Reeling

My mind is reeling.

I’m in Grand Junction, CO for the Colorado chapter of The Wildlife Society’s annual state meeting and after two consecutive days of inspiring presentations, workshops and discussions with wildlife professionals I can’t get my brain to turn off. It’s a strange mix of exhilarating and overwhelming being here; ideas flood the limits of my mental capacity and opportunities that I’ve only dreamed of have casually present themselves. It’s the strange irony of being in love with something that just two years ago, I hardly knew existed.

Windy camp with Los Cuernos in the distance

While the revelations of this conference are framed by the inherently un-sexy confines of a hotel ballroom, it’s these thoughts that bring me rushing back to my setting the majority of last month. Enter: Patagonia.

It all began in early 2014 as I reflected on the passing of two people I held in great respect and affection: Amy Dombrowski and Bill Keith. The untimely deaths of these two highly passionate and kind individuals lead me to a clear realization that this is a short, fragile life we live. I rationalized, as a result, that the absolute worst thing I could do in the wake of their deaths would be to set limits on the possibilities of my own life. With this resolution in my mind, I took out a United airlines credit card with the perk of 50,000 free reward miles and combined those with a few I’d been saving to purchase a $58.04 round trip ticket (after taxes and fees) to Santiago, Chile for Winter Break of 2014-2015.

I’ve dreamed of laying eyes on the sheer, glaciated cliffs of Patagonia’s most famed mountains – particularly the Fitz Roy masiff – since the day Patagonia, Inc. catalogues began arriving at my house circa 13 years old. That being said, I had high expectations for this trip. And let me tell you: it didn’t disappoint.

I would have to write a short novel to tell the complete tale of Kate and I’s time in Patagonia and all the amazing moments we experienced. With this not being possible, nor a highly desirable endeavor, I’ll simply share a few small points that I simply can’t stand to withhold:

Sophie, guardian of Navarino

Isla Navarino: It’s not the end of the world, but wait, being one of the southern most inhabited islands in the world, Isla Navarino kind of is. Kate and I arrived here on recommendation of my roommates, Lee and Marie, and we were quite simply blown away. The land was rugged, pristine and insanely beautiful. We encountered jagged peaks, stunning lagoons, vast landscapes of micro-plant communities and twisted beech trees straight out of Dr. Seuss. The challenging, adventurous nature of the trek took us over beautiful passes, up vertical slopes entirely devoid of switchbacks, rock-hopping across scree fields and crawling over downed trees in thick vegetation – all in the company of a couple tag-along local dogs. The incredible kindness, generosity and pure awesomeness of the people of Isla Navarino’s largest town, Puerto Williams, left us utterly floored.

Torres del Paine

Torres del Paine National Park: Despite the crowds that came along with a location on the bucket list of the entire world, when Kate and I arrived at the Torres mirador and gazed upon the most perfect sight known to man with the luck of a blue sky break in the day, it was impossible to contain the sudden exuberance that shot your heart straight up to your head. We sat there for what seemed like ages, mesmerized. For the rest of our time in the park we decided to avoid the masses by condensing the 5-day “W” trek into a 3-day backpack/run adventure. On our penultimate day, an early start on a seemingly gloomy day lead us up Valle Francis (in near solitude!) into the most expansive cirque I’ve ever laid eyes upon. We returned to camp, packed our tents and bags and continued over to the Grande Paine Refugio where we set camp once again before taking off to see Glacier Grey. Still in our hiking boots and with 13 miles already under our belts, we faced a stiff headwind for ~6.5miles out to the glacier. Here we encountered house-sized chunks of bright blue ice floating in a vast lake that was being fed by a massive wall of ice. On our return trip we realized just how strong the wind we had face on our way out was as we quite literally flew back to camp. At the crest of a large hill where the wind was roaring particularly hard, we had the sensation of being marionette dolls – moving our limbs effortlessly as if they where attached to strings while we sped across the landscape.

Kate, looking for cerro Fitz Roy

The Fitz Roy massif and Cerro Torre: In my mind I held these mountains to be the holy grail of Patagonia. As our bus neared the gateway town of El Chalten, Fitz Roy and its satellite peaks beckoned us with a perfect view and clear blue skies. I stared in wonder. As we arrived into town small clouds began to cover Fitz Roy’s peak and I decided to wait on a photo. Little did I know that would be the last I would see of the great mountain. For the next 3 days Kate and I saw nothing but rain, snow, and more rain. We camped for a while before retreating into town to enjoy local microbrews and play the tourist game for the first time on our trip. We were scheduled to depart at 6pm on our final day to start the long trek home and with a big dose of luck we woke early that morning to SUN! Kate and I headed to the mountains to commence a 20 mile one-day tour (somehow, again, in hiking boots even though we ran 90% of the time) of the area to see what we could see. Although only glimpses of a few Fitz Roy satellites presented themselves, we sat at the base of the massif completely alone, watching glaciers hang high above vertical faces. It was hard not to feel that you were watching a sculptor at work as he carved away the finishing touches of perfection, shrouding his work from view with clouds. We continued on to another glacier and finally Cerro Torre where again, luck hit as I caught a 30-sec full view of the famed tower.

Kate and I

Back in the here and now, it’s hard to leave you with only those stories as each sentence makes me think of a million more – but in the end this trip gave me so much more than I could have ever anticipated – and beyond adventure and beautiful sights I have three take home points:

1. The knowledge that I must return to Chile and Argentina. At the onset of this trip 3 weeks seemed like ample time to see the sights. I now know that I’ve seen .001% of the tip of the iceberg that is Patagonia. The high Andes of the north, the pristine beauty of the South and the belly of Fitz Roy – all these things are calling.

Micro plants on Navarino

2. I had the most excellent travel companion I could ask for. Kate and I have spent many a day running and talking and having fun since I meet her 2 years ago in Fort Collins but a trip like this changes a friendship and I’m so thankful for the time and adventures we shared. The experiences we encountered on this trip are of such quality that they will be impossible to erase from my mind. 

3. Time to reflect is the most valuable time of all. Next to the sights I saw and happiness I felt, I equally value the time I was able to spend reading, writing, thinking quietly in our tent: I made a new friend (and developed a huge crush) on John Muir, I set goals that are being fed by the fire of this conference (yep! Still in Grand Junction!), and learned that little bit more about (as cheesy as it sounds) the core of myself.

As the thoughts of adventure funnel back to the excitement of my current location at my reeling mind is slowing. I’ve lived a large portion of my life stuck in the confines on my own mind and this expansion feels refreshing, exhilarating and challenging. I’m letting it all sink in. Making small personal commitments in my mind. I am no more than quietly, contently, happy.