The art of getting lost

There was no doubt about it. My tourist lifestyle was adding up to loosing too much strength and gaining too many kilos. There was only one solution: Dirtbag time! And I found the perfect destination for it: A remote climbing spot, only vaguely described on the internet. So I stocked up on crackers, pasta, and cookies, and not knowing if I’d find any other people, I positioned myself next to the road.

Hours later a chatty truck driver with an indecipherable Spanish pronunciation dropped me off at the end of the asphalt, and I found myself alone in the driest desert on earth. No wind, no shade, and no traffic whatsoever. With valuable time ticking away I had no choice but to hoist my twenty kilo backpack on my shoulders and walk the final kilometers. For the first time this trip I got gripped by a feeling of despair.

I must have been about halfway when a rattling sound interrupted my musings. Squinting in the bright light, I could make out a red car and a driver too tall and too blonde to possibly be a Chilean. He pulled over and a quick talk revealed he was Canadian, a fellow rock climber, and heading for the canyon as well. I let out a silent sigh and hopped in.

When we arrived I found the place even more beautiful than the stories I had heard. In the middle of the desert, the green plants contrasted sharply against the red rock and endless blue skies. And the sunsets would have sent Bob Ross into a frenzy of happy little things. This definitely was the wilderness I had been looking for. Only, it had been months since I last climbed and I was feeling apprehensive to say the least. The perpetual ping pong in and out of the shade in an attempt to maintain a stable skin temperature was not helping either. But I hadn’t come here to whimper, so I braced myself and inched up the beautifully sculpted rocks. And it felt amazing. Within hours my body remembered what to do, and turned my movements into a continuous flow of happiness.

For five days I climbed without pause, and then, just as abruptly as they had set off, my muscles went on strike. It was time to return to civilization. Tired and content I went back to the boiling hot roadside. Despite being caked in brown-grey dust, a friendly couple on their honeymoon picked me up. Not only did they give me a ride back to civilization and a much needed shower, but they also treated me to lunch. While recounting my adventures to them, I realized it wouldn’t be long before I’d be on another mission impossible.