Tires ground rocks further into the road. We left at eleven, it now is nine. Dust gathers like a threatening storm behind the truck, we escape it. We are on the logistics trip, we get a coaches run on the Claro, and we have to secure food and lodging for ten days. We sit down with Miguel to negotiate. Chilean words fly through the air, I grab a few and get stuck trying to decipher them as the conversation writes pages. I look at faces and catch a few more words, important words. Dos Millones. We have our price and the blanket slides over my head and Lama Marut puts me to bed with words of compassion. I think of it all and fill with gratitude.
Thirty minutes into a hike we are at the put-in, looking at the first drop of veinte Dos, a waterfall run that defies reality: clean drops separated by pools.
Our bodies absorb the result of this separation and we move forward, grasping at the art of flight.\
Day 37 in Chile.