From the monthly archives: March 2011
They say you gain clarity in nature, and personally, I could not agree more. After a a glacier trek on Perito Moreno, I was overwhelmed by the realization that husky, bearded explorers are exactly my type. I mean, if I was this impressed by massive glacial landscapes, just imagine how I’d feel about the man who actually discovered them. There’s no doubt Patagonian explorer dudes got all the ladies. I suspect it went down something like this:
Explorer: Sooo, this is my glacier.
Woman from Bar: Wow, it’s so… huge.
Explorer: You like it?
Woman from Bar: Like it? I love it!
Explorer: Yeah, I know. It’s pretty sweet. I pretty much explored it all by myself. Want a beer? I keep some in this crevasse here. Coldest you’ll find!
Woman from Bar: Thanks.
Explorer: I was thinking of putting a hot tub in– over there just over that slope. Problem is meltage. Not sure how to make this one work. But the beer luge was easy. Check this out, here, give me your beer…
Woman from Bar: That’s amazing. It’s so cold! And it’s like normal drinking, only with a more intense brain freeze and more spilling. This is so fun! I think I’m…. dizzy.
Explorer: It’s probably just the altitude. It’s totally normal for first-timers.
Woman from Bar: Yeah, I’m just going to sit down for a second.
Explorer: Better idea, see that peak over there? You should see the view from the top. Wanna check it out? You can see the entire lake. Most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.
Woman from Bar: Sure.
Explorer: Do you have crampons?
Woman from Bar: No, I took a Midol.
Explorer: No, crampons. Like, for your shoes. You can’t get up that ice without proper traction.
Woman from Bar: Oh, right. I was just kidding. No, do you have some I can use?
Explorer: You know what? Maybe we should stay here. Probably too dangerous. Why don’t I just show you my water bed. I installed heaters. Doesn’t even freeze.
Related Disasters:
Now, I’m not a paranoid, but I have a very strong suspicion that hipsters are plotting to take over the world. They are slowly creeping south from their neighborhoods of Wicker Park, the Mission and Brooklyn and are infiltrating the ends of the earth. I know this, because somewhere en route to Antarctica, I met their leader. He was sitting across from me in the Ushuaia, Argentina airport, and his name was Haven. He wore black patent leather Nike Air Force Ones, dark denim skinny jeans, and a jean vest with lamb‘s wool lining. He had horn-rimmed glasses, and his hair perfectly coiffed to the side with a cigarette perched on stand-by behind one ear.
After a few minutes of awkward silence I thought I’d make small talk:
“You from the States?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Small world! I mean, I’m not from Brooklyn, but I’ve been to Brooklyn. And here we are, almost at the end of the world…. You headed to Antarctica?”
“Yeah, two week cruise.”
“That sounds incredible. Are you planning to do some trekking? Or are you just going for the penguins? No judgment if so. Personally, I think tuxedo birds are enough reason to go…”
“Meh. I don’t really care about penguins.”
“Really? But have you seen them walk? They are so awkwardly adorable.”
“Actually I’m going to work on a feature film I wrote.”
“A film?”
“Yes. I’m shooting images that represent the stark emotional landscape of my main character– a transvestite rodeo cowboy from South Dakota.”
“Interesting. So, icebergs?”
“Yeah. No one’s done it yet.”
“Only because they haven’t made the obvious connection.”
“Should be good.”
“Sounds like it. Well, safe travels, and stay warm. Can you fit long johns under those jeans? You may get kind of cold out there.”
“I’ll be good. I brought my own Wild Turkey… Just add glacier ice.”
And this, dear reader, is the real reason our polar caps are in danger.
