I forgot who it is but someone here has "I ski because I don't have wings" as
their signature. I always wonder about that because flying and skiing are two
different things, much like fighting and dancing. There is an appeal to both
and fom a distance, if done with skill, they may seem similar. Nonetheless, a
skier doesn't fight gravity like, say, a paraglider searching for updrafts
along hillsides or over parking lots baking in the sun. The skier plays with it, is
seduced by and dances with a partner who leads mercilessly, never missing a
step even if the other were to fall.
Do you know the disappointment when you dreamt it was snowing and it isn't when
you look out the window in the morning? The giddiness when it is?
Can we be passionate and not be slaves to our passions?
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SA TR part 3
part 1: Tierra del Fuego
part 2: Rio Negro/ Chubut
Music: Ladytron, Sugar
When traveling, I tend to adapt to the people in whose company I find myself. If the French, being French, spend their evenings in conversation, enjoying some red wine and a good cheese, that's fine. If I then happen to be staying in a cramped flat with a bunch of 20something chilean guys, that's also fine and no thanks, I don't want another pisco.
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If one were drunk enough one could jump from the balcony onto the chair. Muchas
Gracias to the Señores C. and J. for the crash space and local tours. Hope to
return the favour in my part of the world.
The volcanoes are cool although the smoking holes everywhere are a bit of an
inconvenience when located on traverses.
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Nerd people please explain what this is?
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Antillanca and respective Nevados.
EDIT: it's antuco and "thehaironyourarm" mountain, not antillanca as wrongly stated above.
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It snowed.
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They call this place Japan. Christian from Canada:
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Then it cleared up. Anthony of biglines:
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Simon, also from Canada:
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The Chilean military police was having an avalanche education outing and asked the gringo to explain his avalung.
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You go up something and then you go back down and if someone asks why you ask why not.
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Simon, stoked to be "so far away from the skiarea."
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Sadly, I only have pictures of the boring alpine skier descending this face.
The two telemarkers showed some superior skiing in the slight windcrust. We were a vision of grace and elegance, truly a sight to behold, if I may say so myself. Really too bad there are no pictures.
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Thanks to all involved for the pleasant riding company.
I only see the cities in passing and at odd hours, either very late or very
early. At dawn, before the day has really begun and if I don't have to stay
more than an hour or two, they are actually quite pretty. The crosses and
warriors, the neon lights and the garbage glittering in the morning dew.
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So I was trying to come up with some profound, philosophical thoughts on edges and ridglines.
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You know, something about walking on a thin line between the sky and the earth, with lots of symbolism and metaphors, balancing on the tightrope of life, aware that your actions have consequences, the exhileration of knowing that as long as you are standing on that ridge, walking along that edge, you are the master of your own fate. You get the idea.
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The conclusion I reached after thusly contemplating is that I should start
taking better care of my gear.
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Decided to go back to my home away from home for a bit. Much better snow than last time and fun with Team Sweden.
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Make sure you carry flowers when on the chairlift and, um, beware.
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Fartbags are the new black, btw, and, imo, more people should pretend they have wings instead of arms.
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We don't really ski. We just walk around the desert in our ski clothes all day.
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I am learning so much on this trip. I really feel like I have grown as a
person. Now, if you say I am just some 20 year old kid who doesn't know shit about the real world, you know what I'll reply?
"Ha, you old fuck. I may be young but I have found inner peace. Have you?"
Find calm inside yourself and you will be happy. Embrace the spiritualtity of everyday life and be thankful. Thankful for broken lifts and closed roads, to the skishop guy who remounts your bindings so that they face backwards, to the argentine men who, if you ask a question, will insist on adressing only your male friends who don't understand a word of Spanish, the endless waiting for someone to get up and open the shop/chairlift/ticket office or, respectively, finally go to sleep and shut the fuck up. I have come far on my road to ataraxia.
Peace out my Brothers and Sisters and remember: Panta Rei.
*****
A TR to tie up loose ends and not get backlogged too much. stay tuned...
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