The Adams Hatch

This is the end.

fallsingore — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 02:42:09 +0000

Words are now being written by me which means that I must be coming home soon. The temptation to burn my ticket back home and take the next flight back to Patagonia was not as strong as my desire to see my family and friends. I must admit that I no longer worry about how I will react to being back in the gringo culture. It is not like I will be deprived of oxygen and my very survival will be at stake. I will answer my own question that I posed earlier in my writings; I am not coming back any different then when I left. I hope that I don’t come back as someone different. Although I may need a little extra space when the burdens of modern life fall upon us all. No, I don’t want to be seen as someone who came back a different person. That only means that I was not myself when I left. If I have learned one thing while on my long walk is that I have always been myself throughout my life. I accept who I am and realize that I wasn’t looking for change but rather acceptance. No need to give me a pat on the back asking me if “does this all seem weird to you?” Actually, please don’t do that.

Wait, maybe there is one thing about me that has changed. Something that most people reading this can relate to. I recognize now that there is a society, any society, can be a jail cell. A person can become so accustomed to what they are familiar with that they can become afraid of the outside world. Foreign countries, no matter how many vacations or business trips you take, will always be foreign; a place you have seen with your own eyes, photographed, and tasted. Those who have been able to step out of the known and into the unknown for long periods of time can only relate to what I am about to say. Home does not exist. Sure we can use a familiar saying such as “Home is where the heart is” but that is what people say who feel like they have a “home”. My heart is the world and the world is my home so no matter where I go, I am at home.

I hope you have enjoyed following me around. Although you know who I am I have never spoken my name, shown my face, or used this as a means to boost my credibility. My intention with this blog was to share my inner thoughts and personality so that you and I could better understand what it is like to be on a journey of this magnitude. For me the journey is not going to end. I have found a ground underneath my feet that connects me to the world and myself to the likes I have never known. I will be back there and hopefully very soon. The Mapuchi Indian word for Mother Nature is Pacha Mama and it is Pacha Mama that I will always search for.

Exitos a todos y una vida pura.

WWYD?

fallsingore — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 04:16:07 +0000

What Would You Do?

I am still trying to figure out what I am going to do. There is no easy way to end my travels and that is why I write, and talk, with so much doubt of my return. There is a lot to miss about home and what I left but there is also a lot yet to be discovered about the land around me and the person inside me. I doubt I could ever achieve this level of self-awareness sitting at work doing the normal movement. I see and experience too much life here to ever want to go back to what I knew. There has always been a dream-like quality to my day while stepping foot on Patagonian soul; an out-of-body experience that can only be vaguely described and only felt.

For those who have done such a journey, I now understand where you are coming from. For those who have not, I can only share minor details and emotions felt on every one of my mornings. Sunday, Monday, and Friday have no meaning. Today is today and that is all I have.

How can one escape these thoughts and feelings? Do I just go back and sedate myself with “normal” life? Do I apply for the same job or watch the same television programs? I don’t want to know the answer to these questions. All I want to know is how I keep this going. If I lose this new life than I am a failure in my endeavor.

There are so few days left in the Patagonian fishing season and I am forced to stop. Whether I leave or stay, the next few months will be without a cast on my favorite river, catching my favorite fish, or living my ideal life. I become depressed with the very thought of it yet filled with excitement with the day to come.

Tomorrow I may very well fish my favorite stretch of water for the very last time. I have been cleansed by these waters and a new life has sprung forth. A thought has been crossing my mind of whether or not this has been a waste of time. The idea of traveling to a foreign land to spend more money that I planned on, the mere idea of catching a trout, can seem ridiculous to most. It does to me. Yet I find myself doing the very thing I find pointless and without much merit in the real world.

I no longer live in that world, I think. It only involved self-sacrifice, selling of all my possessions, and making a few dreams into reality. Now that doesn’t sound so bad to me. I have made a grip of new friends. Some who have unknowingly contributed to my metamorphosis.

The world may end in 2012. It may end tomorrow. At least I know I have this, forever.

Is there anybody out there?

fallsingore — Sat, 17 Apr 2010 02:09:22 +0000

I have not written for close to a month and I have spent the past hour pondering why that is. I have come to one conclusion; I know my time is up. I don’t want to go back to what I left. There is no hope for me back in the US and I won’t last long the way things go. There is another world here that I am becoming accustomed to. Surrounded by friends, nature, and an endless trout rich paradise I have a short list of reasons of why I would want to go back. The biggest, and unfortunately the most important, is money. It is a shame that we live our whole lives trying to amass a fortune or pay a debt without ever attempting to change the system that has drowned a culture and is now invading others. America… it is no longer my dream. I may be 40 years old and eating my words but today, as it has been ever since I wrote on this diary, is all that matters.

If today is all we see than tomorrow seems to me just an illusion.

Why then am I writing again now? Well… there is one reason why I write now. A dream finally came true and I don’t mean a day-dream. Before I left I had the same dream about 3 times where I finally reach the Andes and I fell to my knees before it’s beauty. That moment never came when I first reached Patagonia and now I know why. The dream was not at the beginning of the trip but towards the end. After battling 30 mph winds, frost, snow, rain, fog, and freezing cold water, I finally found it. After a 2 hour hike (about 12km) and endless hours of fishing I just turned around and there it was. It had been two of the sunniest days in the area all autumn and there was a storm holding over the continental divide all morning. Around 5 pm the storm started to break trail and make its way over to the Atlantic watershed. I had stashed my camera and my backpack under a tree about a kilometer back to explore some deeper water downstream. Alone I walked until I peered to the west. I stopped and fell. Without thinking about it I fell into a deja vu like trance. I looked at my hands and felt my lungs taking in air. From top to bottom I could see the face of god in front of me. Tranquil chaos is what I saw. A heavy, strong storm with blue bird skies above it. A clear, clean river roaring below and one thing I didn’t expect, the famous Patagonian steppe to the east. Here are the photos. If I write again it is because I am continuing with my journey. If a month passes and I do not write it is because I have ditched my flight back and I have decided to stay away… just fishing.

Walking on firm ground

fallsingore — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 19:33:44 +0000

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.

“Nothing was, nothing will be, everything has reality and presence”*

fallsingore — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 21:27:36 +0000

biocam

Time:

Are we not all dictated by the reality of time? With the first rays of each rising sun we are always reminded of a constant force at work which subjects every one of us to its unstoppable power. We cannot really stop time, make it go slower, or faster but, if reality is an illusion generated by the mind, than time as well can be manipulated to further enhance our personal and introspective journey.

In order to push beyond the natural flow of time a person is going to need a catalyst. Since we are all repressed by our bio-mechanic capabilities, we alone cannot dwell into a new environment without the help of an engine to power us to the new world. It is like a fish out of water or diver without an oxygen tank. In my case there is only one capsule that allows me manipulate the existence of time. That force is a river and the act of fly fishing.

Through this interrelated connection of mind, body, spirit, and environment a person is able to walk into a meditative state of calm. I have heard it described as “the clearing of one’s mind of thought”. For me it is more of a state of numbness where my senses feel denied a certain primal necessity. I am not looking for food, seeking shelter, or analyzing my environment to suit my survival. There is only slow breathes and a calm pulse to remind me that I am alive.

I go blind. My vision becomes so focused on one spot so much that all around that spot (a feeding fish) there is darkness. I do not notice the passing of clouds, the breeze of the wind, or the sound of the water flowing over the rocks. I lose my ability to communicate next. When one is talking to one’s self they speak quietly in their heads as if they were talking to someone right in front of them. “Where did I put my car keys?” or “Don’t forget to pick up milk on the way home,” are two examples of how we communicate with ourselves. It is an a language created by Man to communicate with Man. It is this form of communication that is lost while on the banks of a river, making countless casts to a rainbow trout.

The last and most important sense to go is the ability to feel. The wetness of the fly line, the smoothness of the cork handle, and the cold water pressing up on my waders all dissipates like morning dew heated by the sun.

Now I am control of time. Time is the only remaining force standing in the way of the manipulation of reality. Consciously being aware of what state you are in without having the ability to communicate it to yourself or feel it is a sensation without description. I can only tell you that during those moments I am neither moving forward in time nor stagnant. It is what Einstein has described as General Relativity. An observer from far away watching a person fall into a black hole will see that person move very slowly while the person moving into the black hole will be experiencing time accelerated and would have that experience occur in the blink-of-an-eye.

Well I am in the black hole. I am both the observer and the fallen. There is no reality while on the banks of a great trout river. Reality is an idea fed to us all in order to keep order and obedience. I am an organic-anarchist.

Free the mind through the power of nature, and a moment of infinite time will emerge. Never stop exploring and stop searching. Searching for something only limits a person while exploring let’s one admire what one has encountered along the way.

*The title of this post comes from Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

Starting to forget

fallsingore — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 03:58:02 +0000

It is becoming increasingly difficult to remain connected to the world I left behind. What a great problem to have right now. Nature has become my favorite aphrodisiac. It is obvious to anyone that has kept up with my writing that there is a trend to all this. With my arrival to new rivers, I am always finding ways to reinvent myself. Most of all, I am able to strengthen my positive attributes while gaining new ones. It is easy to do when you are knee-deep in crystal clear, glacier-fed rivers and lakes. A day feels like a week and a week a lifetime. Finding time to call family and friends is challenging to say the least. I do not mean to make anyone feel forgotten. On the contrary, I still wish everyday that one of you are beside me on any one of the days I spend out in the Patagonian wilderness. I must remind you all that Patagonia is a perfect catalyst for forgetfulness. It is almost like being in a constant state of meditation and concentration. My mind goes blank and the only image I am able to maintain is of a river bottom and the passing of water over rocks that were placed there during the last ice age.

My mind, body and spirit are full and overflowing. I have found a place where I even contemplate giving myself a Mapuchi Indian name and never looking back. I have always said that traveling allows a person to be whom ever they want to be. That can be mean transforming yourself completely or allowing your true self to come out. I have not changed as a person since I left. I have only become stronger in my belief that nature can heal all, cleanse the soul, and make non-believers into born again Naturalists. Pacha Mama! Pacha Mama! Mother Nature I adore you. You will be my greatest love in my life and I will continually find ways to bring myself closer to you.

Oh to be in the cleansing waters of Patagonia. What a joy to see this before the world gets wind of your splendor. Maybe it already has but I feel like it is still a place where a person can roam freely and with their third eye wide open. If you could only see what I have seen. Today I saw glaciers, condors, trout, rivers, lakes, rare birds, and a night sky that makes one kneel with the feeling that life is being lived. I have lost my ability to shed a tear at the sight of beauty. Yet I am always reminded that there is something around the corner that might just change that for me.

Pichi Puente

fallsingore — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:56:39 +0000

I have my small rental car back which really helps me get around to some very remote areas… sort of. It is a small hatchback that is the size of most peoples kitchen tables. Small yet it fits all of my things quet comfortably. It is not the 4×4 machine that I was hoping to find down here but at least it gets me to where I want to go and most importantly, I get to travel alone. I have one CD that was given to me as a gift from the radio disc jockey from the small town of Futaleufu, Chile. It helps the long road trips through vacant terrain with endless amounts of natural beauty. I have been traveling alone now for 3 weeks and I have become comfortable with the silence that comes with it. There is no one to enjoy the highs or the lows with me which adds a certain level of ‘did that really happen’. I am happy to report that there are no lows on a journey of this magnitude so far. I find myself reading a lot more, listening to the chatter of other travelers and learning from the small victories that have made my time so far so enjoyable. I have nothing but time on my side and endless miles of rivers to explore. The water in Patagonia is infinite. It seems to come from every direction even the arid steppe of the eastern plains. The best part, all the waterways are filled with trout from top to bottom. Some more than others but each one holds just enough to keep me content and never bored.

Am I missing out on anything back home? Probably not but maybe so. I feel the trade off is worth it’s weight in memories. I hope everyone in their lifetime is able to take time for themselves and enjoy the splendors of nature on their own. Without the noise of other people the sounds of the outdoors seem to amplify exponentially. Every rock and tree seems to hold some secret thar remained muted but becomes only audible if there is an audience of one.

Always push the limit of what you believe you can accomplish. Always find the time for yourself because without that time one can be quickly ambushed by the annoyances of “the real world”. Maybe what I am experiencing is a surreal world? Maybe this is a more real world and the one I have come to know as home. It doesn’t really matter now. For I am here and you are too and my eyes are wide open.

Nature 3.0

fallsingore — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 18:41:01 +0000

I need some space… I need lots of space in which to allow the person within my psyche to come out. For me a crowded city is not a good place to get some thinking done. For that matter neither is traffic, planes, crowded cafes, or any place that has more than 1 person within earshot of where you are. I am old to the young and young to the old but yet I still feel like a child finally stepping out of the social confinements in which we are all subjected to. I am an escapee. I have broken through the gates and I am running further and faster from the past than ever before. Yet with all of this anxiety there is this undeniable element of tranquility. There is something that can easily bring me down to a pace that is in step with the rhythms of life.

Nature has dominated the speed in which my life is lived. I am still in rehab from modern society and the progression into a union with something greater than me persists. All it took was a nice long walk through the banks of rivers in the southern Andes and a visit to a places where the good ole days are still present and the bulldozers of progress are slow to come. I do not know where I shall reside once I am done walking but for now I am happy calling these remote locations home. Home has never felt so inviting as it does now.

“Trout do not live in ugly places,” and neither will I.

There is no place too far…

fallsingore — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 05:17:06 +0000

The road less traveled is one that is admired and sought after for many obvious reasons. Countless stories of bravery and struggle are formulated with the very notion of experiencing things that most wouldn’t. I do not feel, nor am I ever going to assume, that what I am doing is something new and undiscovered. The road I walk on now is neither an untouched frontier nor unfamiliar within the traveling community. Plus I am constantly being humbled by the methods of travel that other people decide to take. With this in mind I am posting only pictures of my “road less traveled”. I am constantly rejuvenated with the comments and praise that I receive along the way.

I want to thank everyone who has supported me so far with all of their gracious words of encouragement. No day passes that I do not wish that one of you are with me by my side. I also understand, more than ever, that a journey like this is something best explored alone. I was afraid to undertake this path long before I boarded a plane to my final destination. I have been privileged to meet the people I have met along the way. As one of my best friends so kindly said, “You are the type of person who will always be comfortable where ever you go.”

Below are my final pictures of my time in Futaleufu. Once again I would like to extend my gratitude to the people I have been able to call friends during my time there. American, Chilean, Peruvian, Israeli, and German. You have all proven to be a perfect catalyst for the discovery of myself in an unknown land.

Enjoy!

The Thing That Was

fallsingore — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 04:22:59 +0000

Can you remember the type of person you were a year ago? Ten years ago? Twenty? Looking back on long periods of time and thinking about the changes that occur within yourself is easy the more years you add to it. One thing that we all share as humans is wisdom through experience. The older one gets the wiser (not necessarily smarter) we become. That is an obvious observation, but now think about the times in your life when events that you controlled help shape you as a person very quickly. Have you experienced something so positive that it took you a while to digest the full meaning of but only seconds to alter your perception of reality?

I have been absent from my commitment to this journal for just that reason. Speaking with my best friends and family before my departure, I would often mention that I wished to visit a place where the people live by a different standard. I wanted to know that places in this world aren’t easily corrupted as they are in “civilized” nations. I found what I was looking for and much more. Now that I am away from my Zion I am finally able to analyze the profound changes that I have allowed occur in my own personal Psyche. And this all happened in what feels like a blink of an eye. Rain, wind, cold temperatures, high water, mud, isolation, and even death have all played into my epic journey so far. I can say with all honesty that this world does hold places where a gringo/Mexican can feel at home from the minute of arrival yet none of the comforts of home exist. What I hoped to find away from a river I can now luckily say I have found. I cannot delve any deeper into this subject because I am so green from my departure that I wake up in the middle of the night due to the sound of a car passing by (The town I am in now holds a population of 30,000 and it feels like New York).

To be an Atheist is to say you have never seen Futaleufu.