After many years of dreaming, I finally made it all the way to Patagonia.
The mountains at the end of the world called and they did not disappoint. Rising suddenly with vertical towers to which glaciers still cling to, majestic and temperamental, they stay mostly hidden in the clouds they create for themselves. The fierce winds are also their creation, maybe a way to feel the surrounding landscape with invisible fingers.
But what surprised me the most was the abundance of intense colors everywhere. I don’t even know how I could describe the way the entire sky lights up in the morning in vibrant colors every direction you turn your head to and stays like that for tens of minutes, then disappears, only to come back shortly after, before fading away until the next day. It’s a truly jaw dropping show and, as a photographer, it’s hard to concentrate on one subject.
And the trees... Huge Lenga trees with leaves the size of a fingernail, colored more intense than I have ever seen. This was an adaptation to the fierce winds in Patagonia, but even so, there were many victims. The forests are full of twisted, fallen, dead and rotten trunks, and they transform radically over short distances. You go up on a hill and all the trees are small and twisted by the powerful winds, resembling beautiful bonsai trees. Descend in the immediate valley and they are straight, wide and 30 metres tall. In some other part they are the size of fruit trees, but thinner and wildly shaped. Everywhere among them, fallen trunks and huge rocks. It’s an incredibly beautiful chaos and sometimes difficult to photograph.
A part of my soul remained behind, hanging from these windblown trees, admiring shapes and colors never seen before. And this part left behind is growing with every day spent in cities filled with noise, pollution, haste, anger, hustling, long after hours and other unnatural things.