Backpacking is a miracle factory

Winter camping conditions make me melt.  Especially if I am underprepared with too few warm and dry, synthetic clothes.

Morning view from the Paine Grande refugio campsite (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).

Withdrawal, some tears, some sarcasm — all of these and more can surface with winter camping conditions and me.  I always bounce back but I travel down a long, dark internal rabbit hole and back before I find my humor with crap weather.  Just being honest.

The first half of our backpacking adventure has two adjectives in memory: wet and cold.  The second half of our backpacking trip has six words in memory: a glorious day at the end.  I get it though, this is a fairly standard camping gig at these elevations at the bottom of the world.  And my NOLS instincts as well as some past experience in backcountry conditions (albeit with hundreds of other backpackers around and a lodge nearby) kicked in.  But it was a tough start for sure.

However, fold in a special crew of humans, a high index of humor and collective flexibility, some residual fitness and a cooperative back (most days), and I had a special five-day adventure.  This trip was one of the peaks of my travel sabbatical, as much for the mountain vistas and the people, as for the life lessons and reminders within.

Since transition from backcountry to planes, trains and cell phones happens more quickly than ever in our digital world, I noted a few big take aways for myself post-Torres:

1. The beauty of how community builds when a small crew comes together, each doing our best to show up fully despite challenging weather, some language limitations (picture English, German and Spanish continually chasing after each other in meal negotiations).  The collective result is authentic and beautiful.  It’s a soft landing, thanks to a nice group of people who are all helping each other in an otherwise challenging set of conditions.
   

   Finding our hiking groove on day three!  (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).

2. The reminder of the profound beauty of our planet.  Multiple times on the trail, one of us would marvel at the endless beauty in every direction.  The open landscapes, the blue glacial lakes, the hanging glaciers, the pitch of the towers at the end.  On our last day, I could look down at my feet and in a square foot of land, point out at least a dozen plants intertwined on the grassland floor.  What a web.
3. The fragility of our natural resources.  Glaciers don’t lie.  These things are massive and when they drop meters of ice at faster rates than ever before, we need to wake up and recognize how we factor into our rising temperatures and climate change.  Our flights here, our oil dependency, how and where we place our purchasing power as tourists.  All factors to the big picture that we all hold.
4. The humor found in the subtle moments of camping in close quarters.  Donilo knows I like salt on my food.  Javi knows I take sugar with coffee, but not tea.  Emily knows I do calisthenics on a daily basis, given the setups I was doing in our tent.  Tobias noted my black outdoor wardrobe.
   

   Parts of an iceberg broken off from the Grey Glacier; the glacier is receding at an unprecedented rate (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).

5. The simplicity of living alongside the elements.  A hot water bottle in a sleeping bag in freezing temperatures is a pot of gold.  A piece of chocolate after 20 kilometers of walking is a prize.  When the sun finally peeks out from the clouds after three days, I won the lottery.  Backpacking is a miracle factory.  WiFi, cell phones and House of Cards can’t compete with these jewels.
6. The beauty of building vocabulary in another language.  We had hourly negotiations where Javi and Donilo were expanding their English, while Emily, Tobias and I were venturing into new Spanish terminology.  Plucking through words over dinner was great fun.  Being deliberate in word choice, verb tense and nuance was a reminder of how words really matter.  It was also the daily flag that I was traveling and no longer in my daily routine.
7. The value of quiet time.  Despite a highly engaged crew, we hiked every day in silence.  We didn’t agree on this in advance, it just naturally happened that way.  Our meals were boisterous with conversation but on the trail, we were quiet except for intermittent questions and updates on the route and upcoming logistics.  I would regularly wonder what everyone else was thinking about all those hours — some days we were hiking 6-7 hours in quiet.  I had a list of “bodies of work” (as I came to reference them to my friend, Emily) that I was regularly picking at in my head while trekking.  And I found this quiet time replenishing, especially following the conclusion of a job in November where much of my time was spent listening and harmonizing multiple audiences, understanding a spectrum of needs and requests, and hearing all kinds of feedback and complaints.  The quiet was a subtle but significant aspect of our/my time.

Our final day closed this five-day adventure and I came away with more self-reflection than I had originally sought, but not more than I could handle.

I was reminded of my fatigue from the past year and the necessity of self care to persevere.  I was reminded of the value of thoughtful preparation and communication in order to fully enjoy the fruits of my labor, whether in the backcountry, on the job, in my relationship, or with my family.  I noted the importance of presence and taking one day at a time.  I understood how time, space and quiet could progress internal challenge to resolution.

Peeks of towers ahead and above, Cuernos and Torres del Paine one day out (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).

Once we returned to Puerto Natales and sorted through the group equipment at Erratic Rock, we scattered to our respective hostals and homes to shower and then reconvene at Base Camp (a local pizzeria associated with Erratic Rock) a few hours later.  I was glad for one final reunion over dinner, since this trip had ended too quickly.  And I could also feel the shift once we were back in town.  Backcountry dynamics can deepen group intimacy and bonds for a long time, but they also stand to pivot in a moment once we are “back” — back to town, back to civilization, back to wherever we came from.