The morning is a precious time. Now, after weeks on the road, I take my first breath. I breath deep. The cold, fresh, snow kissed air fills my lungs with new life, like mouthwash into a smokers mouth, the air is welcome. The water is still. As are the trees. The windless morning accompanied by the rising sun make for what must only be described as beauty. The day is still but the world is alive. The birds too, recognize that they are alive, they sing their songs proudly. The ducks splash around not 50 yards in front of me. Every few minutes a fish breaks the surface. The cold glacier waters of Laguna Negra are filled with life.
Sitting here, beneath a snow capped mountain, being warmed by the sun, I am finally beginning to absorb my circumstances. This moment. These moments. The ones I have been experiencing for the last months, and with luck will continue to experience, are the realization of a dream. The past two years I have filled my brain with fantasies of this place. I did not get here alone.
This morning when I woke up, stepped out of the tent, and look to the east. Upon seeing the sun rising, the shadows of the bushes, the reflection of the rocks in the water, my breath is taken. The feeling has become so familiar lately. To be left without speech because words fail to recipocate, or represent, ones experience. Today this phenomenon was incited by nature, but the breathtaking beauty of this place pales in comparison to the breath taking capacity of the people whom have helped me arrive here.
About two weeks ago Dan and I set off from Córdoba in a bus to Puerto Madryn. We spent our first day getting to know a few people that were at the camp site. Upon discovering that we had no plans for Christmas, one of them, Matías, quickly invited us to spend christmas in his home in Rio Grande. He was in route there, hitchhiking from Córdoba. We went our separate ways south, but eventually we arrived in Rio Grand and were welcomed by his entire family. Mom, brother, his wife, their baby daughter, other sister, her husband, their baby daughter, other sister, and finally little brother. Matías told us from the begining, the house is small but the heart is big. And sure enough, it was. We ended spending an entire week with the family.
We eventually got our things together and continued the journey south. On the final stretch of the road a guy in a pickup pulled over and we got in. He had moved to the area 30 years ago, after visiting for a fishing trip. He was the first fisherman we had met so I drilled him with questions. It was late and once he discovered our plans to enter the park that night he invited us to spend the night in his house. We quickly agreed.
The house was the nicest I have ever been in south of Los Angeles. Roque, the guy who lived there, was also a collector of arms. So, after some trust was built up, before we left in the morning, he handed me a sniper to play with. His giant bay windows overlooking the city, lake and mountains made for a pretty sweet view through the guns sight. An interesting tangent in the adventure.
Roque’s house was big enough to house all my cousins (about 50), Matías’ house was filled to the limit. The size of the space is irrelevant, the heart has no capacity.
These experiences are just two in a sea of “buena onda” that has been brought our way. I share them to represent the diversity of people we have encountered. When you open yourself to the world, you’ll be surprised at the people in it.
We have met people from all walks of life. Young kids returning home for Christmas, families on vacation, a guy from Córdoba who moved south to ranch, retired school teacher who was traveling 12 hours alone to surprise her sister for Christmas- shortly after dropping us off she got into the trunk of her car for the surprise-, a evangelical guy from Peru (he failed to convert Dan), a couple from buenos aires who bought a van, quit their jobs and decided to travel the country, a motorcyclist who took us to his favorite bar, and countless others. We have shared everything from mate, beer, calamari, steak, lamb, coffee, jokes, loves lost to dreams. It’s these people that have brought us here: to the end of the world.
At this point in our journey, we go north. That’s the only agenda. I breath the Patagonian air deep, knowing it is only a matter of time before it’s taken away.
To Be Determined 