Facebook status: Dmitriy is overjoyed by Santiago because i just got to run on a trail that starts a couple of blocks from my hostel in a trendy part of town and goes all the way into the snow-capped Andes. and there were ripe wild plums along the way to sustain me after the Clif bars ran out
(it took 3 hours to find the trail, so I didn't go anywhere near the Andes, but maybe tomorrow!)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The Path Of Desolation
One of the things I really wanted to do on this trip was trail run in Patagonia. Since I was a little kid, having watched the movie In Search of the Castaways based on Jules Verne's book where the protagonists are on a goose chase trying to find Captain Grant (or his children) based on a message in a bottle and trek through Patagonia among other places, I've been drawn to it. It always seemed so mysterious, wild, untamed, alluring. So running through it was on my bucket list for this trip.
While we didn't quite get to the rugged wilderness of Patagonia proper - that was rather far South to go and Jessie has a bad ankle, limiting our abilities to trek - we wound up on the Southern edge of Lake Country, a very pretty region with, you guess it, enormous, magnificent lakes, as well as lush forest covered mountains, and breathtaking volcanoes everywhere you look.
We wound up crashing at a tourist town called Puerto Varas, on the Llanquihue (yan-kee-wue) Lake, the 3rd largest lake in South America, surrounded by rugged rivers, forests, and BIG-ASS VOLCANOES! (Not to mention pastoral German countryside in the other direction).
The most prominent one, Volcan Osorno, towers over the opposite side of the lake and is a perfect snow-capped cone. I got a list of trails in the tourist office and the distances looked disappointingly short. 500m. 2 km. 6 km. 4 km. Oh there is one, 12 km. "Paso Desolacion" I guess that's my guy!
Parque Nacional Vicente Perez Rosales is about 70 km from the town, so after a 1 hour long bus ride, I'm there. First thing after getting off the bus, I'm already courted by a few Vichus (spelling), which are these nasty horse flies with females reaching over 1 inch in length. Click on the link for a picture of the bloodsuckers. Apparently they only appear for 2-3 weeks during the summer, and we happened to pick that time to come. Go figure. They're big, loud, and black with some red. The bites are supposed to hurt like hell. But they're also slow and due to being loud, relatively easy to ward off. The problem is, the fuckers are persistent, as I found out.
So at any rate, I'm wandering around looking for the start of the trail, already waving my arms and my hat like an idiot trying to ward off a few of the buzzing vampires.
I sign in with the forest rangers, pick up a map, find the trail and start running. About time! The bugs chasing after me. Good thing is when I'm running they have virtually no chance to land, being big, relatively slow and bulky.
The trail sucks. It's all dark grey sand, volcanic ash and loose rocks. Lots of give, hard to get traction and good power. The bugs are really annoying too. Even though they don't really land on me, but the constant buzzing and the worry. And occasionally one flies to close to my ear or face and I instinctively brush it off, but that messes up the running rhythm. It's also getting really hot - I'm wearing my lime green Nike technical and the polyester long sleeve on top of it. And I'm wearing zip-off pants I bought for $40 for the Volcano climb.
Keep running or take stuff off?
I'd like to take stuff off, but that means dealing with the freaking bugs while stationary. But running and wearing all that stuff, I'll dehydrate way too quickly and run out of water. Ah shit, I guess I gotta stop. I take off my hat and start waving at the bugs while frantically losing clothes. Zipping off the bottoms of my pants, one of the zippers breaks. The thing's like made of plastic. Piece of shit. Wasn't worth the $40 at all. Last time I buy no-brand outdoor gear.
Finally I'm cooler and off on my way. Running through trees and bushes on a relatively flat trail I almost start getting into a rhythm, despite the terrible footing.
First lava flow crossing. These things are pretty incredible. It's swath of death and destruction where lava flowed down the volcano and all the way to the lake tens if not hundreds of years ago. It's just a path of black sand and volcanic rocks in the middle of a lush forest, about 100-200 ft wide.
Second lava flow crossing, even wider and more impressive than the first one. Wow, I wonder how long it takes for plants to grow over these things. That one was completely and utterly devoid of life after how many years? I don't know. And the area gets a ton of rainfall and all that, and there is lush forest or shrubs all around it, so seeds are not the problem either.
And then the terrain goes mad. A relatively flat, well-defined trail with bad footing turns into a wildly forking, uphill beast with just as terrible footing. Shit, getting drunk last night wasn't so good for the run. I'm short of breath and my muscles feel stiff, even after 45 minutes of running. I can't get into my rhythm and have to walk many of the uphills. That, and they don't believe in switchbacks here, so it goes straight up, but is still all sandy and pebbly. So it's one step forward, 3/4 of a step slide back. Also I keep hoping that I'm taking the right branch of the trail. I mean, they all go up, and I know I'm roughly supposed to go around the volcano. Finding my way back is going to be a bitch.
I trudge my way up, mechanically fighting off the bugs, and actually see some people in the distance. They seem to be on a better defined trail, so I make my way over there (turns out they all lead to roughly the same place eventually). The landscape here gets really interesting. It's now lots of rolling mounds with mini-gullies and canyons in them, all appear to be remnants of ancient lava flows, and are sparsely covered by hardy plants. It's almost like the muscles of some beast, all woven together. These are essentially foothills leading up to the volcano itself, and the trail will go on top of them, along the volcano.
Oh and what a view from there. Lago Dos Santos (Lake of Two Saints) opens up with bright blue, clear water, surrounded by lush forest covered mountains. Unbelievable. Majestic. Totally worth the nasty climb and the bugs.
I finally catch up to the people - they turn out to be a guy from Chicago, Jon, teaching English in Santiago and his Chilean girlfriend. We chit chat a bit - there is a crazy sense of camaraderie, finding other human beings on the Path of Desolation. Daniella talks way too fast for me to understand. Chileans. Part of me wants to hike with them and talk more and get to know them. So we walk together for a bit, covering a few uphills. But as the trail flattens out... I can't help myself but run on. "Open road is my cue," I say and get on my way.
Oh and around this time the bugs finally leave me alone, probably deterred by the altitude and lack of success. So I actually get into some trail running!!!
In a little bit I pass a tough Chilean grandma all by herself. I walk and chat with her for a bit barely understanding her Spanish, and run on.
It's just me and a flat open path. The towering glacier-topped volcano, shrouded in clouds, is on my left while another, old, broken and jagged volcano, also covered in snow is on my right, with some forest covered mountains in between. I pick up the pace, screaming "Path of Desolation, here I come!" as loud as I can with my sore throat. WOOOOO!
It actually gets cold, so I stop and put my long sleeve back on.
Finally I see a hut, a refugio for folks who may want to camp or need a place to weather the night. I run past it, and the trail now starts heading downhill into a forest. Not so desolate anymore. And, FUCK, the bugs are back with a vengeance. Downhill goes pretty fast, and soon I find myself at another, much more built up refugio, and keep on what looks to be a fire road. I don't know if that's the right place, but I couldn't see where else to go.
Running on fire roads = less exciting.
I hear a machine rumbling in the distance. A bulldozer. WTF??? Alright, I better turn back. In retrospect, I think I should have turned by the second refugio. Oh well, I went far enough. It's funny how in this park they don't seem to believe in through-trails. All the trails, including this one, are just one-way and isolated. They don't connect with other trails. You made it all the way through, turn around and go back.
So I head back. I thought I was in rhythm, but running back uphill quickly dispels that notion. I take lots of walking breaks and eat another Clif bar. Yeah, I really just could not get into my running groove. That feeling of happiness that I could run like this forever.
The bugs still after me. When I get particularly mad at them, I stop and don't move. When one gets close, slows down, and tires to land me, I smack it straight down as hard as I can, and while it's disoriented on the ground, stomp on it and rub it in. Piece of shit, take that! Of course his buddies appear to replace him, so it's no use, but is sure satisfying.
I run out of water about 1/4 of the way back. Great. At least it's mostly downhill, and I can always slow down to a walk. I really need that gallon-size Camelbak. I hope they exist. (I just checked and they do! 3L capacity and room to put more water bottles
. I guess I know what I'll be buying before the next big run - I've run out of water enough times). Last bus is at 6:30 and it's just after 3. Plenty of time to go about 8 km.
I see the Chilean grandma again, now walking back. We chat for a bit. She's retired with three kids. She asks what I do, and I tell her I work in investing and we want to invest in Chilean companies and Chile's good economy. She bitterly comments that it doesn't hep most people. Many people here seem to be bitter about not benefiting from the economy's performance. The distribution of income is probably pretty skewed.
Anyway, I leave her behind and get on my way. It's back to the wild terrain of branching trails, now downhill. I see the big lava flow in the distance and know I have to get there. It looks like people have driven their ATVs up and down here as many 'branches' in the trail are just ATV marks. And since the terrain is so fragile, the plants so delicate, trying to grow out of ash, driving an ATV once makes a trail right off. Sad.
Also makes my coming down pretty difficult. I try to stay on what looks to be a major branch of the trail, but wind up finding myself somewhere that doesn't look right - too steep or too much in the brush. I slide down on the loose sand and try not to slip on rocks. Sometimes having to retrace my steps to get onto a better trail branch.
This goes on for a while as I get into thinking about the next major turn on the trail and getting to the lava flow. And then I see myself in slow motion slipping on some loose rocks and spilling on my right side. And I find myself on the ground.
My right calf is in a major Charlie horse. It's stuck hard. My flexed calf muscle actually looks really impressive, thinking back on it. But at that point it was kind of scary that it was just stuck in the flexed position and not letting go. Having run out of water, I'm sure, has contributed to the cramp. I breath deeply and evenly while massaging it, and it lets go. Seems fine. I assess the rest of the damage. Some scrapes on right forearm (close to where I already have my MTB scar), but nothing major - just a series of scratches. A few benign scrapes on the knee and one on my right hip, even through the clothes. Overall, no big deal. Lucky break.
Ain't nothing left to do but keep running, so I do, albeit more carefully.
I make it back to the lava flow AND on the right trail. I somehow wind up running along the lava flow instead of perpendicular to it - I think I didn't see the other trail at first. But I also know that the other way to get back, as marked on the map, is to run towards the lake, and then run along the lake. While I didn't plan to go this way, I already went along far enough, so I decide to keep going. And it's nice and downhill. And running along the lava flow is kinda cool!
It's only 4:12, and I'm within a few kilometers, so making the last bus is no worry. But I do worry about whether running along the lake is going to be user-friendly. Would the shore be smooth and sandy? Or rugged and rocky? If it's too impenetrable, I'd have to double back up the lava flow, uphill. Then time might be a worry, though still probably OK. Distances are much shorter in km. 6 km. is only 4 miles or roughly 1 hour of running. Unless I take another spill and disable myself. But we're not going to think about that.
Oh and I forgot to mention, at this point there are maybe 20-30 bugs chasing me consistently, for miles and miles. While still no bites, the buzzing is now all-encompassing, and the times a bug gets close enough to brush my waving hands or face, more frequent.
I finally get to the lake... look to my right and Que olivio! (What a relief!). I see a smooth sandy beach all along. The huge body of crystal clear water makes me remember how thirsty I am. It's an alpine lake. There are virtually no people (and thus no sewage) and it's so clear, blue, and calling my name. DRINK ME DRINK ME, Alice in Wonderland style.
Fuck it.
I run up, and take a drink out of my cupped hands. DELICIOUS. And a few more. For a second I forgot the bugs were there. SHIT, get up keep running!!!!!!!
There are now no less than 50 bugs behind me. Everytime I look back, I see this buzzing swarm of 3/4" to 1" insects all screaming DINNER DINNER DINNER. Oh God, run fast, keep running.
But the lake is so tasty, ah kneel down and take a sip. Sip and run. Yes, that's my mojo, Sip and Run.
Oh man, I hope I run into a person soon so I can pass off these bugs. I'm terrible. But since I'm running and they're not, the bugs will probably stick to them.
Ah the shore now gets rocky and I still can't see the ranger station/bus stop. And the rocks slow me down, so the bugs can come closer. I normally don't like headwind, but now I pray for it. Headwind blows the bugs back. Tailwind puts the whole swarm in front of my face. No good. I have a few close calls with a bug managing to land on my shoulder or arm. And I keep waving at the back of my neck which seems to be the most vulnerable part (my head is covered by my hat, thankfully).
I get over the rocky part to the next bend. Still no people inside. Keep pushing. Can't slow down. Bugs will eat me. Another rocky part. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Oh YES, I see bright blue figure of a person on the beach behind this bend. Finally! Made it! And the going gets easy, the beach gets sandy. OK, no more sipping, too close to civilization.
I pass my first person and pass a few bugs off - nice!
Finally I start seeing little boats ferrying people around the lake - made it!
"Dmitriy!" - Jon and Daniella got back 20 minutes before me. (They didn't refill their water bottle and were tired, so turned back soon after I left them.) Sweet! They give me water. YES! And sunscreen! (Following my Argentina burning experience, I put the sunscreen out to pack... and forgot it).
We have a great time chatting while waiting for the bus and continuing on the bus, with Jon teaching me the intricacies of Chilean Spanish (which apparently is the most heavily accented, slangish and changed Spanish), with the highlight being me repeating Paco Ciulado (Fucking Cop) very loudly with a Carabinero on the bus.
And no bites, SUCKAS.
While we didn't quite get to the rugged wilderness of Patagonia proper - that was rather far South to go and Jessie has a bad ankle, limiting our abilities to trek - we wound up on the Southern edge of Lake Country, a very pretty region with, you guess it, enormous, magnificent lakes, as well as lush forest covered mountains, and breathtaking volcanoes everywhere you look.
We wound up crashing at a tourist town called Puerto Varas, on the Llanquihue (yan-kee-wue) Lake, the 3rd largest lake in South America, surrounded by rugged rivers, forests, and BIG-ASS VOLCANOES! (Not to mention pastoral German countryside in the other direction).
The most prominent one, Volcan Osorno, towers over the opposite side of the lake and is a perfect snow-capped cone. I got a list of trails in the tourist office and the distances looked disappointingly short. 500m. 2 km. 6 km. 4 km. Oh there is one, 12 km. "Paso Desolacion" I guess that's my guy!
Parque Nacional Vicente Perez Rosales is about 70 km from the town, so after a 1 hour long bus ride, I'm there. First thing after getting off the bus, I'm already courted by a few Vichus (spelling), which are these nasty horse flies with females reaching over 1 inch in length. Click on the link for a picture of the bloodsuckers. Apparently they only appear for 2-3 weeks during the summer, and we happened to pick that time to come. Go figure. They're big, loud, and black with some red. The bites are supposed to hurt like hell. But they're also slow and due to being loud, relatively easy to ward off. The problem is, the fuckers are persistent, as I found out.
So at any rate, I'm wandering around looking for the start of the trail, already waving my arms and my hat like an idiot trying to ward off a few of the buzzing vampires.
I sign in with the forest rangers, pick up a map, find the trail and start running. About time! The bugs chasing after me. Good thing is when I'm running they have virtually no chance to land, being big, relatively slow and bulky.
The trail sucks. It's all dark grey sand, volcanic ash and loose rocks. Lots of give, hard to get traction and good power. The bugs are really annoying too. Even though they don't really land on me, but the constant buzzing and the worry. And occasionally one flies to close to my ear or face and I instinctively brush it off, but that messes up the running rhythm. It's also getting really hot - I'm wearing my lime green Nike technical and the polyester long sleeve on top of it. And I'm wearing zip-off pants I bought for $40 for the Volcano climb.
Keep running or take stuff off?
I'd like to take stuff off, but that means dealing with the freaking bugs while stationary. But running and wearing all that stuff, I'll dehydrate way too quickly and run out of water. Ah shit, I guess I gotta stop. I take off my hat and start waving at the bugs while frantically losing clothes. Zipping off the bottoms of my pants, one of the zippers breaks. The thing's like made of plastic. Piece of shit. Wasn't worth the $40 at all. Last time I buy no-brand outdoor gear.
Finally I'm cooler and off on my way. Running through trees and bushes on a relatively flat trail I almost start getting into a rhythm, despite the terrible footing.
First lava flow crossing. These things are pretty incredible. It's swath of death and destruction where lava flowed down the volcano and all the way to the lake tens if not hundreds of years ago. It's just a path of black sand and volcanic rocks in the middle of a lush forest, about 100-200 ft wide.
Second lava flow crossing, even wider and more impressive than the first one. Wow, I wonder how long it takes for plants to grow over these things. That one was completely and utterly devoid of life after how many years? I don't know. And the area gets a ton of rainfall and all that, and there is lush forest or shrubs all around it, so seeds are not the problem either.
And then the terrain goes mad. A relatively flat, well-defined trail with bad footing turns into a wildly forking, uphill beast with just as terrible footing. Shit, getting drunk last night wasn't so good for the run. I'm short of breath and my muscles feel stiff, even after 45 minutes of running. I can't get into my rhythm and have to walk many of the uphills. That, and they don't believe in switchbacks here, so it goes straight up, but is still all sandy and pebbly. So it's one step forward, 3/4 of a step slide back. Also I keep hoping that I'm taking the right branch of the trail. I mean, they all go up, and I know I'm roughly supposed to go around the volcano. Finding my way back is going to be a bitch.
I trudge my way up, mechanically fighting off the bugs, and actually see some people in the distance. They seem to be on a better defined trail, so I make my way over there (turns out they all lead to roughly the same place eventually). The landscape here gets really interesting. It's now lots of rolling mounds with mini-gullies and canyons in them, all appear to be remnants of ancient lava flows, and are sparsely covered by hardy plants. It's almost like the muscles of some beast, all woven together. These are essentially foothills leading up to the volcano itself, and the trail will go on top of them, along the volcano.
Oh and what a view from there. Lago Dos Santos (Lake of Two Saints) opens up with bright blue, clear water, surrounded by lush forest covered mountains. Unbelievable. Majestic. Totally worth the nasty climb and the bugs.
I finally catch up to the people - they turn out to be a guy from Chicago, Jon, teaching English in Santiago and his Chilean girlfriend. We chit chat a bit - there is a crazy sense of camaraderie, finding other human beings on the Path of Desolation. Daniella talks way too fast for me to understand. Chileans. Part of me wants to hike with them and talk more and get to know them. So we walk together for a bit, covering a few uphills. But as the trail flattens out... I can't help myself but run on. "Open road is my cue," I say and get on my way.
Oh and around this time the bugs finally leave me alone, probably deterred by the altitude and lack of success. So I actually get into some trail running!!!
In a little bit I pass a tough Chilean grandma all by herself. I walk and chat with her for a bit barely understanding her Spanish, and run on.
It's just me and a flat open path. The towering glacier-topped volcano, shrouded in clouds, is on my left while another, old, broken and jagged volcano, also covered in snow is on my right, with some forest covered mountains in between. I pick up the pace, screaming "Path of Desolation, here I come!" as loud as I can with my sore throat. WOOOOO!
It actually gets cold, so I stop and put my long sleeve back on.
Finally I see a hut, a refugio for folks who may want to camp or need a place to weather the night. I run past it, and the trail now starts heading downhill into a forest. Not so desolate anymore. And, FUCK, the bugs are back with a vengeance. Downhill goes pretty fast, and soon I find myself at another, much more built up refugio, and keep on what looks to be a fire road. I don't know if that's the right place, but I couldn't see where else to go.
Running on fire roads = less exciting.
I hear a machine rumbling in the distance. A bulldozer. WTF??? Alright, I better turn back. In retrospect, I think I should have turned by the second refugio. Oh well, I went far enough. It's funny how in this park they don't seem to believe in through-trails. All the trails, including this one, are just one-way and isolated. They don't connect with other trails. You made it all the way through, turn around and go back.
So I head back. I thought I was in rhythm, but running back uphill quickly dispels that notion. I take lots of walking breaks and eat another Clif bar. Yeah, I really just could not get into my running groove. That feeling of happiness that I could run like this forever.
The bugs still after me. When I get particularly mad at them, I stop and don't move. When one gets close, slows down, and tires to land me, I smack it straight down as hard as I can, and while it's disoriented on the ground, stomp on it and rub it in. Piece of shit, take that! Of course his buddies appear to replace him, so it's no use, but is sure satisfying.
I run out of water about 1/4 of the way back. Great. At least it's mostly downhill, and I can always slow down to a walk. I really need that gallon-size Camelbak. I hope they exist. (I just checked and they do! 3L capacity and room to put more water bottles
. I guess I know what I'll be buying before the next big run - I've run out of water enough times). Last bus is at 6:30 and it's just after 3. Plenty of time to go about 8 km. I see the Chilean grandma again, now walking back. We chat for a bit. She's retired with three kids. She asks what I do, and I tell her I work in investing and we want to invest in Chilean companies and Chile's good economy. She bitterly comments that it doesn't hep most people. Many people here seem to be bitter about not benefiting from the economy's performance. The distribution of income is probably pretty skewed.
Anyway, I leave her behind and get on my way. It's back to the wild terrain of branching trails, now downhill. I see the big lava flow in the distance and know I have to get there. It looks like people have driven their ATVs up and down here as many 'branches' in the trail are just ATV marks. And since the terrain is so fragile, the plants so delicate, trying to grow out of ash, driving an ATV once makes a trail right off. Sad.
Also makes my coming down pretty difficult. I try to stay on what looks to be a major branch of the trail, but wind up finding myself somewhere that doesn't look right - too steep or too much in the brush. I slide down on the loose sand and try not to slip on rocks. Sometimes having to retrace my steps to get onto a better trail branch.
This goes on for a while as I get into thinking about the next major turn on the trail and getting to the lava flow. And then I see myself in slow motion slipping on some loose rocks and spilling on my right side. And I find myself on the ground.
My right calf is in a major Charlie horse. It's stuck hard. My flexed calf muscle actually looks really impressive, thinking back on it. But at that point it was kind of scary that it was just stuck in the flexed position and not letting go. Having run out of water, I'm sure, has contributed to the cramp. I breath deeply and evenly while massaging it, and it lets go. Seems fine. I assess the rest of the damage. Some scrapes on right forearm (close to where I already have my MTB scar), but nothing major - just a series of scratches. A few benign scrapes on the knee and one on my right hip, even through the clothes. Overall, no big deal. Lucky break.
Ain't nothing left to do but keep running, so I do, albeit more carefully.
I make it back to the lava flow AND on the right trail. I somehow wind up running along the lava flow instead of perpendicular to it - I think I didn't see the other trail at first. But I also know that the other way to get back, as marked on the map, is to run towards the lake, and then run along the lake. While I didn't plan to go this way, I already went along far enough, so I decide to keep going. And it's nice and downhill. And running along the lava flow is kinda cool!
It's only 4:12, and I'm within a few kilometers, so making the last bus is no worry. But I do worry about whether running along the lake is going to be user-friendly. Would the shore be smooth and sandy? Or rugged and rocky? If it's too impenetrable, I'd have to double back up the lava flow, uphill. Then time might be a worry, though still probably OK. Distances are much shorter in km. 6 km. is only 4 miles or roughly 1 hour of running. Unless I take another spill and disable myself. But we're not going to think about that.
Oh and I forgot to mention, at this point there are maybe 20-30 bugs chasing me consistently, for miles and miles. While still no bites, the buzzing is now all-encompassing, and the times a bug gets close enough to brush my waving hands or face, more frequent.
I finally get to the lake... look to my right and Que olivio! (What a relief!). I see a smooth sandy beach all along. The huge body of crystal clear water makes me remember how thirsty I am. It's an alpine lake. There are virtually no people (and thus no sewage) and it's so clear, blue, and calling my name. DRINK ME DRINK ME, Alice in Wonderland style.
Fuck it.
I run up, and take a drink out of my cupped hands. DELICIOUS. And a few more. For a second I forgot the bugs were there. SHIT, get up keep running!!!!!!!
There are now no less than 50 bugs behind me. Everytime I look back, I see this buzzing swarm of 3/4" to 1" insects all screaming DINNER DINNER DINNER. Oh God, run fast, keep running.
But the lake is so tasty, ah kneel down and take a sip. Sip and run. Yes, that's my mojo, Sip and Run.
Oh man, I hope I run into a person soon so I can pass off these bugs. I'm terrible. But since I'm running and they're not, the bugs will probably stick to them.
Ah the shore now gets rocky and I still can't see the ranger station/bus stop. And the rocks slow me down, so the bugs can come closer. I normally don't like headwind, but now I pray for it. Headwind blows the bugs back. Tailwind puts the whole swarm in front of my face. No good. I have a few close calls with a bug managing to land on my shoulder or arm. And I keep waving at the back of my neck which seems to be the most vulnerable part (my head is covered by my hat, thankfully).
I get over the rocky part to the next bend. Still no people inside. Keep pushing. Can't slow down. Bugs will eat me. Another rocky part. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Oh YES, I see bright blue figure of a person on the beach behind this bend. Finally! Made it! And the going gets easy, the beach gets sandy. OK, no more sipping, too close to civilization.
I pass my first person and pass a few bugs off - nice!
Finally I start seeing little boats ferrying people around the lake - made it!
"Dmitriy!" - Jon and Daniella got back 20 minutes before me. (They didn't refill their water bottle and were tired, so turned back soon after I left them.) Sweet! They give me water. YES! And sunscreen! (Following my Argentina burning experience, I put the sunscreen out to pack... and forgot it).
We have a great time chatting while waiting for the bus and continuing on the bus, with Jon teaching me the intricacies of Chilean Spanish (which apparently is the most heavily accented, slangish and changed Spanish), with the highlight being me repeating Paco Ciulado (Fucking Cop) very loudly with a Carabinero on the bus.
And no bites, SUCKAS.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Experimentation In Time And Space
(from letter to sarah)
oh but the real thing i want to tell you about tomorrow is my run. after surfing, after dinner (we had shark prepared by the hostel owner), i went for a run, along the beach, in complete darkness, with no light. how cool is that?!?!?! i just walked over from the hostel to the beach without anything at all (i figure if i get mugged i got nothing) - 1 minute walk - hid my sandals and just ran. i was running towards Punto De Lobos - a famous surf spot known for having 40 foot waves (it had about 15-20 footers when we were there) - about 6K one way. but the crazy thing was that it was overcast, so the only thing i could see was a very vague white line of the foam of surf to my left and a very vague lighter tone (compared to the dark wet sand) outline of the shore/beach to my right. i couldn't really see where i was stepping. and i just took off and ran. i love running along the beach barefoot. it was a really strange feeling - running without being able to see. because in front of me it all looked the same. a little bit of white to the left. a little bit of beige to the right. and pitch black everywhere else. it was so abstract. i was running and not getting anywhere at all. it's like time stopped and i was running in a dream. in some dark abstract cavern where there is no time or distance. my only anchor to reality were the town lights, now far behind me. at some points i even closed my eyes and just ran. i mean it didn't make any difference. i could feel the sand under me - so if the sand is getting a bit wetter and softer, i need to veer more right. if it's getting softer and dryer, i need to veer more left. so i just ran by feel with my eyes closed. it was a bit hard to keep balance at first, but then i got the hang of it. it's funny running in the dark- nothing has a 3D shape. it's all batches of color in 2D. so there was a portion where i ran and it looked to my right like the sand looked a little bit lighter, and i wanted to step into it, but when i did, i found it it was actually a verticall wall of sand. i couldn't see that it was such - i just saw the color - and no shape. i couldn't believe it really was there, so i had to touch it several times to convince myself that this patch of lighter sand on my light was vertical. i was worried about my bare feet and tried to watch under me. but all i stepped onto was an occasional thing of kelp, but other than that it was clear and sandy. for a while i kept thinking there is lots of trash, but later i figured out that most of the white things that looked like trash was simply foam left over from the last wave. it took me several times of approaching it and carefully touch it to really believe it. i haven't run for almost a week, so it felt good really quickly and my endorphins kicked in and i was just feeling happy and free and exhilarated at the whole sensory experience, or lack of senses experience. in the craziness and abstractness of it, just running somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Chile to no particular destination, suspended in time and space. so i figure i would keep going until it was easy to find my way in the darkness. after running for i don't know how long, i found myself running on a slightly wet sand and suddenly a wave came in and covered me up to the knees! in the darkness i couldn't tell that i swerved a bit to the left then i needed to be. at that point a voice in my head said "ok, that's enough", but something else in me, something unspoken, drew me to go on forward. then i hit a big-ass puddle of sea water that wasn't flowing back to the ocean. so again the voice said "that's enough, turn back", but i kept going becaue it was a shallow puddle and something drew me further, allured me, the darkness, the unkown. so i kept going. finally there were more puddles and streams, and the shore to my right got steep and at that point i decided that navigating in the dark by feel was going to be too much. also i hit the first rock underneath my feet, trying to cross another puddle, and stumbled my way around it, almost falling in the water. and the number of shells was increasing too, which, i figured, sooner or later will get my bare feet in trouble. so i turned back. it was a bit difficult to navigate my way back to the surf as i got away from it trying to navigate the puddles, but it was also difficult NOT to find the surft. i just walked towards the sound. and finally i was running towards the city lights. running towards SOMETHING made the time go way faster. it's really funny - the relationship between time and visual stimuli. i've never thought about it before, but i think there is a huge relationship. i don't think i was faster going back, but it felt way faster. i could just watch the lights get bigger and bigger. though the darkness still played tricks with my perception of 3D. at times i wanted to readjust to run a bit closer to the water - 1 step to my right and WOOOOH - there was actually a 1-2 foot drop there. eventually i was back and took a LONG HOT shower to get real warm and help clear my lungs. oh yeah, and i wrote this whole thing as 1 paragraph inspired by the Original Scroll style of On The Road.
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