Las Lenas

seen from Sweden
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Argentina

seen from South Africa
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Poland

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Chile

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Chile
seen from United States
Las Lenas
Cerro Martin - Las Leñas
Weekly Photo Challenge: Letters
Weekly Photo Challenge: Letters
For this weeks’ photo challenge I present you with images that tell the tale of my travels backpacking one North American summer/South American winter across Argentina and Chile.
The first image is one little stopover into my most recent journey backpacking through Colombia.
Argentina and Chile was one of, if not the most, epic summers of my life thus far. Sometimes a photo, even one of letters,…
View On WordPress
Reviews Of Places I Slept While Travelling South/Central America
2/30
Las Leñas The guidebooks said Las Leñas was a ski resort for rich people from Buenos Aires. The guidebooks said it was “The Aspen of the South”. I didn’t have a lot of money. I took photos of the guidebooks in bookstores and read them in the toilet during my toilet breaks at work. I averaged two toilet breaks per hour. Because I couldn’t speak Spanish and because I couldn’t get a job working the lifts or selling people alcohol, I saved for a while living at home. I was lucky to be able to do that. To live at home and save, I mean. When I flew to Chile I got the bus over The Andes to Argentina. I’d organised to live in this apartment at the base of the mountain owned by some English guy that I’d met over the internet. I think I paid $3000 dollars for five months of living. On the bus with lots of snow on either side of me I remember thinking: wow. When I got to the apartment it was small and sort of crooked. I don’t think it was built right. There were cracks in the wall and floor because maybe the place had been built on a lean. People called it “a shithole”. When people said that I’d say, “Hey. It’s our shithole” while smiling. I lived with an Irish guy and two English guys. All of us in bunk beds at the back of the flat. Me and the Irish guy got along really well. He was pretty excited about most things. He had a Colombian girlfriend who lived in Colombia. He told me he loved her. He told me her mum had bought her a fake arse for her birthday and he was excited to see it. He’d say, “Aluver, she’s a fukin dripper she is, hoooo! gotta mhap up after her I do, fuck.” Then he would pretend to mop something up. We got to know some of the other people in the other apartments. They were mostly Canadian. They were really good skiers. They lived on the second level. One time at midnight me and the Irish guy rolled lots of snow into a ball. We climbed a snow-y hill outside their window and pushed the snowball through their window. It took both of us to lift it. It melted and flooded their apartment. In the morning they weren’t very happy. We said, “Sorry.” We said, “It seemed funnier last night.” Privately, we said, “It was pretty funny, though.” It seemed like the snow could fix anything. We went on lots of hikes. Three hour hikes. To the tops of mountains where you could see Chile in the distance. And we’d ride down those mountains. Waist deep in powder under blue skies sometimes pausing beneath large rocks to change the song on my iPod from Grinspoon’s “Dead Cat 3x” to “Champion”. The hills were steep. Forty-five degree angles sometimes. We were meant to be using avalanche equipment. The Canadians used avalanche equipment. We didn’t use avalanche equipment because we couldn’t afford it. We were idiots. We were lucky nothing happened. Towards the end of the trip this American moved in. He’d bought a season’s pass, new skis, new boots, new goggles. On his first night we had spaghetti. The Irish guy said, “Do ya like this, do ya?” and the American said, “It’s DELICIOUS. YEAH. DELICIOUS. IT IS DELICIOUS. ITSDELICIOUS. DE-LICIOUS!” We ate our dinner. We smoked cigarettes. The American told a joke about a truck with a bunch of eggs in the back and something about not wanting to pick up a black guy with a bike cause “the nigger would hatch nigger eggs called niglets” or something. He laughed. We didn’t laugh. We said, “What?” He said, “Niglets … ahh ya’ll don’t get it.” That night we had a party. One of the English guys got a fire extinguisher and let it off in our faces. It was pretty hard to breathe but it was sort of funny. The American didn’t find it funny. He threw a beer bottle at the English guy’s head and cut open the English guy’s head. He was meant to get stiches. We drank till morning. That night I’d met an Argentinean girl. She gave me a hand job in the middle of the woods while I sat on a rock under a full moon with my arse covered in the snow. In the morning the American had left. Was already on a plane back to wherever. I got frost bite on three toes. The English guy and I went to the doctor. The doctor said, “You’re both idiots.” And I guess we sort of were.
4/5
Summer Survival Film Fest: Day 4!
Today takes us to Argentina, where a big bunch of BUMS will be skiing & riding next month! Don't worry, we won't be following in the footsteps of this extreme skier! https://vimeo.com/67119125
Reaching My Limit TRAILER (by Bjarne Salén)
some of the sickest skiing ive ever seen
Lynsey Dyer and the First Ascent team get lucky (UBER FUN DEEP POW LUCKY!) in Las Lenas and The Mongoose knows when to ditch the camera. Fast forward to 4:38 for the executive decision.