The Crown Jewel // Chile [Pt.1]
Patagonia is a place, a space, an idea, a dream, more than you thought, bigger than you imagined, fiercer than the sun, revealing slow moments softer than moon shadows. Patagonia is shared by two countries- a riotous swath of desert, forest, and mountains, of rocks, trees, and grave wind between two churning oceans. Drinking from sole to soul, of lavish freshness, deep with nutrients that have no name, a richness that is vibrant and calming. A wild and largely unpopulated place near the bottom of the earth that holds endless possibility to experience nature with a capital N. The more you read on it, the more there is to learn; the longer we visit, the easier it is to stop the rolling of our wheels and really absorb this bounty.
Having just shared space with family for 10 days in this wild paradise, our hearts were full and readied for another round of exploring the depths and heights of Southern Patagonia.
Beneath the basalt columns rising from Morro Chico, we spent a windy afternoon on the winding waters of the Rio Pendiente. (P.S. this was from our time here in March, been making more content than we can process!)
Occurring in the ñire and coihue trees, Pan de Indio (Cyttaria harioti) is so called because the Yámana and Selk’nam natives would eat these edible fungus as if bread- literally in Spanish “Indian Bread.” So once we found this thick outcropping, we of course had to gather some. Most of the pan de indio here were smaller than ping-pong balls, and relatively lightweight. Eating one freshly picked from the tree, the flavor is similar to raw button mushrooms, but the texture is worlds away. It is bouncy like a nerf ball, or an eyeball, or perhaps like squid. Either way, when you bite down on the raw hongo, it bounces back to its original shape like a life form that has fought so hard to emerge from the cracks in these hardy southern beeches. Definitely an acquired texture, and not so much a strong taste as to require any commitment to learn to like. Since we had already plucked so many (an eager 4 year old harvester is hard to slow down), I later prepared the pan de indio thinly sliced and sautéed them in loads of garlic and good olive oil, a generous pinch of rough salt and tossed it all in a warm, fresh pasta. It was downright tasty!
While gathering pan de indio, we noticed these juicy mushrooms in the thick grass at the rivers edge. Not having the proper mushroom knowledge, we gathered them intending to look them up later, because that’d be stupid to die from some mushrooms. Once we had wifi (2 days later) Emily confirmed the mushrooms were edible, then sliced one open, to reveal a stem full of writhing maggots. UCK, with a little barf in the mouth. So, we looked a bit more & discovered ALL the mushrooms were hatching some new type of insect. Not the type of extra protein we are interested in, so we ditched the second variety of ‘shrooms, then promptly scrubbed our hands.
On the sunny shores, we giggled and soaked up vitamin D, watching Adam’s rhythmic casting of his new fly-fishing rod, courtesy of his mama Ellen, who left hers for him to use when she flew back after her visit.
Of all the wild and windy stretches of road we have covered, we could not have been more surprised to see in Southern Patagonia, a cyclist pedaling into the wind with a huge smile across his face & a surfboard strapped to the side of his bike. We immediately flipped a u-turn to say hello & see if the brave soul needed anything we had to offer. Lester from Venezuela has been cycling overland for 20 months and didn’t need anything, but gladly accepted an orange we offered.
Torres del Paine National Park in Chile is a place that in the 10 days we had just spent there, we’d only scratched the surface. Thirsty to spend more time lapping the crystalline waters, we returned from Puerto Natales with a well stocked pantry, ready to dive into the gem of Chile’s National Parks.
But sometimes you discover so much more than you imagined. The time and silence, and vast overwhelming spaces are a gift for the mind.
After the loss of our son Aaro in May 2009, everything was numb, and simultaneously a hyper-sensitive experience. Requiring more effort to breathe, air was heavy, laborious, the smog of LA felt good, like nothing wholesome would comfort the deep and aching sadness that consumed every beat of our broken hearts. Somehow, I stayed completely sober for several months, not trusting myself to even indulge in more than a cursory smidgeon of wine, that the abyss- so dark and welcoming, would completely envelop me in a soft, slow embrace that I would never have the willpower to shake free of. A warm and liquid downfall, perhaps indulging every dark fantasy would swallow me in a world of chaos that called like a glorious siren from the treacherous sea of loss. Death, not just loss, so much more, so much bigger, bolder, angrier, more gut wrenching, then anything such a nice word as loss. Like, I lost my keys. Ah, what a loss. NO. A child, one you have grown inside your belly, felt kick to the beat of his favorite reggae tune, felt hiccup below your heart, one you have made plans for, to hold, to love, to forever cherish, and to have that stolen, in the dark hours of labor, never to return- is a weight that the word of loss makes too pretty. Our son died. We have survived, but it was a choice.
So, you see our beautiful photos, of this life unplugged, on the road, with our children. Perhaps you think we are selfish and lucky and only indulging this life of wanderlust for ourselves, but we are not. We live this life with a small urn on our dashboard, taking our son with us every mile we drive, in our hearts every step of the way, showing Aaro, as well as his sisters, the wonders of the world. The majesty we hoped to share with him in the flesh, but now only in spirit. We work hard to lead the life we do, plugged into our children so that we can be with them, feel them, see them, smell them, hear them. To guide them, to learn from them, to tuck them in as many nights, to experience as many slow mornings snuggled in bed as we can. It is not about holding on, but savoring and experiencing all we can from these small moments with a present minded focus. The glory of life, to celebrate it, taste it, embrace it. To live our lives to honor our son, we choose to disengage from the fear factory that whispers so seductively into your ear, and we listen to the deep truth inside, that yells- LIVE! Dammit, GO and LIVE!
Choosing not to play by corporate rule and consume without thought, or sign up for a mortgage we will be bound to, or neglect our daughters of each having their own bedroom- is not selfish. We are honoring this as our only guaranteed turn around the sun, a short and tender chance to flourish in the radiance that is this spark called life. A spark, that may catch and grow- if you are lucky. So, yes, we are lucky, but not in the way you may have thought- that we were given this life on a silver platter, but lucky to see what is possible in the darkest corners of loss, and also to see what can be made by embracing this spark of life and letting that light shine.
Adam & I have worked diligently to grieve the death of our son, to process and let the weight of it be. It has been six and a half years, and the taste of tears is not yet a distant memory. Nobody can tell one how long or how deep the tunnel of grief will be. It is like any other relationship- it has ebbs and flows, perhaps flowing thicker after a heavy day, waning after a glorious week, or suddenly blindsiding you with memory so present, the hairs on your arms and back of neck raise in silent terror. The loss of a child is so out of order, we are simply not built for it.
We have not written so often about this element of our lives, that we otherwise share so publicly, usually sheltering this tender underbelly of our deepest grief. It is not because we are ashamed, it is simply because we have wanted to focus on other elements of our multi-faceted lives. But sometimes, a shelf of grief breaks off, and healing is felt, and the words come, and telling, sharing, perhaps supporting or encouraging others in this process, is what feels like the best way to let that iceberg sail free.
In Japanese, there is a term used in ceramics called kintsugi, which means golden joinery. As a philosophy, it views breakage and the subsequent repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. By addressing the damage, and repairing it with gold, the broken vessel becomes more valuable, not discarded.
So our calving grief, is mingled with overwhelming, heart-soaring joy. At 9 months- crawling, standing and dancing- is this little one, our second ambassador of love and joy, Sierra Luna. So this is life as we see it, not a singular experience, but a jewel with so many facets, angles to reflect the light.
In this big land with epic views around every corner, we found ourselves helping other stoked travelers document their adventures in Torres del Paine. Adam has been documenting some of the many hitchhikers we pick up (cool and safe ones, not creeps y’all) on a Yashika T4 camera using 35mm film asking them “Where are you from? Where are you going?”
It takes a special type of person to check out of life as you know it and leap into the world as an overlander. Compared to these folks, we are total wussies- living in our van, with shelter from the elements and so much stuff. We first met Ellen & Andi of Two Moto Kiwis at a scenic overlook just outside the park, a few days prior to this photo, when it was just starting to rain and so windy they dared not take off their helmets. We crossed paths again in the parking lot near the Hotel Las Torres where we were camping out waiting for some decent weather so we wouldn’t have to slog with the two babies. Surrounding their bike one afternoon was the sprawl of folks who had just returned from a very wet hike… tied to anything they could find was their tent & gear, arranged to optimize the most welcome sunny afternoon. We had planned on hiking, they had planned on riding, but we all changed plans and enjoyed a long, lazy, lovely afternoon meal, swapping overlanding tales of adventure, basking in the beaming sun on a grassy knoll beneath the behemoth mountain behind us. After 3 years on the road, they are back in Wanaka, NZ now saving up for their next big adventure.
To throw around the trendy word ‘eco’ is easy, but to be truly ecocentric, eco-conscious, and ecologic- is an entirely other thing. On a hill where many traverses pass overlooking the majestic hills of Torres del Paine is EcoCamp Patagonia, which truly lives up to its name. We were invited to stay a rainy night at the hotel, which is partners with the Torres del Paine Legacy Fund, whose mission is to enhance both the visitor experience and the long-term health of Torres del Paine and its surrounding communities through action projects supported by travelers and the businesses that cater to them; Their vision is for Torres del Paine National Park to become a world-class destination where visitors work in parallel with residents to promote lasting conservation of natural and cultural assets through travel and tourism.
We went back & grabbed this nice, sunny day pic of the geodesic dome village. When we were there, it was grey & dumping rain- so we were pretty stoked to spread out in the dry dome by a nice fire.
Inside the lounge dome couches surround a crackling fire, and pisco sours flow freely as an aperitif. Through the rain streaked windows, gnarled trees and soaring granite peaks appeared.
Inside our two-story suite, an enormous bed sat nestled in a corner of the wood sided interior. As we are family bed folks, the upstairs beds went unused except for a momentary snuggle sesh and some bouncing.
Sierra amused herself with the kindling, thinking it like a giant game of pick-up sticks.
“They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can’t stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that’s a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!” ― C. JoyBell C.
Elated to have “such a cool, fun house” for the day, Colette climbed the ladder-like stairs again and again. Sierra, enamored with big sister’s every move, attempted to summit (repeatedly!), but the three of us rallied to keep her safely off. Living on the road and in the world, every day is filled with new obstacles, challenges, adventures- the constant is us together as a family.
We piled the dirty mountain munchkins in the shower, plopped them in front of the fire, then read books in bed. A perfectly luxuriant afternoon as the raindrops played melody to the chorus of wind blowing outside.
At Hotel Las Torres, we arranged for a horseback ride with the girls. The past days constant rain made rivers swell and paths turn to slippery slog, so the guides chose a route that was safe enough to take the four of us on.
Colette was thrilled with the whole experience- the anticipation, selecting a special riding helmet “Ooh, I have never worn a helmet like this before!,” getting to meet & greet her horse Chancho (which means pig), and riding in front with Daddy.
Sierra just snoozed in the Ergo for the whole ride. Seriously, if you are traveling with a little one, this is an indispensible tool that we use nearly every day, this is not the terrain for strollers, there is no strolling here.
Adam caught some sort of nasty bug & was sick for two days (while it was raining, so not such a big deal), then Coco caught it- Emily & Sierra escaped. While under the weather, he was regularly checking the weather, looking for a clear spell to set out. Having time to wait for a weather window is an invaluable gift in Southern Patagonia. This land of extremes, especially when we were there in the shoulder season as summer waned into fall, was a mixed bag of rain, wind, sun, snow and more wind. Checking WindGuru from the wifi in the lodge we were parked in front of (as we were only in the luxury tent life for one night) the gift of time allowed us to select a clear time to depart with the kiddoes into the backcountry.
A clear weather window appeared on the forecast, so we packed our gear for a family hike to the famed Towers of Paine.
Proudly slung across her chest rested Colette’s water bottle bag with almonds and dried pears packed inside. We shared our excitement with her “We are going to hike up, up, up into these beautiful mountains and forest and sleep in our orange tent and wake up so early it will be dark then hike up more using flashlights to an enchanted lake at the bottom of rocks shaped like a castle and then we will watch the sunrise and there will be a magic show.”
When a tree asks for a hug, be sure to oblige!
Up the valley we climbed, the vistas inspiring each step on the well traveled trail.
Cattle are present near so many water sources, it is not safe to drink from them. So to be able to just hold your water bottle under the flow of a Patagonian stream and collect icy cold, mineral rich hydration is a true and simple experience.
The meditation of hiking: repetition of steps, breath in and out, a present minded focus, choosing each footstep, subtle changes in dappled light beneath the canopy, rocks, roots, leaves, breathe in, breathe out, rustling leaves from a gust of wind, step, step, step, a songbird calling from the forest interior, step, a million shades of green so easy on the eyes.
To hike with a 4 year old requires an open mind & a major upswing in trail time (for us about 40% more than listed), this is to account for the vastly shorter legs, multiple stops for rest, to pee, to look at every small leaf, and to eat pockets of fresh Patagonian snow (when applicable).
Sierra, the lucky little hitchhiker, gets a front row view of it all. After so much gentle movement, snuggled close on Mama, the babe dozed off into sweet dreams. For Emily, there is little better view in the world than hiking in paradise with a softly sleeping bundle of love & joy.
For Adam, who has excitedly awaited Colette’s ability to hike alongside him in challenging terrain, these moments are pure Papa bliss. In the snow and wind, this little champ keeps going, when encouraged and showered with love.
