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Well, what can I say about this one, other than it was a dream come true. I don't remember exactly when Patagonia lodged itself into my imagination, only that I was quite young, junior high probably. I also don't know why it chose me. When I was older, I dreamed about fly fishing in its rivers teeming with monster trout, but I know it didn't begin with that. All I can figure is that during all the time spent dreaming, wondering, and imagining over the plastic globe my parents gave me as a child, I must have crossed paths with Patagonia, a centimeters-vast expanse of wild nothing at the bottom of the world, wedged between the spine of the Andes and the Atlantic Ocean, and that somehow, in that crossing, our paths inexplicably intertwined. More than once over the past few years the only force with the strength to continue pulling me south was the distant wind song of Patagonia. Inexpressible gratitude and appreciation then, to Dad and Mark, for summoning the precious time and will to turn the Patagonia Expedition 2004 into reality. Photo Credits: With four cameras, a copious arsenal of digital storage sticks, and breathtaking scenery on every horizon, this expedition produced more than a few photos, and it took more than a few difficult late nights to choose those pictures that best tell the story while also best depicting the personality of the Patagonia through which we ventured. The resulting galleries boast a lot of photos… which represent less than 25% of all the photos taken. For those interested, you may assume that Dad and Mark took the good photos and that I took the close-ups (I was the only one with a powerful zoom lens). Credit for the fantastic movie clips goes to Mark. Journal Credits: Special thanks to Mark for letting me relive the adventure through his personal journal entries, and for granting permission to spice up the galleries with some of its passages. Excerpts from Mark's journal are in this color. Design Credits: And of course, Brian - webmaster wizard - receives all credit for breathing life into the magic nervous system of the galleries. Say man, why u ain't ware no tenis!? Enter Patagonia |
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