at nahuel pan, patagona (thought I was waving, not being photo'd)
Photo: Laura Bernhein
[leftover notes from 12/26/09]
Right where the dirt road ends and the asphalt begins an RV–newish, clean, long, out of place on this road–turns the corner at San Martin and I see the logo of the PanAmerican Hwy from Alaska to down here in Patagonia.
I think about what it would feel like to stitch your perception of the world together that way for a while. Deconstructing it all by driving. Something about the fact that it isn’t all connected yet–that there’s a last wilderness impasse at the Darien Gap in Colombia–is reassuring somehow.
I pass a nogal (walnut tree) and remember at least it’s all one ground, driveways or not. When I get nostalgic I look at pictures of the drops on the Chattooga River on American Whitewater. I think about little fires getting built in all different places.
Last night Segundo emailed me about being back in the D.R. His father’s family was selling off the last of their land and splitting up all the ganancia among the tios and primos. His last remaining uncles were in their 80s and 90s. They said he looked just like his father. They took him to church and made him get on stange and lift his hands and alleluiar.
Segundo was using the land money to pay off his own land loan on campo irie, his church of douglas firs and front range snow. These emails sent after bowls of Sancocho and visiting his father’s grave.
I told him that writing this was important somehow. This was Christmas Day and the people down here greeted each other with the word Felicidades. It feels like a good day, I told him, although even thinking that phrase I threaded back to the one question I asked Dale after T.M. drowned on the Chattoga.
“Was he having a good day?”
Dale nodded. He said he was playing on the way down, jumping in all the waves, which counts for something if not everything.
Unnamed rapids on Rio Azul below Hue Nain Camping, El Bolson, Patagonia
As always it’s the split life. Yesterday we had it all put together for a bit as we explored the Rio Azul for the first time as a family. We got dropped off above Camping Dona Rosa and then hiked upstream to Hue Nain. This is the section of river where Cristian Ferrer runs commercial raft trips. It’s mostly class 2 but exceptionally beautiful, not to mention potable.
Back to work this morning I found several market leads for MatadorU, including several writer’s residencies hosted at National Parks. It occurred to me that were we not here right now, this is probably what I’d be trying to do–applying for one of these residencies.
For example, here’s the blurb for the North Cascades Artist-in-Residence Program:
“The awesome landscapes of the American West have inspired artists for generations. From idyllic paintings, sepia prints, soaring musical scores, and pastoral writings, artists have prompted the public and politicians to establish national parks as an enduring heritage. Their art introduced this natural world to people who might not otherwise experience such places. Artists are invited to become part of this well-established tradition through the North Cascades Artist-in-Residence program. Selected individuals will discover and interpret this landscape through their own creative projects. They are hosted by national park personnel and have opportunities to explore, hike, and become a conduit for the local community to understand resources in new and unique ways.”
Just getting funded somehow to spend time exploring and writing and creating in the wilderness has always been the ‘goal’. This seems like a good option. Anybody had one of these residencies?