This evening my body is sore from 13 hours of hiking. I left camp at 7am and headed for Valle de Frances. I did not make to the end of the valley. Only halfway to camp Brittanica. But the half way point was a nice open space with a sweeping view of the surrounding mountains. Everyone was eating lunch and watching the avalanches. They thundered throughout the valley.
At Los Cuernos camp I ran into Jordan again. He said he was going to El Calafate so maybe I will run into them again.
I do not know how far I hiked but it was at least 32 kilometers. Most of the time I was alone. It was very peaceful.
I decided to turn around where I did for several reasons. Mostly it was a nice view and there was no need to go further. I would have to return the same way and my feet were blistered and my legs exploding with exhaustion. Also I started thinking about what I was really doing and how pointless it was. I’m going around looking at stuff I will never see again. What’s the point of that? Merely to see?
I used two walking sticks today. The first snapped in two while playing baseball with a rock. I used the stub and kept an eye out for a new stick. I tried to snap off a few dead branches lying around before I gave up and let providence provide. I found my new stick lying in a shallow stream; I left it at a directional sign when I returned to camp.
I got back just in time to put the rain cover on my tent. Yesterday it blew off so I set it aside. A French lady knocked on my tent to alert me to the problem. As I was fixing it I saw the tent wasn’t being held by the pegs. The tent had moved completely. Only the large rocks inside were keeping it in place. This morning was very still and I can only hope tomorrow will be as well.
After fixing the tent I walked to the bathroom. Someone was playing “Where is my mind” on a nylon string guitar.
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