This was my climbing partner all week in Patagonia. We are hanging off of a rock wall on a tiny piece of metal, stalling before the next pitch of this climb.
I met Claudio on facebook of course. I noticed that he was in a bunch of pictures with my old climbing buddies from California so I sent him an unsolicited email saying,
“I know this might be weird, but you seem to know my friends and my friends are cool so I’m assuming you’re cool too. I notice you live in Chile and are a climber. Wanna climb with me when I’m in Patagonia? I swear I’m not a weirdo!”
He instantly accepted my friend request so we started chatting and planning and stuff. When I arrived on the mountain after a brutal uphill hike with 70 lbs on my back, Claudio greeted me with a hug, an amazing meal, a plan for routes we’d climb over the next several days, and a warm tent for cold nights. He also introduced me to the climbing community, so by the first night I had a big group of friends. There was no sexual tension or weirdness at all, just two people from far away places who became instant buddies and are willing to get into dangerous situations together.
That’s what’s so cool about the climbing community - you learn how to go with your gut, learn who to trust, and force yourself to put your life in someone else’s hands. It’s one hell of a way to start a friendship, I tell ya!
As much as I hate facebook, and hate myself when I’m on facebook, it makes random, amazing experiences like this possible. I haven’t had this much fun sharing and tent and giggling like kids with a buddy in years!
(Frey, Patagonia)
While climbing in Patagonia, this is what I would come back to at base camp every afternoon. Hot men everywhere in this country, I swear!
(Frey, Patagonia)
I saw this sign on a 23 hour bus ride through the most desolate part of Argentina. Still trying to figure out what it means.
http://melaniehamlett.com
Sorry, but I couldn’t help but take a picture of this guy!
(Argentina)
The last hour of today’s picking of strawberries, I decided to crawl. It’s easier on the back.
The French girls promise it stops hurting so much by the third day, but I think they’re full of crap.
(Strawberry Farm, Patagonia)
The realities of picking stawberries for six hours a day. This shit KILLS your back!
(I asked the German guy to hold his back and pretend to be in pain for this picture, but he’s not a very good actor. I have to give him a little credit though - he wasn’t trained at the UCB or elsewhere in how to fully commit to an emotion)
(Strawberry farm, Patagonia)
The girls I work with from France smoke cigarrettes all day and talk and look skinny and beautiful and stuff.
(Strawberry Farm, Patagonia)
The dogs sleep under my trailer. A kitten snuggles with me at night in my bunk bed inside the trailer. I’m in heaven.
(Patagonia, Argentina)
Yep, I’m living in a trailer again. It’s not as nice as my last two, but it’s still pretty cool.
(Patagonia, Argentina)
We pick strawberries all morning, eat lunch together, have six hours off, pick strawberries again, then eat dinner at midnight. MIDNIGHT! I’ve never been to a country that has such strang eating and sleeping patterns. Most people don’t eat dinner before 10pm in Argentina.
By the way, never in my life have I texted a friend at midnight and said “Hey. Taking a 2 hour nap. See you at the club at 2.”
This place is nuts and I love it.
