Solstice

The last post left off with talk of snow and skiing, so that's where I'll pick up:

Honeymoon Snow:
The snow falls and on a sunny Saturday I ski out the front door and into the high country. Ailén starts out ahead, but the snow becomes too deep for her stubby legs, and she starts walking in my tracks. She doesn’t understand that I’m wearing skis and follows too close, adding to the leg workout every time I slide the ski forward. On this first ski adventure, I head past Tulio’s hut to a turn in the trail that provides wide views of the cerros above. I realize this peak is the same Cerro Huemules that I summited from the north during a brief warm period – this time, I’m facing it from the southeast. Over the next few weeks, I make this same journey many times, working my way down each fork of the path, finally finding the main route that connects with the Rio Claro valley.

Crunchy Snow:
My time in the main house at Antarctica grows long – soon the owners will return, and I'll move to a tiny house outside. They said I’d get tired of the view but every day I wake up and mate lights the belly fire and reminds me there are adventures to come and I am alive. Today I'm feeling lazy and indoorsy, but the sun is shining! I want to trust my instinct to stay inside and work, but I can’t help but wonder whether I will regret staying inside when sunset rolls around. I give in to the temptation to wander, grab the skis, and start jogging up toward the snow, Ailén already far ahead - I love the feeling of breathing frozen air. When I get to the snow, it is sparkly frost on top of brittle crust on top of hollow needle ice mounds: 10cm of snow followed by 10cm of rain followed by freezing temperatures makes for a nightmare of a snowpack. On foot, my boots sink into the hollow frost mounds, while on skis I slip dangerously on the light dusting between the ski and the hard surface of the mounds. Trails have an inevitable optimism, ‘what’s around the next bend?’ and this trail is no exception: I pursue on, ever hopeful that the snowpack will improve with elevation. It does not, becoming harder and more slippery with every step I take. Although Ailén is able to dance over the crusty surface, I am not so graceful and decide to turn around. Ailén prefers shorter adventures, so it doesn’t take more than a couple calls before I see her barreling down the trail toward me.

Clarity: 
I have been truly surprised during my stay at Antarctica how little I feel the solitude - I think this is related to spending time with Ailén. I've never really adventured alongside an intrepid pup, and I love it. Today we stay in the lowlands, running along a road winding around wetlands - on top of a snowy hill looking out west and north toward the snowiest peaks, Ailén bolts towards a skunk. I didn't see it happen, but when she comes running back, she reeks to high heaven! When we get back, I give her a bath and she dries out by the fire smelling of vanilla and coconuts. After a solid day of sunshine and exercise, I feel a great deal of clarity and energy surrounding a number of upcoming opportunities and challenges: 

Making Moves: 
I deeply long to farm foggy green pastures: the past couple years have shown me that growing food is the most valuable way I can spend my time, and it frustrates me that I am so disconnected from the land. My stint at Antarctica will come to a close at the end of August, at which time I will move to a farm outside of Coyhaique where I will work in exchange for room and board. My Fulbright work is certainly not a full-time job, I love to spend free time in meaningful labor, and they're okay with me heading to the field or traveling whenever. This farm is 8km from the Coyhaique centro, and the work will involve preparing the land, planting seeds, repairing the greenhouse, feeding chickens, and taking care of the cat and dog. I'll stay there until meeting my folks in Santiago on October 1. I feel super good about this decision.

Grad School: 
My Colorado adviser has decided to leave the University of Colorado for another institution - he promises to support me from afar. On one hand, this is ideal – I’ve been extremely independent thus far, and I welcome the opportunity to become, as my colleague put it, 'the free-wheelin Mickey Rush'. Still, I’ll need to find funding for summer and fall 2019. My adviser has pledged to seek out funding opportunities, including a semester in Los Alamos, NM at a national Department of Energy lab. This plan doesn’t align with my long-term professional plans, isolates me from the community I’ve developed in Colorado, and exposes me to levels of residual nuclear radiation that I’d prefer to avoid. So I plan to take the reins, write grant applications left and right, tap into existing connections at CU related to community outreach and science communication, steer my own future, and be prepared to hop on the right gig if it comes down to it. I am still very drawn to Colorado – the southern rockies hold much mystery for me, especially in the unexplored territory of the San Juans, Ouray, Telluride etc. Although I've been able to live my mountain dreams in Patagonia and during the last couple years in Boulder, I'm feeling a weird urge to do more young-people things while I am young, such as live in a community with other young people. One of the many problems with Boulder is that housing is so prohibitively expensive that it doesn't make sense for a 20-something non-graduate-student to live there. So maybe I'll consider living in Denver? Or maybe stick it out in Boulder. Either way, I've resolved to spend the rest of my 20's giving society a chance, maybe northern California or the Pacific northwest.