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.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
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.
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