It`s all happening, so fast...

Backpacking is like being a poorly-planned and unfortunate snail...

Or, in the words of the late Mitch Hedberg, "Wearing a backpack and a turtle neck is like having a midget on your back tryin' to take you down."

Hmmm, this is a hard thing to keep up with. Well, I`ll have to distill quite a bit in the interest of not spending too much time on the computer here.

So, after bringing Brett the horse and getting our feet back in our boots and ready for the trails, we had yet another complication with a particular student developing signs of what we determined was an excercise-induced asthma condition, and on two separate occasions she showed signs of the condition worsening, so we made the decision to very much unfortunately end the program for her, she simply was not in ample physical health to continue on such a strenuous backpacking trip in the harsh conditions of the steppe. So, two days later there I was hiking out yet again in the ninety-something degree cloudless dust-maze of horse and goat trails, making the distance in one day that the group had hiked in a total of three (from the base of cajon serra negra on the Río Picunlèo to the casco at Ranquilco for those of you who may read this and know where I`m talkin' about, i.e. Sam and Will). By the time I had reached the confluencia about 7 hours into the hike I was feeling a bit heat-strokish, so I doused myself in the river and rested enough to get myself the rest of the way, about another hourish.

The new grand plan hatched again by Brett and myself over a mid-day maté was for me to hike out to go and get TA (Brett's friend) to bring a horse in to pack this person out back to the casco, and whether I came back in or not was dependant on horse availability (there weren't extras, so I stayed and split firewood, read, ate, drank, and all of that good stuff).

Once she arrived with TA the next night (about 13 hours of riding for him, poor guy) and passed the night there, we left the next morning riding out to where a taxi met us to take us to Zapala, where she saw a doctor to make sure she was ok to travel alone, and she got on the bus back to BA.

Upon seeing her onto the bus I promtly made my way the short distance to a little parrilla ("grill," it basically means that if you walk into a place called this you will be served large and delicious juicy pieces of meat) by the name of Las Familias where my order of 1 liter of beer, papas fritas, salad, an empanada, bife al chorizo (the best piece of meat grilled anywhere in the world that I´ve yet encountered) and flan casero was taken by the abosolute cutest 10 year old girl who spoke very clear and perfect castellano.

Show me a place in the U.S. where you can order a liter of beer from a 10 year old girl, and it´s not wierd at all, I dare you...

Well, dinner time, it´s been one of those rediculously long days where it feels like it´s been 2 or 3 days all smashed into one. More to come...