Patagonia is seemingly the land of all the things… the land of winds, the land of glaciers, and apparently once thought to be the land of big feet (apparently Magellan gave the region the name because he believed the natives were giants because their footprints looked huge – because they wrapped their feet in fur for warmth). While it is all of these things, well except the big feet thing, it’s also so much more. And most of all, to me, it’s the land of unbeatable memories with my dad.
This trip was one of those things that could’ve not happened at any point in the process. My dad is notorious for not flying. He’s skipped going many places because of this. But since retiring two years ago, he has been putting together lists of things he truly wants to do and see in the “later years” of life. That was the motivation behind last year’s trip to Canada, but suddenly Patagonia was on that list. And he can’t tell me that and think I’m going to let it go.
Not long after that I received a targeted ad that someone I follow on Instagram was doing a group trip to Patagonia through TrovaTrip. So, I sent some messages, looked at itineraries and sent it to my dad. Suddenly, we were going to Patagonia.
This was the first group tour I’ve done in over a decade. I have to admit, I thought I had outgrown group travel as a traveler, but I felt like it was a good way to visit the end of the earth with my dad – a newbie international traveler. And, guys, it was great, and will not be my last group trip. But more on that in a bit.
I had so many moments before the trip that I thought my dad just might bail because of his fear of flying, but then, surprisingly, he was the driver of us getting things done. I had moments that I thought, I don’t want to leave my kids for two weeks. But Matt assured me time and time again to go. Plus, he’s an exceptional dad and I knew the kids were in good hands. Then, most tragically, my grandpa, my dad’s dad, passed away 2 days before our trip. We both thought we were canceling.
One of the first things my grandma said to my dad after he passed, was that he needs to still go on the trip, that he wouldn’t want us to miss it. My grandpa is where we get the wanderlust gene and he was a wanderer all of his life. So, she was right, but neither of us wanted to miss the funeral. Everyone agreed that we should ask the funeral home if we could delay the funeral for 2 weeks and that would be the deciding factor. So, with heavy hearts, we boarded a plane to Patagonia.
Patagonia takes time to get to. It takes effort. And, getting to the views within Patagonia also take time and effort, but most importantly, luck. And boy, did we have luck?! All our days except one we had little to no rain. Our hike to the lake at the base of Mount Fitzroy was blue skies and perfect. Same with the day we arrived to El Chaltan. It was pure luck. We only had one day of clouds and rain and for that I am so grateful.
As we were driving into El Chaltan, the town at the base of Mount Fitzroy and the other mountains there, we could see Fitzroy from afar and our guide, Carlos, said, “You have no idea how lucky you are to see this peak. Don’t get used to this.” His enthusiasm is infectious. We were excited to be there already, but his enthusiasm doubled our excitement. And I have been replaying that phrase again and again. Don’t get used to this.
I honestly didn’t realize that Patagonia is also notorious for bad weather, severe wind, cloudy conditions and lots of rain. Many people come and never see the peak of Mount Fitzroy – much like the peak of Denali in Alaska. It’s a crapshoot. And for two whole days, including our long hike up to the lakes at the base of Fitzroy, we could see her in all her beauty. What a gift. While we did hike to find one vantage point was completely socked in by clouds, it was also a really beautiful contrast to everything else we had experienced so perfectly.
I got to watch my dad bloom in beautiful and unexpected ways. I watched him enjoy the beauty that is international travel. To see things from a new perspective and to bond with our guide, Carlos, and the others on our trip. He became very affectionately known as “our dad” not just my dad. He asked questions, learned new things and tried, as hard as he could to communicate in Spanish.
We hiked 43.16 miles, white water rafted, walked who knows how many more miles through towns, drank beer and Malbec with friends. We liked everyone on our group, but grew to love a handful that we made some deep connections with and hope to see again.
I’m going to have a lot of posts about Patagonia, but I couldn’t do the trip justice without first explaining what this trip did for me. It healed, it awakened, it inspired, it challenged and it invigorated me.
I’ll never, ever forget the father/daughter trip where my dad gained 17 other kids. The trip where I stood at the glacial lakes just below Mount Fitzroy with a photo of my grandpa, crying on a mountain for his loss, grateful for time with my own dad so recently after he lost his own. The trip of adventure. The trip where things I’ve always felt made even more sense in my brain.
So, thank you to everyone who made this trip. Thank you to my dad for getting on the plane. For my grandma, aunts and uncle for encouraging us to still go and being willing to delay my grandpa’s funeral. To my grandpa for my sense of wanderlust. To Matt for being the best partner to me and dad to our kids. Thank you to my kids for loving me even though I follow my feet while my heart is back with them. What a beautiful life this is. I hope whatever you’re doing while you’re reading this, you notice the beauty in life too.
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