Stops Along The Way #5 Jim

I met Jim in the kitchen of a hostel at the end of the world, Ushuaia, Argentina. I had arrived there in the hopes of getting a ‘last minute deal’ to Antarctica. I’d been hearing about it from other hostel guests traveling up, while I was traveling down. I got the deal, but the ship wasn’t leaving for another week. To while away the time, I purchased a week long pass to the parks and trails in Tierra Del Fuego.
Over tea, I learned that Jim was traveling solo and exploring all of the parks in Chile and Argentina.  My trip south was my first long solo travel, and I was just beginning to learn that even as a solo traveler, one is rarely alone. It was a fact I was more than grateful for as I wound my way south on my own.
At first I was a little intimidated or worried about making plans with total strangers, but by the time I met Jim, I felt I was an old pro at the hostel meet and greet.  I had learned how truly common it was to make plans and have adventures with someone I’d just met.  When loneliness became too heavy, I turned to my fellow travelers to help fill the  void.  When traveling, everyone is a potential partner in crime.
Jim and I discussed the various trails we wanted to hike and decided to go together to Lago Escondido that day.  At the start of the trail we were greeted by a very friendly fox. Later we learned he was a regular there and was even written about in the guide books.
We enjoyed a beautiful hike to the lake discussing the pleasantries of where we were from and what our former life looked like. I remember having much trouble with the first question, “where was I from.” I preferred the Spanish equivalent, “de donde vienes?” which literally translates to, “from where are you coming?”  I had left my apartment in Santiago De Chile where I had lived for the better part of two years, and begun traveling south to Ushuaia. That’s where I was coming from. I found it strange to say that I was from Colorado or the States when I hadn’t lived there in so long, when I didn’t identify with it at all.
Though, I was actually homeless, no longer a paying roommate of my apartment and for the first time in my life no place to call home.  When I was asked in Spanish I would answer, “I am coming from Santiago.” Which was literally true, however, this confused people who looked at me and knew I was a gringa. Jim had the same confusion. If I said I was coming from the states I would still have to explain how I’d been abroad for so long.  And the truth was, I had not been in the states for nearly two years, how could I be coming from there? I preferred to say I was from the world. It seemed the most fitting, the most truthful, but even I thought that was too cheesy.
Finally at the lake, a secluded, hidden little gem of a glacier lake, we decided we must test the waters.  A traveling motto I had just heard in the hostel and since adopted, “you never regret a swim,” ran through my head.  This was my first chance to prove it.  We were not prepared, no swimsuits or towels.   He’s a stranger, I thought? A fact which made me both uneasy and reassured about what we did next.
We stripped down to our under things and plunged into the frigid water of the lake, laughing and screaming at the shock of it all. We frolicked around in the water like young children for as long as we could stand it, finally emerging from the water to collapse on the grasses of the shore, panting and shivering, smiling and laughing.  We dried ourselves in the rare warmth of a late summer sun.  It might have been the most unabashed, carefree thing I’d ever done.
Once reasonably dry, we dressed and made our way down the trail and back to the hostel. I think Jim left the next day. His departure was unceremonious and quiet. It was a nod of the head as he passed by the kitchen where I was drinking tea. No email addresses exchanged. No plans to meet up somewhere along the gringo trail.  I watched him exit, pack heavy on his back, and I smiled to myself at the moments we’d shared.
Jim could be any one of the various travelers I’ve met along the way.  So many people come and go, rarely leaving a mark. They fill the spaces and offer company on an otherwise solitary journey. Jim stands out in my mind because of the rare moments we shared, the quickness with which we became old friends, and the ease with which we parted.