Tiger got to hunt,
Bird got to fly,
Man got to ask himself,
Why? Why? Why?
Tiger got to rest,
Bird got to land,
Man got to tell himself he understand.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
A few pictures representative of what I'm thinking about and feeling today.
Top to bottom:
We Can Handle It boxcar-my dad's favorite.
Tracks ahead- the road goes ever onward.
Friends and music-make life worth living.
Turns ahead-maybe this was a premonition.
Top to bottom:
We Can Handle It boxcar-my dad's favorite.
Tracks ahead- the road goes ever onward.
Friends and music-make life worth living.
Turns ahead-maybe this was a premonition.
My dad and I are at the hospital. He became too weak to care for himself at home a few days ago. We felt we had no options left but to call for an ambulance and head into town to find medical assistance. The doctors found cancer in his lungs, his liver, his spleen, his lymph nodes, his adrenal glands. He has melanoma. It is untreatable at this stage.
The question of time comes to mind. How much of it does he have? That's what people usually ask in these circumstances. But none of us know. Not for him, not for ourselves. We don't know if we'll live to see 90, or die on the way to work tomorrow. Seems to me the question of importance isn't how much time we have, but rather, what can we do with our time here?
That question of course can't be answered unless a person first considers what they believe the purpose of life to be. I can't say that I'm too sure there is one purpose that is right for me.
I believe that the world contains everything from heaven to hell. I believe those concepts aren't vague and abstract ideas to be realized after we die, but instead realities here on Earth, and by inhabiting the Earth as sentient beings capable of free thinking and action we have the ability to influence our surroundings. I for one enjoy the heavenly aspects of this Earth and have yet to find a higher calling than to try to further the beautiful, the loving, the compassionate, the free and the awesomeness that I find here.
I hope my dad's last days of this life are filled with love, compassion, and the knowledge that he has helped to bring about positive change in this world by being a caring, honest, and compassionate person who values beauty and freedom, love and truth.
Think about my dad-Jack Mirfak, and send him thoughts of love and strength, positivity and courage.
And while there aren't too many signs on the road of life telling you just what the curves in the road are going to look like, you can know that there will be many, and you will be more prepared to handle them if you keep yourself strong and healthy, and avoid the traps of addiction. My dad and I want you to know; it is worth the sacrifice now to avoid the agony later.
Peace
The question of time comes to mind. How much of it does he have? That's what people usually ask in these circumstances. But none of us know. Not for him, not for ourselves. We don't know if we'll live to see 90, or die on the way to work tomorrow. Seems to me the question of importance isn't how much time we have, but rather, what can we do with our time here?
That question of course can't be answered unless a person first considers what they believe the purpose of life to be. I can't say that I'm too sure there is one purpose that is right for me.
I believe that the world contains everything from heaven to hell. I believe those concepts aren't vague and abstract ideas to be realized after we die, but instead realities here on Earth, and by inhabiting the Earth as sentient beings capable of free thinking and action we have the ability to influence our surroundings. I for one enjoy the heavenly aspects of this Earth and have yet to find a higher calling than to try to further the beautiful, the loving, the compassionate, the free and the awesomeness that I find here.
I hope my dad's last days of this life are filled with love, compassion, and the knowledge that he has helped to bring about positive change in this world by being a caring, honest, and compassionate person who values beauty and freedom, love and truth.
Think about my dad-Jack Mirfak, and send him thoughts of love and strength, positivity and courage.
And while there aren't too many signs on the road of life telling you just what the curves in the road are going to look like, you can know that there will be many, and you will be more prepared to handle them if you keep yourself strong and healthy, and avoid the traps of addiction. My dad and I want you to know; it is worth the sacrifice now to avoid the agony later.
Peace
Friday, November 14, 2008
Having left Oakridge just a few days back I've arrived in Flagstaff with my traveling companions Scott and Donna Taylor. We traveled to Arizona via Caldwell and Boise Idaho where Donna's family lives, before turning south and enjoying two days of sunshine and red rocks in Moab.
From Moab we drove to Flagstaff on a beautiful day.
During our time in Moab we connected with old friends, and made some new ones.
At the moment, I'm going to have to leave all the details out, as I'm getting ready to go to breakfast with Steve and Denise Garro (see Coconino Cycles and Denise in my links) before going for a unicycle/handbike/hike with the two of them.
The pictures below are of Shawn Hanka as he showed me around near Amasa Back in Moab.
More later!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Dale Chihuli Chandelier IIin the
Milwaukee Museum of Art
Capital Building in Madison during the Saturday Market
Thai Pavilion in Botanical Garden
Botanical Garden Madness
A poem for the day:"P U S H"
I do not quit.
I do begin.
To live my life from far within.
To do
To be
Just what is right for me.
To live a life not based on fear.
Rather to seek out the joy present here.
I'm posting from Emy J's, a fun and comfortable coffee house and restaurant in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. I flew into Milwaukee, Wisconsin on the 9th. Enjoying a 4 hour wait, I walked around the city, going from the bus station down to Lake Michigan, before walking along the shoreline to the Milwaukee Museum of Art. I was attracted to it by the amazing architecture, pictured above. Once there I was really stoked to investigate the building and it's contents.
While I chose not to go into the exhibit itself during my short stay, I did enter the atrium where there is an amazing piece by Dale Chihuly, a revered and pioneering glass artisan. It is his "Isola di San Giocomo in Palude, Chandelier II". A gigantic work of art consisting of many hundreds of pieces of individually blown and sculpted glass. It is amazing for it's uniqueness, life, color, textures, and intricacy.
From there I walked back through the city, enchanted with the brick architecture, and waterways throughout. I hopped on a "Lamers" bus, which was indeed full of somewhat lame people, and scooted on to Stevens Point, Wisconsin.
My friend Sarah met me there, and we began our week together. I'll tell you about the edges of my time here, and leave the deep rooted content for another post.
It is fall here, color at it's peak. There are hardly any hills in this part of the country, which I always pictured creating long vistas and a feeling of bigness. But lo, it is rather confining I find. The lack of topography creates a visual barrier at the next building, the next tree, and really a person can't see more than a half a mile most of the time.
But that's OK if what you are looking for is where you are. And indeed I came here to see my friend, her family, and my family in Madison.
Sarah showed me around Point as they call it. The Other Side, a fun little restaurant cafe is a hub of eclectic culture was our first stopping point. We enjoyed fine microbrew from the area, and some good food.
The next few days were a mixture of traveling to Madison, seeing the culture and sites of the city and it's dwellings, and meeting Sarah's family. I had met her mom before in Oregon, but this time I was also introduced to her grandparents, her sister, her friend Dan and her long time friend Lee Francin and her new family Shawn and daughter Olivia.
I enjoyed Madison, was glad to meet her family and friends.
My trip here is the culmination of many years of companionship with Sarah, beginning at the Single Speed World Championships in Downieville, CA.
This trip is something I've both wanted to embark on since our first meeting, and something I've feared to embark upon as it is a journey into the unknown . While Sarah and I both care for each other deeply our paths have often been filled with scree, and the hardscrabble under foot has caused a fall or two for both of us which have left scars.
That said, I was hoping to find smooth tread under foot for this week's travels. However we have again failed to agree upon the smooth path to travel, and are walking the middle ground of no path in particular stumbling over brambles, and cactus, and kicking rocks we didn't see.
Fumbling for footing is never fun, but has provided insight into ourselves and our relationship, and hopefully before the trip comes to a close, clarity and direction.
Sarah has met some great people here and I've met a few of them now too. There is a good bike scene here, just about everyone I've met is really friendly and enjoyable, and they have all been welcoming as I explore.
The week ahead will go quickly I'm sure. I've got another day or two here, then I'm off to Madison for a couple of days with my uncle Jeramiah and Aunt Nancy, and on Saturday I'm going back to Portland. As usual, I'm glad I've gone traveling, and look forward to being home again.
Where's the comments? Whatcha got for me?
I do begin.
To live my life from far within.
To do
To be
Just what is right for me.
To live a life not based on fear.
Rather to seek out the joy present here.
I'm posting from Emy J's, a fun and comfortable coffee house and restaurant in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. I flew into Milwaukee, Wisconsin on the 9th. Enjoying a 4 hour wait, I walked around the city, going from the bus station down to Lake Michigan, before walking along the shoreline to the Milwaukee Museum of Art. I was attracted to it by the amazing architecture, pictured above. Once there I was really stoked to investigate the building and it's contents.
While I chose not to go into the exhibit itself during my short stay, I did enter the atrium where there is an amazing piece by Dale Chihuly, a revered and pioneering glass artisan. It is his "Isola di San Giocomo in Palude, Chandelier II". A gigantic work of art consisting of many hundreds of pieces of individually blown and sculpted glass. It is amazing for it's uniqueness, life, color, textures, and intricacy.
From there I walked back through the city, enchanted with the brick architecture, and waterways throughout. I hopped on a "Lamers" bus, which was indeed full of somewhat lame people, and scooted on to Stevens Point, Wisconsin.
My friend Sarah met me there, and we began our week together. I'll tell you about the edges of my time here, and leave the deep rooted content for another post.
It is fall here, color at it's peak. There are hardly any hills in this part of the country, which I always pictured creating long vistas and a feeling of bigness. But lo, it is rather confining I find. The lack of topography creates a visual barrier at the next building, the next tree, and really a person can't see more than a half a mile most of the time.
But that's OK if what you are looking for is where you are. And indeed I came here to see my friend, her family, and my family in Madison.
Sarah showed me around Point as they call it. The Other Side, a fun little restaurant cafe is a hub of eclectic culture was our first stopping point. We enjoyed fine microbrew from the area, and some good food.
The next few days were a mixture of traveling to Madison, seeing the culture and sites of the city and it's dwellings, and meeting Sarah's family. I had met her mom before in Oregon, but this time I was also introduced to her grandparents, her sister, her friend Dan and her long time friend Lee Francin and her new family Shawn and daughter Olivia.
I enjoyed Madison, was glad to meet her family and friends.
My trip here is the culmination of many years of companionship with Sarah, beginning at the Single Speed World Championships in Downieville, CA.
This trip is something I've both wanted to embark on since our first meeting, and something I've feared to embark upon as it is a journey into the unknown . While Sarah and I both care for each other deeply our paths have often been filled with scree, and the hardscrabble under foot has caused a fall or two for both of us which have left scars.
That said, I was hoping to find smooth tread under foot for this week's travels. However we have again failed to agree upon the smooth path to travel, and are walking the middle ground of no path in particular stumbling over brambles, and cactus, and kicking rocks we didn't see.
Fumbling for footing is never fun, but has provided insight into ourselves and our relationship, and hopefully before the trip comes to a close, clarity and direction.
Sarah has met some great people here and I've met a few of them now too. There is a good bike scene here, just about everyone I've met is really friendly and enjoyable, and they have all been welcoming as I explore.
The week ahead will go quickly I'm sure. I've got another day or two here, then I'm off to Madison for a couple of days with my uncle Jeramiah and Aunt Nancy, and on Saturday I'm going back to Portland. As usual, I'm glad I've gone traveling, and look forward to being home again.
Where's the comments? Whatcha got for me?
Friday, October 3, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Dreams
I'm sitting out in front of the Trailhead Cafe here in Oakridge. The skies here have been a bluish white with big plumes of rose colored smoke occasionally drifting up from the Rattle fire down in the Umpqua drainage for the past couple of weeks.
It is one of those days when I could be out doing, but instead I'm sitting and thinking, having conversation with the passers by and considering where I'm going.
Maybe this time of year just brings that out in me, especially here in Oakridge. Things slow down, the visitors of the summer months head home, and the stillness left leaves lots of room for contemplation of one's self.
I find myself thinking of Argentina, not only of the sights I saw when I was there, but the memories I made and the dreams I had. I think of the goals I thought up for myself, and I realize that it is in these quiet times when I have the opportunity to actualize those goals.
My current goals are all about meeting basic needs, staying healthy and having fun. Generally speaking I'd like to: practice yoga regularly, play music, dance, get outside in beautiful places often, have stimulating conversation, make art, and learn about other cultures and stories outside of my sphere of knowledge.
All of this comes within the context of having clean air to breathe, clean water to drink, enough good food to eat, and a comfortable place to spend my nights and days.
Often I find myself focusing on providing these basic necessities for myself, or diverting my energy away from all of the above mentioned goals for the purpose of a short respite from the overwhelmingness of it all.
What are your goals? What do you think is going to happen in the next days, weeks, years of your life? An inquiring mind wants to know.
It is one of those days when I could be out doing, but instead I'm sitting and thinking, having conversation with the passers by and considering where I'm going.
Maybe this time of year just brings that out in me, especially here in Oakridge. Things slow down, the visitors of the summer months head home, and the stillness left leaves lots of room for contemplation of one's self.
I find myself thinking of Argentina, not only of the sights I saw when I was there, but the memories I made and the dreams I had. I think of the goals I thought up for myself, and I realize that it is in these quiet times when I have the opportunity to actualize those goals.
My current goals are all about meeting basic needs, staying healthy and having fun. Generally speaking I'd like to: practice yoga regularly, play music, dance, get outside in beautiful places often, have stimulating conversation, make art, and learn about other cultures and stories outside of my sphere of knowledge.
All of this comes within the context of having clean air to breathe, clean water to drink, enough good food to eat, and a comfortable place to spend my nights and days.
Often I find myself focusing on providing these basic necessities for myself, or diverting my energy away from all of the above mentioned goals for the purpose of a short respite from the overwhelmingness of it all.
What are your goals? What do you think is going to happen in the next days, weeks, years of your life? An inquiring mind wants to know.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Floating
Radical. To the root.
Courage. From the heart.
Living. From the heart.
Life usually isn't about being strong enough to hold the world on one's shoulders.
Its about finding the courage.
To say no.
To be you.
To know that the little choices comprise our essence.
Courage. From the heart.
Living. From the heart.
Life usually isn't about being strong enough to hold the world on one's shoulders.
Its about finding the courage.
To say no.
To be you.
To know that the little choices comprise our essence.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Thread Bare
Buildings and bridges
are made to bend in the wind
to withstand the world,
that's what it takes
All that steel and stone
is no match for the air, my friend
what doesn't bend breaks
what doesn't bend breaks
Ani DiFranco
Living in Oregon, working at an outdoor store. Listening to the news as it comes. Banks are collapsing, bikes are being ridden, friends are leaving, and coming, and here. There is no time for the future when I am making time in the now, there is no time for the now if I'm living somewhere else.
Forever
is a long time
but it happens all the time
Natty Lee Gann wrote that.
The summer slips by. Cold grey wildernesses turn to green blue and warm wonderfuls. August. The heat, the grass grows yellow, stops growing. The season of new love slips towards the season of yellowing leaves, of falling petals, of windy days on long mountain ridges. Alone in the world, together with all this wilderness.
My Only, wants to find an Only, and I only want the best for us both. The wind. It blows, in my phone, and when I awake I wonder. What was that wind? Did it speak to me? I can't remember the words.
People worry about everyone else, when their own lives are in jeopardy, and struggle to find the holds to grip as they climb towards their own dreams.
I grapple with the tangible in intangible ways.
The world is too complex to see it all as a whole and function logically. We focus on the experiences most meaningful to us and make qualitative judgements derived from these experiences, thereby becoming individuals, yet still within a mass. All moving in the same direction is seems, yet all going about in our own directions.
And ahh, The Thread. It is there, it is hard, it is soft. I can grab it, I can't find it. Did I lose my thread? No I'm IN my thread.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
So I Went a Wandering
There were lakes high and warm and beautiful. Arucaria trees and their beautiful bark, and flowers more than one's eye could capture. I walked into the wilderness one day. Hiking up and away from Pucon, away from civilization, into a quiet place unto my own.
Ahhh, the trip was really getting under way.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Chile; finally, again, at last.
Finally! Some pictures from Chile! I flew into Santiago on a sunny and fairly clear day, arriving from the Northwestern side of the city. The plane approached over desolate, dry, and mountainous country reminiscent of Nevada. Only as we were about to touch down in Santiago did I get my first glimpse of Chilean greenery, an agricultural area near the airport.
From the airport I hailed a taxi. With my limited Spanish, and even more limited geographic and cultural understanding of Chile and Santiago I ended up paying about $80 for a 20 minute cab ride into the city. There I was happy to be on the ground, at a hostel I had found online with the help of a friend of a friend of my mother.
I put as much of my stuff (pictured in Portland before I left) as I could into the locker provided at the hostel, and went walking around Santiago. The hostel was located near the city center and Plaza de Armas, so I went there to see what it was all about. Santiago is alive with life, pedestrians everywhere sometimes forming critical masses to cross busy streets on red lights, making places like Los Angeles seem empty and isolating with everyone hiding in their car. I enjoyed walking around, although I was nervous because I didn't understand the culture, or much of the language and I was carrying my passport, cash, and camera on my person.
However I was never threatened and mostly felt uncomfortable because I am not used to having so many people so very close around me. The Plaza de Armas is a neat open park space with brick pavers, lots of open space, and a few trees. It is surrounded by museums (I think) and churches, notably a big catholic cathedral with the pictured statue adorning the roof top.
I went into the church and enjoyed the peaceful tranquility of the place amongst the hundreds of people quietly sitting and reflecting or praying inside.
Santiago continued to catch me by surprise with the many loose dogs on the streets, literally sleeping underfoot. There are big pedestrian only streets there too, filled from building to building with people going in in every direction, overwhelming but beautiful at once.
From Santiago I bussed and thumbed rides south towards Pucon with a brave little American woman named. She is a retired teacher, and bluntly told me: buses are boring it will be much more interesting to hitch hike. Logic I couldn't refuse.
Our trip south was indeed interesting, and we had some good rides. We split up along the way, me going on to Pucon, her staying behind in Chillan where we had found a good, cheap, hospedaje, or hostel in someones home.
Chillan was the real thing. Poor, but honest and real. The people walked where they went, and were not trying to be anything besides what they really are. Image is nothing, reality is everything. Well as far as I could tell anyhow.
I went on to Pucon, anxious to get to the mountains. I felt like I was traveling north from Sacramento into Northern California and onward to Oregon. Only it was a mirror image. Pucon was very touristy, with lots of drunk and well to do people from all over the world walking the streets and sunbathing at the local lakeside beach. I was pretty dissapointed with the town, as it reminded me of the parts of American Culture I despise- gluttonous consumption, and a disregard for the welfare of those around you, arrogance- but the food was indeed good and I found some sushi to eat. It was kind of a paradox for me to be in South America eating sushi.
I stayed at the Wohlenberg Hostel, a second generation German family there took every visitor in like family. Thanks to them I had a safe place to crash and find some info on the trails in the area. I rented a Huffy from them and went on a nice 40 km ride along dirt roads, out to a place called Los Ojos, the eyes; here water as blue as an emerald poured freely from the ground and began a river.
Soon I grew anxious to get into the mountains, as Volcan Villarica (pictured) is ajacent to town and very beautiful indeed. I caught a bus to Parque Nacional Herquehue, where I began a long and steep hike up to some beautiful natural lakes. I snapped the picture of the lake and mountain behind on my way up the hill looking back where I had come from (I had begun hiking at the far end of the lake).
End of Introduction to Eugene's Chile trip. Stay tuned for Part One: The Hike.
No Pictures!
I have some great pictures I want to upload, but Blogger won't let me at the moment. It is late I'll try again tomorrow.
Thrivin' in the Northwest
Wow, I can't believe it is almost two months since my last post! What happened? Where did I go?
Well, after our excellent mountain bike vacation in Moab I returned to Oakridge. I've been here or near here since then. Living in the Airstream, riding mountain bikes and telemark skiing in the beautiful forests and mountains near Oakridge, riding the road bike (to Bend one weekend), going to see Spearhead and Michael Franti in Eugene, and keeping the Mountain Mercantile going on the days I'm in the shop. But most importantly, I've been doing all of these things with wonderful people, my community.
Sorry I've been letting things get stale here. I probably look at the blog more frequently than anyone (it is my home page). I just haven't been motivated to write, to post my photos.
But, thanks to the Empress, the Polywog, the Garros, Mirfak, the Zen Tea Poet, Bearbait, WinTrees and all others who have given me a push recently, I have been encouraged to keep going, to follow my thread ever onward, and to keep you all posted about what it is that I'm up to.
Although I haven't been posting, I have been thinking, taking pictures, and thriving in a non bloggin' way, and there are plenty of interesting pictures to post and subjects to write on.
For today I'm going to keep it short, post a few pictures of the recent weeks, and be glad to have some fresh content up.
Thanks for encouraging me, its good to be back.
Well, after our excellent mountain bike vacation in Moab I returned to Oakridge. I've been here or near here since then. Living in the Airstream, riding mountain bikes and telemark skiing in the beautiful forests and mountains near Oakridge, riding the road bike (to Bend one weekend), going to see Spearhead and Michael Franti in Eugene, and keeping the Mountain Mercantile going on the days I'm in the shop. But most importantly, I've been doing all of these things with wonderful people, my community.
Sorry I've been letting things get stale here. I probably look at the blog more frequently than anyone (it is my home page). I just haven't been motivated to write, to post my photos.
But, thanks to the Empress, the Polywog, the Garros, Mirfak, the Zen Tea Poet, Bearbait, WinTrees and all others who have given me a push recently, I have been encouraged to keep going, to follow my thread ever onward, and to keep you all posted about what it is that I'm up to.
Although I haven't been posting, I have been thinking, taking pictures, and thriving in a non bloggin' way, and there are plenty of interesting pictures to post and subjects to write on.
For today I'm going to keep it short, post a few pictures of the recent weeks, and be glad to have some fresh content up.
Thanks for encouraging me, its good to be back.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Porcu-Puckler
Yesterday we went for a ride. The air was cool and crisp. We wanted to ride long.
Ken (above) inspired us to shred. We rode out of town, up to Slickrock trial and around it, up Sand Flats Road to Porcupine Rim and the Porcupine Rim trail, and down the trail to town.
Slickrock Trail and the Porcupine Rim Trail are two demanding trails. Whether climbing up incredibly steep pitches of grippy sand stone, descending sculpted rock while bumping along it's eroded surface, or screaming down jeep roads comprised of rock ledges and scrambled baby head rocks uninterrupted attention and the confidence to point and shoot down the fall line are the necessary tools for getting the job done.
Leaving Moab we could see the La Sal mountains on the horizon to the east as we climbed the road up to Slickrock Trail. Looping around the trail we could see them not so far in the distance over the jumbled sandstone expanse around us. Climbing Sand Flats road we approached the mountains, right up to the snow. We pushed through some snow to the rim, where we could see a huge valley below us, stretching down to the Colorado River far below, and itself surrounded by huge red rock cliffs. From there we swooshed, darted, dropped, grunted, and plunged downwards ever on to the river valley below.
Pure Sweet Good Living.
Ken (above) inspired us to shred. We rode out of town, up to Slickrock trial and around it, up Sand Flats Road to Porcupine Rim and the Porcupine Rim trail, and down the trail to town.
Slickrock Trail and the Porcupine Rim Trail are two demanding trails. Whether climbing up incredibly steep pitches of grippy sand stone, descending sculpted rock while bumping along it's eroded surface, or screaming down jeep roads comprised of rock ledges and scrambled baby head rocks uninterrupted attention and the confidence to point and shoot down the fall line are the necessary tools for getting the job done.
Leaving Moab we could see the La Sal mountains on the horizon to the east as we climbed the road up to Slickrock Trail. Looping around the trail we could see them not so far in the distance over the jumbled sandstone expanse around us. Climbing Sand Flats road we approached the mountains, right up to the snow. We pushed through some snow to the rim, where we could see a huge valley below us, stretching down to the Colorado River far below, and itself surrounded by huge red rock cliffs. From there we swooshed, darted, dropped, grunted, and plunged downwards ever on to the river valley below.
Pure Sweet Good Living.
Moab!
Moab! Just a few pictures for the moment: friends, great places to ride, beautiful weather, and some tourist traffic.
I'm here for a week with 5 friends from Oregon; a spontaneous trip that I never saw coming, but worked out well in the moment.
I am having a slide show at the Willamette Mountain Mercantile, in Oakridge on Saturday April 12 at 7 p.m.. This will showcase my trip to Chile and Argentina, and I will talk about what it was like traveling there as the show goes on. Some food and refreshments will be provided.
Bring your own beverage, and some food to share if you like.
Thanks for all the good comments and support along the way. Sorry I haven't posted in a while, glad to be back at it.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
New York City
From the perspective of a passenger on a 500 mile per hour airplane, this spherical planet called Earth is pretty small..
Only 16 hours after boarding a plane in near the southern 45th parallel , I am had landed in New York City, near the 45th parallel in the northern hemisphere. A 90 degree shift across the planetary sphere in only about 12 hours of total air time.
Stories aside, and rhetoric left for another day, I am posting just to post. To tell the world that I am back in the US. I am excited to tell my story, to post some pictures, to do all the stuff that is expected, and that I have been looking forward to.
For tonight that means posting this post, and spending some much anticipated time with my friend.
Cheers to being back in the U.S., and glad I got away for a while.
Leave when you can, but never forget what you have here.
Only 16 hours after boarding a plane in near the southern 45th parallel , I am had landed in New York City, near the 45th parallel in the northern hemisphere. A 90 degree shift across the planetary sphere in only about 12 hours of total air time.
Stories aside, and rhetoric left for another day, I am posting just to post. To tell the world that I am back in the US. I am excited to tell my story, to post some pictures, to do all the stuff that is expected, and that I have been looking forward to.
For tonight that means posting this post, and spending some much anticipated time with my friend.
Cheers to being back in the U.S., and glad I got away for a while.
Leave when you can, but never forget what you have here.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Going it Solo in Chile
The past days have truly zipped past, seeming to disappear with unprecedented speed as the trip comes to a close.
Lindsay and I left El Bolson and hiked up a magnificent trail, winding our way to the west up through lush forests to the Hielo Azul Refugio; a wonderful handbuilt wood structure nestled in a cirque 3500 feet above El Bolson, and 1500 feet below Glaciar Hielo Azul. It was a great hike to the refugio as the trail was a consistent pitch, not too steep, we were in good spirits, and along the way we had the wonderful opportunity to see a huge condor soaring just below us as we stopped at a vista overlooking a huge Andean valley.
We drank maté with really friendly Argentenians late into the night by the comfortable wood stove in the refugio (think hostel in the woods with really cool people and rad wooden handmade everything) before going to sleep in our little green tent, in the woods, under the rocky cirque bowl, under the glacier, under the stars.
The next day we hiked up the 1500ft climb to the glacier, springing along as if we were at recess in 3rd grade. It is just amazing what a difference it makes to hike without a 40 or 50 pound pack on one's back. We again enjoyed watching condors soar, above us this time, high above the glacier, until the two we were watching swooped down to the glacial tarn where we were sitting and played on the wind currents before disappearing over the rim of the cirque, down towards the refugio below.
Again the maté had me all wired, although Lindsay had gone off to sleep, so I wandered over to the soccer fieid (yes in the middle of the wilderness) to look at the night sky. The stars were amazing that night. Unlike in the US there were no planes overhead, not one, less sattelites (I don't remember seeing any that night), and very little light pollution. I found three 18 year old Argentenian guys out checking out the sky from vantage point of the soccer field, and enjoyed conversing with them as we gazed towards the many stars above. The Southern sky is so different from the Northern Hemisphere, it is easy to feel as if one is on another planet, with all the different constellations and nebulae out there.
The following day we had a lazy start (due to me) for Refugio Cajon Azul (Blue Box Canyon). However our 1 o'clock departure was no problem as the refugio was a relatively short 12 km away, mostly downhill. This said, we did go off the path 3 times as it split apart, dead ending us in the most steep terrain. I was reminded of hiking in the Grand Canyon as we descended steep canyon walls, with loose rock footing, and sharp desert like plants around us in a blazing sun.
Once at the bottom of our descent we were delighted to find the Rio Azul shimmering emerald blue, and to learn the origin of Cajon Azul; a 40 food deep canyon only 2 feet wide in places where the Rio Azul bottle necks down and flows through the dark depths below.
Cajon Azul Refugio was a pleasure as they have a huge garden, sheep, and dinner made from the combination of the two. It was my birthday the following day, so Lindsay and I indulged, and bought the house dinner; fried sheep, mashed potatoes, and a big salad. It hit the spot.
At the refugio we met an excellent young lady from Maine, who is a passionate organic gardener, and had been down here studying organic agriculture on a farm in Mendoza (some km north). I felt an instant connection to her, and was glad to enjoy some conversaion before nightfall. She inspired me to make the most of my life, as she clearly does with her own.
We (I) also met a couple Argentenians on vacacion from Santiago, Louis and Carolina. They were really friendly, interested in picking up some English and American culture, and glad to teach me some Spanish. We decided to meet in the morning for the hike back to El Bolson.
In the morning the sun shone brightly, and we all enjoyed the walk to civilization together. Lindsay and I had pretty well exhausted conversation between ourselves, so it was a great treat to walk with these new aquantances and learn their stories. Lindsay walked with Louis, I with Carolina. Carolina and I traded vocabulary all the way, and learned of each others lives with her limited English, and my less limited, yet still very limited Spanish. Lindsay and Louis were usually ahead of us, but I think they did the same.
We caught a taxi to El Bolson (from the end of the trail where we found a neat little county store and I was surprised one could call for a taxt), and later that night all of us headed north to Bariloche, a bustling city on the shores of Lago Nahuel Huapi. The day was a good one, but Lindsay and I had reached the point of having traveled together 24/7 for long enough, and it was getting kind of stuffy to be together.
The following morning she wanted to head out to do yet another trek, this time in Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi, and I was more interested in finding a nice spot to chill out for a couple days, so she hit the trail towards the trek, and I found myself once again traveling alone (but for the company of Louis and Carolina), and was glad of it.
However, Carolina and I enjoyed each other's spirit quite a bit, and later that day when Louis had to leave to return to Universidad, she stayed behind to travel with me for a bit longer. She and I caught a bus to Villa La Angostura together on a whim, not knowing what we would find there, but wanting to get out of the city of Bariloche. Once there we found a fun little town near the shore of Nahuel Huapi (na well wa pee) which reminded me of Sisters, Oregon quite a lot what with it's hip center street of log buildings, handmade wares, ice cream shops, and cafe's.
We wandered the town for a spell, had some good food, and found a decent camp ground (sort of a KOA kind of place) just out of town. Morning came and it was raining. She said, "como feo," how ugly. We walked into town, had a good meal, and she caught the next bus home. Our collective language skills had been exhausted, and love was not in the air. That said, maybe it would have been if we could understand each other, or maybe a deeper language connection would have only made us realized our differences yet more.
Before she left she had helped me locate Italian Hostel, a comfortable and warm place out of the rain where I could post up. I enjoyed it a lot, and was thrilled when the farmer from Cajon Azul walked in to the hostel later that night. On further conversation with this elegant young lady, Tess, it came to light that her mom had lived in Oakridge in the 1970's. Amazing.
The next day (yesterday) the sun shone again, and I walked to Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes, a peninsula covered by many old coihue trees and fringed by arrayanes trees. The arrayanes are a beautiful deep red, with smooth bark, similar to manzanita, only huge, with trunks 2 or 3 feet thick in places. I was plesantly surprised to find Tess along the trail, and we walked together for the remainder of the long day, sharing stories and insights along the way.
It was a long day- 30 km, or so, but with the beautiful sunshine and good company of a new friend and old trees it was an easy walk.
In the evening I treated myself to a delicious artesional ice cream of strawberry and mint chocolate, before heading back to the hostel. There I met two other people with whom I share real connection, Gabriel and Pedro. Pedro was running the hostel, I'm not sure if it is his own or not. But no matter. In a short conversation he asked me what it is I do for a living, and when I responded that I am a bicycle mechanic, he asked me if I liked cro-moly frames. I was thrilled to hear the question, and it sent us down a long road of conversation. I told him about Wade, Steve, Hunter, and the artesional frame builders in the states, and he told me of his son; a pro racer from Argentina, who raced the World Cup Circuit a few years ago.
I could go on, but I will just say it was the best Spanish conversation I have ever had, and the first time I have felt truly at home on this trip.
Then, shortly afterwards I began talking to Gabriel, a marketing professional from Buenos Aires. While our lives have been on very different paths, we realized that we are of the same tribe, and talked until late in the morning.
I left the Hostel this morning with tired feet, a gladness that I had found community so far from home, and a sadness that I had to leave just as I was beginning to make connections.
Tonight I take a 950km, 12hr bus ride to Santiago, where I will spend a my last 36 hours of this leg of the trip.
The comments following my last post were great, send more if you feel like it.
North to the Future!
Lindsay and I left El Bolson and hiked up a magnificent trail, winding our way to the west up through lush forests to the Hielo Azul Refugio; a wonderful handbuilt wood structure nestled in a cirque 3500 feet above El Bolson, and 1500 feet below Glaciar Hielo Azul. It was a great hike to the refugio as the trail was a consistent pitch, not too steep, we were in good spirits, and along the way we had the wonderful opportunity to see a huge condor soaring just below us as we stopped at a vista overlooking a huge Andean valley.
We drank maté with really friendly Argentenians late into the night by the comfortable wood stove in the refugio (think hostel in the woods with really cool people and rad wooden handmade everything) before going to sleep in our little green tent, in the woods, under the rocky cirque bowl, under the glacier, under the stars.
The next day we hiked up the 1500ft climb to the glacier, springing along as if we were at recess in 3rd grade. It is just amazing what a difference it makes to hike without a 40 or 50 pound pack on one's back. We again enjoyed watching condors soar, above us this time, high above the glacier, until the two we were watching swooped down to the glacial tarn where we were sitting and played on the wind currents before disappearing over the rim of the cirque, down towards the refugio below.
Again the maté had me all wired, although Lindsay had gone off to sleep, so I wandered over to the soccer fieid (yes in the middle of the wilderness) to look at the night sky. The stars were amazing that night. Unlike in the US there were no planes overhead, not one, less sattelites (I don't remember seeing any that night), and very little light pollution. I found three 18 year old Argentenian guys out checking out the sky from vantage point of the soccer field, and enjoyed conversing with them as we gazed towards the many stars above. The Southern sky is so different from the Northern Hemisphere, it is easy to feel as if one is on another planet, with all the different constellations and nebulae out there.
The following day we had a lazy start (due to me) for Refugio Cajon Azul (Blue Box Canyon). However our 1 o'clock departure was no problem as the refugio was a relatively short 12 km away, mostly downhill. This said, we did go off the path 3 times as it split apart, dead ending us in the most steep terrain. I was reminded of hiking in the Grand Canyon as we descended steep canyon walls, with loose rock footing, and sharp desert like plants around us in a blazing sun.
Once at the bottom of our descent we were delighted to find the Rio Azul shimmering emerald blue, and to learn the origin of Cajon Azul; a 40 food deep canyon only 2 feet wide in places where the Rio Azul bottle necks down and flows through the dark depths below.
Cajon Azul Refugio was a pleasure as they have a huge garden, sheep, and dinner made from the combination of the two. It was my birthday the following day, so Lindsay and I indulged, and bought the house dinner; fried sheep, mashed potatoes, and a big salad. It hit the spot.
At the refugio we met an excellent young lady from Maine, who is a passionate organic gardener, and had been down here studying organic agriculture on a farm in Mendoza (some km north). I felt an instant connection to her, and was glad to enjoy some conversaion before nightfall. She inspired me to make the most of my life, as she clearly does with her own.
We (I) also met a couple Argentenians on vacacion from Santiago, Louis and Carolina. They were really friendly, interested in picking up some English and American culture, and glad to teach me some Spanish. We decided to meet in the morning for the hike back to El Bolson.
In the morning the sun shone brightly, and we all enjoyed the walk to civilization together. Lindsay and I had pretty well exhausted conversation between ourselves, so it was a great treat to walk with these new aquantances and learn their stories. Lindsay walked with Louis, I with Carolina. Carolina and I traded vocabulary all the way, and learned of each others lives with her limited English, and my less limited, yet still very limited Spanish. Lindsay and Louis were usually ahead of us, but I think they did the same.
We caught a taxi to El Bolson (from the end of the trail where we found a neat little county store and I was surprised one could call for a taxt), and later that night all of us headed north to Bariloche, a bustling city on the shores of Lago Nahuel Huapi. The day was a good one, but Lindsay and I had reached the point of having traveled together 24/7 for long enough, and it was getting kind of stuffy to be together.
The following morning she wanted to head out to do yet another trek, this time in Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi, and I was more interested in finding a nice spot to chill out for a couple days, so she hit the trail towards the trek, and I found myself once again traveling alone (but for the company of Louis and Carolina), and was glad of it.
However, Carolina and I enjoyed each other's spirit quite a bit, and later that day when Louis had to leave to return to Universidad, she stayed behind to travel with me for a bit longer. She and I caught a bus to Villa La Angostura together on a whim, not knowing what we would find there, but wanting to get out of the city of Bariloche. Once there we found a fun little town near the shore of Nahuel Huapi (na well wa pee) which reminded me of Sisters, Oregon quite a lot what with it's hip center street of log buildings, handmade wares, ice cream shops, and cafe's.
We wandered the town for a spell, had some good food, and found a decent camp ground (sort of a KOA kind of place) just out of town. Morning came and it was raining. She said, "como feo," how ugly. We walked into town, had a good meal, and she caught the next bus home. Our collective language skills had been exhausted, and love was not in the air. That said, maybe it would have been if we could understand each other, or maybe a deeper language connection would have only made us realized our differences yet more.
Before she left she had helped me locate Italian Hostel, a comfortable and warm place out of the rain where I could post up. I enjoyed it a lot, and was thrilled when the farmer from Cajon Azul walked in to the hostel later that night. On further conversation with this elegant young lady, Tess, it came to light that her mom had lived in Oakridge in the 1970's. Amazing.
The next day (yesterday) the sun shone again, and I walked to Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes, a peninsula covered by many old coihue trees and fringed by arrayanes trees. The arrayanes are a beautiful deep red, with smooth bark, similar to manzanita, only huge, with trunks 2 or 3 feet thick in places. I was plesantly surprised to find Tess along the trail, and we walked together for the remainder of the long day, sharing stories and insights along the way.
It was a long day- 30 km, or so, but with the beautiful sunshine and good company of a new friend and old trees it was an easy walk.
In the evening I treated myself to a delicious artesional ice cream of strawberry and mint chocolate, before heading back to the hostel. There I met two other people with whom I share real connection, Gabriel and Pedro. Pedro was running the hostel, I'm not sure if it is his own or not. But no matter. In a short conversation he asked me what it is I do for a living, and when I responded that I am a bicycle mechanic, he asked me if I liked cro-moly frames. I was thrilled to hear the question, and it sent us down a long road of conversation. I told him about Wade, Steve, Hunter, and the artesional frame builders in the states, and he told me of his son; a pro racer from Argentina, who raced the World Cup Circuit a few years ago.
I could go on, but I will just say it was the best Spanish conversation I have ever had, and the first time I have felt truly at home on this trip.
Then, shortly afterwards I began talking to Gabriel, a marketing professional from Buenos Aires. While our lives have been on very different paths, we realized that we are of the same tribe, and talked until late in the morning.
I left the Hostel this morning with tired feet, a gladness that I had found community so far from home, and a sadness that I had to leave just as I was beginning to make connections.
Tonight I take a 950km, 12hr bus ride to Santiago, where I will spend a my last 36 hours of this leg of the trip.
The comments following my last post were great, send more if you feel like it.
North to the Future!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Thread
-The Way It Is-
There's a thread you follow.
It goes among things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time´s unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
-William Stafford
Sometimes it is hard for me to see my own thread, and I wonder how other people can ever see their own. If, as alluded to in an earlier posting, I am a tamale; have the leaves I am to be wrapped in already fallen from heaven? Am I already being wrapped in them? Maybe they are so comfortable I can't even feel them all.
Over a year ago, my friend gave me a hand made journal with the William Stafford quote written on the first page. She said, "hang on to your thread; pursue your dreams." Since then many days have passed when I thought I may have lost my thread, when I could not feel it in my hands, when I could not see it, or smell it, or taste it, or even hear it near me, lying by my side.
But here, on the road, on the long brown path, on the bus, in the stream, I am finding my thread. I think I was holding on to it all the while, only the feel of it had become so comfortable to me, so familiar, I could hardly notice it anymore.
As I have left Oakridge, left my friends so many miles away, my goals and dreams awaiting for my return; I have been able to gain a new perspective. I see thread running through my life.
I can feel it in my hands as I grip my pencil and write in that handmade journal my friend gave me on a cold winter day in Eugene, Oregon. I can hear my thread when I hear a guitar being played, when I hear an old Beatles song, when I think of my friends voices, or hear the rush of a creek. I can smell my thread in the dirt of the Earth, in the tire of a bike, in the loamy smell near a moist creek, in the scent humity. I see my thread as I imagine the metal creations I want to make when I'm back home, when I look at the pictures I have taken on this trip and look forward to the slide show I plan to have, when I imagine the upcoming summer, and the opportunity it holds.
I find my thread, when Lindsay and I have walked for miles in Los Alerces National Park, to find ourselves in paradise. Nothing around but white sand, green forests of lenga trees and bamboo, hawks, and clear water. Yes, this place is a part of my thread, but this place is also where I needed to go to regain the clarity and peace of mind I have needed to see my thread, in my everyday life.
Sometimes I've tried to find my thread. "Don't let go of it Eug!" I've thought to myself as I remembered my friend's urging, all the while wondering if I'm still holding on to it at all. I've often wondered what "it" is. What is this thread I am supposed to keep hold of? Is it my biking? Living in Oakridge? Working at the Merc? Is it in finding true love? What is my thread supposed to be comprised of anyhow?
However, although I haven't always known it, I think I have been holding on to it, maybe almost letting go at times, but I still have it.
My thread is not a monofilament, that is not what thread is. A thread is a strong, flexible, material of many fibers spun together. Mine is a thread made of many elements, all comprised to create a single form, made of diverse yet compatible materials from which I can weave the fabric of my life.
My thread is one of art, of creating with the hands semipermanent form of what is only transitory in these lives. It is also art that is transitory; music, performance art, personal perfomance art-traveling, unicycling, biking, being in love.
When I find a quiet place of reflection I see: the rivers of Oregon, my tribe, a little home in Oakridge, the Merc, the trips I take, the art I have made, and hope to make, and the dreams I have for the future.
When I find the space to reflect upon my life, I find my thread.
So what about Chile? And where am I anyhow?
Tonight my energy went to writing about what has happened for me inside, as a beautiful world of mountains, lakes, trails, new friends, and borders has passed by outside.
Lindsay are in El Bolson, Argentina, a beautiful little town of 8,000 people, nestled deep in a valley between a really tall bare cliff face to the East, and a huge more gradual mountain to the West (Cerro Hielo Azul- Mountain of Blue Ice).
Here we have recovered from our fantastic travels in Los Alerces Park, where we hiked 20 miles or so. We have enjoyed the slower pace at which Argentenians speak, eaten really well at there is lots of trout here and the food is cheaper than Chile, and found a really awesome handmade ice cream joint, which we have visited 3 times in 2 days.
Tomorrow we head out of this little paradise and to Cerro Hielo Azul for 3 or 4 days of backpacking in the cordilliera. Should be good.
The trip is going quickly now. We have hit a good stride, however our days here are short now, less than 2 weeks to go!
After we leave Cerro Hielo we will head North to Bariloche, then on to Santiago. We haven't chosen a route yet, but I hope to visit some of the lakes north of Bariloche as Steve and Denise of Coconino Cycles say they are great.
Gotta sleep, more miles to go tomorrow.
Oh, about those pictures I've been taking.. Never have been able to find a computer where I can easily upload them. I'm looking forward to some slideshows back home.
There's a thread you follow.
It goes among things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time´s unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.
-William Stafford
Sometimes it is hard for me to see my own thread, and I wonder how other people can ever see their own. If, as alluded to in an earlier posting, I am a tamale; have the leaves I am to be wrapped in already fallen from heaven? Am I already being wrapped in them? Maybe they are so comfortable I can't even feel them all.
Over a year ago, my friend gave me a hand made journal with the William Stafford quote written on the first page. She said, "hang on to your thread; pursue your dreams." Since then many days have passed when I thought I may have lost my thread, when I could not feel it in my hands, when I could not see it, or smell it, or taste it, or even hear it near me, lying by my side.
But here, on the road, on the long brown path, on the bus, in the stream, I am finding my thread. I think I was holding on to it all the while, only the feel of it had become so comfortable to me, so familiar, I could hardly notice it anymore.
As I have left Oakridge, left my friends so many miles away, my goals and dreams awaiting for my return; I have been able to gain a new perspective. I see thread running through my life.
I can feel it in my hands as I grip my pencil and write in that handmade journal my friend gave me on a cold winter day in Eugene, Oregon. I can hear my thread when I hear a guitar being played, when I hear an old Beatles song, when I think of my friends voices, or hear the rush of a creek. I can smell my thread in the dirt of the Earth, in the tire of a bike, in the loamy smell near a moist creek, in the scent humity. I see my thread as I imagine the metal creations I want to make when I'm back home, when I look at the pictures I have taken on this trip and look forward to the slide show I plan to have, when I imagine the upcoming summer, and the opportunity it holds.
I find my thread, when Lindsay and I have walked for miles in Los Alerces National Park, to find ourselves in paradise. Nothing around but white sand, green forests of lenga trees and bamboo, hawks, and clear water. Yes, this place is a part of my thread, but this place is also where I needed to go to regain the clarity and peace of mind I have needed to see my thread, in my everyday life.
Sometimes I've tried to find my thread. "Don't let go of it Eug!" I've thought to myself as I remembered my friend's urging, all the while wondering if I'm still holding on to it at all. I've often wondered what "it" is. What is this thread I am supposed to keep hold of? Is it my biking? Living in Oakridge? Working at the Merc? Is it in finding true love? What is my thread supposed to be comprised of anyhow?
However, although I haven't always known it, I think I have been holding on to it, maybe almost letting go at times, but I still have it.
My thread is not a monofilament, that is not what thread is. A thread is a strong, flexible, material of many fibers spun together. Mine is a thread made of many elements, all comprised to create a single form, made of diverse yet compatible materials from which I can weave the fabric of my life.
My thread is one of art, of creating with the hands semipermanent form of what is only transitory in these lives. It is also art that is transitory; music, performance art, personal perfomance art-traveling, unicycling, biking, being in love.
When I find a quiet place of reflection I see: the rivers of Oregon, my tribe, a little home in Oakridge, the Merc, the trips I take, the art I have made, and hope to make, and the dreams I have for the future.
When I find the space to reflect upon my life, I find my thread.
So what about Chile? And where am I anyhow?
Tonight my energy went to writing about what has happened for me inside, as a beautiful world of mountains, lakes, trails, new friends, and borders has passed by outside.
Lindsay are in El Bolson, Argentina, a beautiful little town of 8,000 people, nestled deep in a valley between a really tall bare cliff face to the East, and a huge more gradual mountain to the West (Cerro Hielo Azul- Mountain of Blue Ice).
Here we have recovered from our fantastic travels in Los Alerces Park, where we hiked 20 miles or so. We have enjoyed the slower pace at which Argentenians speak, eaten really well at there is lots of trout here and the food is cheaper than Chile, and found a really awesome handmade ice cream joint, which we have visited 3 times in 2 days.
Tomorrow we head out of this little paradise and to Cerro Hielo Azul for 3 or 4 days of backpacking in the cordilliera. Should be good.
The trip is going quickly now. We have hit a good stride, however our days here are short now, less than 2 weeks to go!
After we leave Cerro Hielo we will head North to Bariloche, then on to Santiago. We haven't chosen a route yet, but I hope to visit some of the lakes north of Bariloche as Steve and Denise of Coconino Cycles say they are great.
Gotta sleep, more miles to go tomorrow.
Oh, about those pictures I've been taking.. Never have been able to find a computer where I can easily upload them. I'm looking forward to some slideshows back home.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
A Note from the Road
65 km or more under the soles of my feet, feeling strong, the wind in my face, the road and trail underfoot.
Lindsay and I walked through spectacular Cerro Castilo, a huge glaciated mountain comprised of beaututiful spires of old volcanic rock eroded away from so many years of glacial activity.
Life threw us a curveball after we left the park.. We were tired, 4 days, 2 passes, and 40 miles of trail, plus a super wind at the end left us a little ragged. We went to Puerto Ibanez to catch a ferry to Argentina, where we were going to arrange transport south to Torres del Paine Natl Park. When we arrived in Puerto Ibanez it was a twilight zone. Kind of reminded me of the Rez near Flag. Empty streets, aside from wandering dogs, lots of wind, sun, and rocks all around.
The people acted like we didn't exsist. We tried to get a ferry and were told it was booked for the next 4 days. Desperate not to be stuck in this weird little town, we caught a bus to Coyhaique to reformulate our plans.
Looking back I know I have learned a lot about the value of perseverence from this moment of weakness. I wish we were still headed south.
However, Torres del Paine is out at this point. We are headed North to Bariloche, back up to the beautiful lakes and mountains of the Lake Region of Chile and Argentina. Just over 2 weeks more for me during this trip, before I head to NY to meet up with Natty for a few days.
Sorry for the short post, I'm out of time at this little internet Cafe.
From here on I will be pointing back towards the north, beginning my long journey back home.
Lindsay and I walked through spectacular Cerro Castilo, a huge glaciated mountain comprised of beaututiful spires of old volcanic rock eroded away from so many years of glacial activity.
Life threw us a curveball after we left the park.. We were tired, 4 days, 2 passes, and 40 miles of trail, plus a super wind at the end left us a little ragged. We went to Puerto Ibanez to catch a ferry to Argentina, where we were going to arrange transport south to Torres del Paine Natl Park. When we arrived in Puerto Ibanez it was a twilight zone. Kind of reminded me of the Rez near Flag. Empty streets, aside from wandering dogs, lots of wind, sun, and rocks all around.
The people acted like we didn't exsist. We tried to get a ferry and were told it was booked for the next 4 days. Desperate not to be stuck in this weird little town, we caught a bus to Coyhaique to reformulate our plans.
Looking back I know I have learned a lot about the value of perseverence from this moment of weakness. I wish we were still headed south.
However, Torres del Paine is out at this point. We are headed North to Bariloche, back up to the beautiful lakes and mountains of the Lake Region of Chile and Argentina. Just over 2 weeks more for me during this trip, before I head to NY to meet up with Natty for a few days.
Sorry for the short post, I'm out of time at this little internet Cafe.
From here on I will be pointing back towards the north, beginning my long journey back home.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tamales in Space
"If you are meant to be a tamale, the leaves that you are to be wrapped in will fall from Heaven"
This was how my friend Lauren closed her last e-mail to me, a quote she picked up somewhere in Latin America I believe. And I thank her for this wisdom. My energy was going too much into thinking of what I should do with my life, rather than just living.
However her quote is not to contradict the thoughts of Charles Baudouin, "An idea upon which attention is peculiarly concentrated is an idea which tends to realize itself."
Nor is it contradictory to Professor Thomas Davidson, "Associate with the noblest people you can find; read the best books; live with the mighty. But learn to be happy alone. Rely upon you own energies and so not wait for or depend on other people."
A noble life is what I seek. No one, nor any thing, can either give this to me nor take it away.
Dressed in rags or surrounded by riches, life brings on wave after wave of change. It is how we posture ourselves, how we interact with that change, how we carry ourselves and treat the world around us that defines our character, who we are.
The culture and physical surroundings change constantly for me as I travel, challenging me to maintain my posture, maintain my mental faculty. It is a test and a lesson at once.
The sun shining brightly between low puffy cumulous couds, a towering granite mountain to the south, we spotted each other from far off in the park like plaza, our faces breaking into smiles as we ran to meet each other. 12 noon, February 15, I began my travels with Lindsay.
We quickly postulated our plans for the coming days and weeks; we will prepare today, and travel 75km south tomorrow to the remote Cerro Castillo, a craggy mountainscape of waterfalls and glaciers, where we will walk 62 kilometers through Cerro Castillo Park. As we exit the park we will rejoin the Austral Highway, our road to the park, and continue south via the myriad of roadways through southern Argentina and Chile onwards to our destination of Puerto Natales, and Torres del Paine National Park. There we will once agian stock up on food, enter the park, and embark on a 10 day hike through the wilderness of the far southern region of Patagonian Chile.
It is sure to be a trip of many challenges, smiles, and adventures unforseen. We are prepared with wit, physical ability, quite a lot of food, cameras, and technical outdoor clothing available for this type of adventure. We will test our friendship, our bodies, or minds, and surely learn a lot along the way.
Keep an eye out for a post in a week or so, as it will be at least 5 days from now before we are back to electricity and may be able to post again. I'll be posting again some time between Cerro Castillo and Torres del Paine.
Thanks for all the e-mail, it lifts my spirits.
Eugene
This was how my friend Lauren closed her last e-mail to me, a quote she picked up somewhere in Latin America I believe. And I thank her for this wisdom. My energy was going too much into thinking of what I should do with my life, rather than just living.
However her quote is not to contradict the thoughts of Charles Baudouin, "An idea upon which attention is peculiarly concentrated is an idea which tends to realize itself."
Nor is it contradictory to Professor Thomas Davidson, "Associate with the noblest people you can find; read the best books; live with the mighty. But learn to be happy alone. Rely upon you own energies and so not wait for or depend on other people."
A noble life is what I seek. No one, nor any thing, can either give this to me nor take it away.
Dressed in rags or surrounded by riches, life brings on wave after wave of change. It is how we posture ourselves, how we interact with that change, how we carry ourselves and treat the world around us that defines our character, who we are.
The culture and physical surroundings change constantly for me as I travel, challenging me to maintain my posture, maintain my mental faculty. It is a test and a lesson at once.
The sun shining brightly between low puffy cumulous couds, a towering granite mountain to the south, we spotted each other from far off in the park like plaza, our faces breaking into smiles as we ran to meet each other. 12 noon, February 15, I began my travels with Lindsay.
We quickly postulated our plans for the coming days and weeks; we will prepare today, and travel 75km south tomorrow to the remote Cerro Castillo, a craggy mountainscape of waterfalls and glaciers, where we will walk 62 kilometers through Cerro Castillo Park. As we exit the park we will rejoin the Austral Highway, our road to the park, and continue south via the myriad of roadways through southern Argentina and Chile onwards to our destination of Puerto Natales, and Torres del Paine National Park. There we will once agian stock up on food, enter the park, and embark on a 10 day hike through the wilderness of the far southern region of Patagonian Chile.
It is sure to be a trip of many challenges, smiles, and adventures unforseen. We are prepared with wit, physical ability, quite a lot of food, cameras, and technical outdoor clothing available for this type of adventure. We will test our friendship, our bodies, or minds, and surely learn a lot along the way.
Keep an eye out for a post in a week or so, as it will be at least 5 days from now before we are back to electricity and may be able to post again. I'll be posting again some time between Cerro Castillo and Torres del Paine.
Thanks for all the e-mail, it lifts my spirits.
Eugene
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Leaving Chiloé
The wind blows a gale outside this little red computer hut. It is as if to say, "Change is here, may the wind be with you." And so I leave Ancud, and Chiloé, and head back to the mainland, to Puerto Montt. A Navimag ferry awaits me there, with a berth reserved, and a journey to Puerto Chacabuco ahead.
Lindsay finished her NOLS mountaineering class, and is happy to have a couple of days to recuperate on her own before I arrive. While I am looking forward to a couple of days of travel, 24 hours on the ferry, and will be glad to have some company when I finally make it to the plaza in Coyhaique to meet her at high noon on Friday.
Chiloé has been enjoyable for me, with a fortutious turn of events helping me along as I rolled into Parque Nacional de Chiloé on the bus. As I was deboarding the bus a friendly Chilean asked me what I was doing, and was I alone. When I said I really didn't have a plan, and that yes I was alone, he suggested that I join him and his girlfriend on a little boat across the lake we had arrived at to a little camping area next to the park.
Having no plans can have it's advantages, and I was glad to take him up on the suggestion. He and his girlfriend turned out to be angels along my passage, as the camping area was beautiful and relaxing, and they were helpful and friendly all along the way.
Camping was primitive. There was running water, provided by a pipe that came from a mysterious source up a hill, and ended in a rusty porcealin sink. We set out our tents in haphazard patterns near the lake, sheltered by trees, tucked up against a hill which backed the park.
The camping area was full of happy Chileans on holiday from Conception, and Santiago, who were all most welcoming and in the best of moods. However, being an extranjero, a foreigner, I never have felt most at home here, even when all around me are welcoming and warm. There is something disconcerting about never knowing what is being said around a person, and never being able to join in the ongoing conversation.
My helpful friends took me on a great walk along the lake, to a neat nature trail through old forests, with root systems so intertwined that the trail had been built of wood, many feet above the ground. We saw many native birds, plants, and trees. Soon we had finished our nature walk, and walked on to an "artesania", a little tiny shop, in a shed, in a field, where an old couple was sitting around a wood stove with their handmade wares hanging from the cool, dark ceiling, bonking me in the head.
They had many beautiful handmade baskets, made of the local plant fiber, and handmade hats of their sheep's wool. The couple live with no electricity, no incoming food supply, no aid from the government. They are happy and content, but tough, and the conditions of their existence were worn into their faces; many wrinkles and grooves carved into their skin from the passage of many a cold rain storm and exposed sunny day.
I slept long that night, awakening to a sunny day, and a walk to the beach. The surf was not to big, but there were clearly dangerous currents, and I dared not swim. I loved being along the coastline of a body of water that touches Hawaii, Alaska, Oregon, all of South America and New Zealand. What a huge ocean it is.
My time has arrived to leave for the bus! I go to Puerto Montt, and on to the South. Look for another post from Coyhaique.
I'm traveling alone here, and can never see who has visited my blog, so leave me a note on the comments page if you like, or send an e-mail, as I miss you all
Lindsay finished her NOLS mountaineering class, and is happy to have a couple of days to recuperate on her own before I arrive. While I am looking forward to a couple of days of travel, 24 hours on the ferry, and will be glad to have some company when I finally make it to the plaza in Coyhaique to meet her at high noon on Friday.
Chiloé has been enjoyable for me, with a fortutious turn of events helping me along as I rolled into Parque Nacional de Chiloé on the bus. As I was deboarding the bus a friendly Chilean asked me what I was doing, and was I alone. When I said I really didn't have a plan, and that yes I was alone, he suggested that I join him and his girlfriend on a little boat across the lake we had arrived at to a little camping area next to the park.
Having no plans can have it's advantages, and I was glad to take him up on the suggestion. He and his girlfriend turned out to be angels along my passage, as the camping area was beautiful and relaxing, and they were helpful and friendly all along the way.
Camping was primitive. There was running water, provided by a pipe that came from a mysterious source up a hill, and ended in a rusty porcealin sink. We set out our tents in haphazard patterns near the lake, sheltered by trees, tucked up against a hill which backed the park.
The camping area was full of happy Chileans on holiday from Conception, and Santiago, who were all most welcoming and in the best of moods. However, being an extranjero, a foreigner, I never have felt most at home here, even when all around me are welcoming and warm. There is something disconcerting about never knowing what is being said around a person, and never being able to join in the ongoing conversation.
My helpful friends took me on a great walk along the lake, to a neat nature trail through old forests, with root systems so intertwined that the trail had been built of wood, many feet above the ground. We saw many native birds, plants, and trees. Soon we had finished our nature walk, and walked on to an "artesania", a little tiny shop, in a shed, in a field, where an old couple was sitting around a wood stove with their handmade wares hanging from the cool, dark ceiling, bonking me in the head.
They had many beautiful handmade baskets, made of the local plant fiber, and handmade hats of their sheep's wool. The couple live with no electricity, no incoming food supply, no aid from the government. They are happy and content, but tough, and the conditions of their existence were worn into their faces; many wrinkles and grooves carved into their skin from the passage of many a cold rain storm and exposed sunny day.
I slept long that night, awakening to a sunny day, and a walk to the beach. The surf was not to big, but there were clearly dangerous currents, and I dared not swim. I loved being along the coastline of a body of water that touches Hawaii, Alaska, Oregon, all of South America and New Zealand. What a huge ocean it is.
My time has arrived to leave for the bus! I go to Puerto Montt, and on to the South. Look for another post from Coyhaique.
I'm traveling alone here, and can never see who has visited my blog, so leave me a note on the comments page if you like, or send an e-mail, as I miss you all
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Chiloé
I bailed out of Pucon this morning, catching the 6:40 bus to Puerto Montt.
Pucon actually grew on me as I spent a few days there, but in the end it was the Americans in my dorm room at the hostel that made me feel like I had to get away imminently. Going all the way to the other end of the world to have a couple of nice Americans speaking English and talking about all the sweet powder we are missing in Utah, while partying every day and making my trip feel more like a weekend in a dorm room at Any College USA, eventually cracked me. Or maybe it was Steve´s chainsaw like snoring 6 feet away from 2 am on every night.
Anyhow as soon as I walked next door to the hostel to the JAC bus depot I was back in Chile, and on my way. I was on the bus for a bit longer than I wished, and by the time we arrived in Puerto Montt I was looking at "ESCAPE" printed on the window, and wondering under what circumstances it was to be used.
Arriving in Puerto Montt was a relief from the bus, like the LA airport is a relief from the seat of a plane; it was nice to be off the bus, but I wanted to get the ¿*^¡ out of there as quickly as possible. People everywhere, lots of beggars, and me with my huge ass backpack. All around the depot there was just a kind of wasteland of metal roofs, and tin buildings, and a shady looking waterfront, so instead of wandering away as I wished to do I found a bus to Chiloe, the 10th region of Chile (as the government labels them from North to South).
It was 2 hours including a 20 minute ferry ride to the island region, and I got off at the first town, Ancud. The bus actually started to take off with my backpack still in the luggage compartment, which really freaked me out, thankfully the driver heard my yelling and stopped.
The town seemed like a really sketchy run down waterfront hole in the wall at first, but once I had put my muchilla (backpack) down at the San Jose hostel, and took a walk around town I had a change of heart.
Antun is a colorful town of what I would guess to be 5000 people. When I say colorful, picture a rainbow of color splashed every where-boats, houses, fences, and usually faded a good 20 years. The people are a hard up, but generally friendly, and it is great to see a real working fishing fleet of small colorful boats. It makes me think of Hemingway´s "Old Man and the Sea."
Tomorrow I´m off to the south central part of the island to Castro, and on to a national park on the west coast of the island. I bet is will be wild ocean and green green vegitation.
Unfortunately I was operation on some bad information regarding the ferry to meet Lindsay in Coyhaique, and I was very disheartened to learn that the boat I was to take no longer runs. I will return to Puerto Montt on Wednesday after visiting the park here to catch the Navimag Ferry to Puerto Chacabuco, a 24 hour trip. That will put me in Coyhaique about 58 hours later than I was supposed to be, hopefully not too much of an inconvenience for my traveling companion.
That´s it for now. I´ve been taking lots of pictures, but once again can not find a computer where I can download them to again upload them to the net.
I´ll be back online in a couple of days, look to see another post sometime Wednesday.
Pucon actually grew on me as I spent a few days there, but in the end it was the Americans in my dorm room at the hostel that made me feel like I had to get away imminently. Going all the way to the other end of the world to have a couple of nice Americans speaking English and talking about all the sweet powder we are missing in Utah, while partying every day and making my trip feel more like a weekend in a dorm room at Any College USA, eventually cracked me. Or maybe it was Steve´s chainsaw like snoring 6 feet away from 2 am on every night.
Anyhow as soon as I walked next door to the hostel to the JAC bus depot I was back in Chile, and on my way. I was on the bus for a bit longer than I wished, and by the time we arrived in Puerto Montt I was looking at "ESCAPE" printed on the window, and wondering under what circumstances it was to be used.
Arriving in Puerto Montt was a relief from the bus, like the LA airport is a relief from the seat of a plane; it was nice to be off the bus, but I wanted to get the ¿*^¡ out of there as quickly as possible. People everywhere, lots of beggars, and me with my huge ass backpack. All around the depot there was just a kind of wasteland of metal roofs, and tin buildings, and a shady looking waterfront, so instead of wandering away as I wished to do I found a bus to Chiloe, the 10th region of Chile (as the government labels them from North to South).
It was 2 hours including a 20 minute ferry ride to the island region, and I got off at the first town, Ancud. The bus actually started to take off with my backpack still in the luggage compartment, which really freaked me out, thankfully the driver heard my yelling and stopped.
The town seemed like a really sketchy run down waterfront hole in the wall at first, but once I had put my muchilla (backpack) down at the San Jose hostel, and took a walk around town I had a change of heart.
Antun is a colorful town of what I would guess to be 5000 people. When I say colorful, picture a rainbow of color splashed every where-boats, houses, fences, and usually faded a good 20 years. The people are a hard up, but generally friendly, and it is great to see a real working fishing fleet of small colorful boats. It makes me think of Hemingway´s "Old Man and the Sea."
Tomorrow I´m off to the south central part of the island to Castro, and on to a national park on the west coast of the island. I bet is will be wild ocean and green green vegitation.
Unfortunately I was operation on some bad information regarding the ferry to meet Lindsay in Coyhaique, and I was very disheartened to learn that the boat I was to take no longer runs. I will return to Puerto Montt on Wednesday after visiting the park here to catch the Navimag Ferry to Puerto Chacabuco, a 24 hour trip. That will put me in Coyhaique about 58 hours later than I was supposed to be, hopefully not too much of an inconvenience for my traveling companion.
That´s it for now. I´ve been taking lots of pictures, but once again can not find a computer where I can download them to again upload them to the net.
I´ll be back online in a couple of days, look to see another post sometime Wednesday.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Arucarìa trees, alpine lakes high in the Andes, hot days, and cold, cold, streams have been my surroundings for the past few days. It was with some hesitation that I boarded the JAC tour bus leaving Parque Nacional Huerquehue yesterday afternoon, knowing that I would soon be surrounded by people, cars, computers, and things to attend to. All of which I had been able to leave behind for a few sweet days.
My trek began in the afternoon 5 days ago, as I boarded the little bus bound for Huerquehue. The bus wound it's way up a lazy river, flowing from a distant glacial source, before heading away from the river high into the Andes. The road quickly became dusty and full of washboard as we climbed higher, away from the city, and into the "campo" or country. The switchbacks were tight and steep, once we even had to back up and try again to make it around one.
After nearly an hour of bumping along, a beautiful glacial lake came into view in the valley below. Lago Tinquilco, our stopping point for the bus trip. We descended to the lake, crossing a wooden bridge fit for a fitness trail in our lumbering bus, and stopped at the entry gate to the park. As I went to the guardhouse to buy my entry ticket into the park, I said I wanted to "hacer camping," thinking I was saying that I wanted to go camping in the park. Soon I was very confused as I the ranger replied, "Todo occupado."
It took about a half an hour for me to realize our problem; they thought I wanted to camp right there next to the lake in the high traffic area, and I wanted to hike into the interior of the park, to camp at a primitive refugìo.
Once our difference was understood, I was on the way to the refugio, about 13km from Lago Tinquilco.
My maps are not topographic, and from the way they are printed I thought I would be walking up a glacial valley to further lakes and camping. It was a great surprise to find a steep acsent awaiting me at the head of Lago Tinquilco. The ascent was cut into the mountainside, green arucarìa trees, some plants very similar to bamboo, and many other varieties of green life surrounded me on all sides. I could not tell how far this ascent continued on for, which caused me to take is somewhat slowly, but not too slowly, as it was already growing late in the afternoon and I had a long way to go before making camp for the night.
I ascended for an hour or more, covering about 1500 ft of vertical, with sweet vistas of Lago Tinquilco below and Volcan Villarica in the distance. At the top of my climb I found alpine lakes with crystal blue water, lots of chirping birds (which I could never see), and a more gradual trail leading onwards into the park.
I walked onwards for hours, taking pictures of mountain peaks that would appear through the forest as the underbrush upened up at higher elevation. I spotted two huge birds about the size of golden eagles, with long curved beaks, as they took flight from my presence. As I neared treeline, the trail turned downwards, towards another hidden valley, and the sun set behind a high up treeless summit. I had a couple of hours to make it to the refugio, the only legal camp spot in the park, and although I was feeling the weight of my pack on my shoulders and feet, I was feeling good about making it to camp before dark.
Once again I was surprised by the topography, as the trail descended sharply, switchbacking Grand Canyon style, into the valley below. The trail became more and more rocky, with large steps down at every third step. This took a toll on me as I was mentally unprepared for the ruggedness of the terrain, and my feet were feeling close to blistering.
I took the descent slowly, and the light faded away to nothing. I turned on my headlamp, to find many large black spiders were coming out at the change from day to night. Walking onwards I stopped periodically to stretch the now aching muscles in my neck, but continued on mostly directly towards the refugio.
I was startled to find a very large creature in the brush ahead of me, but was soon relieved to see a horses tail. There were then lights ahead, and I had made it to the refugio only about half an hour past nightfall.
The following days were filled with the peacefulness of the valley where the refugio sits, filtering water from the extremely cold Andean stream, reading some good bits of the book I have with me, Louis L'amour´s "Education of a Wandering Man," a few delectable conversations with fellow trekkers passing through from distant lands, and time to stretch and reflect on life.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was time for me to pack up again and head back to the civ.
The walk was much easier on the return as I started at a higher elevation, had a good knowledge of the land, and began my walk hours earlier in the day. My body was more prepared for the walk as well, my legs feeling stronger, with less aches and pain from every part.
A wonderful treat awaited me at midday, as I stopped at Lago Toro for a refreshing dip in the clear, cool water. A few Chileans were there too, and we talked about the country and my trip.
The walk resumed, and was quickly completed, back at the dusty little bus stop by the lake.
Our bus filled to capacity. People and bags everywhere. Then as we went we kept picking up more people, Chileans waiting for a ride to the city from their little houses. One couple boarded the now overful buss with a huge box from a bigscreen TV and 5 bags too. Soon our bus was packed to the gills with people standing in the isle, boxes and bags pushing the driver to the side in his seat. But here this is not a problem. People make way for each other. No one complained, and we all got were we were going quite expediently and with good form.
Back at Hospedaje Wohlenberg, the hostel where I am staying, there was steak on the grill, and beer to be drunk, which we did. The family that ownes the Hospedaje is quite welcoming, making me feel right at home.
I'm here for the afternoon, and evening, then off to Puerto Montt and on to Puerto Chacabuco, where I will find land transport to Coyhaique to meet my friend Lindsay to begin the next segment of my trip.
Thanks for all of the comments and e-mail. It makes me really stoked to hear stories from my friends, and know that you are following my trip.
Rock on at the Merc! I never expected Normous to be behind the counter, but I´m glad he is, as he is part of the family for sure.
I´ll update as I can. Probably from Coyhaique. Maybe I can find a newer computer, where I can upload some pictures. We´ll see.
Chow.
My trek began in the afternoon 5 days ago, as I boarded the little bus bound for Huerquehue. The bus wound it's way up a lazy river, flowing from a distant glacial source, before heading away from the river high into the Andes. The road quickly became dusty and full of washboard as we climbed higher, away from the city, and into the "campo" or country. The switchbacks were tight and steep, once we even had to back up and try again to make it around one.
After nearly an hour of bumping along, a beautiful glacial lake came into view in the valley below. Lago Tinquilco, our stopping point for the bus trip. We descended to the lake, crossing a wooden bridge fit for a fitness trail in our lumbering bus, and stopped at the entry gate to the park. As I went to the guardhouse to buy my entry ticket into the park, I said I wanted to "hacer camping," thinking I was saying that I wanted to go camping in the park. Soon I was very confused as I the ranger replied, "Todo occupado."
It took about a half an hour for me to realize our problem; they thought I wanted to camp right there next to the lake in the high traffic area, and I wanted to hike into the interior of the park, to camp at a primitive refugìo.
Once our difference was understood, I was on the way to the refugio, about 13km from Lago Tinquilco.
My maps are not topographic, and from the way they are printed I thought I would be walking up a glacial valley to further lakes and camping. It was a great surprise to find a steep acsent awaiting me at the head of Lago Tinquilco. The ascent was cut into the mountainside, green arucarìa trees, some plants very similar to bamboo, and many other varieties of green life surrounded me on all sides. I could not tell how far this ascent continued on for, which caused me to take is somewhat slowly, but not too slowly, as it was already growing late in the afternoon and I had a long way to go before making camp for the night.
I ascended for an hour or more, covering about 1500 ft of vertical, with sweet vistas of Lago Tinquilco below and Volcan Villarica in the distance. At the top of my climb I found alpine lakes with crystal blue water, lots of chirping birds (which I could never see), and a more gradual trail leading onwards into the park.
I walked onwards for hours, taking pictures of mountain peaks that would appear through the forest as the underbrush upened up at higher elevation. I spotted two huge birds about the size of golden eagles, with long curved beaks, as they took flight from my presence. As I neared treeline, the trail turned downwards, towards another hidden valley, and the sun set behind a high up treeless summit. I had a couple of hours to make it to the refugio, the only legal camp spot in the park, and although I was feeling the weight of my pack on my shoulders and feet, I was feeling good about making it to camp before dark.
Once again I was surprised by the topography, as the trail descended sharply, switchbacking Grand Canyon style, into the valley below. The trail became more and more rocky, with large steps down at every third step. This took a toll on me as I was mentally unprepared for the ruggedness of the terrain, and my feet were feeling close to blistering.
I took the descent slowly, and the light faded away to nothing. I turned on my headlamp, to find many large black spiders were coming out at the change from day to night. Walking onwards I stopped periodically to stretch the now aching muscles in my neck, but continued on mostly directly towards the refugio.
I was startled to find a very large creature in the brush ahead of me, but was soon relieved to see a horses tail. There were then lights ahead, and I had made it to the refugio only about half an hour past nightfall.
The following days were filled with the peacefulness of the valley where the refugio sits, filtering water from the extremely cold Andean stream, reading some good bits of the book I have with me, Louis L'amour´s "Education of a Wandering Man," a few delectable conversations with fellow trekkers passing through from distant lands, and time to stretch and reflect on life.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was time for me to pack up again and head back to the civ.
The walk was much easier on the return as I started at a higher elevation, had a good knowledge of the land, and began my walk hours earlier in the day. My body was more prepared for the walk as well, my legs feeling stronger, with less aches and pain from every part.
A wonderful treat awaited me at midday, as I stopped at Lago Toro for a refreshing dip in the clear, cool water. A few Chileans were there too, and we talked about the country and my trip.
The walk resumed, and was quickly completed, back at the dusty little bus stop by the lake.
Our bus filled to capacity. People and bags everywhere. Then as we went we kept picking up more people, Chileans waiting for a ride to the city from their little houses. One couple boarded the now overful buss with a huge box from a bigscreen TV and 5 bags too. Soon our bus was packed to the gills with people standing in the isle, boxes and bags pushing the driver to the side in his seat. But here this is not a problem. People make way for each other. No one complained, and we all got were we were going quite expediently and with good form.
Back at Hospedaje Wohlenberg, the hostel where I am staying, there was steak on the grill, and beer to be drunk, which we did. The family that ownes the Hospedaje is quite welcoming, making me feel right at home.
I'm here for the afternoon, and evening, then off to Puerto Montt and on to Puerto Chacabuco, where I will find land transport to Coyhaique to meet my friend Lindsay to begin the next segment of my trip.
Thanks for all of the comments and e-mail. It makes me really stoked to hear stories from my friends, and know that you are following my trip.
Rock on at the Merc! I never expected Normous to be behind the counter, but I´m glad he is, as he is part of the family for sure.
I´ll update as I can. Probably from Coyhaique. Maybe I can find a newer computer, where I can upload some pictures. We´ll see.
Chow.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Sedona del Sur
I´ve made it to Pucon, a little town I call the Sedona of the South. If you have been to Sedona recently you can picture the beautiful rocks, blue sky, hot summer days, and lots and lots of consumeristic touristas wandering the streets buying everything from jeep tours to wedding gowns. Well similarly here in Pucon, everyone comes for the natural beauty of the place, but immediatly forgets that when they arrive, and spends all of their time in little shops and ice cream parlours.
Anyhow, I'm gearing up for a few days in the mountains around town here, beginning tomorrow morning.
Since my last entry I´ve "hacer dedo" hitch hiked down the Panamerican Highway with a fearless 69 year old lady named Judy, from Philadelphia, bussed along a busy stretch of highway leaving Santiago, taken another bus from Chillan to Pucon, had two long conversations using only Spanish, walked way too far around Pucon with a backpack that is way too big for walking far, tent camped outside the hostel where I am at now (due to the over full rooms last night), eaten cazuala (good Chilean food-rice, chicken, veggie stew), and sushi (Sedona of the South I say), missed a bus, caught a better bus, met a beautiful girl on the better bus, said goodbye to her, marveled at the smoking volcano out my window here, and recieved a few good e-mails from you out there.
Just a short entry for now, as I don´t want to be one of those people spending all my time inside when I came here to be outside. Sorry there are no pictures-the computers here aren´t quite as up to date as in the good 'ol Estados Unidos.
More later. I´ll be out backpacking until Thursday afternoon.
Anyhow, I'm gearing up for a few days in the mountains around town here, beginning tomorrow morning.
Since my last entry I´ve "hacer dedo" hitch hiked down the Panamerican Highway with a fearless 69 year old lady named Judy, from Philadelphia, bussed along a busy stretch of highway leaving Santiago, taken another bus from Chillan to Pucon, had two long conversations using only Spanish, walked way too far around Pucon with a backpack that is way too big for walking far, tent camped outside the hostel where I am at now (due to the over full rooms last night), eaten cazuala (good Chilean food-rice, chicken, veggie stew), and sushi (Sedona of the South I say), missed a bus, caught a better bus, met a beautiful girl on the better bus, said goodbye to her, marveled at the smoking volcano out my window here, and recieved a few good e-mails from you out there.
Just a short entry for now, as I don´t want to be one of those people spending all my time inside when I came here to be outside. Sorry there are no pictures-the computers here aren´t quite as up to date as in the good 'ol Estados Unidos.
More later. I´ll be out backpacking until Thursday afternoon.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Mi dia en Santiago
"What IS that dripping on me? Is someone spitting on me from one of these buildings? Maybe shouldn´t try to figure it out now, someone might try to take my bag, I might run into someone, I´ll figure it out later."
There are people everywhere. Cars honking, people talking, I catch a word I know every so often, but much is lost on me. Santiago is jammed with people. People on the sidewalk, motorscooters in the streets, busses, people leaning out of balcony windows.
"Which way am I going anyhow?" I´d think as I walked. "The sun seems to be in a little lower in front of me, so that must me North. No maybe it is West." I didn´t know. Tall buildings blocked out the landscape entirely, and when I did get a glimple into the distance it was obscured by a heavy haze lying on the city.
Santiago reminds me of the pictures I have seen of cities in Asia. So many people in the streets that is impossible to walk in a straight line. Sometimes the pedestrians form critical masses, blocking the honking traffic for a few moments, to shuffle across the street. But somehow among the honking cars, and chattering Chileans, an overall calm remains. There are many, many homeless here. Sleeping on the streets, walking the streets. Living on the street. And many homeless perros too. But unlike the US they do not beg from me as I pass, they are just living their lives, and although I know I stick out with my pale skin and ponytail, they leave me alone.
The city is like no place I´ve ever been. Little shops jam the streets, each selling a little bit of this, or that, many times repeated upon themselves. I was looking for a little padlock, some sunscreen, and a place to change some money from dollars into Chilean Pesos. I looked in a hundred little shops all "Farmacia" or some such name, and found sunscreen easily. But it took hours of looking to find a lock. Finally after wandering for many hours, and asking many questions I came to a little ¨Ferreteria", or as it translates in my mind, an "iron store." There I found a little lock.
As for changing money... As I was walking through one of the city squares, taking a couple of pictures, a couple approached me. A woman of about 30, and a man of near 40. They asked where I was from, using English better than my Spanish, but not ideal. I gathered that they were looking to ask for money. They said they were students at the university here, explained that all universities here are private, and it is difficult to pay for an education with the wages made here. They were very interested in my life in the US, and I enjoyed practicing my Spanish as we talked.
They took me to the Catholic Cathedral, built about 400 years ago, to the presidential palace, where Pinochet had a bloody coup sometime in the 70´s, and to a couple of interesting museums which we did not enter, but they suggested. They kept mentioning how they needed money for their education. I told them I had no Chilean money with me, but if they could take me to a place where I could change money I would get some. They were very intent. This all made me a bit nervous, but I did appreciate their hospitality, and it was worth it to me to give them a few dollars for the tour, regardless of whether they were truly students of pediatrics, and veterinary medicine as they claimed.
However once they had finally found a place where I could change money (which was surprisingly difficult as no regular bank will do this) they became a bit short and demanding. It was clear they each wanted to get going, and they wanted some money before they were going to leave, so I pulled out a 10,000 peso note from my pocket (not really comprehending the value of the note) and handed it to the man. He seemed really quite put off, which I didn´t understand, and said it was really not very much. "She has to pay for school too you know." I said that just because I was from the Estados Unidos did not mean that I was made of money, but eventually gave the woman 10,000 pesos as well.
I really wasn´t sure how much I 10,000 pesos was, so I went to the quietest spot I could find near a museum and thought about it for a while. I realized it is somewhere in the neighborhood of a US $22, and felt a bit used, but figured that it was worth paying this amount to learn a bit about how the world works, so I could learn to avoid this type of thing in the future. I was glad everything had gone as it did, and decided I would stay away from anyone being overly friendly in the future.
I´m staying at the Andes Hostel, in the Bella Artes district of Santiago. It is very cosmopolitain, and located near much of the activity of the city. There are little cafes and clubs all around, and lots of little farmacias etc.
After my walk through the city with my "amigos" earlier today I figure I walked about 8 or 10 miles, and I was tired. So I went to sleep for a while at 6, woke at midnight, and am now wide awake. My body doesn´t have any idea what time it is.
In the morning I am going to find the bus station, figure out when I can leave for Puerto Montt (my jumping off point for Patagonia, and the ferry to Puerto Aisen), and try to arrange for a bus leaving the day after tomorrow. I´d like to visit a couple of the museums here, and the Biblioteca National (National Library), eat a meal somewhere (which I never did today), and repack once again before heading south. But Aside from that I´m really ready to get out of this metropolis, and go somewhere more rural.
I think I´ll try to get to Coyhaique a few days before Lindsay´s class ends, as it looks beautiful there, and I think I will be glad to get away from the city, where I am always somewhat on edge.
It is two hours earlier than Eastern Standard Time here, for those of you who may be wondering what time it is down here.
As for that water that kept dripping on me- all of the buildings have little air conditioners in the widows here, so walking the sidewalk you are constantly being dripped on from some high up window.
Send comments as you can! I´d like to know what you all think.
Adios,
Eugenio
There are people everywhere. Cars honking, people talking, I catch a word I know every so often, but much is lost on me. Santiago is jammed with people. People on the sidewalk, motorscooters in the streets, busses, people leaning out of balcony windows.
"Which way am I going anyhow?" I´d think as I walked. "The sun seems to be in a little lower in front of me, so that must me North. No maybe it is West." I didn´t know. Tall buildings blocked out the landscape entirely, and when I did get a glimple into the distance it was obscured by a heavy haze lying on the city.
Santiago reminds me of the pictures I have seen of cities in Asia. So many people in the streets that is impossible to walk in a straight line. Sometimes the pedestrians form critical masses, blocking the honking traffic for a few moments, to shuffle across the street. But somehow among the honking cars, and chattering Chileans, an overall calm remains. There are many, many homeless here. Sleeping on the streets, walking the streets. Living on the street. And many homeless perros too. But unlike the US they do not beg from me as I pass, they are just living their lives, and although I know I stick out with my pale skin and ponytail, they leave me alone.
The city is like no place I´ve ever been. Little shops jam the streets, each selling a little bit of this, or that, many times repeated upon themselves. I was looking for a little padlock, some sunscreen, and a place to change some money from dollars into Chilean Pesos. I looked in a hundred little shops all "Farmacia" or some such name, and found sunscreen easily. But it took hours of looking to find a lock. Finally after wandering for many hours, and asking many questions I came to a little ¨Ferreteria", or as it translates in my mind, an "iron store." There I found a little lock.
As for changing money... As I was walking through one of the city squares, taking a couple of pictures, a couple approached me. A woman of about 30, and a man of near 40. They asked where I was from, using English better than my Spanish, but not ideal. I gathered that they were looking to ask for money. They said they were students at the university here, explained that all universities here are private, and it is difficult to pay for an education with the wages made here. They were very interested in my life in the US, and I enjoyed practicing my Spanish as we talked.
They took me to the Catholic Cathedral, built about 400 years ago, to the presidential palace, where Pinochet had a bloody coup sometime in the 70´s, and to a couple of interesting museums which we did not enter, but they suggested. They kept mentioning how they needed money for their education. I told them I had no Chilean money with me, but if they could take me to a place where I could change money I would get some. They were very intent. This all made me a bit nervous, but I did appreciate their hospitality, and it was worth it to me to give them a few dollars for the tour, regardless of whether they were truly students of pediatrics, and veterinary medicine as they claimed.
However once they had finally found a place where I could change money (which was surprisingly difficult as no regular bank will do this) they became a bit short and demanding. It was clear they each wanted to get going, and they wanted some money before they were going to leave, so I pulled out a 10,000 peso note from my pocket (not really comprehending the value of the note) and handed it to the man. He seemed really quite put off, which I didn´t understand, and said it was really not very much. "She has to pay for school too you know." I said that just because I was from the Estados Unidos did not mean that I was made of money, but eventually gave the woman 10,000 pesos as well.
I really wasn´t sure how much I 10,000 pesos was, so I went to the quietest spot I could find near a museum and thought about it for a while. I realized it is somewhere in the neighborhood of a US $22, and felt a bit used, but figured that it was worth paying this amount to learn a bit about how the world works, so I could learn to avoid this type of thing in the future. I was glad everything had gone as it did, and decided I would stay away from anyone being overly friendly in the future.
I´m staying at the Andes Hostel, in the Bella Artes district of Santiago. It is very cosmopolitain, and located near much of the activity of the city. There are little cafes and clubs all around, and lots of little farmacias etc.
After my walk through the city with my "amigos" earlier today I figure I walked about 8 or 10 miles, and I was tired. So I went to sleep for a while at 6, woke at midnight, and am now wide awake. My body doesn´t have any idea what time it is.
In the morning I am going to find the bus station, figure out when I can leave for Puerto Montt (my jumping off point for Patagonia, and the ferry to Puerto Aisen), and try to arrange for a bus leaving the day after tomorrow. I´d like to visit a couple of the museums here, and the Biblioteca National (National Library), eat a meal somewhere (which I never did today), and repack once again before heading south. But Aside from that I´m really ready to get out of this metropolis, and go somewhere more rural.
I think I´ll try to get to Coyhaique a few days before Lindsay´s class ends, as it looks beautiful there, and I think I will be glad to get away from the city, where I am always somewhat on edge.
It is two hours earlier than Eastern Standard Time here, for those of you who may be wondering what time it is down here.
As for that water that kept dripping on me- all of the buildings have little air conditioners in the widows here, so walking the sidewalk you are constantly being dripped on from some high up window.
Send comments as you can! I´d like to know what you all think.
Adios,
Eugenio
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
And so It begins..
The lights came over the hill, I was out of breath from hiking through the snow carrying everything I will use to travel to South America on my back, the car stopped in the darkness and the passenger window slid down, "Bus isn't running this morning, weather emergency, sorry," the driver said. The window slid up and he drove away into the darkness of the morning blizzard.
The snow fell on my face, I thought of the train I was to catch 50 miles away through the darkness and the snow, and I started walking. My arm instinctively reached outwards, my thumb pointing up into the darkness of the morning.
A semi rolled by apathetically ignoring the plight of this traveler. A friend's truck lerched past, driver weary and unaware of me as he focused on making it to his destination safely. Another truck approached. My arm began waving around, my legs lifting my body up and down. "Stop, stop, wait for me," my soul shouted. The truck stopped. The driver eyed me suspiciously.. "Can you take me to Eugene? I've got to catch the 9 o'clock train, and there is no bus this morning," I said.
We rolled into the blizzard and my trip had begun.
A day's journey behind me, I sit in a sunlit window contemplating the journey to come. "I'm traveling not so much to learn what is out There, as to learn what is in Here," I think.
It is a social life I lead, one of many friends and countless acquaintances. For me the struggle is to find a space, find the strength, to be alone, to just do Eug's stuff. To what do what is right for me, now.
I find it difficult to set myself aside, and focus on my goals, my projects, as I am often distracted by the temptation to journey to a friendly locale, enjoy the company, and often a good meal together. This trip is a sort of forced isolation for a soul weary from too much of a good thing.
The sun still shines through the bay window I sit next to, illuminating the ever green foliage that comprises every unpaved inch of Cascadia. It speaks to me, "leave the little glowing plastic box Eug, the world awaits," and so I go.
The snow fell on my face, I thought of the train I was to catch 50 miles away through the darkness and the snow, and I started walking. My arm instinctively reached outwards, my thumb pointing up into the darkness of the morning.
A semi rolled by apathetically ignoring the plight of this traveler. A friend's truck lerched past, driver weary and unaware of me as he focused on making it to his destination safely. Another truck approached. My arm began waving around, my legs lifting my body up and down. "Stop, stop, wait for me," my soul shouted. The truck stopped. The driver eyed me suspiciously.. "Can you take me to Eugene? I've got to catch the 9 o'clock train, and there is no bus this morning," I said.
We rolled into the blizzard and my trip had begun.
A day's journey behind me, I sit in a sunlit window contemplating the journey to come. "I'm traveling not so much to learn what is out There, as to learn what is in Here," I think.
It is a social life I lead, one of many friends and countless acquaintances. For me the struggle is to find a space, find the strength, to be alone, to just do Eug's stuff. To what do what is right for me, now.
I find it difficult to set myself aside, and focus on my goals, my projects, as I am often distracted by the temptation to journey to a friendly locale, enjoy the company, and often a good meal together. This trip is a sort of forced isolation for a soul weary from too much of a good thing.
The sun still shines through the bay window I sit next to, illuminating the ever green foliage that comprises every unpaved inch of Cascadia. It speaks to me, "leave the little glowing plastic box Eug, the world awaits," and so I go.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Headin' Out
I'm leaving Oakridge in a few short hours, voyaging first to Portland and then on to Santiago, Chile and beyond, to Patagonia for a backpacking adventure. I've been up all night doing last minute preparations, and now at 4 am I am finally basically ready to go. My pack waits next to me, and the snow continues to fall outside during an unusually cold and snowy night here in Oakridge.
I wrote a letter about talking about what I've been up to a couple of weeks ago when Natty was here with the good intention of sending it out in paper form before I left. But as often happens with me, time flew by and I didn't get it in the mail, so at Natty's suggestion I'm going to post it here on the blog for you all to check out if you like.
I'll post as often as I can along the way as my adventure unfolds. Tune in every so often as there should be some interesting tales to come.
My letter follows:
January 9, 2008
Greetings from the Snowy Northwest,
As the snow falls outside McKenzie’s and Danielle’s cabin here in Crescent, Oregon, my friend Natty and I are inside drinking orange juice snow slushies and staying warm by the fire. We have been looking forward to seeing each other, as we have grown to be close friends and she left to attend the Women’s History Masters Program at Sarah Lawrence College in New York last fall.
I have been working at the Willamette Mountain Mercantile for a over two years now, (http://mtnmercantile.blogspot.com & www.mtnmercantile.com) and things are good. We sell all types of outdoor equipment; bikes, skis, clothing, cast iron cookware, and camping stuff. Located on Highway 58, and being the only outdoor shop in Oakridge or for many miles in any direction, we meet all types of people doing all kinds of interesting things. I often tend the shop by myself, stoking the woodstove, answering questions, fixing bikes and skis, and generally helping people find ways to enjoy the outdoors near Oakridge.
On my days off I have been enjoying the wonderful outdoor opportunities all around Oakridge. Mountain biking and skiing are perennial (doesn’t this mean all year long?)favorite activities, but I like to ride around on my unicycle, swim in the many streams and lakes nearby, and play ping pong too.
Last year I attended Central Oregon Community College during the fall term, and Lane Community College during the spring term. I studied writing, Spanish, geography, and website design. I contemplated returning to continue my studies this fall at Lane Community College; however, I decided to take a couple terms off to follow other dreams. My friends and co workers McKenzie and Danielle, were expecting a baby this fall, and Lindsay (Natty’s sister) was planning a trip to Patagonia, Chile for the spring. I decided to work through the fall and go to Patagonia with Lindsay for an extended trip in the spring.
The summer flew by as I filled my days working at the shop, seeing friends who were passing though, leading amazing tours through the forested mountains and lush coastlines of Oregon with Wild Heart Cycling (www.wildheartcycling.com), doing support at the Cascade Cream Puff mountain bike race, putting a new roof on Win and Mark’s house in Oakridge, building a deck next to the Airstream trailer which I call home, going out for cruiser bike rides after work with friends, hanging out with my dad here in Oakridge, and keeping all of the mountain bikers’ bikes well tuned.
As the fall hit it was wonderful to enjoy the rain; a fresh and cleansing event I look forward to after every dry Oregon summer. Danielle’s belly was getting big, and she was taking time away from the shop to nurture herself and the baby. McKenzie and I tended the shop until early December when he and Danielle headed down to Coburg to spend the remainder of their pregnancy with McKenzie’s family. Lindsay and I bought our tickets to Chile over Thanksgiving from her family’s house in Bend, solidifying our travel plans together.
December flew by. With McKenzie and Danielle gone I was largely in charge at the Mercantile, leaving me lots to do. This was good for me as I needed some extra hours to save for my upcoming trip, and I enjoyed the time at the shop. Their baby was born a healthy 9lbs, 11oz, on December 23, and they named him William Huckleberry Bowerman. I love him! I hope they call him Huck, a name I’ve always liked.
Natty and Lindsay both came home a couple of days before Christmas, and I went to Bend and to celebrate the holiday with their family. We all enjoyed our time together. Lindsay and I made final plans for our trip, and she left on the 1st of January for Santiago. Once in Santiago she traveled southward to Coyhaique, in the Patagonia region, where she is taking a NOLS mountaineering course beginning tomorrow.
As for me, I’m leaving on the 29th of January (my dad’s birthday) from Oakridge, and flying out of Portland on the 30th. My trip will follow Lindsay’s footsteps, as I fly to Santiago and continue onward to Coyhaique where we will rendezvous on the 11th of February. From there we will travel south together via ferry to Torres del Paines National Park, for a week long backpacking trip around the torres, or towers, of granite rising several thousand feet out of the surrounding forest and lakes.
After our adventure around Torres del Paines we don't have any set plans, we only know that we are looking forward to adventure, quality experience, and joy when we can find it. So we'll play it by ear, and listen to the recommendations that come along the way before we make plans.
Our flights back to the states leave on March 12. We are both going to fly to New York to visit Natty for a week, before returning to Portland on the 19th. I've never been to New York City, and I'm looking forward to that part of the trip as much as the rugged and rural landscape of Patagonia.
I'll try to keep you posted via my blog along the way.
See you out there!
Eugene
I wrote a letter about talking about what I've been up to a couple of weeks ago when Natty was here with the good intention of sending it out in paper form before I left. But as often happens with me, time flew by and I didn't get it in the mail, so at Natty's suggestion I'm going to post it here on the blog for you all to check out if you like.
I'll post as often as I can along the way as my adventure unfolds. Tune in every so often as there should be some interesting tales to come.
My letter follows:
January 9, 2008
Greetings from the Snowy Northwest,
As the snow falls outside McKenzie’s and Danielle’s cabin here in Crescent, Oregon, my friend Natty and I are inside drinking orange juice snow slushies and staying warm by the fire. We have been looking forward to seeing each other, as we have grown to be close friends and she left to attend the Women’s History Masters Program at Sarah Lawrence College in New York last fall.
I have been working at the Willamette Mountain Mercantile for a over two years now, (http://mtnmercantile.blogspot.com & www.mtnmercantile.com) and things are good. We sell all types of outdoor equipment; bikes, skis, clothing, cast iron cookware, and camping stuff. Located on Highway 58, and being the only outdoor shop in Oakridge or for many miles in any direction, we meet all types of people doing all kinds of interesting things. I often tend the shop by myself, stoking the woodstove, answering questions, fixing bikes and skis, and generally helping people find ways to enjoy the outdoors near Oakridge.
On my days off I have been enjoying the wonderful outdoor opportunities all around Oakridge. Mountain biking and skiing are perennial (doesn’t this mean all year long?)favorite activities, but I like to ride around on my unicycle, swim in the many streams and lakes nearby, and play ping pong too.
Last year I attended Central Oregon Community College during the fall term, and Lane Community College during the spring term. I studied writing, Spanish, geography, and website design. I contemplated returning to continue my studies this fall at Lane Community College; however, I decided to take a couple terms off to follow other dreams. My friends and co workers McKenzie and Danielle, were expecting a baby this fall, and Lindsay (Natty’s sister) was planning a trip to Patagonia, Chile for the spring. I decided to work through the fall and go to Patagonia with Lindsay for an extended trip in the spring.
The summer flew by as I filled my days working at the shop, seeing friends who were passing though, leading amazing tours through the forested mountains and lush coastlines of Oregon with Wild Heart Cycling (www.wildheartcycling.com), doing support at the Cascade Cream Puff mountain bike race, putting a new roof on Win and Mark’s house in Oakridge, building a deck next to the Airstream trailer which I call home, going out for cruiser bike rides after work with friends, hanging out with my dad here in Oakridge, and keeping all of the mountain bikers’ bikes well tuned.
As the fall hit it was wonderful to enjoy the rain; a fresh and cleansing event I look forward to after every dry Oregon summer. Danielle’s belly was getting big, and she was taking time away from the shop to nurture herself and the baby. McKenzie and I tended the shop until early December when he and Danielle headed down to Coburg to spend the remainder of their pregnancy with McKenzie’s family. Lindsay and I bought our tickets to Chile over Thanksgiving from her family’s house in Bend, solidifying our travel plans together.
December flew by. With McKenzie and Danielle gone I was largely in charge at the Mercantile, leaving me lots to do. This was good for me as I needed some extra hours to save for my upcoming trip, and I enjoyed the time at the shop. Their baby was born a healthy 9lbs, 11oz, on December 23, and they named him William Huckleberry Bowerman. I love him! I hope they call him Huck, a name I’ve always liked.
Natty and Lindsay both came home a couple of days before Christmas, and I went to Bend and to celebrate the holiday with their family. We all enjoyed our time together. Lindsay and I made final plans for our trip, and she left on the 1st of January for Santiago. Once in Santiago she traveled southward to Coyhaique, in the Patagonia region, where she is taking a NOLS mountaineering course beginning tomorrow.
As for me, I’m leaving on the 29th of January (my dad’s birthday) from Oakridge, and flying out of Portland on the 30th. My trip will follow Lindsay’s footsteps, as I fly to Santiago and continue onward to Coyhaique where we will rendezvous on the 11th of February. From there we will travel south together via ferry to Torres del Paines National Park, for a week long backpacking trip around the torres, or towers, of granite rising several thousand feet out of the surrounding forest and lakes.
After our adventure around Torres del Paines we don't have any set plans, we only know that we are looking forward to adventure, quality experience, and joy when we can find it. So we'll play it by ear, and listen to the recommendations that come along the way before we make plans.
Our flights back to the states leave on March 12. We are both going to fly to New York to visit Natty for a week, before returning to Portland on the 19th. I've never been to New York City, and I'm looking forward to that part of the trip as much as the rugged and rural landscape of Patagonia.
I'll try to keep you posted via my blog along the way.
See you out there!
Eugene
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