PN Los Alerces/ Cholila

Skinning up through old trees, it is snowing heavily, thick flakes that melt on your face. You reach a small ridge, the forest opening up below you - pausing, wet but not yet cold, you listen to the silence, taking in the serenity of the mountain..





Don't you hate this kind of sappy blather? The way people go on and on about their "backcountry experience", the romance of the wild, just you and the mountain in peaceful comunion, blablabla.. Maybe we can't tell the truth, it is the internet after all, but let's at least tell the truest lie. So, starting over: wonderfully atmospheric in medias res beginning.



Skinning up through old trees, it is snowing heavily, thick flakes that melt on your face. You reach a small ridge, the forest opening up below you - pausing, not cold yet but you know you will be freezing in a minute, you try to catch your breath and cough up the slimey remnants of your last cold. You look at the quiet forest around you and think: "This looks nothing like the reference picture on my camera. Where the hell am I?" You go up a little further for the sake of trying, but really you had enough of struggling through the damn bamboo, punching through rotten snow and slipping backwards on your skins and hour ago. So you ski back down through snow that has the consistency of fat free frozen yoghurt and sit around in your damp tent till it's dark enough to go to sleep.


There is a small hut on a mountain called Cocinero in the National Park. Turns out the Club Andino is having an outing with snow shoes and I figure I might as well tag along. One of the few things I hate more than having to carry my skis on my pack is having to carry my skis, my boots and a bunch of other shit for 4 hours of bushwhacking. Going down isn't so bad, the extra weight just pulls you through the brush and all you have to do is stay on your feet. Going up, every time a branch catches on a ski or a boot you feel like you have been punched.



La Torta across the valley.


Hut.


This is a low snow year. Usually you have to use the upper door.


Hole with drinking water at the bottom.


Mine, all mine.


View


View with little snowshoe people


View with gnar.


Lapping mellow powder bowls is perfectly ok.




There really was nothing at all wrong with this.


But that over there on the other side of the ridge, well, that looks good too..
especially the little line that goes down from that notch between the two small rocky pyramides right of the middle. Wishfull thinking...



A link to Dario's website www.cholilaexplorers.com. A friend who has a small guiding business in Esquel. He can't ski well but knows the mountains and can take you to places where you can not only ski a cool line but name the whole place since you were the first one there. Spending money you would otherwise use for a couple of lifttickets on a local guide like Dario or Kellie's friend Jorge in Bariloche not only gets you off the beaten track a bit, any tourism outside of the ski areas is a good thing in places where mining companies are trying very hard to destroy some very nice mountains. If you are ever in La Hoya, try going up on the ridge to the highest point and see what the mountain looks like on the other side. There are some ridiculous stories about corruption and international companies messing around in a developing country. Like when they buy huge areas of land from the corrupt government, evict the resident Mapuche families whose land it traditionally is and then brag about the museum for Mapuche culture they built there. United Colours of Bullshit.

Anyway.


Welcome to the mniddle of nowhere.


More carrying heavy packs through bamboo.


Good Morning, Sunshine.



After a long bootpack isn't it so nice to finally get to the top, just because you know it's almost time for the sweet rush that will be your reward? You put on your goggles, zip up your jacket, get out your multitool to close your bindings, reopen the cut in your finger that you got when you tried to open your bindings last time, curse, ignore the blood coming through the tape, curse some more, finally manage to close the binding, notice that the screws on the other binding have come loose again, tighten them, hope you tightened them enough to not come out at the first turn, yup, all set, hey-ho let's go!

The meadow skipping treefairy gets a rockgarden to play in for a change.



Snow was "variable".


Look, I am using my ice axe! I am also wearing my crampons but I forgot to take a picture to show how hardcore I am!



Try putting some tape around your finger, leave it on for 2 days and then see what happens to your skin. The picture doesn't really show it but I tell you it's much better than wrinkly skin from staying in the bath too long.


Apparently annoyed with the people crawling around on his territory.





That's that




and another cold pickup ride to finish it off.


Support me in my fight for more honesty in the mountains! Tell it as it really is - Because it sucks to forget your spoon and have to eat with tentstakes. Because the moon reflecting in your cup of instant soop... well ok, I'll give you that.

Stop romanticizing ski touring because wiping your ass with snow is not romantic.

Chile/Misc.

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?



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.



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.





Antillanca and respective Nevados.

EDIT: it's antuco and "thehaironyourarm" mountain, not antillanca as wrongly stated above.




It snowed.



They call this place Japan. Christian from Canada:





Then it cleared up. Anthony of biglines:



Simon, also from Canada:



The Chilean military police was having an avalanche education outing and asked the gringo to explain his avalung.



You go up something and then you go back down and if someone asks why you ask why not.







Simon, stoked to be "so far away from the skiarea."



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.





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.





So I was trying to come up with some profound, philosophical thoughts on edges and ridglines.



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.





The conclusion I reached after thusly contemplating is that I should start taking better care of my gear.



Decided to go back to my home away from home for a bit. Much better snow than last time and fun with Team Sweden.









Make sure you carry flowers when on the chairlift and, um, beware.



Fartbags are the new black, btw, and, imo, more people should pretend they have wings instead of arms.





We don't really ski. We just walk around the desert in our ski clothes all day.



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.

Rio Negro/Chubut

The people at home always demand to be told all about the extraordinary adventures you had and if you show them pictures because you don't know what to say, they will be disappointed and tell you it's too bad you didn't take more pictures of "the city" and that "your friends" are always hidden under helmets and behind face masks.

When you look at the photos, you see moments frozen in time and you remember the way the snow felt that day or that you had a blister on that hike and were trying to keep your sock from sticking to the raw flesh.

They want to see smiling faces, properly excited young adventurers waving at the camera, preferably in front of a lonely planet approved location of interest.

How to explain that you know that the people behind the goggles are smiling even if you don't see it? That you like the cold? The way the world suddenly turns golden when you reach that magic divide between sun and shadow on a morning skin? The tranquility of walking through dry gras and thorny bushes at the end of the day, towards the road, enjoying the slowness? Crouching whiteknuckled in the back of a pickup speeding down a dirtroad and loving it for the wind in you face and the way the dust billows up behind you?

Bariloche busy and bustling, some old friends, some new, tourists so in love with the idea of traveling that they forget to actually travel and americans who ask if there are whales in the lake. (the answer is no.)







A fairy tale forest and friends that suddenly pop up out of nowhere. Here's to a
small world and the good people of Finland!

Jeni


Jari


Meadowskipping Treefairy


Cerro Lopez with Split-It, a reminder of the consequences of stupidity, redeeming powder turns in the trees and a swiss expat whose sweet tea and classic asswiggling style make Lopez feel like the Sellrain.









Potential touring partners were turned back by the wind .
:HINT: don't do the retard traverse, drop over the ridge to avoid wind :HINT:

Arriving at Frey I find that the Refugieros have gone to twon to buy provisions and the place seems deserted. I bolt the doors against the storm and settle in for the night with a Spanish Sin City comic that was collecting dust under the table. Dead protitutes and murdering shadows start floating around in the dark around my small island of headlamp light. The wind is tearind at the shutters, howling around the hut. Marv is sawing someones feet off, feeding him to a wild dog part for part. The wind is getting worse, a high pitched wailing. The head Marv is holding is dripping with blood but still somehow wearing Harry Potter glasses.
- Wait, that wasn't the wind. It's coming from the storage room next to the
kitchen..-

Another lonely soul hiding from the night, a set of glowing golden eyes, a warm body next to mine and comfort for both of us...




A bit lazy on the following days due to the remnants of a cold and my generally dismal performance on breakable crust. Sky: blue. Views: extensive. Clouds in the valley: Schadenfreude.

Hut below at end of lake.


Lunch view.




yours truly


Would have liked to ead further out to Jacob, Laguna Negra, the Tres Reyes etc but couldn't find anyone to come along. Seriously people, sack the fuck up, ok?



Times are a-changing at Refugio Frey. A new owner, the hut warden of 15 years, el famoso Pedro left and the place will be very different in the future. Remains to be seen whether that's good or bad.The new refugieros are nice. The mountains will stay the same.




Crowded and expensinve, B-town quickly becomes annoying so it's off to E-town. I'd happily spend a season here, just missing a bit of snow this time. La Hoya was quite bare, windcrust and boilerplate. Skies are brilliantly blue though and company good, so who cares. I love this place.



Small railway bridge on the way to a good hitch hiking spot, fun in skiboots and carrying a bunch of gear.



Jo






Steph




The search for better snow leads us from moonshine to morning sun, into clouds and all the way to golden evening light, through forests, up endless expanses of nothing and rocky ravines. We know the reward and never falter. (skiiing pics and some of the others by Seb..)























Moi


Scott




Jo










you can see the tracks in the sun at the top if you look closely.




looong walk out


some one pick us up, please?


ahh yes.



Mes amis francais Jo et Seb are kind people and it is humbling to watch them ski. They believe in skiing as a way of life and make skis. Have a look at their website, browsind through the Chamonix and La Grave pictures especially recommended: www.bumtribe.fr

In Chile at the moment and still debating whether to go north or back south for the maggot gathering in Bariloche. Sacrifices to the volcanoes have produced a storm here for now and some deep, so very, very white snow.