Since I returned from Cochamó, I have received a wide range of questions that have both confused and delighted me.
Many of them I have been able to ponder at length and in depth thanks to their popularity, while others have caught my attention by the unique thoughtfulness that must have birthed them and thus have made it to this list of intrigues with answers.
I suppose this should be titled FAQ’s and inFAQ’s...
If you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to ask!
What did you eat for four months in the wilderness?This is probably the most commonly asked question, and rightfully so.
If I was in the wilderness for four months, how did I survive?
To be honest, this question perplexed me and woke me up at 3am with cold sweats before I took the trip.
Planning for a weekend camping trip is simple.
Pack the car, make sure you have your wallet and phone in case you forgot something, gas up and go.
We did bring the tent, right?
I hope we remembered the stove, but if not, it’s OK: we can just make sandwiches.
This is not at all the case for Cochamó.
I would have my wallet, but I gave away my cell phone from my time in Argentina before I left.
Moreover, the location is so remote that re-supplying is not as easy as pressing on a pedal.
It requires hours of strenuous trekking and you need to plan for that, too.
My main concerns with respect to meals were having a good variety and strong sources of protein.
I emailed Daniel Seeliger before my big trip and asked him for advice, telling him my thoughts on the issue thus far.
He told me that I would be very hungry and crave meat.
Definitely bring meat, he told me.
A large sadness swept through my veins and tidally crashed into my heart.
Argentina, my home for the past year, was also home to world-class beef.
And yet it could not provide me with meat for Cochamó, Chile: it is illegal to cross the border with meat, honey, or legumbres.
I had dreamt of bringing vacuum-packed
colita de cuadril and bife de chorizo to make an asado (read: BBQ done correctly) in Cochamó. But, I would need to purchase all of my meat in Chile, instead. Otherwise I would need to get more creative regarding proteins. Did someone say soy and lentils?So, with variety and protein in mind, I started jotting down meal ideas.
Breakfast options were cereal, granola, powdered milk, sugar, and oatmeal.
I would always drink
mate at breakfast. Lunch, if not leftovers, could be salami, bread with jam, crackers, or cookies. I also brought secret weapons of lunch with me. Namely, lots of Clif Bars. These were huge power-givers and very handy, although I reserved them for climbs because of their unrivaled energy-to-weight ratio. Mostly, though, I survived on a hearty breakfast and a hefty dinner. In between these too meals I was normally too active to eat anything substantial, and this worked out quite well for me, actually. Dinners were usually pasta with sauce packets (weight is a huge issue when you have to carry your food for hours), curry of lentils and rice, or polenta with spaghetti sauce. To compliment these standardized dinners I would add whatever vegetables and meats I could, as well as cheeses, such as mozzarella and Parmesan, if available. On occasion I would eat with others on the trail, in camping, and at the refugio, where such luxuries as pizzas existed. Wine was occasionally had. Tang was a frequent beverage, ousted by a better brand later on that we just called Sugar Water. The raspberry flavor was to drink for! They tasted better than in the states because of the freshness and purity of the water supply. Who knew? 
Four months requires a lot of food and gear. Luckily, my friends offer pack horse services for a very reasonable price to help haul it in and out on the front and back ends of the journey!
What made you do this?This question is tough to answer only because there are many factors that led up to this trip.
I think the major reason for any great action is inspiration, and I have had plenty of that.
But with mere inspiration, I would not have struck out from my other comfortable options to sweat and bleed in a virgin valley.
So, I usually explain myself by saying that I have known for a long time that I love to expend massive quantities of energy at an incredible rate.
I love pushing my body.
And I love exploring, being creative, and adventuring.
It’s been 5 years now that I’ve been obsessed with climbing and its intricacies and simplicities.
This trip combined all of that as well as my blossoming love for the Spanish language, the cultures I’ve found in Argentina and Chile, and meeting other love-thirsty travelers, eager to share (tales of) expeditions.
I just can’t get enough.
Ever since I first visited Cochamó I’ve been dreaming of getting back.
I did get back.
And now that I’m gone again, I cannot help but look up prices of plane tickets, job-search and think of any way that I can to fund my return trip for a few months.
I should note here that I do not wish to accept donations, but I am more than happy to make exchanges, such as tutoring in mathematics, Chinese, Spanish, or video/filmmaking/editing in exchange for money or gear.
As you can see, I’m looking for all the help I can get to return.
It’s on my mind and in my heart, this place and who it allows me to be.
I knew it would from the start, and that’s what made me do this: knowing the possibilities, but not knowing the outcome: my ever-increasing sense of adventure, I guess you could call it!
Is there any dangerous wildlife out there like snakes?My Brazilian friends have warned me of their rainforests and climbing areas, where a misstep might be more costly.
In Cochamó there are no poisonous snakes or spiders that I am aware of.
There are “pocket” monkeys.
There are tabanos (read: large, annoying horseflies) and lizards that eat them.
And there are pumas, mountain lionesque animals that I still haven’t seen.
They’re more afraid of us than we are of them.
Yes, they cry and whimper when I thunder closeby.
They even twiddle their thumbclaws.
I would love to see a Pudu (like a small deer) but still have not.
Condors are huge, pterodactyl like birds that are super-present.
Luckily for us, they mostly eat dead animals and are only curious about shiny objects and climbers!
The most dangerous thing, aside from the bamboo, is the weather.
Things get wet.
Food, bags, equipment, clothes, etc. get wet.
You need to protect against the weather.
Which brings me to a surprising question of my own: When I mention I’ve spent four months in the rainforest of northern Patagonia, why hasn’t anyone asked how much it rains and how the rain affects your actions, planning, and so on?
I’m puzzled.
I had about 8 dry bags of varying sizes that I purchased from my excellent friend, Marcus Loane.
These bags kept things dry and helped me to stay organized.
I also had a practically waterproof duffle bag (waterproof except for the zipper).
How did you go to the bathroom? It helps having strong legs from hiking so much!
Having lots of rocks of all sizes around helps, too.
And, thanks to the precipitation and lushness of the place, moss is pretty readily available, too.
Bringing toilet paper in a bag is advised.
BIC lighters are handy, too, for tasks from starting stove fires to burning used toilet paper.
Urine is easy: it’s sanitary so you can go wherever you like.
I was definitely spoiled by this fact, pulling over wherever – and whenever – I pleased.
I wish it were this easy all the time!
For more information on bathroom and sanitation issues, please read future posts on the valley, which include more coverage and discussion on problem solving said issues.
Did you feel the earthquake?Yes.
The
terremoto woke my two buddies and me up independently at some godly hour when night and morning were battling for whose turn it was to be. I remember dreaming and then thinking the earth was shaking. I never convinced myself that was actually the case, however, because of all the muscle changes I was going through on a regular basis in the valley. That is, thanks in part to working so much and I assume in part to a strange diet, I would often have sensations of swollen hands, thicker, fuller arms, and leg spasms and such. So, when I was awoken on that fateful day/night, I couldn’t discern whether what awoke me was internal or external. Tuning my senses, I did hear rocks falling between two of the big granite walls by which we were camping. I figured that boulders were shifting and causing others to fall in a natural process that I had simply not born witness to as of yet. So, being tired, I plopped my head back down on the pillow made of jackets and shirts and returned to sleep. 
It wasn't wasn’t until we had finished the week out and hiked down to the refugio that we were greeted with our first questions about the earthquake. I read the article in the Chilean newspaper about the terremoto that had dealt so much damage that friends of mine were forced to delay their flight by five days. Many emails were issued to the refugio from climbers’ families and loved ones, seeking confirmation that we were in fact OK.
So you did a lot of climbing?I tried!
With all of the rain, there was a lot of time for opening trails, which was an awesome experience as well.
Plus, climbing first ascents – that is, routes that have never been climbed before – goes a lot more slowly than climbing existing routes due to the extra tasks of cleaning and bolting.
But all the same, it was a very prolific and successful season!
Read on for more route information and updates!
Did you wear a cup to climb? No. Only on my head (Read: helmet)! I have been lucky enough thus far to not warrant wearing a cup to climb. I do utilize many pieces of equipment to remain safe while climbing, but a cup is not one of them. Rarely is it the case that you need protection there. Plus, I do believe it would limit your mobility a bit, which, as a climber is vital. While we’re on the topic of comparing padding and protection amongst different athletes, I think the differences can be summarized in that climbers’ protection is mostly gear and equipment in the case that something occurs
Do you plan on returning?
Yes. If all goes well, I plan on returning at least by December of 2011. There are friends to see, bamboo to part, and walls to scale!
Intrigue and curiosity drags our eyes up to a hidden waterfall that feeds the laguna. The cracks from the right-hand beach lead straight to the mouth of the cascada. And then what? Where does the rock go, and from where does the water come? That’s what we’re about to find out...tomorrow evening.
For the night, we sleep by the laguna. This is not a habit we want to make because the lake feeds the water supply down at the refugio and we don’t want human waste to contaminate the water for all those below depending on the water quality below. To avoid doing so, we hike up a talus field every morning for 10 or 15 minutes or so. We put at least 100 meters between us and the steady stream below, leaving our presents in between boulders, exposed to the sun and its bacteria killing level of heat. Toilet paper, if used, is burned. I laugh to say this, but if you forget toilet paper, rocks and moss abound in this rain forest’s talus field.
This matter is serious, though. I have shared conversations with invested Cochamó climbers and conservationists Daniel Seeliger and J.B. Haab about how and where best to dispose of this stuff that so easily spreads sickness if it touches the water supply above the refugio. Daniel noted that every year he tests the water for pathogens and harmful microorganisms, the likes of which can cause things such as Giardiasis (giardia) and more importantly Legionnaire’s, Hepatitis A, B, and C. What solutions are there?
Keep in mind that we are in a rainforest. That is, we are surrounded by areas that have streams running through them, if not rivers and lagunas. It’s hard to find a safe place that will not leak into others. That said, one option is cat holes, a more individual and temporary measure. But we plan on staying for a few months. And each year could be the same. We had tried the mini straddle trench latrine and cat hole techniques at “The Bivy Boulder”. The combination was not ideal, as evidenced by Vishal Patel’s misstep. In excess of four people, the situation soon called for something else. A closer examination of the area prompted us to start talking about carrying out waste. But, perhaps the best option is a burn-out latrine. Either way, next time I visit Cochamó and plan on visiting this upper valley, I should bring Daniel and Silvina some filters for their faucets. Spending time developing routes and trails in a wonderful, new place like Cochamó, you realize that not only are you exposed, but the place is exposed as well.
We need to figure out a better bathroom solution. And camping spot. There’s something magical about camping in this upper valley, beneath all of these beautifully gigantic walls. Something worth preserving.
Day 1: After a day of hauling gear to our base camp, Tate and I go up and climb the first few pitches, equipping anchors and inspecting options, relaxedly: we don’t expect to get too far tonight! And, we want to get a good night’s rest for working on the route tomorrow!
Day 2: Felipe Lucaras, a Chilean friend who has worked for Refugio Cochamó part of this season, has joined us and wants in – of course! – on this awesome project. Felipe is supposed to be the local here in Chile. Instead, he finds himself curiously surrounded by people wielding English or the Argentine accent. Nothing is different for him now, as Tate, Felipe, and I start up anew! Tate snaps photos of the serene surroundings as Felipe and I start the evolution from philosopher to activist.
After the first few pitches, where Tate and I had gone the day before, the route turns into a class IV scramble up and in between the two major block walls of granite that compose Cerro Laguna. Right beside us is the cascada, roaring through the passageway. A chill sinks into our bones as we enter the room of shadows. I am the lucky one on the reconnaissance mission, scavenging for a way up and out. Everywhere I look and climb I find dead ends, but I’m loving the hunt. We can’t go up on the right wall; the cracks peter out higher up, are crumbly, closed, laughing at us, or e, all of the above.
I turn around to head back to my friends, but hesitate. I look ahead and see the tower between the two side walls at the end of the passageway with a ledge higher up. If we could only hop across the waterfall onto the side of this tower without falling, and manage to climb our way up onto the tower’s ledge some 10 meters above, we could potentially walk across its ledge into the chimney between the tower and the other sidewall…You must be able to! I call for slack and wander back in the recesses between the two walls, towards the door that is the ‘tower’ between them. The fall of water being dropped and channeled out and towards the laguna makes shouting necessary. It’s somehow soothing. Exciting.
I look up into the chimney on my side of the two walls. It’s all wet. It’s where the water falls. I look left. The side of the ledge’s tower has a morse-code of a crack. Sparse holds. I think it goes!!! I think I can lean across the void, the abyss, the waterfall beneath me and grab on. And let go of my feet, hopping onto it. The sense of disbelief and adventure takes away my fear. I can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Pumped, I manage to slap the slopey top of the ledge and mantle my whale body on top! It’s a perfect ledge. I fashion an anchor on the other side and sit down. Snap a photo, and let out my rebel yell, a shout from Thor to my friends below! They’re going to love this climb!
They make it up and we are all laughing and smiling together on the ledge. Looking back down, we can see just where we came from, the laguna and the valley as well. I give Tate the reigns to lead and he takes off up a slightly chossy, flakey chimney with options for stemming or face climbing. We make a short pitch of it and put in a bolt to rappel. The rope toss works out perfectly: it lands on the ledge below. I need and strongly desire to return soon to Cochamó to finish not only the project Riding the Whale, but now this remarkably interesting climb as well, which we are currently dubbing Evolución. It requires mere meters more to reach a route you will read about later called Tatonka.
There’s something very relaxing about climbing above a lake. Conversely, there’s something very unnerving about hopping over and climbing over a waterfall! I already miss switching between español and english and hearing Felipe tell me to just speak to Tate in English. I can't wait to get back and finish that extraordinary climb, hopefully with as much linguistic juggling as before! Looking at the pictures of these wonderful people and this awesome project and the also unfinished Riding the Whale project, it's no wonder that I soon became happily engulfed in chasing first ascents in Cochamó, where I believe rainbows should end.
