Here is my attempt to capture last night's full lunar eclipse. No, the moon doesn't jiggle and squirm across the night sky in the Southern Hemisphere. I like the effect, though.
We're off to Villarrica/Pucón for the next week to swim, fish, explore, eat, drink, etc. It's the last week before the summer officially ends and everyone heads back to school. I would say it's like Labor Day weekend in the US but it sounds like for most this is the last week to be spent away from home. Many people return to Santiago next week to prepare for the new school year. Hopefully we'll get lucky and it will feel slow and sleepy down there. No matter, I'm pretty excited.
The Villarrica/Pucón area constitutes the northern top of the Chilean Lake District, land of volcanoes, indigenous forests, and the Mapuche. The Lake District extends south down to Puerto Montt which is considered the northern top of Patagonia. There are something like a dozen or so major lakes in this region and hundreds of minor ones, all glacial, and many date back to the last era of glaciation, roughly 10,000 years ago. It's also home to the second longest-lived tree on the planet (following the sequoia), the alerce tree. Known as lahuen and considered sacred to the Mapuches it was nearly harvested to extinction by the Europeans.
The rich and fertile soil of this region was quite attractive to the Spanish Conquistadors of the mid-16th century and they fought the Mapuches for it for nearly one hundred years. It wasn't until the early 19th century and the inexhaustible work of the Jesuits that the Maphuche dominance began to wane. It was during this time, about the 1850s, that the tide of German immigrants waxed. Today this is reflected in the architecture of the region as well as some of the vocabulary: küchen anyone?
Conflicts with the Maphuches still continue, though it's more a war of cultural, political, and economic attrition than outright genocide like the days of yore. There seems to be constant problems between traditional land holdings and private developers, lumber and other exploitative resource companies, the Chilean government in general, as well as the tourist industry. Read all about their struggles on their website. Not a pretty picture.
I don't think I'll try to summit the volcano this go-around. I see no reason to walk around on snow without the benefit of skis and I'm pretty sure what white stuff remains up there would resemble many things but snow. No, I think I'll concentrate on renewing my love for standing in rivers and casting microscopic fuzzy things into their ripples all with the patience and hope that I can fool an ancient creature into thinking that the fuzzy thing is something to eat. If I can lure a few silver flashes out of their water and rock holdings and convince them that what I'm offering is something delectable and sweet and not pointed and sharp then I will be content to stare up at the also ancient cone and imagine what it will be like to ski down from it sometime this winter.
And to round out the low-res, low-quality test videos, I dusted this one off from 2003 taken in the very southern tip of Idaho's Pioneer Mountains. The ever-present Bob was behind the camera (was that a phone you filmed this with?) and leaves the memorable quote at the very end. We named the little stash Lizzie's Bowl after the insane border collie that does not quit. If you look closely you can see her turning my S-turns into $-turns.
Yes, some would derisively call this "meadow skipping". I would call it a helluva day--a helluva two weeks--skiing great snow with great friends in a very beautiful and very quiet part of the world. There are few things more enjoyable than meadow skipping at the edge of a desert.
Those two weeks also remind me of my beloved 190 Black Diamond Arc Angels and perhaps now is a good time to pay tribute. What a pair of skis! They were my one and only pair for about four years running. I even took them to Kazakhstan in 2006 where they faithfully served as my early season exploration skis. Sadly, however, the Tien Shan took the best from them. I honored them by attaching them to some sort of a handcrafted bench that had also seen better days. The bench was situated in a pretty apple grove not far from our house. It cried out for a new seat and I gave it one. I hope it's still there though I can certainly see someone ripping them off the frame and skiing on them or using them as scrap wood for their homes or something of the like. RIP. This is the best I can do during these relentless wake and bake days that have settled into the Central Cordillera. By all accounts the western half of the US is experiencing the best winter in something like 1748 years. I need all the relief I can muster. And for the faithful up north here are a few maudlin snow songs for you:
I've been tinkering for a bit and I think I've figured out how to post videos (yes, that's me, right there on the cutting edge of technology!). I'll throw these two up as a test and a testament that, in fact, at some point during the year there is real snow down here. From there we'll see what becomes of this.
The first should be a short video of me climbing the last little bit of Cerro San Gabriel. The cinematographer and wise-guy commentator is mi amigo, Andres. Note: From our vantage point below the peak it didn't appear the snow was continuous from the top. We were wrong and we should have carried our skis the entire way up. Even still, we had a great descent.
Yes, action-packed and terribly exciting. I know.
The next "film" was shot by another travieso, Pablo, on our first trip up to El Monumento Cristo del Redentor on the Chilean/Argentinean border--just up the highway from Portillo ski resort. I was, ahem, waiting for my compañeros, found myself a little bored and restless, so decided to climb up an apron and ski it down. Pablo arrived just as I started my descent and decided to get it down on film, or Xs and Os, +s and -s, or cyber-stuff, or whatever. Again, not real exciting but think of them as trailers to something much bigger and much more exciting! Maybe.
