Month Five

The last month of my trip consisted of wrapping up my solo tour of Colombia and two and a half weeks in Costa Rica.

This month I slept in only ten different beds, and spent only 11 hours on buses.  I flew on four planes and spent six hours on boats.  In the past five months, the grand total has been 89 beds, 15 planes, 337 bus hours, 28.5 hours in boats, 13 border crossings and 26 new passport stamps.

This month I watched the sunset from the Old City Walls of Cartagena, the top of Monseratte in Bogota, and from the beautiful beaches of Santa Teresa, Costa Rica.   I spent a lot of time this month reflecting on my trip and trying to grasp the realization that it would soon be ending.  

Though I was technically "alone" in Colombia, anyone who has ever backpacked knows that you are never truly alone.  I began the month in Cartagena where I ran into my friend Mike, who had been part of my Bogota travel family.  We met two groups of London-ers and spent a few days visiting the beautiful Caribbean beaches, snorkeling, having very awkward encounters while lounging in a volcano lava bath, and watching the sunset over the Old City wall.  We experienced a bit of torture as well, as the entire Old City was without water for 48 hours.  This meant that there was NO water for showers and NO water to flush the toilet.  Though this is never an enjoyable experience, (I know, since this is the THIRD time in South America that it has happened to me,) it was even worse in Cartagena because it is miserably hot and humid. The entire city smelled by the time we got water back in the sink tap and scrubbed ourselves down with washcloths while washing our hair in the sink.

Mike and I flew from Cartagena to Medellin together.  In the airport we met Rodolfo, who I would continue to travel with until the final days of my trip. I spent the days wandering around the city, visiting parks, the Botanical Garden, and learning about the city's fascinating history.  We went on a Pablo Escobar tour and visited the house where he was shot.  We took a day trip to Guatape. To continue my strain of bad luck, the farmers in Salento, the Colombian coffee region, were striking and the roads were closed.  Instead I stayed a few extra days in Medellin, my favorite Colombian city.

I went back to Bogota and actually left the hostel this time.  In Bogota, street art is legal, and graffiti artists are able to take the time to make beautiful artwork instead of having to rush their work and hide from authorities.  We visited an amazing street market, the Botero Museum, and took the cable car to the top of Monseratte where we watched the sunset over the city and the night become alive with lights.

A little less than half way through the month I flew to Costa Rica to meet Michael.  I met Michael in Colombia on my second day in South America, though I had no idea at the time how much of an influence he would be on my trip.  We met up again a month later in Cuzco, Peru, and again a couple weeks later in La Paz, Bolivia.  I convinced Michael and his crew to spend Christmas and New Years with us in Argentina.  After a week in Buenos Aires, Michael & co. united with Sinead, Mona and I, and together the eight of us traveled through Argentina and Chile, zigzagging our way through beautiful Patagonian landscapes.  After splitting up for a month, Michael and I reunited in Costa Rica.  Michael grew up in Costa Rica and his mother's side of the family still lives there.  We stayed with his grandmother.  After travelling, it was amazing to be able to unpack my clothes for the first time in five months, have home cooked meals, and sleep in the same bed every night.

We were both exhausted and took full advantage of being able to rest and lie around.  We visited Michael's favorite restaurants, spent a lot of time with family, spent evenings at The Finca (his family's amazing property outside of town,) and saw a soccer (football) game.  We listened to Michael's grandmother's hilarious stories and I learned all sorts of new Costa Rican fruits.  We took a five day vacation and went to Santa Teresa.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a beach person, but I fell in love with Santa Teresa.  Santa Teresa is an amazing surfer's town that seems as if it is stuck in the 1970's.  Everyone in Santa Teresa is beautiful.  Everyone has toned bodies and sunkissed skin.  The men have hair as long as the women.  Everyone walks around almost naked - bathing suits are the standard uniform.  Shoes are not necessary.

The town has a very authentic feel.  It feels virgin - untouched.  Even though Santa Teresa is full of travelers, it feels lived in and loved.  As Michael says, Santa Teresa is not a place people come to to cross something off of their bucket list.  People come here to live here, to surf here, to love it.  It seems as if people come here and stay.  They fall in love.  They get stuck.

The road in Santa Teresa is not paved.  There is dust everywhere.  Because it is the dry season, the palm trees that line the road appear to be brown - caked in dust.  The main modes of transportation are scooters and quad bikes.  People use bandanas to cover their mouths from the dust and different methods ranging from sunglasses to ski goggles to shield their eyes.  Every so often a car that will come down the road.

The town feels as if it is stuck in a moment in time.  The vibe is amazing.  Everything is calm and relaxed.  The people who live here and work here are all here because they want to be - because they love it.  There are no police in Santa Teresa.  There are no traffic lights.  The town is still very young - in its infancy.  Though there are hotels, the town is mostly run by hostels.  Everyone in the town is young.  Industry has not yet taken over.  There is still vacant beach from property.  You can drive down the road for a few minutes and find yourself alone on a beach - without a single other person in sight.

Michael and I spent our days sleeping late, eating lunch at our favorite restaurant, The Bakery, and taking our time getting to the beach in the mid afternoon.  We rented bicycles one day and a quad bike for two.  We explored on the quad and drove until the road ended.  We spent our afternoons on private beaches, where we would swim and wait to watch the sunset.  We saw monkeys and iguanas and beautiful birds.  Michael got bit by a scorpion.  Our evenings were spent sitting outside our cabana drinking wine, swimming in our hotel's pool, and eating delicious dinners.  We would stay up late, watching comedy shows, talking and laughing.

After returning from Santa Teresa, we spent a few more days at Michael's grandmother's in San Jose.  But eventually the time came, and, as with all good things, my trip finally came to an end.  Devastated, I said my final goodbye and cried my way through the airport to board my flight to Washington DC.  After 156 days away, it was finally time to return home.

Photos:

A street artist in Bogota 

Bogota at night

At Guatape, Colombia

Waves crashing over a rock during a Costa Rican sunset

Michael and I on the beach

A Costa  Rican sunset

Michael and I in Santa Teresa

Our cabana in Santa Teresa

The scorpion that bit Michael

Costa Rican fruits: mamon chino and manzana de agua (water apple)

As my trip comes to an end

An excerpt from my journal. Written in Medellín, Colombia on February 27, six days before I left South America.

I miss this trip. I miss this trip in a way that hurts my heart.  In a way, I don't even want to be away anymore.  There is nothing that I really want to do.  I have no agenda.  I am just here killing time before I go home. 

And why? Why am I still here wandering from city to city without motivation?  Because going home earlier would mean the trip is over. Because leaving South America means that everything I've dreamed about - which has turned into a reality better than I ever imagined - is done. 

When I think back on my trip, my last few weeks in Colombia will never be the ones I concentrate on.  "My trip" will be the Wild Rovers and the Lokis. The treks and the bus rides.  The theme parties.  Sinead.  Mona.  Michael. 

I can remember so many minor details of this trip perfectly.  I can picture scenes in my head vividly.  I can hear people's voices and laughs.  I can remember exactly how I felt at certain times. I can remember smells and tastes. That is what I don't want to lose.  I don't want to lose the feeling of what it's like to be here. 
I can't imagine a time in the future that I will think back on this trip and not feel a wanting - a longing - to be back here. 

Even with no water and road blocks and uncomfortable beds... 28 hour bus rides... not knowing the language.  The experiene of being here makes any sacrifice worth it. 

These have been the best months of my life. As I leave South America - in LESS than one week - I am devastated.

I miss this trip as if it were tangible.  As if it were a person.  I miss Sinead and I miss Mona in ways that physically pain me.  The idea of not knowing when I'll ever see them again makes my heart race and butterflies form in my stomach. 

But when I think about going home and the official end of the trip, the feeling is almost too much to bare.  I feel it in every pore of my body.  Thinking about the end of the trip as a whole turns the idea of not knowing when I'll see the girls into a reality. They didn't exist in my world before this trip.  On the trip they were my world.  Even though we split up a few weeks ago, they are still a part of this world.  I came to know and love this world with them by my side.  A tour guide once told us, "if you ever fall in love with  place, I can guarantee you it is because of the people." Sinead and Mona are the reasons I fell in love - over and over again.

This trip has changed my life. The people. The places. The experiences. I go back home with a different outlook on the world.

I will miss everything about this trip.  I am not one of those travelers who has gotten sick of the hostel scene.  Sick of living out of a backpack.  I'm the opposite, in fact. I've embraced it.  I love it.

What I will miss most is the backpacker's attitude. Everyone is laid back. Everyone is friendly. I will miss the way I feel here.  Other than a few specific instances, I have the same mood all the time.  I am happy, content, relaxed.  I have no responsibility to anyone but me. There are no chores I should be doing.  There is nowhere I'm supposed to be.  Someone I need to call. My whole life revolves around doing whatever I feel like - whatever I want in that moment.  There are no outside forces.

As an adult, I think this is an extremely rare occurence.  One that most adults don't feel - and even fewer feel for a prolonged period of time. I feel calm. Calm in a way children must feel. A calm I can not recall ever feeling in my adult life.

I don't know exactly when I got to this point. Slowly, I imagine, I stopped clinging to the idea of my old life. Stopped wondering what people were doing on Saturday night. Stopped wanting to know the details. Somewhere, somehow, this trip became my life.

Going home will feel unfamiliar. A world that was once mine. A world where I have had no idea what was happening on a day to day basis. A world I have missed five months of.  And a world - I assume - that will be just like I left it.

Five months later, I will walk back in and it will welcome me like I never left.  And though it is likely still the same, to me, it will feel foreign - like a favorite old jacket that was once comfortable but no longer fits.  Because I, myself, have changed.  I don't know when or how - it was never something major - but it happened and I can feel it. 

I never thought I was homesick. I never was. But now I find myself thinking about home more and more. Not in a longing way. But I think about the things that make me happy.  Things I haven't thought about in months. Maybe that IS homesick. I don't miss it in ways that hurt, but I miss it nonetheless.

I can't imagine this trip will ever become that - a nice memory.  Something that makes me smile. No - it will create a pit in my stomach... a longing in my heart. It will be able to produce a laugh - a real laugh. It will draw emotion. Smell and tastes. Accents. Foods. Songs. Words. People. Objects. All of these things will bringing me back to a specific memory - a moment in time.

With less than one week, this trip is constantly on my mind. Scenes repeating themselves. I hear the voices, remember the smells, the food on the table, the music in the room. This trip is like an old friend. One I unwillingly said goodbye to - whose time was too short. I'm not ready to say goodbye to this trip, but this trip as I knew it is over. It's time to go home.

Month Four

Month four was an emotional one (as anyone who I traveled with can attest to). 

I crossed five borders this month, zigzagging back and forth across Patagonia through Argentina and Chile and finally flying back to Colombia, my last South American country.

In month four I slept in 16 beds, flew on five planes (one of which I jumped out of), spent 80 hours on buses and four hours in a boat.  In the past four months total I have slept in 79 beds, been on 11 planes, spent 326 hours in buses, and 23 hours on boats. 

This month we visited an island with 250,000 penguins and rented a car and drove along beautiful lake view roads from Bariloche to San Martin de Los Andes.  We hiked Mt. Fitz Roy, the most beautiful mountain I've ever seen and the highlight of my trip so far.  We jumped 9,000 feet out of a tiny pink airplane at dusk above the Argentinian lake district and used ice picks to climb Villarica, a snow-covered volcano.  We toured the beautiful graffiti filled streets of Valparaiso, Chile.  We rented a double bike and pedaled to wineries in Mendoza.

We drank Terremotos (translation: earthquakes) in Santiago, a drink made of cheap white wine, rum, and a scoop of pineapple ice cream... Right up my alley.  We ate a delicious midnight dinner at Don Albertos, a very famous Argentinian steak house.  We made it our mission to find the best ice cream in Argentina (for research purposes only) and established a self guided tour.  The result: helados Mamusia in San Martin de los Andes.  "Probably the best ice cream in the world," Sinead Conlon, 2013.  If you ever go to Argentina you will thank me for this tip. 

I saw the most spectacular sunrise of my life as the sun rose over Mount Fitz Roy, a reward for a very steep, cold, uphill climb in the dark. I saw an amazing sunset during the first few hours of our 28 hour bus ride from Bariloche, Argentina to Santiago, Chile.  On the last day of my fourth month, I was back in Cartagena, the same city I had flown into on my first day in South America.  As I watched the sunset from the Old City wall, I couldn't help but think of all that has happened in the past four months. 

This month was filled with goodbyes.  After a month traveling through Patagonia together, we split up from the Israelis and said goodbye as they headed on their way to Brazil for Carnival.  The following weekend I had to say the hardest goodbyes of my life as Mona, Sinead, and I all went our separate ways.  After two and a half months of traveling with the girls, saying goodbye to them physically pained me. 

In less than a week I went from traveling in a group of eight to traveling by myself.  I spent the last week of the month in Colombia.  First in Bogota, where I barely left the hostel for five days, exhausted both mentally and physically from a month of fast paced travel and painful goodbyes.  In Bogota I quickly made new friends who reminded me of all the reasons that I love traveling.  We spent our days watching movies and taking it easy and our nights cooking big, family style dinners.  After regaining energy I flew to Cartagena to meet a friend from home, thankful to see a familiar face after so many goodbyes. 

I finally booked my flight back to the United States.  I leave South America March 5 for a two and a half week "vacation from backpacking" in Costa Rica and fly back to DC on March 22.  I'm devastated to leave but very much looking forward to seeing family and friends, sleeping in my own bed, flushing toilet paper, and wearing clothes without holes.

Photos:
1. Before our skydiving
2. Climbing Villrica
3. From the bus: Patagonian sunset
4. Mount Fitz Roy
5. Grapes before harvest in Mendoza
6. Wine o´clock in Mendoza
7. Before our skydive
8. Road trip to San Martin de Los Andes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mount Fitz Roy

After a little more than a week in Chile, we crossed the border back into Argentina for our final stop in Patagonia, El Chalten.  Eleven hours later, after breakfast in Puerto Natales, Chile and lunch in El Calafate, Argentina, we arrived in El Chalten. 

Driving into El Chalten, I felt like Dorothy arriving in Emerald City.  The skyline of El Chalten is magical.  There are rocky, snow covered mountains, and lower, rounded, red rock hills, and then there is Mount Fitz Roy - exaggerated, definitive, and abrupt - in the middle of it all.

Mount Fitz Roy shoots straight upwards, towering over all of the other mountains.  It stands tall and proudly boasts its beauty.  It is the main attraction, the show stopper.  It is like nothing you have ever seen before.  When you lay your eyes upon Mount Fitz Roy for the first time, you don't ever want to look away.

The next morning, we were up very early to rearrange our big packs, rent tents, and repack our smaller packs to hike to Fitz Roy.  After trekking the Torres, we knew exactly what we needed.  We split up into two groups, Sinead and I in charge of food, Michael, Nadav, and Amir in charge of renting equipment.  

Since the trek was only overnight, we decided - to save money, time and weight - that we didn't need to rent stoves or cook any meals.  However, unlike Puerto Natales where we grocery shopped for the Torres, the grocery stores in the town were almost empty, lacked any decent food for hiking, and were very expensive.  We ended up spending as much money on food for three meals as we did for our entire five days in the Torres.

Our menu was as follows:
Lunch: Ham and cheese sandwich
Dinner #1: Ham and cheese sandwich
Dinner #2: Ham and cheese sandwich
Breakfast: Sandwich roll with dulce de leche and frosted flakes sprinkled on top
Snacks: Two vanilla flavored muffins

With our gourmet menu and newly rented tents, we finished packing our bags and headed straight to the mountain.

One of the best parts of Fitz Roy is that it is so close to town.  We literally walked out the door of our hostel, walked along the main road for a few minutes, turned onto a side street and walked up the trail. 

The trails of Mount Fitz Roy are supersaturated with nature.  There are forrests and lakes and rivers and lagoons and glaciers and many different types of mountains. 

Our first destination was Laguna de Torre.   As we walked through the forrest, it was like walking through a tree graveyard.  Though many of the trees are alive and healthy, there are massive limbs and branches and trees uprooted from the ground.  There are trees that are literally broken in half and others that are split into two straight up the trunk.  The visual scenery of these forrests is a vivid testament to the extreme weather conditions - primarily insanely heavy winds and snow - that Patagonia faces every winter.  

When we arrived at the Laguna, we finally got a taste of some of the wind we had heard so much about.  We had been warned that both the Torres and Fitz Roy have extremely unpredictable weather and that the main injury when hiking these trails is a broken wrist from trying to catch yourself when the wind knocks your over. We had heard a first hand account from a friend who had hiked the Torres - a 6 foot tall man wearing his backpack - who was picked up, blown into his girlfriend, and then carried five feet in the air before the wind dropped them both. 

So far, though, we had been lucky with the weather - both at the Torres and Fitz Roy.  As we walked up to the Lagoon, the wind began to pick up.  There were sand storms and little pebbles that were picked up and sent crashing into our bare arms and legs.  We had to put on our sunglasses to protect our eyes and to see. 

We stood at the top for a while, looking at the beautiful lagoon and snow capped mountains.  Our feet were firmly planted in the ground, and we leaned into the wind so that we weren't blown over by its force. 

We trekked back down a bit to an area with less wind, ate our lunch, propped ourselves up on a rock took a quick power nap, and were back on our way. 

Our next stop was at Lago Madre y Hija where we stopped for a swim.  We were hot from trekking, but still couldn't manage to stay in the extremely cold water very long.  When we got out of the water we realized that the small black snakes we had seen swimming were actually leeches and helped each other scrape them off our skin. 

We stayed here a bit longer and ate our first dinner sandwich.  The monotony of the food doesn't bother you at all when you're surrounded by some of the most amazing scenery in the world.

We went back on our way and came face to face with the stunning Mount Fitz Roy for the first time.  Though the top of Fitz Roy is rarely seen due to cloudy skies, we were extremely lucky to see the entire  mountain towering above us. 

After seeing the Torres, I didn't expect Fitz Roy to impress me as much as it did.  I had seen Fitz Roy in many pictures before and it never had the same draw.  But seeing Fitz Roy in person literally blew my mind.  It is the most stunning mountain I have ever seen, even more so than "my mountain."

We bypassed the first camp we saw and instead camped that night at the very bottom of the steep trek to the viewing point where we would watch the sunrise the next morning.  The five of us were the only campers there, and it felt special to have a piece of the forrest to call our own. 

After setting up our tents, eating dinner #2, and refilling our water bottles at the nearby river, we crawled into our tents... exhausted from a day of trekking in the hot sun.

Our 4:15 alarm came much too soon, and if it wasn't for Sinead making sure we all woke up, I would have rolled over and gone right back to sleep.

We piled on layers of clothing... My trekking tank top, a thermal spandex layer, a fleece, a jacket, two hats, a neckwarmer, and gloves.  After the Torres, I knew full well that I'd be peeling these layers off as soon as we started climbing the steep uphill, but leaving the tent without them seemed more than impossible.

By the time I reached the top, I was wearing only a tank top and my thermal leggings, and I had to quickly put back on all of my layers.  Within minutesI was freezing cold again as my body temperature dropped. 

The trek to the view point was very steep on very loose, rocky terrain.  We began the trek in pitch black, with our head torches lighting the way, but as we walked higher and higher the sun began to peak out and illuminate the horizon.  An hour later we finally reached the top.  We were rewarded by the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen in my entire life. 

"Aren't you happy you woke up now?" Sinead asked Michael, who was tough to coax out of his sleeping bag at 4 am.
"I'm happy I was born," he told her.

As you scanned the horizon the colors painted the sky.  First in pastels - blues and pinks and yellows.  Closer to the sun the colors became more vibrant, oranges and reds and fuscha.  And directly where the sun rose, the sky shined gold - lighting the lakes below on fire.  In my mind, I kept hearing the quote from The Outsiders "stay gold, Ponyboy," and thought about how I have never identified more with the meaning.

As the first light of day reached Mount Fitz Roy, its peaks were illuminated and its tips were turned a fiery orange for a few quick moments - just as the ones on the Torres had been not even a week before.

When the sun rose, we explored the area a bit more and discovered a second lagoon and waterfall which had been hidden between two mountains.  When we couldn't stand the cold anymore, we headed back down to have breakfast, take down our tents, make our way back into town. 

By the time we got back, we were all very sore.  Our feet and ankles had taken a serious beating from the rocky climb and in just 24 hours, the Fitz Roy trek managed to destroy us and cause more pain than the five days on the Torres.

After two weeks in Patagonia and the most beautiful scenery of my life, we packed our bags again  and headed back north on a 28 hour bus to Bariloche. 

Photos:
(*All photos credited to Michael Lande, due to a broken camera on the day of the trek)

1 - Where we had dinner our first night
2 - Fitz Roy
3 - Swimming with the leeches
4 - Fresh water fill up from the river
5 - Sky on fire. Sunrise at Mt. Fitz Roy
6 - Fitz Roy illuminated by the first light of day
7 - Mountain and lagoon at the viewing point
8 - Stunning Mt. Fitz Roy
9 - El Chalten valley

The Torres del Paine

PREPARATION

We spent the entire day before the trek comparing prices, attending an  information session, planning a menu, grocery shopping, and renting and buying equipment.  Prepping for a five day trek is no small feat for a group of eight and to say it was chaotic may be the understatement of the century. 

After the information session and comparing prices we actually started making moves in the right direction at about 5pm.  We decided to rent most of our gear from the hostel with the information session.

After two hours, we had finally set up our tents in the park across the street - both to make sure we knew how and make sure they didn't have holes - and settled the argument over how many pots and stoves we needed to rent (we decided on four, one pot for every two people.)

Worried that the grocery store and equipment shops may close we split into four groups: two people renting the tent, two renting sleeping bags, two buying sleeping mats and walking poles, and two going food shopping. 

Nadav and I were in charge of the food situation.  We were a good team to go together and kept each other balanced.  Nadav kept me from buying too much and weighing down our packs while I convinced him to keep everyone from starving and buying more food.  We got into small arguments about comical things - like whether to splurge the extra dollar for the ham that wasn't purple (I won,) or how we'd be able to keep fresh bread rolls soft for three days instead of buying whole wheat bread in a package.  In the end we came to a decent menu - though there wasn't much variety - always keeping in mind that our goal was to be full, not to eat gourmet meals. 

Our menu was as follows:
DINNER
1: Spaghetti and tomato sauce
2: Spaghetti and tomato sauce, vegetable soup
3: Rice with ketchup, boxed mashed potatoes with ketchup, cream of chicken soup
4: Spaghetti and tomato sauce, tomato soup, and ketchup

LUNCH
1: Ham and cheese sandwiches
2: Trail mix, and peanut butter and manjar (Dulce de Leche) on a roll
3: Peanut butter and/or manjar on a roll
4: Manjar on sliced bread, remaining bits of peanut butter with peanuts on top
5: Trail mix

BREAKFAST
1: Instant oatmeal
2: Instant oatmeal
3: Instant oatmeal
4: Instant oatmeal

SNACKS:
Chocolate bars, cakes, cookies, crackers with raisins on top (desperate times), vanilla cake

Knowing what we'd be eating the next five days we had a HUGE dinner the night before the trek and then came back to the hostel to destroy our rooms and attempt to pack for the Torres. 

In addition to clothing, each person had to carry a sleeping bag, sleeping mat and 3 kilos of food and each team of two had to carry a cooking stove, pot, and gas can. 

Packing was extremely stressful.  We finally managed to get to bed at 3am with a total of three hours to sleep until our 6am alarms. 

THE TREK
We had decided to hike the W trek from West to East which meant taking a ferry over to the West side of the park to begin the trek. 

Immediately the scenery was among the most gorgeous I'd ever seen.  From the boat you could see dramatic snow covered mountains and jagged outlined peaks.  The water of the lake we crossed was a pristine shade of aqua marine that you've only ever seen on a paint pallet and the mountains reflected mirror images in the still water. 

Though I was stunned by the scenery, I embarrassingly didn't realize at the time that I was staring directly at "my mountain." THE mountain that brought me to South America.  I spent the rest of the five days hoping it would be the day I saw my mountain.  I knew I was looking at my mountain from a different angle on days 3 and 4, but I wanted to see it the way I had always pictured it.  The view that is the wallpaper background on this blog.  On day five, I finally saw my mountain... From Mona's camera screen on the bus home.  Everyone kept asking me if I could have missed it.  "There's no possible way," I told them.  "It has an incredibly distinctive landscape.  I've been staring at it for years." I was wrong.  My mountain was the first thing I saw and though I was astounded at its beauty, I failed to recognize it at the time.

Throughout the park there are jagged, snow capped, slate covered mountains.  There are copper and amber stone mountains with an almost round facade that recedes layer upon layer into one another.  The are the beautiful towers that define the Torres and stand tall and erect, made from granite that has consistently resisted the forces of nature over thousands of years while everything else around them has been worn down.   In the park you can literally be standing in one place and turn around for a 360 degree view and see amazing, yet completely different scenery in each direction.

On our first two and a half days we walked through many acres of burned forrest.  Last year, 17 thousand acres of the park were burned down in a fire started by a tourist's stove.  There is a stark contrast of the burned, dead trees and the more resilient bushes that have come back to life and grow around them.

Because of fires like this the park has very strict guidelines about using gas stoves and it is only allowed in small, confined areas.  We quickly realized what a blessing these rules are as one of our own started a fire in the designated cooking area on the first night. 

I was in the bathroom changing and cleaning up when a man ran in with a bucket, turned on the shower and frantically ran back out spilling half of the bucket on the floor.  "Fire!" he screamed.  Knowing our group was in the kitchen cooking dinner, I asked Shani, "That can't be us, right?"

By the time we got out of the bathroom 30 seconds later there was a crowd on the deck outside the kitchen.  The fire had been put out by a fire extinguisher and the entire room was now covered in the white foam remnants.  Shortly after, Nadav and Sahar walked out. Both looked shocked. 

It had been our stove that started the fire.  Unbeknownst to us, one of our gas cans didn't fit the stove properly and when they turned on the second stove it ignited the leaked fluid.  As Nadav later retold the story he was "holding the fireball in his hand," and as he went to drop it he realized someone was below him so he held onto it for a couple seconds before throwing it onto the ground. 

Luckily there were the proper safety tools at the facility and someone was quick to find and use the fire extinguisher.  Except for some burned arm hair, eye lashes, a bit of hair from Nadav's head, everyone was safe and there were no serious burns.  After our first evening, our cooking adventures went more smoothly.

On the third day we hiked to a beautiful mirador.  The view was 360 degrees of unbelievable panoramic scenery.  On one side was a beautiful glacier with waterfalls and ice avalanches, the next side was a beautiful valley with lakes, if you turned even further there was jagged, snowcapped mountains.  Depending on the direction you looked, you felt as if you could be in four different quadrants of the globe.  

The colors in Patagonia are spectacular.  The sunsets, the lakes,the glaciers, the mountains, and the rivers are all incredibly vivid, they proudly boast colors I never realized existed in nature.  It is as if Crayola came to Patagonia when they decided to make the box of 540 Crayola Crayons and needed to create new colors. 

As we'd walk by different lakes we'd create our own names for the colors we saw.  "Patagonian blue," "Roswell grey," "The color of a dream," were some of the ones we came up with.

The Torres are known for unpredictable, dramatic weather, and very strong winds, but we were extremely lucky with the weather.  While the nights got chilly, we spent the days sweating in tank tops.  One day, Sinead and I even braved the
freezing temperatures and went for a swim in the lake for as long as our bodies would allow us, which was about one and a half minutes.

The hole in the ozone is directly over the Torres, so we were extra paranoid about sunscreen and reapplied almost every hour.  Somehow, I managed to make it out of the park five days later without a sunburn. 

On our last day we woke up at 4am to see the sunrise from the towers.  (Torres literally translates to towers.) It was freezing cold.  I layered on my tank top, my thermal shirt, my fleece, my wind breaker, two hats, gloves and a neck warmer.  We began walking in the dark, and  joined the other gringos as they walked the same path.  In the dark it looked like a line of ants, each person indistinguishable - a dark figure - headlamps lighting the path ahead.

We walked quickly and soon enough we were peeling layers of clothing off.  By the time we reached the top we were sweating and had to quickly change out of our tshirts and layer all of the warm gear back on.  Within minutes we were freezing cold again.  We had brought our sleeping bags with us and crawled into them as we waited for the sun to rise. 

I had expected the sun to rise behind the towers, but as we reached the top I realized it was rising in the opposite direction.

Grumpily I wondered what the point of waking up at 4am was to see the sunrise from the towers if you ended up turning your back away from them the whole time.

Soon enough I had my answer.  As the sun begins to rise in the sky, there is a quick moment when the first light of day reaches the tip of the towers.  As this happens, the peaks are illuminated and for a brief time, the Torres appear to be on fire.  When this happens, it's magical. You feel lucky to be able to experience it, and then realize how amazing it is that this spectacular occurance happens on a daily basis.  We were truly in awe. 

Walking out of the park later that day, I was sad.  To me, the five days we spent hiking flew by. Though we walked all day long, there was never a point where I got bored or wished to be at the campsite quicker.  The Torres had been my number one travel dream for the past four years,and the reason I ultimately came to South America on a trip that has made my life infinitely more amazing. 

In total we walked more than fifty miles with our packs.  By the third day we were all in pain and we felt old.  We had bruises on our hip and collar bones where the straps on our packs were tightly fastened to keep the weight off our backs.  Our knees and ankles hurt.  Our backs hurt, both from carrying our packs and sleeping on uneven, rocky ground. 

But I relished every minute I spent in the park, every step I took.  I raced along the paths conquering uphills that I would have thought challenging when I arrived in South America a few months ago.  As Sinead says, I was "high off Torres adrenaline." 

Though the trails varied from grass to rocks to pebbles and gravel, my favorite trails were the dirt paths.  As I walked along the loose dirt, I could see the imprint of my shoes, and for a brief moment, before the wind blew or another traveler walked the path, I left my mark in a place I had dreamed about over and over. 

Pictures:
1: Me at the Torres right after sunrise
2: Day one before we started hiking.  The group "before" picture.
3: Day five after we finished the trek
4: Scenery from the trail
5: Me in my gear
6: More scenery
7: Me with "my mountain" in the distance
8: The Torres on fire with the first light of day
9: Sunrise
10: Sinead, Mona, and I conquering the mountain
11: The Cuernos (horns,) my mountain from a different angle

Month Three

Three months in South America.  This month consisted of two new countries, three border crossings, fulfilling my number one travel dream, and lots of quality time with our extended travel family. 

We crossed into Chile from Bolivia on the first day of month three and spent two nights in San Pedro de Atacama.  After almost a month in Bolivia we were very pleased to have good food, real cheese, and WiFi.  We gazed at the stars, the moon, the planets, and the Milky Way through ten telescopes in San Pedro, one of the best places to see stars in the entire world, and one of my travel dreams. 

After only two days in Chile, we crossed into Argentina to meet 20 members of our extended travel family for what is sure to forever hold the title of the most untraditional Christmas of my life. 

In short, this Christmas can be summed up by lots of injuries and flies, dancing on tables, the return of Drinead, volleyball, Call Me Maybe, Feliz Cumpleanos Jesus and Feliz Navidad Bitchez tshirts, Christmas headbands and leg warmers, wine o'clock in a very messy dorm room, All I Want for Christmas is Jews, Monique and facepaint. 

Though Christmas wasn't the same without my family, I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to celebrate with.  Sinead, Mona, and I exchanged gifts under the tree and I can promise you that no one has ever been as excited to receive a pumice stone, bottle of nail polish, and pair of sunglasses as I was that day. 

We were happily surprised with a white Christmas as hail the size of acorns began to fall from the sky as we sat down for Christmas dinner.

Mona and I spent 50+ hours on buses in 3 days to see the Argentinian side of Iguazu Falls - one of the seven natural wonders of the world - and got soaked as our boat sped directly into Garganta del Diablo - the largest of the waterfalls.

We reunited with the travel family again for ten days in Buenos Aires where we visited the grave of Evita, drank lots of cheap Malbec, ate midnight dinners and a million empanadas, saw a phenomenal drum show at La Bomba de Tiempo, celebrated Mona's 20th birthday, ate amazing Argentinian steak, visited the port, went to a Tango show and learned a few steps in a Tango class, picnic-ed in the park, and danced past sunrise in clubs with no windows.  We celebrated the New Year outside with a countdown at the Obelisk (a structure that looks identical to the Washington Monument) and a Do-It-Yourself amateur fireworks show. 
Mona, Sinead, and I said our final goodbyes to many members of the family who were returning home to countries across the globe after the holidays and headed down to the bottom of the world with five Israelis.  We spent three days in Argentinian Patagonia visiting Laguna Nimez and Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the most spectacular sites I've ever seen. 

We crossed back into Chile, and spent a day in Puerto Natales preparing to hike the Torres del Paine. We backpacked for five days and 50+ miles with our tents, food, cooking stoves and utensils on our backs and completed the W Trek on the last day of my third month.  I was not one bit disappointed with the mountains that have haunted my dreams for the last four years, but astounded by their all-encompassing beauty as I finally admired them with my own eyes instead of through a computer screen.

In month 3 I slept in 19 beds, took one plane ride and spent 70 hours in buses, bringing the total to 63 beds, 6 planes and 246 hours in buses.

This month I saw the sun set over the valley of the Moon in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, and I saw the sun rise too many mornings in Buenos Aires, Argentina after letting time slip away from us over cheap Malbec and lots of laughter. 

I saw the most spectacular color pallets paint the sky as I watched the sun set at 11pm in Patagonian towns both in Argentina and Chile, and I saw the sun illuminate the towers of the Torres del Paine as they were set on fire by the first light of day. 

In the past month I've been left speechless by incredible scenery and unbelievable 360 degree panoramic views.  I've laughed until my stomach muscles ached and tears poured out of my eyes, continuously entertained and surrounded by amazing people.  I've accomplished goals that I set years ago when I wasn't sure whether or not I was strong enough to fulfill them.  I've said goodbye to amazing people that have inspired me in countless ways and will forever be immortalized as the  traveler versions of themselves in both my heart and memory. 

As I move into month four, it is bittersweet.  Though I don't yet have a flight back to the United States, I am officially more than half way through my trip.  This month I will have to say goodbye to both Sinead, as she sets out for New Zealand on the next leg of her Around the World trip, and Mona as she heads back home to Germany after eight months traveling in Central and South America.  I dread this day more than I could ever begin to explain.

I will begin to make my way North with an unofficial plan to spend a few weeks in Ecuador both traveling and taking Spanish courses and finally finish my trip by reuniting with a friend and spending my last few weeks in Colombia before returning home.

Photos:
#1 Photo of the moon from our star tour in San Pedro
#2 Valle de la Luna, San Pedro de Atacama
#3 First light of day illuminating the towers of the Torres del Paine
#4 Iguazu Falls
#5 Travel family ladies in our Christmas best 
#6 The Obelisk at midnight on New Years, Buenos Aires
#7 Sinead and I, Puerto Natales, Chile
#8  Me hiking the Torres del Paine
#9 A white Christmas...Argentinian snow (hail)
#10 In front of "my mountain," Torres del Paine
#11 An Argentinian dinner. Mona's birthday, Buenos Aires
#12 Me at Glacier Perito Moreno