Patagonia -- Puerta Natales, Chile

From Punta Arenas a Puerto Natales

January in Patagonian Chile meant the sun rose at approximately 5:30am and set close to 11:30pm, with the temperature hovering around 55 degrees each day. Most of the locals dressed for the wind, cool, and intermittent rain, donning fleece jackets and other outer wear ensembles. Even the women casually wore performance gear and running suits.

We boarded the bus at 7am the next morning along with a handful of foreigners and a surprisingly greater number of Chilenos. We quietly queued, stored our luggage, and seated ourselves; no one asked us any questions much less glanced our way. During the entire three hour road trip, we enjoyed our anonymity, watching the countryside views pass like an old reel-to-reel through the window.

The countryside unfolded like the American west full of broad views and endless soft land. In these mesmerizing moments, I imagined giant hands reaching down from the heavens to massage the earth, creating undulations of green hills. We observed the famed wind ruffling the sheeps' wool, dancing with the yellow grass in a wave-like motion, whistling past our bus rooftop. When we disembarked at a rest stop to buy two empanadas, Asa and I leaned into the invisible force with our bodies - arms outstretched of course - marveling at its strength, laughing as it ballooned our jackets and whipped my hair high above my head.

Our first window views of the Torres were arresting as we neared the park entrance. The craggy peaks reached into the sky, claw-like, calling to mind the Wind River Range of Wyoming, or Cathedral peak in the Sierra Nevadas.

8 day trek on the Grand/Paine/"O" Circuit

We were blessed with unexpectedly gorgeous sunny weather for the entire 8 days of our trek.

The day we climbed Paso John Gardner and beheld Glacier Grey for the first time, we had what Carl Jung calls an oceanic experience. It's that feeling of being tiny and insignificant in the world. Never before have either of us seen such natural beauty in the world.

So comfortable in our solitude on the trail, we forgot altogether that we were in a foreign country.

Patagonia -- Punta Arenas, Chile

The first thing we noticed flying into Punta Arenas was the wind. From his airplane window, Asa watched the earth far below full of black Angus cattle rock from side to side. We saw pristine mountain lakes and rivers flowing from glacial melt. The winds buffetted our plane as our pilot made a smooth landing onto the strait-side runway.

Groggily, we debarked the plane, meandered through the tax, immigration, customs, baggage lines before finding ourselves in front of the airport, loading our baggage into a van-taxi full of 9 other travelers from all over the world, including some locals.

On the way to our downtown hostal, we saw trees leaning eastward, bearing the brunt of the westerly winds.

Vientos fuertes, the driver said smiling, indicating the force of the wind pushing the van along the road.

We checked in with Jose, our host, ate a delicious seafood lunch at the local social club across the street from our hostal, purchased our remaining food, gear, and transport tickets for tomorrow's trek before falling asleep after the 24 hours in transit.

This is my and Asa´s first trip to Chile, and my maiden voyage to South America.