The Mountain Woman Within

And, of course, there I was, the little suburban princess conquering my own laziness and clumsiness to hike around and climb rocks and push the limits to see all the spectacular views imaginable, all the while being led around by a guy lugging thirty kilos in his backpack who was way more used to camping with guys out in the back country.

We took this one four-day trek that was incredible (note that I’m using the word trek, not hike, the subtle difference connoting the level of difficulty and seriousness with which we grant the Patagonia). There was a deep, gushing ravine you had to cross on cord and harness, a glacier we walked on for an hour (I couldn’t help myself from peeing on the glacier on the way back and claiming it for all my fellow nomadic Americans), all the fresh water you could drink out of streams and waterfalls, and steep rocky slopes where you could see the most incredible view of yet more glaciers and mountain peaks that you never thought could exist in one place.

All the while we were supposed to be slapped with winds and snow and rain, but we had this crazy Indian summer that blessed us with warm, sunny, cloudless days. It was a dream, the whole time, and we were alone out there, no other backpackers, and the magic of the environment was intoxicating and bewitching: a true fantasy. Physically I did a lot of things I never had before (mountaineering, that is) and came out of with an appreciation of the mountains and their severity. In short: It’s gnarly up there.

Coming down the mountain, my buddy Frederic and I needed to part ways, as our experience in Fitz Roy and the Patagonia was almost too magical and unreal. I also knew that I had more traveling to do, solo, to keep rediscovering myself and pushing my own personal limits. A month of trekking and camping had also made some amazing dreadlocks out of my long curly hair, and I was ready to take a shower and invest in some intensive detangler. After saying my farewell to Southwest Argentina and vowing to someday flee another northern-hemisphere winter to brave the unapologetic Patagonia summer, I boarded a plane back to Buenos Aires a stronger, slimmer, and marginally less-clumsy woman.