Dear, dear ones,
I made it to Esquel, did you know that? Paul didn't go any father than that, and so, in a way, the journey's over. I thought I'd cry when I reached the end, but my brother David was right beside me, and he made me laugh instead. I flew there, Paul - there was no train. In my defense, we bussed it back to Buenos Aires - 22 hours through the Pampas. That's something, right? I say it is.
So we made it to Esquel, that wind-whipped place, where the airport crammed in everyone en route to Bariloche. The erupting volcano in Chile has kept the Bariloche airport closed for months now, and the air all over remains ashy, hazy. Everything - the plains, the woods, the lakes - hold the tint of that ash, which fell like snow by the meter, and which continues to fall even now. It's crippled the economy there, que pena, but go anyway, if you can. God, it was so beautiful.
So I have seen Patagonia now. I've been trying for days to write something about it for you all, but all that comes out are these long (too long for this blog!) essays about being with my dad, and being with Dave, and feeling so at home in that place of cedars and mountains and lakes.
So for now I'll leave Paul's words up (below), because he said it best. It's been the journey all along, hasn't it? And I'm still down here, so I guess that means it's not over yet.
Meanwhile, may you all enjoy amazing Bariloche...
I made it to Esquel, did you know that? Paul didn't go any father than that, and so, in a way, the journey's over. I thought I'd cry when I reached the end, but my brother David was right beside me, and he made me laugh instead. I flew there, Paul - there was no train. In my defense, we bussed it back to Buenos Aires - 22 hours through the Pampas. That's something, right? I say it is.
So we made it to Esquel, that wind-whipped place, where the airport crammed in everyone en route to Bariloche. The erupting volcano in Chile has kept the Bariloche airport closed for months now, and the air all over remains ashy, hazy. Everything - the plains, the woods, the lakes - hold the tint of that ash, which fell like snow by the meter, and which continues to fall even now. It's crippled the economy there, que pena, but go anyway, if you can. God, it was so beautiful.
So I have seen Patagonia now. I've been trying for days to write something about it for you all, but all that comes out are these long (too long for this blog!) essays about being with my dad, and being with Dave, and feeling so at home in that place of cedars and mountains and lakes.
So for now I'll leave Paul's words up (below), because he said it best. It's been the journey all along, hasn't it? And I'm still down here, so I guess that means it's not over yet.
Meanwhile, may you all enjoy amazing Bariloche...
Oh yes, that's some succulent pow right there! Except I am officially old, because it was deep and steep and I got scared. I skiied better when I was twelve. It's sad.
But wait...it doesn't matter how you ski, right? It matters how you look, on and off the hill! We can all thank Guy Middleton for that one.
And we can thank the Church of the Great Blue Dome for these:
Finally, yum. This was taken at the Cerro Catedral, in San Martin de los Andes:
Eat your heart out, Big Fellas!
Love, Kate
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