cuernos, of Paine Grande in its changing cloud jacket (unfortunately I lost all these pictures so I can't upload them to share). I kept walking and felt almost renewed...the wind had picked up a bit, but I didn't mind, it helped my clothes dry a bit faster. Actually, my pants were almost dry again. My shoes, well, there was no helping them, but slowly I was beginning to thaw. The rain wouldn't make up its mind, and the sky would spit rain and stop, spit rain and stop, just enough to keep me wondering. But in all its indecisiveness I could see the sun. Maybe this day will turn out alright.
By the time I got Paine Grande I was ready for a break. I had been walking for 4.5 hours and could use a snack. I picked a nice spot with a view of the lake, took off my shoes, wrung out my socks and insoles and laid them out to dry. I took a look at my toes; they were all white and pruney. Yuck. Let's leave those out to dry too. I took off all my outer layers and spread them out on the grass and bushes for the sun and wind to dry them. Out came the trail mix and the kindle. Why not just sit here for a while and enjoy the break.
It was a bit shorter than I anticipated. The sky started that spitting rain thing again and I figured I should just get to camp and set up in case the weather turns really foul again. So I put back on my wet socks and slid the wet insoles back in my boots, re-layered with my damp clothes and kept on.
It's amazing how much I didn't remember from my first time walking this trail. If I didn't know any better I would say that I had never been there before. There are glaciers there? There are waterfalls there? There are Cuernos there? No way?! I had no idea. Given my mental state last time I walked this path and the fact that it was raining and completely hidden in clouds it's no wonder I didn't recognize the trail until I got to that bridge. I remembered that bridge. I remembered that bridge well. Last time we met I knew it signaled camp. It meant the end of walking for the day. It meant rest. It was an emotional meeting, me and that bridge. But this time when I was walking across it I could see the beginnings of what made the "French Valley" and I was praying for a clear day the next day. This, I could tell, was something spectacular.
I set up camp quickly, fetched water, and started my stove to make dinner. It was raining again. Just finish cooking and then crawl in the tent to eat...and well, go to sleep I guess.
Female Stranger: "Hola. ¿Estas sola?"
Me: "Si." nodding my head.
Female Stanger: "¿Completemente sola?"
Me: "Si." still nodding my head
Female Stranger: "¿Estas cocinando? Quieres cenar con nosotros? Vale, venga, siente aquí con nosotros. Hay espacio. Venga." motioning me over.
Me: "Ok, déjame un segundo para terminar calentando esto, y me voy."
And this is how it starts. I make 3 new friends that night. They are a group, 2 guys and 1 girl from Puerto Montt in Chile. They are doing the W-trek together and saw a girl sitting alone and their Chilean hospitality just couldn't let that happen. They tried to feed me, offer me coffee, tea, dessert. They gave me a blanket to use and served me up dessert even though I declined the offer. The blanket was amazing and the dessert was nice too. They were just curious about me and wanted to know all kinds of things. What was I doing? Where was I going? Why was I alone? Where had I been? Why was I there? Where was I from? What is that like? How do I like Chile? We were only a couple questions in and then it got really cold. Clearly the only logical thing for us to do, was for all 4 us to crawl into one of their 2-person tents, sit cross-legged, share some blankets and continue the conversation. This is what I love about Chile. This is what I love about this culture. Instantly you are welcomed and instantly you are part of the family. It's a wonderful thing. Before I knew it, it was 11pm and I wanted to get up early the next morning to start the hike. So I said goodnight, and walked the few paced to my own tent.
The wind howled. It shook the trees. Giant chunks of ice would fall off the glacier in the valley and avalanches would roll down the rock face. I heard the drops of rain hitting like pellets on my fly. I would wake up and listen. Damn it sounds nasty out there. I dozed off again.
Morning came, and I unzipped my fly to find the most glorious morning.
I was almost in a frenzy packing my backpack for the day. I wanted to eat breakfast and get on the trail as quickly as possible. If there is anything I’ve learned down here is that nothing lasts as far as the weather is concerned, and I wanted to take full advantage of this day. So I loaded up my backpack with food, water, snacks, my kindle, layers of clothes and my camera. My Chilean friends were slow to get moving so we said goodbye and I thanked them for everything before heading up the trail.
I made peace with that valley within moments of seeing it. No wonder this is so many people’s favorite part. You pass by a powerful river that is fed from a glacier hanging from a sheer rock face. On the other side is the dramatic view of the two-toned Cuernos. Keep walking up the trail and you pass through bosque (forest), high lakes, pampa (grassland), and then finally walk up to a rock valley that is completely surrounded with dramatic rock towers. On the way down the trail you have a sweeping view of the lower valley including Lago Nordenskjold. I spent the whole day up there. I took a nap and would wake up sporadically to see that the light had changed on the towers, smile to myself and doze back off. The only sound was the wind in the tall grass at my feet, the constant flow of water on rocks and the occasional call of birds.
I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be, so I just enjoyed every second of being there. I was blessed because the weather didn’t change, it stayed perfect all day. A thin layer of high clouds created interest behind Paine Grande and I watched them shift. The sun was strong and the afternoon shadows created drama in the Cuernos, exaggerating the depths of the cracks in the rocks and ice. Eventually I decided it would be wise to make my way down. The sun was sinking low in the sky and it would get cold. I had eaten everything I brought up with me and dinner was waiting for me at camp. Whatever challenge I’d had with trek was now definitely of a thing of the past. All I had for it was love and respect. What a wonderful place. How could I ever not love it?
The next morning I packed up camp and walked back to Lodge Paine Grande. I was debating catching the noon catamaran or the 6:30pm one. If I took the noon catamaran then I would have time to do another hike with a view of the Cuernos from across Lago Nordenskjold before having to catch the last bus to town. If I took the 6:30 then I would be able to hike the trail partially back to administration and see what that trail looks like on a clear day. I was torn.
I thought I would make a run for it. If I was lucky I would be able to get far enough down the trail to see the view of the valley AND make it back in time to catch the noon catamaran. I left my backpack at the lodge and just took some water with me and started a steady trot down the path. It is so easy to run without a backpack on. Patagonia may just make a runner out of me. I imagine a decent pair of shoes would only make it that much better. I kept my eye on my watch and realized when I was a good distance away that I still had a bit further to go and there was no way that I would be able to make it all the way there and back in time. So I did the only logical thing...I sat down in the middle of the field and looked all around me and laughed. All of this was here all along and I never knew it. I never saw it. I was too wrapped up in being wet and cold and pissed off…and all this incredible stuff was happening just behind the clouds.
After a nice long rest, I slowly started walking back to the lodge. On the way I stopped to watch 3 condors. They were way off in the distance and were making their way towards me. I watched them disappear behind a ridge next to me and thought nothing of it. Then all of a sudden I heard this WHOOSH, WHOOSH like an airplane overhead. I looked up and it was the condors! They flew right over me, maybe 15-20ft overhead. They are huge! I had never seen them that close before. Then they all three landed on a rock maybe 30ft away. The 4 of us just stared at each other. That lasted probably 15 minutes or so until they were scared off by someone coming the other way on the trail. I took it as my hint to keep hiking too and watched the condors until they were little specks in the distance before heading back to the lodge.
I had a couple hours to kill before the catamaran. Lucky for me I had my kindle handy and set up a little nest for myself in the grass with a stellar view of Lago Pehoe with its surreal blue waters and read. Before I knew it, it was time to board the boat. From the deck of the boat I watched the Cuernos, the French Valley and the dramatic peak of Paine Grande change color in the early evening sun. These last two days were too perfect. Is this place real? Is this just a dream?
It was with a little bit of sadness that I looked out at those beautiful forms across the lake. I was well aware that this might be the last time I get to see them before I have to carry on with the trip and make my way out of Patagonia. But at least we made peace. We made things right between us. The remnants of hard feelings had melted away with the sun and dusted off with the cool breeze. Looking across that lake, I tried to sort out the emotions that simmered inside. It's a combination that is hard to peg: blessed, reborn, empowered, humbled and so, so grateful.
I think Torres Del Paine was my practice run at childbirth. When I was going through it, there were times I could think of nothing more than getting out of it and of course by then it's too late. Clearly there were times that I was overjoyed and in my euphoria fell in love with the park, almost giddy with the beauty of it. I had my moments of trial and told myself that I would go back and make peace. I knew that I would be spending a decent amount of time here in Puerto Natales and would have a chance or two to get back. But the way I hobbled out of there with Robert, I figured it would be weeks before the thought would genuinely cross my mind again.
Wouldn't you know it? I was wrong. It was only a matter of days before I was itching to get back. I was in the hostel talking to all the new groups of faces coming and going. I was answering questions about the park, selling tickets to get them there, recommending routes, storing gear...it was non-stop, absolutely relentless, park, park, park, park, park. The weather was all of a sudden perfect. I mean, not a cloud in the sky, a nice cool breeze, postcard perfect. People were coming back sun-burned! I kept hearing that the weather was totally unusual, and that guides have never seen anything like this. Before I knew it, I was scheming ways to get back. I was eating, drinking, sleeping, and cooking with plans of the park milling in my mind. I had to get back. It was like that itch you aren't supposed to scratch...but it would feel so good!
Bill had left town for a couple days. Julie had left to go to the park with her sister and some friends. I was there by myself, having a blast at the hostel, but looking with longing out the window at those clear blue skies and wondered what the French Valley must look like on a day like this. I never got to see it with Robert, and even if the weather had been clear, with the funk I was in, I'm not sure it would have mattered.
When Bill came back he told me that I should take advantage of this weather and head back into the park to see the valley. I didn't give him long enough to think about what he said, agreed and ran out the door to stock up on food. The following morning I would be on the 7:30 bus to the park for at least 3 days maybe 4. I was like a little kid packing my backpack to go back. It was like I had completely forgotten about the moment where I wanted to cry and cursed myself for agreeing to go in the first place. All I could remember was the beauty of the place; the burning, the pain, the cold...that was some distant inkling of some experience a long time ago. It couldn't have been THAT difficult, I was just being dramatic.
Morning came and I flew out of bed. My bag was packed the night before, I ate my hearty breakfast, and was waiting for the bus to come. Here it comes! I waved goodbye and skipped out the front door with a cheeseball grin plastered on my face. I scanned the sky and noticed that there were some clouds in the distance...but nothing too serious. I also noticed that there was a bit of breeze. I shrugged it off...it'll be fine I told myself. It will be perfect.
Oh silly rabbit. Fast forward 2.5 hours.
I'm walking down the trail, the wind is getting stronger, it's a little chilly and it's starting to rain. It's fine, I tell myself. It will be fine. The weather will change and it will be beautiful.
Fast forward 1 hour.
I'm still walking down the trail, the wind is something out of hell, it's miserable cold, it's heavily raining, my clothes and shoes are completely soaked and water squishes out when I step...and I still have at least 3 more hours to go before I get to the first camp. I am alone, so I can't even complain to anyone. Yeah, this pretty much blows. What the hell was I thinking?! There is a line from Forrest Gump when he is in Vietnam that kept playing in my head: "a little bit of stinging rain, big 'ol fat ran, rain that flew in sideways, and rain that seemed to come up from underneath." It actually hurt to get hit with this stuff. With the power of the wind behind it, it felt like little rocks pelting my face.
So there I was, just like I wanted...but not. I spent days thinking about coming back, then I got there, and was already trying to figure out how to get out! Isn't that just the way things always go?
I picked up the pace. I just wanted to get to a camp and figure out what I was going to do. My original plan was to hike all the way from the administration to Campamento Italiano...but with the weather I was considering stopping at Paine Grande. I was wondering how in the world I was going to set up my tent alone in that wind. The rain was annoying, but the wind was enough to blow me over, how was I supposed to set up my tent?! I kept looking up the sky to see if there was a break in sight. There was nothing...just a blanket of grey with no end. Shit! Why did I want to do this again?!
The view along this path is supposed to be amazing. But every time I looked up all I got was smacked in the face with stinging rain. Super. Really, this is just fantastic.
Then, just like typical Patagonia, the rain stopped. The clouds were still there, but at least the rain stopped and the wind was turned down about 4 notches. I stole a glance from my hooded jacket to see if I could see anything. Nope...those might be mountains, but I can't tell. Head down, keep walking.
It got lighter. I looked up. HOLY MOTHER OF LUCIFER! BAM!! There are the Cuernos. I stopped dead in my tracks, my arms went limp, my jaw dropped and eventually the corners of my lips turned up creating that thing called a smile. So that's what I was walking toward. Wow. I forgot all about the wet and the cold. I forgot about my plans of retreat. I was staring in wonder at this amazing thing in front of me.
The trail was almost to the mirador (lookout) of the infamous Cuernos, Paine Grande, and Lago Pehoe. Parts of Paine Grande were still covered in clouds but they were rolling and changing form so fast I could see what was below them. Lago Pehoe was more incredible than I remembered. The blue of it, it seems fake. If I could pull out a 150color crayon box I'd find this color blue labeled Caribbean Turquoise and even that wouldn't do it justice because it looks like the light is coming from within, like this lake glows.
I took an obscene amount of pictures of the water, of the Cuernos, of Paine Grande in its changing cloud jacket (unfortunately I lost all these pictures so I can't upload them to share). I kept walking and felt almost renewed...the wind had picked up a bit, but I didn't mind, it helped my clothes dry a bit faster. Actually, my pants were almost dry again. My shoes, well, there was no helping them, but slowly I was beginning to thaw. The rain wouldn't make up its mind, and the sky would spit rain and stop, spit rain and stop, just enough to keep me wondering. But in all its indecisiveness I could see the sun. Maybe this day will turn out alright.
By the time I got Paine Grande I was ready for a break. I had been walking for 4.5 hours and could use a snack. I picked a nice spot with a view of the lake, took off my shoes, wrung out my socks and insoles and laid them out to dry. I took a look at my toes; they were all white and pruney. Yuck. Let's leave those out to dry too. I took off all my outer layers and spread them out on the grass and bushes for the sun and wind to dry them. Out came the trail mix and the kindle. Why not just sit here for a while and enjoy the break.
It was a bit shorter than I anticipated. The sky started that spitting rain thing again and I figured I should just get to camp and set up in case the weather turns really foul again. So I put back on my wet socks and slid the wet insoles back in my boots, re-layered with my damp clothes and kept on.
It's amazing how much I didn't remember from my first time walking this trail. If I didn't know any better I would say that I had never been there before. There are glaciers there? There are waterfalls there? There are Cuernos there? No way?! I had no idea. Given my mental state last time I walked this path and the fact that it was raining and completely hidden in clouds it's no wonder I didn't recognize the trail until I got to that bridge. I remembered that bridge. I remembered that bridge well. Last time we met I knew it signaled camp. It meant the end of walking for the day. It meant rest. It was an emotional meeting, me and that bridge. But this time when I was walking across it I could see the beginnings of what made the "French Valley" and I was praying for a clear day the next day. This, I could tell, was something spectacular.
I set up camp quickly, fetched water, and started my stove to make dinner. It was raining again. Just finish cooking and then crawl in the tent to eat...and well, go to sleep I guess.
Female Stranger: "Hola. ¿Estas sola?"
Me: "Si." nodding my head.
Female Stanger: "¿Completemente sola?"
Me: "Si." still nodding my head
Female Stranger: "¿Estas cocinando? Quieres cenar con nosotros? Vale, venga, siente aquí con nosotros. Hay espacio. Venga." motioning me over.
Me: "Ok, déjame un segundo para terminar calentando esto, y me voy."
And this is how it starts. I make 3 new friends that night. They are a group, 2 guys and 1 girl from Puerto Montt in Chile. They are doing the W-trek together and saw a girl sitting alone and their Chilean hospitality just couldn't let that happen. They tried to feed me, offer me coffee, tea, dessert. They gave me a blanket to use and served me up dessert even though I declined the offer. The blanket was amazing and the dessert was nice too. They were just curious about me and wanted to know all kinds of things. What was I doing? Where was I going? Why was I alone? Where had I been? Why was I there? Where was I from? What is that like? How do I like Chile? We were only a couple questions in and then it got really cold. Clearly the only logical thing for us to do, was for all 4 us to crawl into one of their 2-person tents, sit cross-legged, share some blankets and continue the conversation. This is what I love about Chile. This is what I love about this culture. Instantly you are welcomed and instantly you are part of the family. It's a wonderful thing. Before I knew it, it was 11pm and I wanted to get up early the next morning to start the hike. So I said goodnight, and walked the few paced to my own tent.
The wind howled. It shook the trees. Giant chunks of ice would fall off the glacier in the valley and avalanches would roll down the rock face. I heard the drops of rain hitting like pellets on my fly. I would wake up and listen. Damn it sounds nasty out there. I dozed off again.
Morning came, and I unzipped my fly to find the most glorious morning.
I was almost in a frenzy packing my backpack for the day. I wanted to eat breakfast and get on the trail as quickly as possible. If there is anything I’ve learned down here is that nothing lasts as far as the weather is concerned, and I wanted to take full advantage of this day. So I loaded up my backpack with food, water, snacks, my kindle, layers of clothes and my camera. My Chilean friends were slow to get moving so we said goodbye and I thanked them for everything before heading up the trail.
I made peace with that valley within moments of seeing it. No wonder this is so many people’s favorite part. You pass by a powerful river that is fed from a glacier hanging from a sheer rock face. On the other side is the dramatic view of the two-toned Cuernos. Keep walking up the trail and you pass through bosque (forest), high lakes, pampa (grassland), and then finally walk up to a rock valley that is completely surrounded with dramatic rock towers. On the way down the trail you have a sweeping view of the lower valley including Lago Nordenskjold. I spent the whole day up there. I took a nap and would wake up sporadically to see that the light had changed on the towers, smile to myself and doze back off. The only sound was the wind in the tall grass at my feet, the constant flow of water on rocks and the occasional call of birds.
I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be, so I just enjoyed every second of being there. I was blessed because the weather didn’t change, it stayed perfect all day. A thin layer of high clouds created interest behind Paine Grande and I watched them shift. The sun was strong and the afternoon shadows created drama in the Cuernos, exaggerating the depths of the cracks in the rocks and ice. Eventually I decided it would be wise to make my way down. The sun was sinking low in the sky and it would get cold. I had eaten everything I brought up with me and dinner was waiting for me at camp. Whatever challenge I’d had with trek was now definitely of a thing of the past. All I had for it was love and respect. What a wonderful place. How could I ever not love it?
The next morning I packed up camp and walked back to Lodge Paine Grande. I was debating catching the noon catamaran or the 6:30pm one. If I took the noon catamaran then I would have time to do another hike with a view of the Cuernos from across Lago Nordenskjold before having to catch the last bus to town. If I took the 6:30 then I would be able to hike the trail partially back to administration and see what that trail looks like on a clear day. I was torn.
I thought I would make a run for it. If I was lucky I would be able to get far enough down the trail to see the view of the valley AND make it back in time to catch the noon catamaran. I left my backpack at the lodge and just took some water with me and started a steady trot down the path. It is so easy to run without a backpack on. Patagonia may just make a runner out of me. I imagine a decent pair of shoes would only make it that much better. I kept my eye on my watch and realized when I was a good distance away that I still had a bit further to go and there was no way that I would be able to make it all the way there and back in time. So I did the only logical thing...I sat down in the middle of the field and looked all around me and laughed. All of this was here all along and I never knew it. I never saw it. I was too wrapped up in being wet and cold and pissed off…and all this incredible stuff was happening just behind the clouds.
After a nice long rest, I slowly started walking back to the lodge. On the way I stopped to watch 3 condors. They were way off in the distance and were making their way towards me. I watched them disappear behind a ridge next to me and thought nothing of it. Then all of a sudden I heard this WHOOSH, WHOOSH like an airplane overhead. I looked up and it was the condors! They flew right over me, maybe 15-20ft overhead. They are huge! I had never seen them that close before. Then they all three landed on a rock maybe 30ft away. The 4 of us just stared at each other. That lasted probably 15 minutes or so until they were scared off by someone coming the other way on the trail. I took it as my hint to keep hiking too and watched the condors until they were little specks in the distance before heading back to the lodge.
I had a couple hours to kill before the catamaran. Lucky for me I had my kindle handy and set up a little nest for myself in the grass with a stellar view of Lago Pehoe with its surreal blue waters and read. Before I knew it, it was time to board the boat. From the deck of the boat I watched the Cuernos, the French Valley and the dramatic peak of Paine Grande change color in the early evening sun. These last two days were too perfect. Is this place real? Is this just a dream?
It was with a little bit of sadness that I looked out at those beautiful forms across the lake. I was well aware that this might be the last time I get to see them before I have to carry on with the trip and make my way out of Patagonia. But at least we made peace. We made things right between us. The remnants of hard feelings had melted away with the sun and dusted off with the cool breeze. Looking across that lake, I tried to sort out the emotions that simmered inside. It's a combination that is hard to peg: blessed, reborn, empowered, humbled and so, so grateful.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
I live at the last hope and it feels like home
They call Puerto Natales "Ultima Esperanza" or "the last hope." At first is sounds like a desperate situation, but I will be calling this my home for a little over a month and am thrilled to do it. This place is the portal back to Torres del Paine, a jumping off point to head north to Calafate and El Chalten, and a hub to get down south the the last city before all that's left is the sea and Antartica. Aside from that it's a cute little town. It's small and easy to navigate. There is a gorgeous view of the water and the mountains...and at night the clouds get painted pink and red and gold just before the sun sets. The sky is big here and wide, it almost feels like it spreads forever, and like in Easter Island, I can watch the weather as is rolls in and rolls out. I like this town. It doesn't feel like the last hope, it feels like renewed hope, and it's really starting to feel like home. That's a nice feeling...home. I also found a family here. They are an welcoming bunch, and within a matter of days I've gotten myself uncles, and brothers and sisters. Last hope? Nah, more like a welcomed rest.
I have another goal during my time traveling, which includes that ellusive thing called finding my life's purpose. It's no small feat. I have some ideas with how I might want to spend my time and energy, but I have yet to figure out how to tie them together or to find out if they are things I actually enjoy in practice. Possibly, part of that is the idea of one day opening my own little bed and breakfast on some small corner of this globe. Which part of the globe is still a big unknown. I also am not sure how I would actually do dealing with and cooking for a new batch of strangers every day. It sounds like it could be fun, but really, how would I like it?
I am getting my first trial run at parts of it. Granted I don't have to worry about the business and finance end of things but I am getting my hands dirty with the other parts. I am doing a work/trade thing in a hostel here in Puerto Natales. It's a fun place called Erratic Rock that you could say is a landmark here. Bill is the guy in charge and sets the tone for the hostel. He offered up a position here indefinitely for food and board assuming that I agree to be the house cook. That would be for all the folks that work here and at base camp next door (where they have a bar and rent gear). I very happily agreed...they hadn't tried my cooking yet and were taking a very bold leap of faith.
Another part of my responsibility is to welcome people as they come in, answer any question they might have about the town and the park (having been there 2 times now, I feel adequately prepared to do that), answer the phone if need be, run to town and do errands, clean-up a bit, and make breakfast if Bill has to be out of town. All in all, it's a pretty sweet gig. I like the work, I like the people, I like the place and it's nice to pick the brain of people who are coming and going about what should or could be next.
I've been put under the wing of Julie. She will be here for the entire season and has the responsibility of running the place when Bill it out. I love her! She is super friendly, easy to get along with and willing to teach me anything she can. We spend a lot of time together, cooking, cleaning, and generally just spending time here in the house. When the weather is pleasant or the sun promises to make a show of sunset we've climbed on to the roof or walked down to the water to get a good view. I consider her my sister here and have really enjoyed having that connection. Julie did a world trip last year, and decided to come back here for a longer time to really get to know it. This part of the world does that. I've posted a link to her blog HERE as well. Be impressed it is written in Spanish, French(her native language) and English...all of which speaks fluently and flawlessly.
It's inspiring me to be around people who can flip back and forth so easily and reminds me how important it is to learn this language. It's easy to speak in English most of the time, especially with so many Americans, Australians, British, and Europeans (Germans, Dutch, Austrians, etc.) who speak English better or more easily than Spanish. But I have made a few attempts to force the native Chileans to speak to me in Spanish only and help me practice. It's no easy feat....they flip to English easily too.
As for the cooking...well, that's been an interesting situation. They haven't thrown me out yet, so something must be right. I share this responsibility with Caleb, another volunteer/intern and we either work together or switch off days. Trying to cook for a big group is no easy task. It's still hard for me to wrap my head around making the right quantities...and of this crew we don't have one small eater. We've got me, and well, let's be honest, I easily east for someone twice my size. Then there is Bill and his brother Paul, who runs Base Camp (the combo bar and gear/rental shop). It's uncanny how much those two sound like each other. If you just hear them talking and can't see them, you can't tell which is which. Then there is Koen, a fun kid from Holland that speaks english with such enthusiasm it's hard not to get excited about even the most mundane things. He's 20 or 21, and being that age eats like nothing I have ever seen! Then we've got Caleb and Veronica, both intern/volunteers. Caleb is from Virgina and has all that aura of a artist musician. Vero is from Argentina, warm, welcoming and friendly like I've learned to expect to from this culture. The last of the regulars is Carla, who runs one of the travel agencies here in town and happens to be Bill's girlfriend, and Carla's dad. Every once in a while Scott, Matteius, and Mauricio will join too.
So far I've tried my hand at making homemade gnocchi with a vodka sauce, black bean burgers, lentils, zucchini and pumpkin soup, shephard's pie, chicken and veggie stir-fry, lasagna, summer salad and zucchini bread. It's all been eaten...and for the most part the all turned out pretty darn good. On day's like today I get lazy and just run over to the Proa Norte (the local grocery store) and we have a sandwhich day. Everyone seems to like that too. Me especially....there are hardly any dishes!
I wasn't long into this gig when I was told that Bill would be out of town for a couple days and that Julie would also be leaving to go to the park with her sister who was coming down so they could do the trek together. So...you're saying you are leaving me in charge after 4 days?! Damn, THAT is trust. So, I was to be getting up early to turn on the old school gas heaters and stove (which my first attempt left me with some burned hairs), open the blinds and doors, turn on some pleasant morning music, start the coffee and hot water for tea, and when the first batch of guests came down the stairs I was making omletes and cutting up the homemade bread. In the afternoon and evening I was checking people in, taking payments, making reservations, selling bus tickets to the park, answering questions about the park and town...all in all, having a great time. This is fun!
When Bill got back he set me loose to go exploring. So I had a second chance to go back to the park as the weather had been unusually sunny and clear and to get over the border to El Calafate and El Chalten. I wasn't about to say no to that. So with complimentary bus tickets in hand and a free place to sleep in Calafate I was gone to explore knowing that I would have home to come back to after my little trip.
I didn't realize just how much this really did feel like home until I got back. First of all, I got off the bus and I knew where I was going. I passed familiar faces on the street...and then I walked in front door to, "Hello Kiddo! Welcome home!" Yeah, that's nice. I dropped my stuff, started a load of laundry and helped myself to food in the fridge.
Even on downtime I've found it's easy to spend my time. When alone, I walk around town down to the water, read in the park, bike around just to bike around, yoga...and when I have company, sip matte at base camp, set up the slackline and try to walk it and get some coaching from Koen on how to climb.
Bill has warned me to keep my passport hidden or he might steal it, and I'll be stuck here the whole season. But they have made this feel so comfy the problem is that I don't want to leave. At first it was just going to be for a couple weeks, then one more, then one more....and finally I made a promise to myself to leave after the first of the year. I have a flight to catch from Bariloche and that will let me spend Christmas and New Years here with my adopted family at the last hope, and right now, I can't think of too many other places I'd rather be. If I won't be home, this is for sure the next best thing.
I have another goal during my time traveling, which includes that ellusive thing called finding my life's purpose. It's no small feat. I have some ideas with how I might want to spend my time and energy, but I have yet to figure out how to tie them together or to find out if they are things I actually enjoy in practice. Possibly, part of that is the idea of one day opening my own little bed and breakfast on some small corner of this globe. Which part of the globe is still a big unknown. I also am not sure how I would actually do dealing with and cooking for a new batch of strangers every day. It sounds like it could be fun, but really, how would I like it?
I am getting my first trial run at parts of it. Granted I don't have to worry about the business and finance end of things but I am getting my hands dirty with the other parts. I am doing a work/trade thing in a hostel here in Puerto Natales. It's a fun place called Erratic Rock that you could say is a landmark here. Bill is the guy in charge and sets the tone for the hostel. He offered up a position here indefinitely for food and board assuming that I agree to be the house cook. That would be for all the folks that work here and at base camp next door (where they have a bar and rent gear). I very happily agreed...they hadn't tried my cooking yet and were taking a very bold leap of faith.
Another part of my responsibility is to welcome people as they come in, answer any question they might have about the town and the park (having been there 2 times now, I feel adequately prepared to do that), answer the phone if need be, run to town and do errands, clean-up a bit, and make breakfast if Bill has to be out of town. All in all, it's a pretty sweet gig. I like the work, I like the people, I like the place and it's nice to pick the brain of people who are coming and going about what should or could be next.
I've been put under the wing of Julie. She will be here for the entire season and has the responsibility of running the place when Bill it out. I love her! She is super friendly, easy to get along with and willing to teach me anything she can. We spend a lot of time together, cooking, cleaning, and generally just spending time here in the house. When the weather is pleasant or the sun promises to make a show of sunset we've climbed on to the roof or walked down to the water to get a good view. I consider her my sister here and have really enjoyed having that connection. Julie did a world trip last year, and decided to come back here for a longer time to really get to know it. This part of the world does that. I've posted a link to her blog HERE as well. Be impressed it is written in Spanish, French(her native language) and English...all of which speaks fluently and flawlessly.
It's inspiring me to be around people who can flip back and forth so easily and reminds me how important it is to learn this language. It's easy to speak in English most of the time, especially with so many Americans, Australians, British, and Europeans (Germans, Dutch, Austrians, etc.) who speak English better or more easily than Spanish. But I have made a few attempts to force the native Chileans to speak to me in Spanish only and help me practice. It's no easy feat....they flip to English easily too.
As for the cooking...well, that's been an interesting situation. They haven't thrown me out yet, so something must be right. I share this responsibility with Caleb, another volunteer/intern and we either work together or switch off days. Trying to cook for a big group is no easy task. It's still hard for me to wrap my head around making the right quantities...and of this crew we don't have one small eater. We've got me, and well, let's be honest, I easily east for someone twice my size. Then there is Bill and his brother Paul, who runs Base Camp (the combo bar and gear/rental shop). It's uncanny how much those two sound like each other. If you just hear them talking and can't see them, you can't tell which is which. Then there is Koen, a fun kid from Holland that speaks english with such enthusiasm it's hard not to get excited about even the most mundane things. He's 20 or 21, and being that age eats like nothing I have ever seen! Then we've got Caleb and Veronica, both intern/volunteers. Caleb is from Virgina and has all that aura of a artist musician. Vero is from Argentina, warm, welcoming and friendly like I've learned to expect to from this culture. The last of the regulars is Carla, who runs one of the travel agencies here in town and happens to be Bill's girlfriend, and Carla's dad. Every once in a while Scott, Matteius, and Mauricio will join too.
So far I've tried my hand at making homemade gnocchi with a vodka sauce, black bean burgers, lentils, zucchini and pumpkin soup, shephard's pie, chicken and veggie stir-fry, lasagna, summer salad and zucchini bread. It's all been eaten...and for the most part the all turned out pretty darn good. On day's like today I get lazy and just run over to the Proa Norte (the local grocery store) and we have a sandwhich day. Everyone seems to like that too. Me especially....there are hardly any dishes!
I wasn't long into this gig when I was told that Bill would be out of town for a couple days and that Julie would also be leaving to go to the park with her sister who was coming down so they could do the trek together. So...you're saying you are leaving me in charge after 4 days?! Damn, THAT is trust. So, I was to be getting up early to turn on the old school gas heaters and stove (which my first attempt left me with some burned hairs), open the blinds and doors, turn on some pleasant morning music, start the coffee and hot water for tea, and when the first batch of guests came down the stairs I was making omletes and cutting up the homemade bread. In the afternoon and evening I was checking people in, taking payments, making reservations, selling bus tickets to the park, answering questions about the park and town...all in all, having a great time. This is fun!
When Bill got back he set me loose to go exploring. So I had a second chance to go back to the park as the weather had been unusually sunny and clear and to get over the border to El Calafate and El Chalten. I wasn't about to say no to that. So with complimentary bus tickets in hand and a free place to sleep in Calafate I was gone to explore knowing that I would have home to come back to after my little trip.
I didn't realize just how much this really did feel like home until I got back. First of all, I got off the bus and I knew where I was going. I passed familiar faces on the street...and then I walked in front door to, "Hello Kiddo! Welcome home!" Yeah, that's nice. I dropped my stuff, started a load of laundry and helped myself to food in the fridge.
Even on downtime I've found it's easy to spend my time. When alone, I walk around town down to the water, read in the park, bike around just to bike around, yoga...and when I have company, sip matte at base camp, set up the slackline and try to walk it and get some coaching from Koen on how to climb.
Bill has warned me to keep my passport hidden or he might steal it, and I'll be stuck here the whole season. But they have made this feel so comfy the problem is that I don't want to leave. At first it was just going to be for a couple weeks, then one more, then one more....and finally I made a promise to myself to leave after the first of the year. I have a flight to catch from Bariloche and that will let me spend Christmas and New Years here with my adopted family at the last hope, and right now, I can't think of too many other places I'd rather be. If I won't be home, this is for sure the next best thing.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
torres del paine
torres del paine, a set on Flickr.
my pictures of the trek. You can check out Robert's too...he takes better pictures than I do and has a SWEET camera to boot.
I hope you enjoy!
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