March 26, 2018  •  Leave a Comment

Patagonia,  where my long running love-hate relationship with this immense land continue's on it's roller coaster ride to hell  and back, continues, and yesterday was no exception, a real bastard of a day. This landscape is not for the faint of heart, and if your one of those people who spend lots of money at the hairdresser, getting it just right, and are somewhat anal about your appearance, well my advice is stay the hell away from here. It has been somewhat windy here of late, which should come as no surprise, considering my location's proximity to the Southern Patagonian Icecap, that sits a few miles to the east of my tent, and receives the sheer brute force of the low pressures brewing in the Southern Pacific Ocean, which nature then sends in the west coast of Chile, totally mullering everything in it's path. 


I have been on the receiving end of lots of this mullering lately, and only a few days ago ended up on my ass 3 times in one day, but yesterday on my travels, the victim was my camera and tripod, and by some miracle, absolutely no damage was done, which was not the thought that was flashing through my mind as I watched in total horror as it lurched away from me and head straight for the very hard fractured rock band beneath feet. Tears were busy fighting their way to to entrance of the ducts in anticipation, of the flood that was inevitable, as I watched in not so slow motion horror, my only camera, speed it's way south to it's certain death. I fell to my knee's, expecting to commence scraping up the remains and then quietly finding a rocket hide behind, to vomit in frustration, and then to cry till sunset. I was stunned to see it lose nothing other than the sunshade, and the battery popped out the back, which happily went back, with no problems, now the moment of truth, was the lens damaged and would it actually y work when I flipped the switch ?


I spent the rest of the day working out how I got away with only  a scratch on the sunshade, as well as filming a herd of 200+ Guanaco's I had encountered.I should have known better then to have moved more than a millimetre away from my tripod when the wind was howling, I was luckily, very, and it reminded me of what an old friend from London once said, that I was so lucky, that if I fell out of a tree, and 99% of the ground below was covered in cow shit, I would undoubtedly find the patch that had a bed of rose petals !! 

Meanwhile, the 200+Guanacos were busy dust bathing and the odd male with an elevated level of testosterone was busy chasing other males into the hills, so I had plenty of material to capture, on the camera, that by rights, should have been in a thousand pieces on the wind swept Patagonian hills, lucky bastard!!!!.

The Pumas I had encountered were a no show, so once I have finished the 2 .5 kilo bowl of porridge and honey, aside my keyboard, I will head off, somewhat late, into the hills and see if we can locate one the females with their cubs, my destination today being the rock formation where cave painting's dating back 6,500 years were located some time back, and it seems one of the Pumas has taken quite a fancy to the area and has been seen in the area on numerous occasions, besides, I am quite partial to a bit of art !


Until they switch the generator on again and the satellite dish kicks into life,

Adios from Patagonia




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