I'm all about experiences, good or bad,although I prefer the former. So here are some more elements of my trip that have had an impact on me...
We climbed in an area in the north Argentinian Andes called Tuzgle. To quote a friend (please excuse my language), "It's in the middle of buttfuck nowhere". The climbing was incredible, we were camped down in a gorge and on both sides of the gorge were miles of superb rock. Climber's paradise - almost. When the sun was shining it was hot, but when the sun wasn't shining it was very very cold. The temperature inside our tents at night was measured at -9 degrees C. Our condensation quickly froze on our sleeping bags and our water bottles froze as well. Now I'd had a suspicion that my sleeping bag wasn't really all that good, but only here did I appreciate how inadequate it really was.
The wind would invariably pick up in the early afternoon. The wind was bitterly cold and very strong which made climbing difficult if not impossible. Most days a dust storm would kick up as well, covering every thing in a layer of dust. Including the inside of our tents.
These conditions meant that most people would take refuge in the truck throughout most of the afternoon and evening. The truck's a bit too small to cope with that many people couped up for that time. I think that this is about the time when some of our group began to tire of this lifestyle and long for creature comforts and space. More on that in a later blog.
It was my turn to cook in these conditions, and this was probably my first truly miserable experience of this journey. Cooking outside where everything that you aren't holding on to is blowing all over, trying to keep dust out of the food, and trying to wash up in water where you have to break the ice on the surface first. The pain in my fingers made me want to cry.
This was the first time we'd been up to high altitude - about 4000m. And the altitude was definitely affecting us. We were feeling so tired every day. Short climbs were very hard, even short walks were difficult. We set off to walk up a volcano. Each step was a plod. A short hard plod. We managed to make about a 400m height gain before we hit our limit and had to return.
On a walk the other day, we passed a cow in its field which was full of, what appeared to me to be, delicious grass. Yet Daisy had stuck her head through a barbed wire fence to eat the grass on the other side. How often do we do the same? On this trip we have to choose between one fantastic experience or another because of time constraints. The paradox of choice. If we only had one option, we would do that experience and no doubt love it. However, we’re always weighing up whether we will make or did make the ‘best’ decision. We’re in such a lucky position to have such things to worry about. But do we put too much pressure on ourselves to maximise these ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunities? Does this contemplation of the options actually detract from the overall experience so that we enjoy it less rather than just relaxing our way through it? Is it a reflection of our own goals? If we weren’t the kind of people to try to make the most out of life, would we even be on this trip in the first place? So, are we happier to have goals to work towards and to attain or would we be better to just breeze through life enjoying each moment for what it is -‘Wherever you are, there you are’.
