The Goodness That is Don Luis (my rebuttal/ apology)

Dearest Husband of Mine,

It's not the man I was after (I never even laid eyes or hands(!) on him).  It was his goods- croissants speckled with sugar, cooked to perfection.  Flaky pastries covered with powdered sugar, oozing with dulce de leche.  The smell, blocks away, of sugar in the air.  .  .  Any gluten eater would have been lured!

 It was the goods, my love, not the man!  And all I have left is feelings of regret. . . and some chubby cheeks.That's NOTHING compared to all that you've given me!  Please consider it, not an affair, but a moment (or 2 or 3 or 4) of weakness.  Weakness that led me, not to the arms of a man,  but only to his goods (baked goods, that is).  .  .  ; )

Filled with Regret and Lots of Sugar,

Amy

Her Cheatin´ Heart

This may come as a shock to many of you.  Those of you who were at our wedding know what a special love Amy and I share.  We thought it was indestructible.  We thought it would outlast anything.  We laughed when the high priestess who married us suggested their might be rough times at some point during our marriage.  Well, friends... we definitely need that dirty hanky she waved around literally and metaphorically. 

Amy has cheated on me.  

Yes, sweet Amy.  Innocent Amy.  Loving Amy. 



No man could compete with the power of Don Luis...



While I was delirious with my fever, Amy was carrying on a torrid affair with Don Luis.  I would be laying in bed, unable to move... she would be in the open arms of another man.  Well... to be more specific, the outstretched arms of his medialunas (croissants).  Yes, Don Luis is the baker in El Calafate, and for 6 days, Amy and Don Luis carried on scandalously, while I fought for my very survival.  Guiltily, after yet another impassioned tryst with Don Luis, she would swear to me that she was through with him... that it was over between them... but then she would be drawn back by his irresistable aromas... again and again and again.

That 'enlarged spleen' story was really just our convenient cover... we're back in the US for a week of intensive marriage counseling.  With your help, we think we can save our marriage.

"It Ain´t No Gas Bubble"

... or so i tried to explain to Argentina´s answer to Doogie Howser, the 12-year-old looking doctor who was tending to me in El Calafate municipal hospital´s emergency room.  We´d arrived in El Calafate a few days before, and i hadn´t been feeling well since our arrival.  Amy and I assumed that it might be a 2-day flu... after all, we´d been pushing our bodies pretty much non-stop without a real rest day for 5 weeks.  But after 3 days, we decided to head to the hospital on sunday morning to get me checked out.  The symptoms:  3 consecutive nights of fever, and crushing stomach pain in my upper chest and lower right abdomen, especially whenever i ate anything. 

This hospital visit was in fact the continuation of what´s become something of a tradition for Amy and I... to conduct firsthand research into the public health infrastructure of countries we visit during our travels.  In Iceland, Amy´s hands had blown up like two giant puffer fish and itched like the dickens, prompting our first such study... so now it was my turn.  (By the way, we think we solved the mystery of Amy´s alergic reaction -- a small bottle of Mountain Suds bio-degradable soap... it´s biodegradable, so you´d think it would be pretty tame... but in all fairness, it was also at least 8 years old). 


You haven't really visited a place until you've checked
out the public health infrastructure firsthand...

So, all of a sudden, I´m in a hospital gown, hooked up to an IV to receive fluids.  My money was on the gallbladder, given the position of my abdomen pains.  After an ultrasound, a chest x-ray, and some blood labs, Señor Doogie came back and joked that there would be no need to operate.  He must have liked that joke, because he started four conversations with me this way. 

He said everything looked normal, and i had probably eaten something that disagreed with me, maybe some pork.  That didn´t seem to make too much sense to us, for a number of reason.  First of all, those of you who know me well know that after a kosher childhood, I´ve gone over to the dark side of Judaism, and now I´ve never met a pork product that disagreed with me.  Second, all those stomache aches that Amy had attributed to my campaign against the sheep of patagonia, we were now reinterpreting in light of this more serious escalation of symptoms... and those stomache pains started several weeks ago and had been getting worse.  And finally, there were the three consecutive nights of fever... which signal the presence of an infection... but which Señor Doogie wanted to attribute to a coincidence of simultaneous flu.  No, I wasn´t buying the ´gas bubble´ diagnosis. 



All Dave had eaten for 3 days
before being put on the 'starvation
treatment' in the hospital...



As for treatment... wasn´t really thrilled about that either.  They would keep me overnight in the hospital, attached to an IV for fluids, and prevent me from eating or drinking anything.  No food, no water, no ice chips... nada, nunca, nadie.  This was already pretty much the diet I´d been on the 3 previous days... so I wasn´t too optimistic that it would have too much impact, except to make me even more miserable than I was.

 
Several hours later, Amy and I were thrilled when my fever returned... because the night nurse didn´t hesitate to put me on anti-biotics immediately.  And who doesn´t love a good anti-biotic cocktail?  And let´s take this opportunity to give a shout-out to all the nurses out there!  Marci, Carole, Dony... and any other nurses out there among our readers.

In the morning, after another round of tests and labs, Señor Doogie was back to repeat his same diagnosis (boo!) but tell me he was going to let me eat (hooray!) and release me... and who cares what his diagnosis is if I´ve got my antibiotics... leading to our favorite exchange, in which Señor Doogie told me repeatedly that I wasn´t on any antibiotics... until he finally went to check, read my chart, and realized that in fact I was.  And, on cue, as the doctor left, the nurse was on her way announcing my next injection of antibiotics.

So an embarassed Señor Doogie passed me off to the clinic doctor, whom we immediately liked much better.  He was actually troubled by my fever and other symptoms.  And he let me eat.  But he wanted me to stay for another night.  He also said my spleen was a bit larger than it should be.  Apparently, the average spleen is 12 cm... well ladies, mine is 17 cm.  And you know what they say about guys with big spleens. 



My hospital roommate, Elisio: 
the happiest (and most flexible)
85-year old man in Argentina

 The extra day did provide us with the opportunity to bond with my roommate, Elisio -- the happiest 85-year old Argentine man you´ve ever met, with a great big belly laugh -- the kind of guy who can just as easily charm a 6-year old girl, a 26-year old nurse, a 60-year old fellow patient... and yes, a 31-year old American bride on her honeymoon in Patagonia.  When he saw Amy stretching after she´d finished a run, he challenged her to a flexibility contest... and won!  He also taught us how to play ´Quince´... an Argentine card game... in which we were totally convinced he was cheating and changing the rules on us.  I will remeber fondly our long conversations in which he would philosophize on the meaning of life... in which I would nod enthusiastically, laugh when it seemed appropriate, and understand about 3% of what was being said... but that wouldn´t slow him down at all.

Anyway, after 2 days of antibiotics, I was feeling about 92% better... my doctor still wasn´t entirely sure what was wrong with me, but my fever was under control, I was on antibiotics, and there wasn´t much more to be done but send me on my way with an ultrasound picture of my spleen as a souvenir.  Given that we wouldn´t be trekking any more, the doctor was advising follow-up examination in the states, and we´re headed to New Zealand a few days after we get back to the US, we decided to head home a few days early... having had a wonderfully full 6 weeks in Patagonia.

Tales of an Ex-Peacemaker

When Dave answers that ever popular question of ¨What do you do?¨ he has taken to calling himself ¨an Ex-Peacemaker´´.  The title suggests he now causes conflict; not too far from the truth. Here´s the evidence.

1. David Kovick vs. Chilean Sheep:  When we returned from our 9 day trek through Torres del Paine we, ofcourse re-entered civilization with some cravings.  Mine: fresh fruit, a salad, a cup of coffee.  Dave´s (you can probably guess): MEAT.  Lots and lots of it.  As you may remember from the post ¨Ocho Huevos and Other Patagonian Indulgences¨ Dave´s choice of meat:  SHEEP.  Lots and lots of sheep.  Definitely one in it´s entirity, possibly two.   It was so much sheep that when he tried to count sheep to fall asleep they kept landing in his stomach and he woke up with a stomach ache.  Dinner the next night?  Lamb stew, of course.  There are reports that the country´s sheep population is at a record breaking low right now.  Chileans are searching for an explanation.



Mr. Kovick trying to eat the evidence



2.  David Kovick vs. Chilean Customs Officials: As you may have read in the post ¨Busted¨ the Ex-Peacemaker is at again.  This time smuggling in contraband- peanuts, raisins, apples, and cheese.  Customs Officials confiscated all uneaten products and completed all related paperwork.  The culprit was sentenced to a written citation and yet another. . . stomach ache.  There are reports that Chilean agriculture has been contaminated by foreign products.  Chileans are continuing to search for more of an explanation.



  

3.  David Kovick vs. the Fuegian Beavers:  In yet another attempt to cause unrest, David Kovick has been seen destroying a beaver dam in the wilderness around Los Dientes de Navarino.  His tools- two large poles used, by non-criminals, for balance and support while backpacking.   When the accused was asked why he would do such a thing, destroying the home of an innocent animal, he responded with, ¨Someone told me if you destroy their home, then wait, they will come and fix it.  I just wanted to see a beaver!¨ Mr.Kovick is a resident of North America, the place these beavers originally came from leaving many Chileans wondering why he was so eager to see a beaver here in South America.  Mr. Kovick´s misconduct has led to flooding across the nation.     



Can nothing stop this menace?



Mr. Kovick: Caught red-handed

 









 

Mr.Kovick claims to know
a few Chileans who may disagree.


4. David Kovick vs. Peace in Tierra del Fuego: David Kovick, now a known criminal across Patagonia, is now being accused of refueling once resolved tension between Argentina and Chile in relation to who in fact is el fin del mundo.   Mr. Kovick´s favorite pasttime during his travels through Tierra del Fuego, the southern most portion of Patagonia, seems to be telling Argentines that he heard from Chileans that their village of Puerto William is the southern most point in the world and telling Chileans that he heard from Argentines that they claim their city of Ushuaia the southern most point.  Tension has flared and riots have broken out in both countries. 

Wanted posters now mark the telephone polls of cities and towns throughout Patagonia and beyond.  Please help save the sheep, agriculture, land, and peace of our nations by reporting any information you may have to your local police.

Thank you.  Abrazos. . .

Wild and Untamed Sierra Valdivieso

After we returned from Dientes de Navarino, back to Ushuaia, we had a quick turn-around and set off for our next trek in the wild and untamed Sierra Valdivieso.  Basically, we had enough time in Ushuaia for some laundry (which is definitely a priority after any number of days in the wilderness), the supermarket to resupply for our 4 day trek, a good meal and some ice cream. 
We were excited for the Sierra Valdivieso trek.  In our Lonely Planet book (´Trekking in Patagonia¨), it´s the only trek that´s listed as ´difficult´, in large part because there is no clearly defined trail for most of the route (as well as no refugios/huts or other kinds of support, including very few other people).  So this trek was going to provide a chance to test our navigational and route-finding skills, see some beautiful and untouched Argentine Fuegian wilderness, and probably have a whole lot of solitude.  Even just organizing our transportation to the trek was pretty funny -- we walked into the taxi office and explained that we needed a taxi to drop us off 16 km up the road on Ruta 3, near a gas pipeline.  I think they thought we were a little bit crazy... but we got there in the end. 

Amy and Dave and ´their people´.

Like all of our other treks, Sierra Valdivieso was wonderful, in its own unique way, and definitely wild and untamed, as promised.  Pretty early in the first day, we came across 3 other hikers, whom Amy recognized from our hostel.  We made our greetings, learned that the were from Slovakia, and headed along while they stopped for lunch.  These three -- Tomas, Marcel and Vanda -- would become our very good buddies during the 4 days in Valdivieso.  Amy was very excited, because she was convinced that these three were ´her people´ -- somehow, long-lost distant relatives. They knew all about Istria, the region of Croatia where the Slabich clan comes from, and even vacation there in the summers.   She was pretty sure that if we asked, we´d learn that all of their last names were ´Slabich´. 

The first day we climbed up a valley, past several more hanging glacial valleys, including our favorite glacier -- Glacier Sin Nombre - literally, Glacier Without a Name. 

On the second day, we had more climbing, along a river valley... Dave found some deep mud very early -- the kind of mud you might need help to get out of -- about waist deep.  Amy offered to help... after snapping about 20 photos of Dave´s slog.  But don´t worry... Dave would have his revenge on day 4.


Amy, ever helpful...



decided to snap a few photos...



before offering assistance to Dave
(3 of the 20 she took)















At some point, ´where the river turned´, according to the route description in our book, we were supposed to turn uphill towards a mountain pass that would take us to the other side of the range.  According to the route description, we were to look for a large boulder with a cairn on top... as it turns out, there are lots of large boulders in glacial valleys.  So, we found an area where it looked like others had decided to head uphill, and headed up into the forest.  Very quickly, signs of other hikers vanished, and the forest closed in around us.  We pretty much headed straight uphill, through thick forest, trying to maneuver around trees, branches and roots, with our giant backpacks.  We were not too upset to finally leave that forest.  When we did finally climb above the tree-line, there wasn´t really a clear pass available (a lower point in the mountain ridge)... so we found the lowest point and continued to climb, and climb, and climb.  Our friend Tomas joined us, having endured his own battle with the forest... although Marcel and Vanda were not visible, and we assumed, still in the forest.  Eventually, we reached the summit of the mountain we were climbing... high above the valley below... high enough that the condors circled below us, rather than above us... and as we looked to the east, several hundred meters below us in elevation, lay the beautiful Lago Azul, our destination for the night.. and if you looked closely, Marcel and Vanda, who had clearly chosen the correct route.  We had climbed several hundred meters of unnecessary mountain... but it really was a lovely view:) 

We camped there for the night, climbed up a beautiful pass the next morning, and dropped into a high valley of lakes and stunning views.  We continued over the beautiful Paso de Cinco Lagunas, and began a long descent down down down into the river valley below, hiking through the river at times because the way was clearer, and camping on a small bank/beach by the Rio Olivia. 

We had thought the fourth day was going to be light and easy... we were already in the river valley and the route was very flat the rest of the way.  Plus, we were several kilometers ahead of schedule, having camped farther along the trail than our planned itinerary.  Didn´t exactly work out that way.  We took an early detour from the ´trail´ to avoid crossing the river first thing in the morning in a futile effort to keep our boots dry (eventually, we crossed the river further downstream, and in a much deeper portion).  Then we found ourselves on the wrong side of a lake (according to our route description), and the wrong side of the river... which was looking more and more uncrossable with every step.  By the time we found a place in the river we could cross, we had missed the entrance to the trail through the forest that would take us to the end of the trek with ease... Instead, we hiked for about 3 hours on thick, spongy peat moss, where every step required significant effort (like walking in deep sand or snow) -- avoiding, where possible, the wetter, muddier areas... with varying degrees of success.  Dave decided to head towards drier land near the forest... Amy decided to head in a straight line towards Ruta 3, which we could now see in the distance. 

Mud!

And then it was Amy´s turn to find the mud... both legs, waist deep... no chance of extricating herself without help.  Dave went to help... First advice -- lose the backpack -- it´s 40 pounds of extra weight holding you down.  Of course, that was only part of Dave´s motivation... Amy´s backpack also held the camera.  So, before helping any further, Dave got the camera out and started snapping some photos.  Then, with a two-armed heave, pulled Amy out of the mud.  From that point on, Amy decided to follow Dave´s preferred route.

Once we reached the road, we hitched a ride back into Ushuaia for some well-earned showers.

The Art of Scree Skiing

  
From the humble village of Puerto Williams Dave and I went on the Southern most trek in the world-Los Dientes de Navarino- another claim to fame (along with being the true fin del mundo) those Chileans seem to keep secret.  A secret much appreciated, as it meant 4 days filled with the solitude we love. We shared the trails with just two other trekkers. Glorious.  The southern most trek in the world in no way disappointed.  It, like so much of Patagonia, was filled with the extremes:  the most jagged of peaks, the bluest of glacial lakes, the most eerie of forests (due to devastation by the North American beaver), afternoons of the brightest sunshine, followed by snowy mornings. 

The weather outside was frightful...
but in our tent was so delightful...

Day 3 of the trek was when awoke to snow (all of you at home may be able to relate)- on the trees, on the mountain, on Snorri (our tent).   It was beautiful.   As we packed up camp the sun and snow seemed to be arguing.  The sun seemed to be winning.  Then. . .hail . . . a lot of hail.   We could tell the day was going to be a fun one.  Just after we started  trekking we found our buddies (the only other 2 trekkers).  They were suprised to hear we were continuing because of the ominous skies.  We hadn´t really considered not trekking since we knew the weather in Patagonia is ever-changing.   We were right-  the sun won, eventually.  It ended up being a perfect day to attack the toughest climb of the trek, Paso Virginia, which was not actually a pass at all.  We don´t ask for much from a pass, just that the elevation is slightly less than the surrounding peaks.  Paso Virgina did not meet this criteria but it made for a great workout and  brought views of the Beagle Channel that were nothing less than stunning. 
   

Dave, simulating the look on
Amy´s face when she stared down
what we would soon be descending.



 Once we made it to the highest point of the pass we looked straight down and found there was not a whole lot to catch us on our descent-a huge ledge of snow (who knows how deep or secure)  and a steep slope of small riock or talus.  SCREE! 





 

In all fairness... it was pretty steep.


Dave had told me stories of great adventures scree skiing through the wilderness of  theYukon.  He has also held this over my head as something I haven´t done yet and therefore can´t quite call myself  "hardcore".  Grrr!  Although I knew what we were in for, in a moment of slight panic (just slight), I asked ¨How are we going to get down?¨   

 

Dave, at the imaginary
scree ´starting gate´.



Scree skiing it was!  Dave took the lead since he is the expert of the bunch.  Poles out to the side, heels deep into the rock, wide strides. . . Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh-such form, such distance, such grace.  A true pro.  I followed with not quite the same form or distance, or grace but maybe, just maybe, a little more hard-core-ness.   Gran abrazos. . . 

BUSTED!

 

BUSTED!

Hola, peeps!  Sorry for the long time since we last posted... it´s been an eventful couple of weeks in Dientes de Navarino and then Sierra Valdivieso, and now in El Calafate.  Apologies also if the writing in this next post isn´t up to the standard you´ve come to expect from us... I´m just recovering from a 36-hour fever/flu.  On the road to recovery, but still a bit out of it.

So, when we last left you, we were in Ushuaia, el fin del mundo (according to the argentinians), preparing to head across the Beagle Channel, back into Chile to the tiny town of Puerto Williams on Isla Navarino (which, for the record, is clearly south of Ushuaia), for a 5-day trek into Dientes de Navarino (the teeth of Navarino, named for the shape of the jagged mountain peaks). 

One of our favorite things to do before a multi-day trek is to head to the grocery store and plan out our food for the 5 days -- breakfast, lunch, dinner and one or two snacks per day for the two of us -- trying to keep our food weighing as little as possible, while still providing enough nourishment and exciting twists to the meals, and a few little índulgences, like hot chocolate or some sweets.  Every ounce counts, so it´s a delicate balancing act every time.  This time we were particularly excited for the addition of some dried fruit we´d picked up in Puerto Natales before we left -- dried mango, pineapple, strawberries, apple and apricots.  So, the night before we left, we stocked up at the supermarket in Ushuaia, decided what was coming with us across the channel and what was staying behind, and packed our bags.

 

Trust us, she´s sea-worthy.

The next morning, we had an exciting trip across the Beagle Channel.  Ushuaia is a major Argentinian port -- for giant cargo tanker vessels, for huge cruise ships, for large motorized catamarans that offer day trips to various islands, and for all the smaller cruise ships heading off with passengers to Antarctica.  Our boat wasn´t exactly like these... It was a small inflatable zodiac boat, which sat 6 passengers and the captain.  Definitely out of place in that harbor of giant ships.  The ride over was a bit rough, as the waves were often much larger than our little blow-up raft with a motor... but we made it safely across just fine. 

Upon arrival, we had to re-enter Chile.  The Tierra del Fuego peninsula is shared between Argentina and Chile, and was the cause of some serious conflict between the two countries back in the late 70´s.  While we were well aware that we would be re-entering Chile, we had somehow forgotten how seriously Chilean customs takes the importation of fruits, vegetables, meat, cheese... pretty much any food-related product.  And that pretty much all of our 5-days worth of food, purchased in Argentina, was not allowed to enter Chile.  Not only had we carefully selected and apportioned all these items, and spent a fair bit of money stocking up, but we also knew not to expect too much in the way of supplies available in tiny Puerto Williams (and with the whole gluten thing, potentially even more of a challenge to re-supply with limited choices). 

The sweet Chilean customs lady asked to look in all of our bags for any contraband... and Amy and Dave cast a concerned glance at each other... Of course, right on top of my bag was a giant 5-day supply of trail mix, which Amy had mixed the night before (and was excited about the perfect peanut-raisin-m&m ratio she´d achieved).  Customs lady took one look at that and told us it wasn´t allowed.  Our biggest concern was whether we could save the m&m´s... which are like gold on a 5-day hike.  On top of Amy´s bag was a giant hunk of cheese (which we´d been counting on for at least 2-3 days of lunch and a tasty addition to some dinners) and two apples (fresh fruit might be even more valuable than m&m´s on the trails!). 

We really couldn´t be too upset, though... because that was only the tip of the iceberg.  If customs lady had made even a cursory search of our bags, she would have found more cheese, 3 bags of dried fruit, 5 sticks of pepperoni/salami, some fresh peppers and onion, 4 days of rice, peanut butter/jelly... Basically, if it wasn´t allowed through Chilean customs, it was in our bags... so we were a bit relieved at that. 



Seemed like a good idea at the time.

As for the contraband that was flagged (5 days of trail mix, 3 days of chees, and 2 apples), we were told that we could eat as much as we wanted during the 1-hour minivan ride from Puerto Navarino (where the boat docked) to Puerto Williams.  For some reason, we decided that it was necessary to try to eat as much of this as possible.  So let´s set the stage properly - we´ve just come off of a boat ride across choppy seas in a tiny blow-up raft, so our stomachs are already a bit questionable... and now we´re hopping into a hot,cramped minivan for a 1 hour ride on bumpy, twisty, hilly dirt roads... our stomachs are otherwise empty... and we decide to gorge on apples, 2 pounds of cheese, and 5 days of trail mix.  Needless to say, this was a bad idea.  Not a minivan ride we care to repeat anytime soon. 

 

The Mug Shot

With the help of some of our fellow boat passengers, we managed to finish the cheese and the apples, eat far too much trail mix, and thanks to Amy, separate each m&m from the trail mix.  Also, one of the other passengers smuggled in about 1-days worth of trail mix for us.  By the time we arrived in Puerto Williams, feeling about as disgusting as possible, all that remained was a bag of peanuts and raisins. 

Dave received an official citation as an attempted smuggler of contraband agricultural products, and we couldn´t even say the word ´cheese´without feeling sick to our stomachs for at least 5 days.