Walking on firm ground
empty spaces
There I am. On a long and lonely road in the middle of the Patagonian steppe. There is nothing in the empty expanse that gives any hint of a river or lake. How can a place so barren provide a place so abundant with aquatic life?
That is what was on my mind while on the road to a remote region of the Argentine Patagonia. Thinking that I may have received bad information or that I took a wrong turn at the abandoned building a few kilometers back, I had little idea of what I was in for upon my arrival to the town that lied ahead. The town where I was heading holds a rough population of 2,000 inhabitants (give or take 500 people). No one really knows how many people live in the town and its surrounding Estancias. Although I don’t think anyone seems to care too much about the size of the town and the gloom of its eventual growth. Along most of the way to this town, a new, paved road is being constructed. A more fast paced, connected world is about to come to this small town and I am lucky to have out run the steady growth of the modern world.
Upon my arrival I went to the municipal building where I was told I may obtain a map of the surrounding area and it’s watershed. After the usual conversation of weather, cattle, and fish, I was asked from one of the old women in charge, “Where are you from?” This question holds a lot of weight for a person born in one country yet raised in another and so this time I answered from my place of birth. “I am from Mexico,” I replied. “Well then! Welcome and know that you are the first Mexican to ever arrive to our village.”
So… there it is. I am now the first of my native country to ever step foot on this remote patch of land. With the construction of the paved road the people of this small town are going to be meeting new people from around the world. Their identity will be put to the test as with all other towns in Patagonia. All of the residents that I spoke with are upset with the new road and what comes with it. My presence, in a way, signifies what is to come for these people. In the years to come there are going to be many “first timers”. I only hope that they are treated as well as I was with my arrival.
Overall I am thrilled to know that there still exist towns were most people overlook and miss the hidden treasures within them. I feel lucky to have made it this far and in good standings. The fishing season here is coming to an end, as is the warm weather and long days. I am finally starting to think about what it will be like to stop my trip and go back to the world I once knew. I am not anxious for that day and I hope it never comes. I would rather continue fishing while living the life of a vagabond. I was never meant to stay in one place for too long. For now I am making plans to go back to a small town in the outskirts of South America where I am able forget who I was then, now and who I will be tomorrow.
“I want to die in the saddle an enemy of civilization.
I want to walk around in the woods, fish and drink.
I’m going to be a child about it and I can’t help it, I was
born this way and it makes me very happy to fish and drink.
I left when it was still dark and walked on the path to the
river, the Yellow Dog, where I spent the day fishing and drinking.
After she left me and I quit my job and wept for a year and
all my poems were born dead, I decided I would only fish and drink.
Water will never leave earth and whiskey is good for the brain.
What else am I supposed to do in these last days but fish and drink?
In the river was a trout, and I was on the bank, my heart in my
chest, clouds above, she was in NY forever and I, fishing and
drinking.” - thanks Matt for the verse.
