days 5 thru 7; the end...

Just a few journal entries for you.  If you are an adventurer and thinking about doing the Torres del Paine trek in Chile, or living abroad in New Zealand, then follow this blog over the next few months for some specifics on exactly how we made these trips happen, how we travelled, budgeting before and during our excursions, and a whole lot more!

Enjoy!

11/15/11

Today we left Guardas at 8;45 for what we new would be our longest day - hiking to Campamento Italiano.  We ate breakfast (oatmeal with cooked apples from Will) and took off.  Walked along the glacier till it gave way to Lago Grey where the trail turned fairly monotonous.  Nothing to write about.  We arrived at Lago Pehoe Refugio, which is an enrmous lodge, linked to the world by both trail and catamaran, and took a break to buy drinks and snacks and charge the cameras.  Left it's comfort at 3:45.  Torres del Paine's iconic views came into sight.  We hiked closer, nearing Valle de Frances and our camp.  at 5:45, we were hungry and exhausted from our 22km hike.  Arrived in camp (Italiano) at 6:00 pm.  Cooked dyhdrated BBQ chicken.  Ate the snacks we bought, which were hot dogs and crackers.  Ate the rest of our cheese block.  Drank the beer we bought at Pehoe Refugio, and ended the meal with hot Tang.  Finally, we got full.  Italiano is another free campsite.  We will hike Valle de Frances tomorrow, and camp here again as a rest day.

11/16/11

Slept in a little, till 8:00, and ate a leisurely breakfast.  We will use today as a much needed rest day.  I can hear the glacier crashing down every 20 minutes or so, sounding like distant thunder.  Courtney and I got some inspiration and possible new direction this morning.  It is wonderful to think about, and gives me hope and excitement for the future.  

We hiked up Valle de Frances, it was beatiful.  We are lunch while watching glaciers fall.  So cool!  We decided, after returning to Italiano, to hike to Cuernos camp.  It was a two hour hike past gorgeous lake seashores.  We skipped rocks into the lake and re-gained hi spirits.  We at dehydrated lasagna for dinner, enjoyed some wine and beer we bought in the Cuernos refugio.  We even traded one of our extra fuel cans for wine and cookies.  Beer here was $2500 CH ($5 USD) and wine was about $9 USD for a box.  This was the most expensive camp at $6000 CH per person ($12 USD per!).  

11/17/11

We woke up early.  We packed everything and were hiking by 8:00 am.  It was a rolling hike until the shortcut up to camp Chileno.  We decided to hike fast and hard, all the way to the towers, and back in time for the 7:45 bus back to Puerto Natales.  We made it off the trail after over 10 hours of hiking that day!  It was an unbelieveable trek.  

One more thing, we cooked our final bit of food (powder soup) at Hosteria Las Torres while we waited for the bus.  We ate every scrap of food.  Arrived back in Puerto Natales at 10:30 pm, stumbled to Erratic Rock II and got their last room!!  Then, we were so hungry that we went to a local restaurant and ate meat and potatoes...it was incredible!  Slept great that night.

days 3 and 4...

11/13/11
Stayed in the tent, avoiding the rain, until lunch time. We ate some wraps and finally were able to leave Dickson by about 1:10 pm. Arrived at Los Perros @ 5:30. We ate mac 'n cheese and couscous in the rain. Cold, wet, we hope the pass tomorrow goes well. We bought some beer for $2000 CH ($4 USD). So great! Camp cost $3500 CH per person.

One thing I didn't mention in this journal entry is the miraculous story of the tent-pole-fix. Remember the story from day one? Incase you need a refresher (after all, this was a year ago!)...

On our first night in the Andes the wind snapped our tent pole like a brittle twig. Fortunately, a new-found friend had a spare tent-pole sleeve designed to fix a broken pole. He was a lifesaver, but we knew that we would part ways with him soon and he would need to take the part with him. We were desperate to figure something out.

When we got to this soggy, muddy, yet strangely inviting camp, we noticed that there was a small crew of men working on digging a new septic system for the bathroom. It is strange to come across glimpses of modern luxuries when in the backcountry, and this was no exception.

The men had finished for the day, and beers were being poured and consumed in the incessant drizzle.  This is when I approached one of them to somehow ask him if he had a spare tent part. I didn't know how I was going to go about this, seeing that my limited Spanish knowledge had left me high and dry in terms of camping lingo. I didn't know the words for "tent" "pole" "broken"...you get the idea. My Spanish sucks. But I went over to him anyways, holding our broken pole and the borrowed fix-it part we needed so desperately. In show-and-tell fashion, I held up my belongings and began a game of gestures (or is charades?) with the dread-lock headed man.

He looked at me, puzzled at first, but then realized what I was needing. At least, I think that's what he realized. He began walking towards his temporary work shed and I followed closely. As he walked up the stairs, he happened to glance down at the ground. The ground below the stairs. Let me re-cap: He happened to look down, from the third stair, through the slats in the wood, down to the mud below. He proceeded to reach down through the slats and when he did, he made a sort of "ah-ha" sound. Then his hand emerged, and in it was the exact tent-pole repair piece we needed.

How I left this story out of my journal, I will never know. But I am forever indebted to this dread-locked, Chilean, worker, who reached into the mud and fixed our tent.


11/14/11
We woke up early, excited and anxious about what was to come. at 8:30 am, we said goodbye to Los Perros (the camp that will be remembered as "the one that had a spare tent pole repair brace!"). The hike began climbing out of rain-forest type jungles that gave way to granite spires and glaciers. Truly incredible. We started up John Gardner Pass just as bad weather hit. Near white-out conditions at times. We made it to the top, snapped a photo, and plunged head-first into the wind and the descent. Before long, Glacier Grey emerged from the snow-fall and took our breaths away. We followed it all day, through forests and vistas, down ladders into endless gorges and up fixed ropes lines. We arrived at Camp Guardas at 5:30 happy, tired, and hungry. Free campsite. Dehydrated turkey with mashed potatoes for dinner. Now I sit at the "mirador" over the glacier. It is endless.

I couldn't resist writing a little story about this one!

The wind howled. It was constant, like ocean waves on the not-so-distant shores that act as bookends to the waning Andes of southern Patagonia. It raced up from the valley floor, gaining momentum and power as it climbed ever higher, past the frozen glacier walls surrounding us. I leaned into the storm and looked up for a moment, making sure I was still on track and in line with Courtney’s boot imprints. She was leading the charge up John Gardner pass, the most remote section of Torres Del Paine National Park in southern Chile. We were far. Far from home, far from the trailhead, far from help, far from everything. Blue skies earlier that morning had given way to menacing, blizzard-like conditions up hi on the pass. We had both feared and anxiously waited for this day for months. And we were finally experiencing the sharp teeth of Patagonia. This is what we had signed up for.

We hiked on, slightly slower and more methodical now that we were going downhill. A twisted ankle or broken leg here would be catastrophic. The ground on this side of the pass was more ice and less snow, so we made our way carefully down, down, down. Looming large in front of us was Glacier Gray. It emerged from the white-out, a massive expanse of ice and water and snow, bleeding out of the mountains and all moving as one down the canyon until it broke off, piece by piece into the lakes far below. It was magnificent and took our breaths away.

I caught up to Court’, and we turned out of the wind to gaze back down from where we had come. In just a few short hours, we had risen over 2000 ft, kicking steps in the perpetually frozen snowfield. Rock formations and towering peaks engulfed us, except for the silver-white path of snow that we hoped was guiding us to the top of the pass and then down the other side to safety. We watched the tops of the mountains disappear, and re-appear, over and over again as clouds whisked by so quickly you couldn’t help but wonder, if the wind was this bad down here, what was it like on the knife edge tips above? We would save finding that out for another trip.

I kissed my wife in the driving snow, long and slow, taking in the moment of peace amidst the chaos. We turned back into the wind and continued on. It was my turn to kick steps, though I noticed that there were still the faint boot impressions left from some of our companions who had left camp before us. These had already begun to fill in, only adding to the mystery of our route. Every so often, I would notice a post sticking out of the ground, a simple wooden stake, painted orange, that gave momentary relief from the ever-present fear that we had ventured off-course. We had been following these markers for days now, through meadows, up canyons, and into dense forests that sat below the glaciers, glaciers that dictated the ebb and flow of the entire landscape. These slow-moving giants were new to us, and they demanded respect. I could only speculate as to the enormity of the ice fields and the vastness of the crevasses that scarred them.

Orange marker-post, by orange marker-post, we made our way up. We hiked quickly and efficiently, staying warm even in this frozen land.

Months of planning and preparation, months of reading travel blogs and studying maps, months of excitement, had led us to this moment – the moment when we would crest this pass, marking the halfway point of our journey. I remember one instant in particular, when the wind eased up ever so slightly, just for a few seconds. The sound of my breath, and the methodical crunching of the snow underfoot, was suddenly exposed. I had a near out-of-body experience that sent me hi in the sky, looking down on the whole scene while an unwritten, power rock ballad exploded into existence. The mysterious and unknown music rang in my head and propelled me forward, even after I returned to earth. By now I could see the top of the pass and I marveled at the shrine erected there, made up of mementos and trinkets left behind by travelers from all over the globe.

Courtney reached the high point first while I fished for the camera to snap a few photos. But, it was so cold that the camera powered up for one shot, and then died, leaving the moment a memory known only to us. From the whiteout emerged another young couple coming from the opposite direction. We exchanged a few words, yelled “good luck” at the top of our lungs over the roar of the gale, and went our separate ways. I love times like that, when your path crosses with someone else’s at a certain instant in time that will never be repeated by you or anyone else…ever. Adventures are cause for many experiences like this. Courtney and I and our hiking buddy, Will, embraced at the top, but didn’t linger. We were still facing into the wind, and had been all day, and it was beginning to take a toll. We needed to descend, to find shelter.

We continued down until the snow ceased and the wind calmed. The trail led us into steep, slippery, mud coated chutes that we clamored down trying to avoid injury. All the while the glacier was in front of us, always in sight through the trees, daring anyone to step across its dangerous yet enticing boundaries. The day stretched on. We hiked past the point of exhaustion to reach our destination.

We wore every layer of clothing that we had, and still the icy blasts cut through. Courtney’s hat and jacket were covered in a thin layer of ice. Flakes of snow that settled on her outer layer quickly melted from her body heat, and then instantly re-froze. My beard grew icicles that formed and grew with every exhale. We trudged on, for the most part un-phased by the climb. Our training was paying off, not to mention the fact that where we live in Denver was higher in elevation than where we stood here, buried in the mountains. We were so close to the coastline; the Andes were just getting started in their skyward climb. We felt great, strong, and seemingly able to conquer anything.

it's been a while...

Friends, it's good to be writing to you today.

Yes, it has been over a year since our trip to South America.  I am amazed by the whole lightning-fast-passage-of-time thing.  It just doesn't seem that long ago.  But since that trip, much has happened in our lives, much has changed, all is good.  I hope the same is true for each of you!

I want to take a moment to give you an outline of what you can expect in the near future on "Life of Zach and Court":

1) In the next two posts, I am going to briefly finish the saga of our back-packing trip in Chile.  I won't drag out the process with lengthy stories and tales, like I did for the first couple of days of the trip.  Instead, I am giving you my personal journal entries from the end of each day on the trail (possibly and most likely with a few amendments, add-ons, and/or deletions).

2) In the posts to come, I am going to fill you in on the happenings of our lives here in New Zealand (did I mention we live here now?!).  You will read stories of adventure.  You will read stories of our jobs we recently acquired and the house we just moved into.  You will read stories of climbing and biking, beauty and pain, accomplishments and frustrations, community and those times we just can't seem to find it, and God's presence in all of it.

3) Over the past months, I have been working on a series of essays, and even some short books, designed to help anyone - maybe you? - pursue adventure through travel, and I am hoping to start sharing these musings soon.  These writings are the compilation of much brainstorming, trial and error learning, many early mornings and late nights, failure, success, mistakes, and a whole lot of excitement.  Court and I have learned so much in these few months spent on the road and the years leading up to where we are now.  We now have a bit of knowledge in van-living, cheap existence, simplicity, camp-stove cooking, and finding free campsites.  We know what it's like to dream of adventure and travel.  We know what it's like to create a tight budget, save money, and then take the plunge and say yes to extended world-travel.  We are still in the thick of it now.  And we are passionate about helping others give themselves permission to say yes.

Stay tuned for a crash-course in adventuring with purpose.

I hope you enjoy the final stories from South America.  I apologize for not having any pictures.  All of the photos, I just realized, are on my laptop which is in the United States.  And I am no where near there...

day 2, Seron to Dickson...

11/12/11
The most beautiful and wild and huge hike I have ever been on.  We got up at 6:30, had an OK breakfast of oatmeal with walnuts and fruit.  Not all that good actually, the oatmeal we picked up in Puerto Natales is pretty tasteless.  Left camp Seron at 8:45.  Hiked on and up a small but REALLY windy pass.  Put our full weight into it.  Lunch overlooking an enormous glacier that, according to the map, is still a dwarf in comparison to Glacier Grey.  Lunch was peanut butter tortillas and snacks.  We hiked on.  


After many more incredible views and vistas we made it to camp Dickson at 2:45 pm.  Cost $3500 CH per person (about $7 USD per).  Set up camp.  Ate dinner of dehydrated chicken enchiladas we brought from home.  Delicious!  Our friend Will caught up to us that night at about 9:00 pm, just before it got dark.  Had a great time hearing his stories of travel.  We drank Gato wine into the night as the rain came on.  Some rain as I write now; all in all an amazing day.


I wrote in my journal this morning, just before we began hiking, "The wind, like ocean waves on the not-so-distant shores that act as bookends to the waning Andes, remains constant."  It was so powerful to be influenced and affected by such a strong force of nature.  At every turn, with every step, the wind dictated our movements, causing us to make tiny (and sometimes not-so-tiny) adjustments in our strides and body angles.  Places I had been in the United States, like the Wind River Range, known for intense winds, paled in comparison to what we experienced in Southern Patagonia.

We left camp at what we thought to be fairly early, but realized quickly that our campmates had already set off.  Let me share just a bit about our fellow travelers.  First, there was Alex, who I have already written about.  Alex, the savior of our tent.  Alex, the inexperienced Dutchman who hiked fast and seemingly with ease.  Then, there was Yen and Corrine.  They were a couple from Belgium, I believe.  In their 50's (I think...), they dominated the trail and relished every bit of adventure.  Mariella and her friend whose name we never did get, we'll call her Natalie, were two fiesty, middle-aged women from Switzerland.  They travelled in style, calling ahead to each camp to reserve comfy beds in the refugios along the way, or to request that a tent be set-up and waiting for them upon their arrival.  Mariella didn't carry a tent and hardly any food; she ate the delicious-smelling food at the refugios the entire trip.  With enough cash, this trip can be quite luxurious.  She made it happen.  There were two or three others that we saw every now and again along the trail or at camp at the end of the day.  We really came to enjoy the company of our small band of hikers.

Eventually, we caught up to everyone and we all gathered at the base of a substantial pass.  The trail shot up quickly, without the luxury of switchbacks to take the edge off of the incline.  Sometimes, I actually prefer it this way.  No meandering, no wasting time; just getting to the top and getting to the views.  About half way up, we felt the full force of the wind that had blasted through our camp the previous night.  Up here, unencumbered by trees and miles of empty space that dilutes wind's full strength, we were hit hard with gusts that I can only speculate as to their speed.  Several times it knocked us off the trail, or into each other.  It was such a rush!  We all re-grouped and took on the final meters of the pass, up into the wind.  At the top, we yelled at the top of our lungs with excitement.  We were heard by no one.  We all laughed, and in that moment it seemed that the five of us had been destined to experience this together.  All of our paths converged right then, and nothing else mattered.

Courtney and I began hiking again, passing the rest of our crew and advancing down the trail fairly rapidly.  As much fun as the wind had been, we were ready to find escape.  We descended back down into the forest, skirting along a rolling ridge-line that overlooked an expanse of grey/green glacier run-off that sliced through the valley floor far below us.

We stopped for lunch in a small clearing just off the trail and watched clouds pass over ominous peaks that towered above rippling glaciers.  It was surreal, and yet at the same time we knew there was no where else that we should have been right then.  We were well rested after lunch, and we shouldered our packs for another few hours of hiking.  Here on day two, our hips were sore from the weight of our packs, but we were beginning to find a rhythm.

The trail rolled on, up and down and around, until we reached an enormous bog.  There was no way around it, and we had read about this bog, so we trudged through it, stepping as lightly as we could.  We emerged out the other side muddy and wet, but happy and eager to reach camp.  We saw one more rise that we believed was our last climb of the day, hoping that at the top we would be able to see our camp.  This is a dangerous hope, as any of you with trekking experience know, that can leave you sorely disappointed and discouraged when camp is no where to be seen.  Fortunately for us, when we made it to the top of the outcropping, we looked down on Camp Dickson, and what a sight it was.

The Refugio/bunk house sat nestled near the shoreline of frozen lake.  Emerging behind the lake, and feeding into it, sat a glacier of epic proportions.  It soared into the sky, dominating the landscape.  I had never seen anything like it, yet from looking at the maps we knew that it was tiny in comparison to Glacier Grey that we would encounter in the following days.

We scrambled down a steep, loose scree field to the pleasant camp scene below.  As we walked up, a friendly Guacho approached with open arms and a big smile.  "Welcome.  Welcome," he said over and over.  He showed us around the camp-ground, and pointed out the beautiful tent sites.  The sun was shining, and the green, soft grass felt amazing on our tired feet.  Courtney had some blisters that were beginning to take over her entire heels, and the relief on her face when she took her boots off was contagious.  And I instantly felt better too.

Included in our camp fee was a hot shower and access to a small store that sold candy, beer, wine, and crackers.  It was kind of funny.  Here we were in the middle of nowhere Patagonia, sitting with our feet up after a shower, enjoying a glass of wine, and looking out over one of the most magnificent scenes I had ever seen.  Every once in a while, we would simply look over at each other and laugh in disbelief that we were actually there.

We enjoyed the beautiful weather while it lasted.  Eventually, later that evening, it began to drizzle.  It didn't let up for a couple of days.  That night, in the dripping rain, our friend Will caught up to us.  Will had been studying abroad in Montevideo, Uruguay, and when he found out from his girlfriend back in the states (a good friend of Courtney's) that we would be back-packing in Torres del Paine, he was quick to join us!  We were happy to spend some time on the trail with him, and when he finally walked into camp that night, we were relieved to not have to leave in search for him.  We knew he was on his way, but had no idea where he was.  He had left from the Ranger Station early that morning in hopes of finding us.  He had hiked quite a way, and was very happy to be at camp, as I'm sure you can imagine.  We sat with him as he regaled us with tales of his own journey over the ground we had just covered.  He would be hiking with us for the next few days, so our small group of travelers grew by one that night.  

After another glass of wine, we crawled into our tent to the lullaby of the soft, feathery rain.  We were ready for the next day.

day 1, Laguna Amarga to Camp Seron...

11/11/11
We hopped an early morning bus from Erratic Rock II @ 7:30.  It picked us up right after a great breakfast that was included with our hostel stay.  We stashed a few things at Erratic Rock II in their free, locked storage unit.  The bus ride was beautiful as we neared the park.  The towers came into view; I've never seen anything like it.  The jagged peaks soared into the air, piercing the clouds hi above.  We arrived at Laguna Amarga, checked in at the ranger station, and began hiking at 10:15 am.  Park Entrance fee was $15,000 CH per person, which comes to about $30 USD each.  We skipped the shuttle ride from the headquarters to the trailhead, and were glad we did.  We hiked along the road for a kilometer or so and then too the right-hand trail heading north on the east side of the towers.  We met Alex, a dutchman who has never camped before!  He seems quite capable, though, and we expect to trek with him for the whole circuit, at least camping in the same spots.  


Camp Seron emerged from beyond the burned landscape (not sure when the burn happened) at 3:00 pm.  The 15km hike took us just under 5 hours...incredible headwind for most of the journey.  Alex, Courtney and I, shortly after arriving to the wind-worn hut that served as base for Camp Seron, began setting up our tents.  Our tent-pole, the main stay, snapped.  Our hearts sunk for several minutes as we contemplated options: turn around and rent a tent back in town, use our fly as a cover, somehow repair the pole?  Alex happened to have a tent-pole repair brace from his rental tent, so we are using that for now.  Good thing the guy with NO experience was prepared.  


We share the area with a local Gaucho.  I wish I spoke better Spanish - enough to gain wisdom from him anyways.  Dinner was mac 'n cheese from home, couscous with veggies, chocolate, and Tang drink.  (Lunch, by the way, was wraps with cheese & salami, trail mix, and bars).  Cost at Seron to pitch a tent was $4000 CH ($8 USD) per person.   

The view of Torres del Paine

Once again, with our faces pressed against a bus window so as not to miss a thing, we travelled southwest, deeper into the Andes.  Our stomachs were full from a fantastic breakfast (the usual fare that you can expect anywhere you go in Patagonia are croissants, orange juice, milk, and some form of cereal...pretty foreign stuff), and we had a great night sleep, our first true sleep in a couple of days.  As I wrote in my journal, the towers that we would be circling for the next week or so came into view when we arrived at the park headquarters.  It was incredible to see the iconic views that we had seen only in pictures up to this point.  Photos didn't do it justice.  Though the Torres del Paine peaks stand in between 2000 and 3000 meters at their highest, they are El Capitan sized rock walls.  These enormous granite spires, climbable only by technical means and by the bravest souls, dominate the landscape.  We were so ready to get on the trail.

We paid our entrance into the park, which was actually pretty expensive at $30 USD or $15,000 CH per person, shouldered our packs, looked back once more at the park headquarters station, and said goodbye to civilization for a while.  The trail begins on a dirt road that is possible to skip by paying for a shuttle.  We opted out of the paid shuttle so that we could take in our surroundings and breath the fresh air for a while.  Courtney, and I and a few other European folks we met on the bus, all began together.  There is a branch-off trail about half a mile up the dirt road that meanders away to the right of the road.  It was quite pleasant, well marked, and allowed us to look out over grasslands that eventually gave way to the mountain ranges of southern Patagonia.

We hiked through a recently burned out forest that was just beginning to show signs of new vegetation pushing up through the ashes.  The trail meandered through rolling foothills.  We breathed deep and long, allowing the new and foreign smells to enter our lungs and purge us of the stale airplane air we had been inhaling for days.  Eventually we crossed into private land and walked past herds of cattle and an occasional group of lamas (actually, I think they are called "guanacos", a relative to the lama and alpaca).  The streams and rivers flowed seemingly on all sides.  There was water everywhere.  The glacier run-off had a particular look and texture it, it even tasted different.  Amazing, actually.  It was almost pastel in color, gray/green, beautiful.  There was no need to treat the water here; the land was perfectly pristine.  We rarely hiked with full water bottles, but instead, shaved weight from our packs by hiking with near-empty bottles and taking sips at every river crossing.

After about 4.5 hours of hiking that afternoon, we caught up to Alex and hiked alongside him the rest of the way to camp.  Alex was a friendly Dutchman, traveling in South America for his 3 month vacation.  Europeans know how to vacation!  He told us that he had never camped before (!) and figured this was as good of a place as any to learn.  He assured us, however, that he hikes all over Holland, and felt prepared for the trip.  He rented all of his gear, from his pack to his tent to his stove, and hit the trail.  Turned out that he was very competent and a quick learner.

We arrived at Camp Seron after about 5 hours of hiking.  The map you receive upon paying your park entrance fee is fairly accurate at time estimation.  The maps show distances and approximate times, and our hiking times matched theirs nearly spot on, nearly every time.  So, if you are wanting to calculate times and distances, the park map is a great resource.  Camp Seron was comprised of tent spots, all on soft grass, and a small shanty where you could buy a hot meal if you wanted.  The hut was run by a man who shared the area with a Guacho, a South American "cowboy".  We watched him handle his horses, working as a team with his trusted dogs.  It was beautiful to watch.  Time felt as if it had slowed down, and that we had entered a different age.

Setting up our tent turned out to be quite the experience.  We have set it up many many times before this trip, we knew what we were doing.  As I pulled a clip that was attached to the body of the tent towards the pole, a hard gust of wind swept through our little meadow.  In an instant, it grabbed the tent body and snapped the pole like a twig.  We stood there, shocked, and speechless.  A broken pole on a trip like this means several things.  It means the trip could be over.  It means we would be sleeping under the stars...or in the rain.  It means we had no shelter.  For a few minutes, we literally just stared at the pole, trying to erase what just happened with sheer will-power.  But the pole remained broken.  Next, we freaked out.  All of the planning, the travel, the money it took to get to where we were!  We had covered all of our bases...except this one.  Since we had bought the tent used a while back, and had used it many times since, I didn't think to check if it came with the simple metal tube used to temporarily "fix" a broken pole.  These metal sleeves simply slide up the pole to the broken section and act as a brace, and they are essential to have in windy conditions.  We had no such piece.

After we freaked out, we went into fix mode.  I tried tape.  Courtney looked for anything sturdy enough to splint our fractured pole.  Nothing.  So, we walked through the camping area and asked our fellow hikers if they had any ideas or anything to fix it.  Everyone was so helpful, so friendly.  We got to know all of our hiking friends that night, a total of 7 people who we would spend the next week with on the trail.  Alex, the inexperienced but capable dutchman, ran to his pack yelling back that he had just the thing.  "Is this what you need?  It came with my rental tent."  He emerged from digging in his pack holding a 4 inch long, shiny, metal sleeve.  It was a tent pole repair brace, worth more than gold in our present situation.  I have never been so relieved.  In an instant, our trip had been saved, or it at least became more comfortable and convenient than it would have been had we not been given the sleeve.  I pleaded with Alex to take the part back if we ever parted ways.  I knew that for the next few days we would be camping at the same areas.  In the north section of the park, campsites are few and far between.  So, even if we weren't actually hiking together, we would at least be camping together.  But, I told him he must take the fix-it part back if he ever decided to hike farther than us.  I hated the thought of his pole breaking somewhere along the trail, while we stayed comfortable with his pole repair.  He promised.  Our tent was saved for the time-being.

We lounged around on the lawn for hours, searching for the perfect spot to avoid the wind that incessantly cut through our camp.  Our mac 'n cheese with couscous tasted great, but the smells coming from inside the cabin of grilled steak and fresh sautéed vegetables detracted from the greatness of our meal!  We had planned on purchasing a meal or two while on the trail, but because of some ATM difficulties, we hit the trail with much less money than we had planned.  We had enough to pay for our campsites and to buy a beer or some wine at a couple refugios along the way, but not enough for meals.  Camp Seron cost $4000 CH per person, NOT per tent.  Keep this in mind if you plan on doing this trek.  You will need some cash.

We slept soundly that night, sheltered from the wind, though every once in a while a gust would slice through camp and bend our tent nearly to the ground.  We had finally arrived, and we were free.

El Calafate, Argentina to Puerto Natales, Chile...

11/10/11
Puerto Natales is so great!  Walked everywhere and stayed at Erratic Rock 2 hostel on Miraflores for $70 USD ($35,000 CH) per night.  Attended an orientation at Erratic Rock that gave information about the Torres del Paine trek.  Very helpful.




I didn't write much today, I didn't make the time.  I was way too "busy" to worry with writing; for most of the day my face was pressed up against the bus window, mouth gaping at the views.  I was excited and giddy, like a child stuffing a hand into his Christmas stocking, as we watched the Andes dramatically reveal themselves.  We arrived in Puerto Natales after a five hour bus ride.  The border crossing was time consuming.  It turns out that Chile is a little bit more strict than it's neighboring country to the east.  Even our pre-packed, sealed, dehydrated meals we brought from home were subject to inspection.  We lucked out though, and the "just-add-water" meals of turkey with mashed potatoes and BBQ chicken with rice weren't confiscated.

When the bus finally pulled into the not-so-touristy town of Puerto Natales, Chile, it was windy and cold.  And we were tired.  It had been several days now of traveling, and we were ready to find Erratic Rock 2, the hostel where I had made reservations (in advance this time!).  As far as hostels go, this was the Ritz.  It was perfect!  There are two Erratic Rock hostels (1 and 2).  Both had english-speaking staff - a welcome surprise for those of us who hadn't perfectly mastered multiple languages.   Courtney and I both noticed how drawn we were to the simple comfort and familiarity of our native tongue.

View of the Andes from our porch at Erratic Rock 2

Erratic Rock 1 was a traditional, shared-space hostel, and Erratic Rock 2 was their attempt at a "couples" hostel.  It featured private rooms and bathrooms, storage units to stash any unwanted stuff while on the trail, hot breakfasts in the morning, and bus rides into the park every morning at 7:30 am.  I believe Erratic Rock 1 had breakfast and bus rides too.  For anyone reading this who will be traveling as a couple, I highly recommend either of these hostels, but especially E.R. 2.  Both have wi-fi (though Erratic Rock 1 was slightly better in that category) and both were very helpful.  The owners even run an orientation every day at 3:00 pm for anyone going into the park.  The orientation isn't completely necessary, but it was definitely helpful to hear the weather updates, current John Gardner Pass conditions (more about the the pass coming soon on "day 4..."), and route descriptions.

After attending the orientation, we headed out on the town to gather food, fuel, and a knife (we carried-on the whole way so we had to leave our knives at home).  There is an abundance of fuel in Puerto Natales, even the iso-butane canisters that fit most modern stoves.  We have an MSR Pocket Rocket, and had no trouble finding the screw on fuel.  No need for liquid/white gas unless that's your thing.

We shopped for food, and had a great time doing it.  We couldn't find the "one-stop-shop" grocery store that we kept hearing about, so we had to go old-school, stopping at various specialty shops until we obtained everything we needed: salami from the meat shop, cheese from the cheese shop; coffee, cereal bars, tortillas and jelly from the coffee-cereal bars-tortillas-jelly shop; and dried fruit, soup, and a few other odds and ends at stores along the main strip on Blanco Encalada St.  

Walking Miraflores Ave. back to the hostel

We headed back to our room and carefully laid out our backpacks, emptying them for the first time since we left home.  You see, the packing/un-packing ritual before a back-packing trip is very important (I can see my dad and brother knowingly nodding their heads in agreement).  You have to know exactly where everything is in your pack.  Put the heavy stuff towards the middle or bottom of the pack, and as close to your back as possible.  Make sure that rain gear is easily accessible, and food for that day is right up at the top so you don't have to completely dig out your entire pack at each meal.  And finally, wrap your sleeping bag  in a waterproof sack (we went with the highly technical black trash bags) and then stuff it into the bottom compartment of the pack.  That night we packed and un-packed, stuffed and tweaked, arranged and rearranged, all in search of the ideal layering and order of our packed items.  The smallest details become important when you are wearing that pack for a week or more.  Even seemingly irrelevant straps and buckles are key components to your overall happiness and comfort.  We took our time getting everything perfect.

We got great sleep that night.  I nodded off, anticipating the unknown of the Chilean Andes.  As I lay there, I went through everything I could think of that could possibly go wrong.  As far as I could tell, we had it all covered.  From our "Rock & Ice" magazine that doubled as a potential splint, to ace wraps and blister gel, we had it all.  I was confident, with just the right amount of nerves.  I couldn't wait!

Denver, CO to El Calafate, Argentina...

11/8/11 and 11/9/11
Flying standby, last two people to board the flight from Denver to Atlanta!  Through security with fully loaded packs; no problems.  Last two, again, to get on the flight from Atlanta to Buenos Aires!  Arrived in Buenos Aires, EZE airport, on the morning of the 9th, paid our $140 USD entrance fee, and hopped a transfer bus (via Manuel Tiendo Leon) to AEP airport for $65 ARS per ticket (around $18 USD per ticket at a 3.6 exchange rate).  Free Wi-Fi on the bus.  Flew on Aerolineas Aregentinas from AEP to El Calafate.  Split a cab with two other travelers to El Calafate, 15 minute ride.  We spent the night of the 9th @ La Overja hostel in El Calafate, Argentina.  Our non-private room cost $80 ARS (about $22 USD).  They helped us book our bus ticket for the following morning to Puerto Natales, Chile.  Cost $100 ARS each ($27 USD).  We ate awesome empanadas in El Calafate at Cambalache, a local spot.  




The above journal entry sums up most of the first couple of days.  We sat on flights, napped in airports, didn't really sleep on planes, watched some good movies (some not-so-good), and finally arrived in South America.  It's a strange feeling, and those of you who have traveled across continents and countries will relate, when you arrive at your destination after an overnight flight.  All of the sudden, you are out of your element.  All of the sudden, you are living in the moment, and the distractions back home melt away.  We couldn't converse very well with anyone on any substantial level, though Courtney did far better than I.  If I wasn't saying, "Hola, como esta?", I wasn't speaking.  We were far from home.

The Buenos Aires airports (yes, there are several) are relatively easy to navigate, despite the language barrier.  There is even a bus company called Manuel Tiendo Leon that shuttles people to and from the different airports.  And, since we had to get from Ezeiza to Jorge Newberry AeroPark, this was a great service to find.  Buenos Aires is enormous, home to about 11 million people, and it was nearly an hour bus ride.  We rode past very ancient-looking buildings, apartment flats and skyscrapers, run-down shacks and the Argentina national soccer team's stadium.  Here, the name Messi is to the locals as Jordan is to us U.S.A. dwellers.

Flying out of B.A. to El Calafate

We arrived at Jorge Newberry AeroPark Airport (wow...let's go with AEP) from Ezeiza (EZE) with plenty of time to catch our connection.  Actually, our flight out of AEP was running late, so we had way too much time to kill.  But Aerolineas Argentinas got us to El Calafate (the small Argentine town named after the Calafate berry that, as I learned later, goes quite well with spit-roasted rack of lamb and a bottle of Malbec) by 9:00 pm or so.  Travel Suggestion:  if you plan on flying Aerolineas Argentinas, purchase a "Club Economy" ticket.  This offers a full refund incase of travel interruptions, a great in-flight meal, and first class seating.  All for about 10 bucks more!

Looking for a spot to stay...after 2 days of traveling.

We split a cab from the El Calafate airport with some fellow English speakers.  The driver dropped them off at a hotel where they had made reservations.  We, however, hadn't made arrangements and had no where to go.  So after exchanging looks that said "hmm, wish we had thought of that," we began wandering the streets enjoying the feeling of lostness and endless possibility.  We eventually found a hostel called El Ovejero and bought a couple of beds and warm showers.  After finding this place, we went back out to get some food and, per the Lonely Planet guide book's suggestion, ended up at Cambalache for empanadas.  Of all the empanadas we ate on this trip (and we ate a lot) these were my favorite!

El Ovejero hostel/campground

When we got back to El Ovejero with our recently acquired pesos from the ATM, we paid for the room and were even able to pay right then for our bus trip out of El Calafate early in the morning to our destination in Chile - Puerto Natales.  The girl working the front desk at the hostel was very helpful and friendly, and we trusted that she was indeed taking down our names and passport numbers to book our bus trip, not for other purposes.  Looking back on it, we really had to put our trust in a lot of people throughout the course of the journey.  Of course, we used discretion as best we could, but in the end we got an incredible, and positive, picture of humanity and community that over-ruled culture and language.

We slept good that night on our dorm room style bunk beds, and other than a couple of late-night visitors to our room at about 2:00 am, the night was uneventful.  Our house-mates at the hostel turned out to be very friendly Europeans who were also out traveling, so we enjoyed some great conversation with them.  We looked forward to the morning, and the days to come!

Super luxury...

sabbatical, glaciers, and a whole lot of travel...

Yes, it has been over a month since my last post.  Yes, I am sorry.  No, it wasn't because nothing was happening!  So, bear with me while I quickly get you up to speed...this will only take a minute.

I found out after I came on staff with Dry Bones (over three years ago!) that every three years each staff member gets to take a month-long sabbatical.  Our board of directors goes above and beyond to take care of us staffers and this is one of the ways they insure we are "well-fed and happy".  Courtney and I began plans for my month off pretty much immediately after getting married.  We had grand schemes of big travels to far-away places.  We saved every dollar we could and thought of adventures on nearly every continent.  We have friends who have been all over the world - from the Himalayas, to the Alps, to Africa, to Australia, to Japan and everywhere else it seems.  Needless to say, we had plenty of good conversations and stories about beautiful places around the globe to consider.

After much talk and weeks of brainstorming, we decided to forget everything we had been told and go to a place of which we knew very little.

I had heard of Patagonia for years.  Besides being "that awesome clothing brand" that all of us wanna-be mountaineers dream about while we sit at our desks, I didn't know much about the place itself.  I have to admit that if I was asked to point to Patagonia on a map, I may have had trouble knowing where to guide my finger.  It was simply some mystical, magical place that inspired cool clothes and extreme adventures.  I wanted both.

Courtney and I did some research.  It turns out that Patagonia is located in southern South America and encompasses large portions of Argentina and Chile.  It is also beautiful, and is packed with possibilities for the kind of trip that we were craving: gorgeous scenery, glaciers at every turn, zero predators, and the exact right amount of difficulty that deters many, but welcomes anyone who wishes to pound out the miles on rough terrain in order to see some incredible stuff.  We set our gaze on Parque Nacional Torres del Paine in the Southern Chilean Andes and started planning.

Multiple travel blogs and Lonely Planet trekking books later, November finally came.

Our packs - ready for 3 weeks away
from home

Everything was set.  Plane tickets: check.  Necessary gear: check.  Reservations at a small hostel in Puerto Natales, Chile, where we could get a good nights sleep and store a few items while we were on the trail: check.  I e-mailed the hostel weeks in advance in hopes of finding someone who might reply in English, and I got a response within an hour giving me the current conditions and confirmation that the daunting John Gardner Pass was indeed open for the season.  With that confirmation ringing in our ears like beautiful music, we flew out of Denver on November 8th.

Check the blog every few days for the continuation of the story.  I'll divide up the writing because one long post isn't as fun as multiple short ones!  So, stay tuned for lots of posts over the upcoming weeks.  My plan is to set them up like a travel blog with lots of details.  One thing we found during our preparation was that detailed and recent travel blogs were tough to come by, so I am going to provide as much info as I can for anyone thinking of doing this particular "best of South America" trek!

More to come...  

A note to those of you who are supporting me and Dry Bones.  I want to thank you for the sabbatical I just received.  Even though you may not have even known that I was off of the streets for a month, thank you.  I know what a gift time is, and there is no gift I value more.  Time to travel.  Time to think.  Time with God.  Time with Courtney.  Time by myself.  Time with friends.  Time...


Thank you for the way you love me, the street kids in Denver, and the rest of the staff here at Dry Bones.  My time off was amazing in the greatest sense of the word.  I gained new perspectives on the world, God, my dreams and goals, and life with Court'.  I hope you enjoy these simple musings from our trip to Patagonia.  Thank you friends!!

a weekend of biking

I love the sound of the whir of fully pressurized tires swiftly spinning on recently laid asphalt.  I love the feeling that accompanies the sound; it almost seems as if I am suspended, floating just millimeters from the ground that passes directly underneath me.  In those moments, I think of nothing but "pedal, shift, smile, pedal more...".

Outside Cafe 13

Courtney and I rode the foothills this weekend. We soaked up the sun, and enjoyed the incredible feeling of burning leg muscles after the winter off-season.  The views were incredible.  We made our way up through Red Rocks, winding around boulders the size of condos, and finally peaked at the top of Dinosaur ridge.  We looked east and gazed off into the plains that disappear away from the front range, as if the mountains are melting like glaciers and flowing off into nothingness.  From there, we descended the short, steep road that is closed to traffic, and continued West.  We finally stopped at a small cafe, "Cafe 13".  If you are ever in Denver, or Golden to be more specific, call us and we'll take you there.

Much love,
-Zach