Ode to My Walking Stick

We are in Punta Arenas in Chile and we haven’t been doing much besides boring stuff like working, accounting, and coordinating logistics for the next leg of our journey. So this week’s post will be another one about our trek in Torres del Paine National Park – an ode to my walking stick.

Fear not! After this week’s red tape has been wrapped up and stashed in our packs, the next few months are going to be full of adventures! We’re heading to Santiago tonight for a week of the cosmopolitan life. Then we’ll spend a week in the mysterious and stunning Atacama desert, take a three-day tour through the Bolivian salt flats, have a whirlwind week touring southern Bolivia. Then have the second climax of our journey, Mardi Gras on the Caribbean coast of Colombia.

In the meantime, please enjoy.


An Ode to My Walking Stick

The first time I saw you
I was waiting for Aaron
To finish watching the video
On fire safety CONAF was airin.’

You were there on your side
In somebody’s front yard.
I needed you as my guide;
I knew the trek was really hard.

It was a noble transgression,
because for our long trials
I needed you for progression
Over eight days and 80 miles.

First there was wind,
Then there was rain,
Then lots of snow,
Then terrible foot pain.

The most famous sights
We would prove to miss,
Except that last flight
Over a glacial abyss.

It was the steepest walk.
Thanks to you, I was ready.
Climbing down ravine and rock,
You always kept me steady.

Someday I’ll buy trekking poles.
My dependence on sticks can’t last.
But I’ll always remember your role
In getting me over the pass.

You were the perfect height,
You even had the right grip.
To stay even, I switched, left and right,
To work both sides evenly on our trip.

After eight days the end finally came.
We got on the bus back to town.
You were still exactly the same,
And I returned you where you were found.

Ada stick

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