Patagonia Pictures 3

Patagonia Pictures 2

Patagonia Pictures 1

creating opportunities

Well I've applied to three companies for summer so far. NOLS Pacific Northwest as a Issue Room girl--they've written back and said they would consider me, but that they wouldn't know until March. Which is a long time to be left hanging. If they say no in March, I would have to scramble for any other sort of job. Passages Northwest--was supposed to interview me on Monday, but that's been bumped to Friday. I'm not sure how many days I would be working with them, they say 30-40, which leaves a lot of summer to fill and doesn't give me a place to live. Anacortes Kayak Tours--I'm not even sure they are hiring for this summer, the website is behind, but they offer good training to their guides and maybe I could work in logistics and also lead a few trips? That would be very nice.

Considering a couple more companies, adventure expeditions for teens that run some trips in Washington, amoung more exotic locales. But maybe I will wait a bit to see what comes of my interview.

Life in Patagonia is going along. I'm feeling underutilized as an Intern, and it is not always the easiest thing in the world to assign myself work. But I do work hard, and people are nice, and I made some kick-butt bread pudding yesterday at lunch with a lemon glaze. That's my life.

Ciao.

Coyhaique, Chile

Work day is done. It is 6:00, though I officially clocked out at 5:00 today, I am sticking around the office, helping a bit with Epi Kits (no EpiPens here, just syringes and vials of adreniline), trying to set up a schedule with my supervisor, and waiting to go into town.

So, I'm here. In Patagonia. I've been on vacation for the past few weeks, and it's been extreme nice, very low key, with lots of reading and cooking and staring out the window at the storms moving in across the mountains, the occasional trip to town (11 km away) for chocolate and mate and cheese, and a short kayak trip (with a very long bumpy drive attached).

It is a little like Ireland, if Ireland had huge mountains lurking everywhere. Very green, lots of sheep. Lots of hot drinks: mate, tea, Milo, coffee. Lots of meat eating. Lots of sweet things: manjar, chantilly creme, membrillo, guava paste, chocolate with almonds.

I'm the official Rations/Kitchen Intern. I work for the senoras in the kitchen, who don't speak English, chopping onions and peeling potatoes, smiling and nodding and hoping I am doing things right. I also work in the rations room, putting spices into tiny little bottles, and having big bottles of Thai Extra Picante explode all over me.

It's been quiet here at the campo up until recently, but now the instructors are starting to arrive, and there is a flurry of activity, planning and plotting and lots of little groups of friendly people. The students are coming soon and things will be even busier then.

My visa is good for 90 days, and since I am a "volunteer" (who gets enough money to buy a few limes and some cornflakes every week) I don't have to worry about worker's visas, thank goodness. I will have to take a trip into Argentina at some point to get a new visa, but I think that will be more a fun side trip than anything.

People are friendly, social, with lots of breaks to say hello, lots of people dropping by the quincho (kitchen) to chat and help peel potatoes, drink something hot. I haven't been very good about taking pictures, so I will try to do that. It hasn't been great weather, and everyone is wondering when summer will finally arrive. But when I do get around to it you may see: cats, dogs, horses, sheep, turkeys and turkey babies, chickens, ducks, kayaks, empanadas, my new mate gourd and bombilla, and the view.

I live in the Vista, I've begun painting my ceiling blue, I wish I'd brough a few more clothes, but I don't know what I would have left out of the packing. Going to go to dinner now.

Short List

Listening to: The Splendid Table.
Ready: to go.
Craving: Chocolate Mousse.
Making: Caramel Apple Pie.
Crazy Family Project: Giant Rose done in Christmas Lights.
Feeling: Slightly Unstable.
Have too much: Hair.
Learning about: Varnish, Sailboat Kitchens, Eskimo Rolls.

two excerpts from LDP journal

We are standing in front of the rig. The sun has just risen, and the day is not yet warm. One by one, we struggle into our packs, bending and lifting and twist our way into the piles of stuff, asking each other, “Can you make sure those baguettes are underneath the bungees?” and, “I can take those hazel hoes, but I can’t bend down to get them. Help me?” Walking carefully so as not to overbalance, we maneuver ourselves into some semblance of a group. We hand cameras to Greg, our Forest Service contact, and smile (or at least grimace) as he documents our first moments on the job. Leadership Development Program is hiking in. We know that the trail is only two miles long, and that it is unmaintained, and that we’re to go to “the bottom of the draw—there’s plenty of flagging.” A person can carry anything for two miles, especially when it is all down hill. This is what we think, and according to our information, the group sets off singing. We are the workers from Northwest Youth Corps/ We have to go on hiking although we’re really sore/ We’ve got to hold up the bloodstained Pulaski/ Got to hold it up until we die…This cheerful and uplifting song is our anthem, to be sung for us many times, on many long hikes. But this is the first of them, and the worst. Five hours later, we stumble into camp. We will be pulling inch long thorns from our scalps and thighs for days afterward. It was a rough introduction to the joys of life on the mountain. Heat, logs blocking the trail, disappearing trail, endless amounts of trail, switching back and forth down the mountain, bushes with thorns, shrubs with thorns, and dead black, charred and twisted trees towering over us. We made it. It did not fully crush our spirits, as our Forest Service contact gleefully predicted it would do. In an altered state of numbness, we rounded the last bend, shed our packs, stood trembling for a moment, and then folded up silently on a downed log. Sitting there together, the crew looked off into the distance, then down into the gray dirt, then at each other. “We’ve got to hike back to the last stream and get water. Who wants to go?”

Tense your muscles. Twist your body. Feel the edge of the grubber bite into the dirt. It’s a good feeling, because this is good dirt. Not too many rocks. Rip back the grass, exposing a wide strip of dark brown earth. Reset. Stop when you reach the other edge of the trail. Kick the dirt and the grass and the small rocks off the trail, away from the edge. Examine your work. Kick at any stubborn piece of greenery marring the dark expanse. Take one step to the right. Repeat. Ask your crew members around your for stories, for recipes, for advice on love, for future plans, for favorite baby names. Their voices keep you going. There are times when it is pleasant to be working alone with your thoughts, silent and mechanical, so absorbed in your work and private meditations that time does not pass, or passes quickly. You’re not sure which, but it doesn’t matter either way. Right now is not one of those times. Right now is early afternoon, nearing the break that your crew will not take because they would rather end fifteen minutes early. Right now, you need to talk, to joke and laugh, and take long pauses to chug water, and in a few minutes, take long pauses to hike down the trail to pee. Pry at a big rock in the trail with your grubber. Kick at the big rock until it loosens. Pry at it some more. Sigh and carefully set your grubber aside. Bend down, feel your muscles complain about this new movement. Dig out the rock, trying not to put any new holes in your gloves. Throw the rock down the hill and listen to the satisfying crash, crunch, crash, as it rolls down to the streambed far below. Only two more hours.

striped shoes and children's classics

I am going back and forth between two modes of being. One, I am impatient and restless, feeling slightly trapped and wanting to go, go, go. I am packed, prepared, and wondering how to leave sooner. Two, I am happy and content, waiting and enjoying the Seattle rain and mindless tv, not wanting to rush into serious things, knowing that they are coming soon enough. At times I am very young and stupid and superficial, focused too much on material items, lacking depth or interest or allure. Other times I am mature and want only to make others happy, spoiled, to understand how they think and ask questions that reveal more about what makes them work. I've been switching between these modes hourly in the past few days. It's a bit dizzy-making.

Dodging Winter

It's been a long time, hasn't it? But I am back, taking things slow and moving into another transition period. Right now I am in Oakland, California, at Mills College. Sitting in a dorm room right now and trying to think of a to-do list. Well, I should write a new resume, a thank you note, and...it's an odd feeling to not have an extremely long to-do list and not to be overwhelmingly busy. I've gotten to sit in on some classes and lectures, eat at the dining hall, read in the library. It really does confirm that I want to go back to school before long. It also makes me miss Missoula, especially Missoula in the fall before the cold weather starts.

I'm just getting back from my adventure in Arizona, where I sweated and hiked and ate a lot of dirt. We had a great crew of people, five girls and three boys, all hard workers with a sense of humor and enough creativity to make even the most tedious tasks worth while. Trailcrew...I would do it again, but maybe not under the same circumstances. It felt really great the last two weeks when I realized that I could work nine hours, physically moving and lifting and lopping and boot-o-matic-ing, and have at least a little bit of energy left. I still went to bed at seven when I could, though.

Next adventure is starting to draw close, and I am impatient for it to happen. I'm ready to go now. Well, maybe I need a few more days in Seattle to purchase some schriacha sauce...