This particular picture shows myself, two French guys I worked with my last week on the farm and a truly enlightened dog I named Black Sabbath (because of his color AND because he knows how play “Iron Man” on the harp — yeah, in Argentina animals play all the same instruments humans do so just calm down). If I had to use one word to describe my facial expresion in this shot, I’d go with “overwhelming.” Also, for those of you tracking my journey on space-time-continuum charts at home, I was working at the farm until last weekend, then I met a friend and hiked in El Bolson, then I went south to Parque Nacional Los Alerces and did another hike there (pictures from those treks will be shown further down in this post, so seriously just calm down).

Well, here’s me on my last day working on the farm. In this photo I’m cleaning garlic, a job I was given frequently because it involved very little strength, skill or interpretive thinking. If I had to use two words to describe my facial expression here, I’d go with “cunning” and “fruity.”

My Welsh homeboy John Crockett. We met in Buenos Aires, and then when he came through El Bolson, we trekked together for tree days in the mountains outside of town. Those trekking poles of his were perfect for knocking back overgrown brush on the trail and for mortally wounding other hikers who had better food than we did. Gimmee them chocolate-covered raisins or die, son.

A pristine (read, not filled with kid piss) lake we climbed up to. That glacier behind it is called Hielo Azúl, or Blue Ice. I think Blue Ice would also be a good name for a depressed American Gladiator. GIMMEE THEM DAMN CHOCOLATE RAISINS!!

Johnny Crocks serenading a kitten back on the farm (we crashed there for a day after the hike). The guitar actually belongs to me. Despite having limited musical ability, I bought it in El Bolson and am determined to learn at least three songs before I return to America. I’m also writing a tune called The American Gladiator Blues. All I have so far is the title and a vague notion of what the G7 chord sounds like. If you have any ideas for lyrics send them along. I think the opening line should be something like “Oh, I got a tennis-ball launcher, but love keeps shooting me down…”

Here’s me looking down at Lake Futalaufquen in PN Los Alerces. I completed a three-day trek around the south side of the lake and managed to nab no less than 45 boxes of chocolate-covered raisins along the way. No that’s a joke — would you PLEASE just CALM DOWN?!?! There was actually hardly anyone else out on the trail, which meant I had all those beautiful, beautiful mountains to myself. And now I’ll leave you with a picture of…

FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!