Saturday, January 30, 2010
The French Valley section of the W in Torres del Paine is not the easiest. Uphill all the way, and by the time we reached the top I was tired, and fully aware we still had to get back down, pick up our rucksacks and head on to the next refugio. As such, I was a touch hasty in my descent, and cracked my shin more than once on the various rock scrambles and fallen trees the path is covered with.
The sores are healing now. Soon they'll be gone, the last physical reminder of what was probably my favourite day of the trip.
Sitting here, looking through my photos and rubbing my scar in a mildly obsessive manner, is not conducive to...well, anything really. When you've been confronted by the amazing and unknown and difficult every day for a month, that which is familiar and known just doesn't seem to have a point.
Eventually this post-travel apathy will pass, but until then, I rue every minute, hour and day that takes me further from that place.