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. . .