Planet Granite and the Sports Basement will be hosting us for slide shows in the end of April about the trip to Northern Patagonia. Stay tuned for exact dates, but there will be several. Please come on out if you can make it. Planet Granite came through big time with their Planet-Grants It program, essentially making this trip a reality for us. Let’s make the slide shows a success and ensure they keep supporting adventurers in the community and making dream trips come true. Check out the trailer below, and thanks for watching.

April 25th 8:00 PM Planet Granite, Presidio SFO

April 26th 6:30 PM Sports Basement, Presidio SFO

April 27th 8:00 PM Planet Granite, Sunnyvale 

-paul

Click here to view the embedded video.

The long days in Cochamo passed sluggishly with every attempt in the book to sell horses and many trips to the Mercado for empanadas and ice cream (which we viewed as horse selling fuel). Finally after six long days hustling and waiting, we sold each one of our beloved horse partners to either wonderful families or tourist businesses. It is a bittersweet emotion to sell a good friend to a good home.

After 16 days of horse riding and 6 days of horse selling, we were psyched to touch climbing gear.

Our climbing psych was bottled up during these six days, while we had to focus and work, but once the last horse was sold, it sprang back into the stratosphere. We had completed our mission of buying and selling horses and still had several days left to climb. Despite the equine loss of our group, we were nothing but laughs and fist pumps as we packed our gear to go back into the valley.

Packing for our 4-day mission to Paloma Valley

In a momentary strike of brilliance, Jakob and Paul worked a ‘pack horse for a day’ into one of the horse sales. So, with our heavy climbing gear and food carried by our trusty equine friend, the four of us charged up the trail with vigor, sans packs. After a week of sitting around and a crazy spark in our eyes, we shattered all speed records as we motored up the trail toward Cochamo Valley.

We had four good weather days, so we quickly formulated a plan: Go to Paloma Valley (a high basin flanking Cochamo Valley), bring only what we need (lots of climbing gear, not so much food) and look for new routes to put up. By 10 a.m. the following morning we were walking to our destination.

On the way up to Paloma Valley, with Cerro Trinidad in the background (right)

We arrived that afternoon after a grueling three hour uphill mud crawl using fixed lines as our assistance. The approach was demanding, but we were rewarded with a glorious basin: An amphitheater of granite walls ranging from 500 to 900 feet with a snowfield at the base providing water and cool air. Unlike the temperate rainforest of the Cochamo Valley floor, this basin had an alpine feel, with less vegetation and more rock. The setup was perfect and we were the only humans around.

Looking into Paloma Valley with big smiles on our faces (you just can't see them)

Considering the 16 hours of daylight and tons of rock around us, we threw fatigue into the wind and immediately repacked to make for the back of the basin to look for climbs. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by this much granite in such close quarters.

Jakob and I spotted a beautiful sweeping corner that connected through the entire 500 foot face. Paul and Eli scoped a line several hundred feet next to us and without much of a plan, we attacked. Paul and Eli made good progress initially. Eli lead the first pitch and Paul easily followed it and was preparing for his lead, while Jakob and I were stuck only 25 feet off the ground. We were battling dirty, wet, vertical “seamville.” Jakob was working hard on lead, but he didn’t bring the aid rack. The terrain became too difficult for us to free and I lowered him down and gave it a shot, aid gear in hand. I hammered in a good knife blade and continued to make some progress. From the higher point, I got a better view of the terrain above and it was not promising: seams and buttcracks as far as I could see. It wasn’t worth it. I down aided to my knifeblade, hammered in a beak as backup and we bailed.

behold...The Dirt Anchor

Eli and Paul were on top of the second pitch with nowhere to go, but into loose, dirty and steep nonsense. We tagged them up a second rope and they retreated too. First day: Rock wall one, team Laggner, team Simon and Mangasarian zero. Despite the shut downs, we were happy and our determination was fueled. After dinner (not enough) we crashed in our beautiful high camp. After being shut down the first day there, we were up at dawn the next morning, eager for more.

Jakob on aid with me belaying on would become the unfinished "Dos Huevos"

A short walk from the last line Jakob and I tried, we saw another system that had obvious deep cracks. We got ready to make our attempt on this, while Eli and Paul found a system of flakes that looked clean and steep. Once again, side by side in two teams of two we made our charge at putting up unclimbed routes.

Paul leading and weeding

It’s difficult to describe the feeling of leading into terrain that has never been climbed before. With a combination of full commitment and 100% unknown, it is the purest form of adventure I have ever experienced. When the terrain is simple and the rock is solid it is one of the most thrilling and enjoyable processes I have done. Once the terrain gets difficult, the cracks disappear or the rock becomes rotten, it instantly morphs into the scariest thing I have ever done.

Jakob and I at the base of our first attempted route

High up on the second pitch of the route Jakob and I were working on we encountered exactly such a scenario: Perfect rock and cracks in the 5.8 – 5.10 range that instantly turned into dirty, loose, steep and 5.11 terrain. Jakob was on lead when this transition happened. Running out was not an option, either the gear wouldn’t hold a fall and if it did, he’d fall onto a dangerous horn 20 feet below. He switched from hard and awkward climbing to aiding. After some upward progress and cleaning dirt and dried moss to uncover cracks, he found a small placement for a double zero TCU. He continued the aiding routine, but this time the double zero disagreed – “TINK!” It pulled on Jakob’s bodyweight, sending him flying into his first aid fall. I was calmly at the belay when I heard the scream and felt the tug. Luckily the piece below held. We realized that the small cam pulled because the rock shifted (yup it was that loose). “Ummm, you want to try this?” He asked.  “Uh, hell no!” I replied. Jakob spent the next 45 minutes hand drilling a bolt and building an anchor to leave for our retreat. It was a disappointment, since the climbing up to this point was excellent. Alas, this wall only wanted a two pitch route.

One of the many bailing anchors

Eli exiting from under the snow field after another long day

Meanwhile Paul and Eli made their attempt on the flake system. Unfortunately, not too different from us, they ran into a dead end on top of the second pitch. Yet another retreat and it was late in the afternoon already. Jakob and I had had enough for the day, but Eli and Paul spotted another line on the other side of the basin while on their flake route. It was 3pm, but they went for it.

Paul leading into the unknown...

After four attempts at establishing a route, the fifth one finally connected through and with that, the five pitch, 5.10b route “Hasta La Pinky” was born.  Their progress was slowed by cracks filled with vegetation and steep chimney climbing and they didn’t top out until near 9pm. They hand drilled three bolts and only had one rope for their descent, so they arrived in camp well after midnight.

Paul continuing his lead towards the summit of what will be "Hasta La Pinky"

And so it came to be that "Hasta La Pinky" was born.

Things moved a little slower on our second morning and third day in Paloma Valley, nonetheless, we were ascending for more climbing before the sun hit the basin floor. Eli and Paul’s plan was to take it a little easier (considering their previous nights’ epic) and climb some single pitch routes that were already established. Jakob and I gave one more frugal attempt at the last route we descended the previous day.  Frugal it was. We worked and cursed, got scared and retreated again. Perhaps someday, someone with less fear and more climbing ability will finish this route. For now though, two short pitches of good climbing lead to our final bolted anchor. We drew a topo for it and decided to name it “Dos Huevos” (5.10b, 200 feet, unfinished).

The Dos Huevos

On the fourth day, with the weather deteriorating, we tried two more projects. Jakob and I headed into a side gully, and Eli and Paul headed to the very back of the basin above the snowfield. Again, we entered shut down city. Jakob and I ended our venture 30 feet above the ground huddled together on a two piece anchor stuffed into mossy cracks. We were too tired and mentally drained to deal with anymore of this. We had enough and bailed.

Eli leading up on the single pitch finger crack.

Paul and Eli put up the first pitch and got stuck on the second. Paul, on lead, was doing some hard aiding, hooking and hammering into an overhanging, dirty and loose roof. A valiant attempt, but it just didn’t go; time to bail.

Paul on this superb finger crack

At this point we were pretty spent and also satisfied with our progress. Besides, we had left a small rack of nuts, slings and bolts on the surrounding walls. Sure, we attempted seven routes and only put up one and a half, but we didn’t come here to break new records of how many routes we could put up. We came to push our limits, see what we were capable of and put ourselves into new climbing scenarios. This, we accomplished.

Stoke and happiness

We climbed a single pitch, superb finger crack and took lots of pictures and simply enjoyed our setting and shared the details of our own experiences. Just as I cleaned the final anchor and set up my rappel, the rain hit. It was Mother Nature’s way of telling us that it was time to go back down to base camp. And that we did, smiling the whole way down.

Arriving at the valley floor several hours later happy, hungry and exhausted, we heard that the weather will clear in two days. To our delight and against our expectations, there was more climbing in store for us still…

"Is it time to load up?"

“Whistle, whistle”, I hear him again. “Is everything ok up there”, I shout up. “Yeah, yeah, just counting the horses”.   I hear Eli and Paul rolling around in our mini tipi, the megalite. When we left for this portion of our trip, five days prior, we packed only the absolute essentials. This meant during our 17 day ride the four of us slept cramped together in the megalite. We ate far less food than we needed and never changed our clothes. This equaled four smelly men living in very close quarters, who were constantly thinking about their next meal.

In the land of horses, this is just a normal parking lot.

“Yup, they’re all here”, Daniel shouts down to us. Good, there is a slight feeling of relief among all of us. We arrived at our current campsite the night before. A beautiful, but tiny meadow, tucked away off the main trail. Apparently it is hidden enough from cows and other grazers so that the grass was able to grow up to our knees. A couple of fallen trees formed a natural corral with thick brush fencing in the other sides of the meadow.

George representing Patagonia in front of a remote farm ...in Patagonia

We had herded our six horses into the area the night before, knowing that they were due for a good munch session after days of hard riding. Confident about the security of this little corral we let the horses have their dinner while we set up camp and prepared our evening meal. This site was perfect, the horses had food and we were off the path and out of view from local Gauchos.  We had come accustomed to keeping our camp presence quiet whenever possible. The locals charge a telaje, which is basically rent for people and horses. Seeing four white guys with six horses opens the door to exorbitant fees. We found it easier to stay off the radar from these locals rather than try to argue down a Marriott priced stay on a backwoods meadow.

Just some regular maintenance...

Daniel and Paul were fixing dinner while Eli and I were deep into our 72-game series of backgammon when we heard the hoofs. They were clearly our horses; however they were not on the trail. The horses were trotting through the thick brush and escaping! Darn it! Sure enough, through the brush I could make out Ventu’s long blond mane bounce against his neck as he trotted toward the main trail. Even in his mischievousness he looked majestic. Ventu was playing ring leader and he had apparently recruited at least Pansito, who seemed to always be his partner in crime and Maggie. I sprung up, grabbed a lead line and ran toward the trail, trying to cut off the fugitive threesome. Eli was heading into our untrustworthy corral to see if he could keep the other horses from following suit. Daniel and Paul immediately paused dinner preparations to stop the mutiny as well.

Sitting out a storm in a farm in Segundo Corral, deep in Patagonian backcountry

The son who lived at this farm.

I spotted Ventu and Pansito on the main trail, he stopped and looked at me. His eyes told me that he had no intention of allowing me to catch him. He snorted and when I took one step toward him he galloped up trail. Pansito and Maggie followed and one minute later the rest of the herd stormed by, obviously not wanting to miss out on what lay ahead on the trail.

We happily lived in their tool shed until the weather passed.

Damn it! Horses! What are you thinking? We knew that our group of steeds was experienced on these and the surrounding trails, having worked in these mountains their entire lives. They knew something we did not. Daniel and Paul had already come prepared with the grain bag, the only sure way to entice a horse back to us. Eli was working on patching up our broken corral area with deadfalls and anything else he could find to secure the small openings in the thick brush.

They treated us to an empanada feast, with meat from a freshly killed bull. Yum!

The three of us hiked up trail. The light was beginning to fade in the dusk; we had been riding most of the day so our bodies were tired and hungry.  However, when I looked across at my friends moving up the trail with full energy and intent, I could see a spark of excitement in their eyes. It was the same spark I was feeling; an experience of being immersed in this moment. We were exhausted, wandering on a trail we did not know, somewhere dozens and dozens of miles away from anything we would call civilization, chasing down our herd of wild horses. Our lives had become the dream we dared to live. It felt really good.

finished the ride, hired a truck, put the six horses, the two Laggners and one sheep in the back, headed back to town.

Eli upon his arrival, happy to have his pack and to be in a Mercado for cookies

The four of us were ready to kick off the next five weeks at full throttle. We had six horses, four ropes, two double racks, enough food to prevent starvation and more stoke than a 13-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. We could hardly contain ourselves as we packed for a four-day mission to our advanced camp near Cerro Trinidad.  Eli lead the way, twinkle-toeing up the trail while speaking quasi-coherently in various accents of his choosing.

Eli, Daniel and Paul dreaming of new routes, staring at Cerro Trinidad.

A little bit about our friend Eli that will help clarify things – he has the determination of a migrating tern, the energy and strength of a hunting wolf pack and the metabolism of a hummingbird underscored with the attitude of a playful puppy. In short, he’s an animal – a super fun, unstoppable and playful animal. It’s rare to charge and laugh this hard simultaneously.

We did a lot of this ...mind climbing.

With our energy and moods through the roof, we charged the steep and gnarly trail and arrived at our advanced camp in about half of the predicted time. The bivouac below Cerro Trinidad is so close to the granite beast, we used it as a backrest while we ate dinner. With ropes as our beds and smiles on our faces, we fell into a short sleep before our early rise to get our hands into long granite cracks.

Three blue squirrels at our bivvy, with trinidad as our backrest.

Rope beds at our advanced camp. Turns out they are uncomfortable.

Shortly after an early wake up call, Jakob and Paul charged a long and sustained route on the western north face established the year before called EZ Does It. It is a steep 400m route, sustained in the mid to high tens the entire way, and a limit-pusher for the both of them. Highlights include a finger crack traverse around a blind corner, with harrowing exposure below and Andean Condors above – the stuff climber dreams are made of.

Jakob leading pitch 1 of EZ Does It

EZ Does It, Pitch 7

Eli and myself started further to the right hoping to establish a new route up the center of the north face. After several hours of climbing stubbornly into the unknown, NANAD was born.  It is also 400m in length and follows three pitches of 5.10 corners and cracks to a beautiful 120m chimney and off-width feature (also mid-tens) to a large ledge. From there, two moderate pitches took us to the glorious summit.

Roughly, the line that NANAD takes - up the center of the north wall of Cerro Trinidad

Leading into the unknown on Pitch one of our new route NANAD

A better view of NANAD.

The topo I drew for the guide book.

Eli and I on pitch 5 (big ledge) just after the chimney and offwidth pitches

Climbing into the unknown was new to me and emotions inevitably ran high. Leading into new territory has a way of penetrating the deeper regions of the climber’s mind: Will I be able to set protection after these next moves? Am I capable of climbing the terrain above? Will we have enough gear to descend? Eli has previous experience in new alpine terrain and was able to give me good advice – just keep climbing up. With that simple and effective wisdom, I kept climbing, keeping fear in check. Sure enough after overcoming my psychological speed bumps, I realized ecstatically that I was partaking in the purest form of adventure I had ever experienced. And so I completed my lead block, handed the gear sling over to Eli, and he eagerly began his own journey into the unknown.  Seven hours later we relished the view on the summit. 360 degrees of lush valleys flanked by granite – FA potential in all directions.

So...much...granite

Back in our advanced camp, as we attempted to replenish our lost calories with a rationed portion of pasta, we told stories of our respective climbs and made plans for the following day – scoping more new potential lines in Trinidad Valley. We were just getting started …so we thought.

Accessing deeper parts of Trinidad Valley. The top of Cerro Trinidad in the background.

The next morning we made our way deeper into the main valley, already overwhelmed by the amount of rock around us – option overload. We had our sights set on a wall flanking a small and steep gully, since there was not a single established line up it.  Half an hour of steep scrambling later we reached our high point and quickly realized that the lines we were eyeing from the valley floor were actually discontinuous and sometimes bottoming fractures. There was potential, but it would require many bolts and more time than we had. We were looking for striking weaknesses and this wasn’t it. Slightly disappointed, but with heads held high, we continued searching. More scoping, a few group huddles and one large can of sardines later, we were left with no new prospects in the area. It turns out that twelve years of climbing combined with the most dramatic basin in Cochamo Valley left few manageable objectives here.

Paul at the top of a gully where we thought we would have good FA potential ...but had none.

We had only been at our advanced camp for one night and it looked like we were back to square one. After another uncomfortable night (as it turns out, ropes don’t actually double for thermarests), we decided to change our plan entirely. As far as first ascent objectives in the popular Trinidad area was concerned, it didn’t look good. We pulled the plug, eager to rekindle hope in another side valley.

No new objectives in this gully, but at least we had a very large can of sardines (but nothing else, so we were still starving).

Down at base camp, we took stock of our provisions and realized that in our euphoric haze, skipping around Chilean valleys and drooling over rocks, we had miscalculated some basic provisions and were faced with an unavoidable trip out of La Junta and back into the real world. Eli and Jakob volunteered. With energy levels still high and logistical juggling at its finest, the boys figured out a way to make the trip in only two days and one night, but it required an alpine start and hard, long days in the saddle. They were up for it.

searching, but not finding

So it was, well before dawn, Jakob and Eli ran an hour up the trail to where we had our herd pastured to catch our two fastest geldings, Ventu and Pancito, as well as our most sure footed horse Estrella for the pack load. Saddled up and en-route down, Eli went through the usual motions of closing a creaky wooden gate behind him while mounted on his horse. Although the outcome was anything but usual: gate closed, horse spooked, rusty nail met hand and they didn’t play nice.  Eli watched the blood leak out of his badly gashed palm and a new reality set in: how long would he have to wait until he could sink a hand jam?  Palm a sloper?  Lock off on a crimp?  This trip we all hoped, though the protruding flesh and dripping blood portended otherwise.  Hearts sank; morale locked the door and hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign.

Cleaned and steri stripped, Eli's cut was a deep gash, undoubtedly preventing further hand jamming

Back to the present – we are deep in the backcountry with a deep and dirty wound to clean up.  Luckily I have enough med gear to deal with everything but the worst and we cleaned and wrapped him up quickly. I left my tetanus shots at home and this was a textbook situation that called for one. No problem, stick with plan A and continue riding to town to pick up our goodies – just add one stop at the hospital for the injection. And that is exactly what they did – after one night the boys came back from their mission in good form and good time.

So what to do now? We couldn’t climb, but we were keen on exploring the depths of the country surrounding us – of learning about the terrain and the people who thrived here. And we had a herd of horses. We made the decision to begin a self-sustained horse-packing trip into Patagonian wonderland. Despite Eli’s injury, we were thrilled to continue our adventure, even if there wasn’t climbing involved for a while.

Spirits revived: we had hundreds of miles of trails, a free, cartooned tourist trail map and no real destination in mind. We would simply ride 10-20 days, ask every gaucho we passed what lied ahead and see where the country takes us.

The crew has been immersed in Patagonian backcountry, climbing granite walls, exploring rugged beauty on horseback and traveling back in time to the early days of farming.  Before more details are shared, I must digress, for this story should be told from the beginning – getting ourselves to La Junta.

As you know we assembled the dream team of horses- a veritable crew of equine superstars (comparable to the 1992 US Olympic basketball team – except horses), the complete potential of which will slowly unfold as the story progresses.  There were the two mares: Maggie (Sister Margaret when grumpy, Magpie when sweet) ridden by Paul, and Estrella (Estrella de la Cochamo) ridden by Daniel, and the four geldings: Ventu (Aventurero) ridden by Jakob, Cash (aka. Johnny Cash) to carry gear, George (Mr. George) to carry more gear and the smallest and most agile Pansito, ridden by Jakob’s girlfriend Nicole and later Eli.

Jakob and Nicole on Ventu

Nicole and Pansito ponying Maggie

The rumors about negotiating the complex terrain are true – ascending the La Junta trail is a formidable task for bi and quadropedal creatures alike. We were faced with deep, muddy trenches, steep, wet rock and dense, wooded forest.  The vegetation is so dense in places the rider has to bury their face in the horse’s neck and trust they know the right steps to take next. Despite the superstar status of our horses, Maggie slipped and fell, catapulting Paul off her back while negotiating a particularly nasty section. Luckily nobody was injured, but it increased the weight of the challenges we were facing. For hours rider and horse have to stay focused together while one challenge after another must be overcome as the trail winds its way deeper into the dense Patagonian wilderness.

Pansito in front and La Junta rock (with the route ´Campfarm´on it) in the background.

Suddenly, after hours of physically and mentally taxing riding, the forest simply gives way to a bright, open meadow with granite walls soaring above. Perhaps it’s a combination of this and the fatigue – riding into Cochamo Valley was a profound and surreal experience for all of us. Upon arrival and unloading our horses, we couldn’t help but stand agape and spin in circles as we took in the awe-inspiring beauty that surrounded us.

Cerro Trinidad. One of many granite walls overlooking Cochamo Valley

Once the horses were happily grazing, our homemade tipi erected and our calories replenished, the magnitude of our reality set in. Not unlike moments we experienced while sailing to Costa Rica, we realized we had stepped into our dream. The full weight of months of preparation for this moment was relieved.  “Here we are, in this beautiful Patagonian valley with our herd of horses”, we thought out loud.

Home...

Our grand plan for the next few days was not to have a grand plan at all and enjoy the time before Nicole had to fly back home. We went cragging, hiking, deep water bouldering and swimming in the natural rock slides, all the while spending as much time as possible with our new herd of horse companions.

Home for our herd too. From left to right, George, Pansito, Cash, Estrella, Maggie, Ventu.

We climbed a couple routes as well. Namely ‘Apnea’, a two pitch 5.10b classic with laser cut finger cracks on a blank wall and ‘Campfarm’ a seven pitch route that starts with a 200 foot 5.11c slab as a first pitch and then follows perfect 5.10 dihedrals.

Paul on the last pitch of Campfarm on Cerro La Junta

It felt like we were playing in paradise as we explored the wonders of Cochamo Valley during the first week. Nicole had to go back home in the beginning of January and her sad departure marked the first change we experienced on this adventure. Her leaving coincided with the welcoming of my good friend Eli Simon.

Eli has climbed Cochamo Valley before, when he put up two new routes in 2008. He owns Atlantic Climbing School in Bar Harbor Maine and his climbing resume explodes with difficult big wall and alpine ascents from eastern Canada to southern Patagonia.

Horses and granite ...pure joy!

Take a bowl; throw in four hairy dudes, six large mammals, and lots of shiny climbing equipment. Sprinkle in granite walls and lush valleys, let it marinate in campfire and smiles for five weeks and without a doubt the results will be interesting…

Santiago urban sprawl

Somewhere en route between the US and Cochamo, Chile

Days pass.  A fortnight.  And now, through squinted eyes and sea spray I tried to focus on the cascading waterfall in the distance.  Across the most northern of the Chilean fjords it gushed and spit, depositing snow and glacial run off into the salty azure waters through a narrow gash in the lush mountain-scape.  Not only a stunningly beautiful landscape, but the ideal distraction from the stress inducing conversation at hand.

Our first campsite. Volcano views across the fjord in Cochamo town

Cochamo local - un chivo

Daniel, Jakob and I were on a ferry ride to remote Chilean village called Llanada Grande.  We had been taxing our bodies, minds and second-language negotiation skills for the last ten days trying to round up a herd of six healthy horses and all the associated accouterment.  With three horses to our name and options waning within a 50 km radius, we were getting desperate and expanding our search into remote nooks and crannies of the Chilean backcountry.

Mate with a local family. Good fuel for horse negotiation

On the ferry ride across the lake, and mid wild goose chase for a single horse, whom we had heard resided somewhere over the hills and through the woods, we met Toribio.  Rotund and animated, Toribio must be a lot of fun, I imagined, if I could understand him at all.  His slang-laced Spanish, slurred out of the side of his mouth at light speed, had me cross eyed and confused.  So why bother with this character?  He said he had two more horses – just enough to round out our growing herd.  With promises that they were “bien mansos” and “acostumbrados a la cordillera” (relaxed and used to the rugged trails we of the mountain range we would be in), we set to negotiating and eventually, slowly, and borderline painfully, struck up a deal.

Local huaso strolling the town road

Ferrying horses across Lago Tagua Tagua

Nevermind that Toribio would stand us up due to drinking himself into a useless, bumbling stupor, within a few days we finally managed to pull together the herd of our dreams.  To say the least, Chilean horses have set the bar for being well-trained, responsive and gorgeous animals.  It seems they need to be, for the terrain and trails around here have menacing reputations.  Steep, rocky and muddy, we’ve been warned more than a few times that they can claim the lives of our animal companions.

Ready to hit the trail

One last rest in town. One last sunset.

But that’s for another post.  For now we sort gear, pack bags and plan our route.  After over two weeks in Chile, we are backcountry bound in 12 hours.  Wish us luck.