I awake to a buzz of activity outside my tent. “The French are starting!” It’s 10am. The British and GearJunkies.com have already left a few hours ago for the 188 kilometers of biking to reach the finish line. Somehow I slept through all of that commotion. The French assemble their bikes and head off to the east toward Pali Aike. “Tony, you go in the truck and follow the French. Scott, you can follow the Croatians in the next truck,” the organizers tell us. Just as the French start their day, fresh from a rest, semi dry, they reach a small creek they have to cross – just deep enough they have to get their feet wet, once again. They become specks and disappear over the next hill.

Don’t stop here. More photos and story after the Jump>>


Raymond Pascal (France) and Stiven Vunic (Croatia) prepare for the last leg of the race, biking 188kms to Pali Aike. Stiven borrowed my sunglasses for the trip.

France’s Vaucluse Adventure Evasions take off for Pali Aike.

The Croatians gather their things and start off toward the creek. The majority of the media left in the last truck, so they go with much less hooplah surrounding them. I look around for anyone assembling in a truck. No one seems to be moving. “Is anyone going to the finish?” I ask to anyone that will listen. Everyone seems to be busy with their own tasks. The last truck leaves, but they are headed back to Punta Arenas, not the end of the race. Looks like, once again and not surprisingly, I’m stuck. But I’m surrounded by good people in a location much more comfortable than any of my previous detentions. I’ve got friends, good food (a welcome reprieve from paté and chocolate), and the ability to be mostly dry.

Dario Rocco checks his gear before their last bike section.

Darija Bostjancic (Croatia, Ad Natura-Karibu) takes her bike from the barn before finishing the race.

Darija Bostjancic

The Croatian team get their feet wet after finally being dry for a night.

Race Day 08. Tuesday, February 15th
The teams that were ‘rescued’ and delivered to PC10 trekked out with the crew. Denmark and the mostly American team, Perdido en el Turbal, were brought to PC13 so they could finish the biking section, albeit a day later than the other teams. In all only six teams made that final journey, down from the fourteen teams that started the race seven days earlier.

The Danes take off towards the finish.

Perdido en el Turbal prepares to finish the race.

The teams are all gone. It’s just us: the volunteers, interns, and what’s left of the media. We have no where to go and nothing to do, except hope and speculate when the race will send vehicles to come pick us up. We stand around the firepit trying to stay warm, trying to think up things to do. My best idea: glove racing. Place rubber gloves on the guylines from the tarp and bet on which glove will reach the ground first. Pure excitement.

The ranch we were camped out on was so eerily beautiful.


Compliments of the workers of PC13


The beautifully twisted trees that line the property

The report from the finish. There are many trucks sitting at the finish with not enough drivers to drive them (many of the drivers are at PC13 with me). The carabineros (the police) show up in their Toyota four door four-wheel-drive pickup truck. Someone from the race asked them to come pick up some of the drivers and take them to Pali Aike so they can return with vehicles to pick everyone up. But word spreads through camp that they are having a huge party at the finish line. “We should have our own party here since not all of us can go to the finish,” people start saying. They’re crazy. I just want to get out of here. I’d rather go to the finish, but it wouldn’t be bad to be back in Punta Arenas. “The police are going to take a couple of us to buy drinks. Do you have any money to donate?” The police came to rescue us, but instead…they bring back alcohol. Someone gets a pig and Peter starts barbecuing.

I wake up in a huge cabin tent by myself, weary eyed and wondering where the rest of the inhabitants are. The previous night a bit of a blur, I stumble back to the shack to find Peter and a few others cleaning up from the festivities. If this wasn’t some ranch on the edge of pure wilderness it would resemble the aftermath of any frat party. I need to clear my head. With the rain holding off British Pete and I go for a hike exploring the forest surrounding our camp. The forests have such a strange beauty with its bent and twisted trees covered in hanging moss. The good news greets us as we return: two trucks have come. A select few of us get to go back to Punta Arenas. We won’t be missing the closing ceremony happening this evening. I hurry to get my tent and bags packed so as not to miss this boat out. The truck takes us to a waiting van and goes back for a second set of lucky travelers. The driver of the van tells us we cannot get in yet and goes to work underneath the van. It later becomes apparent what he was working on. The clutch doesn’t work. We bounce down the road, stalling and grinding the gears all the way back to Punta Arenas.

I would love to come back and just do a project on these trees.

It’s all over
After the closing ceremony, after the party, after all the athletes leave the staff, interns, volunteers, and a few of the media are still left in Punta Arenas. I had planned on spending a few days processing images before my flight back to the US on Sunday. “Scott, would you like to join us on our flight to Antarctica with DAP Antarctica? We can try and change your flight so you can stay a bit longer,” Anne asked me. Man, how do you turn down an offer like that? But I have to. I am teaching at a University and have already missed two weeks because of the race and another because of a snow day. I need to be there. I have to be responsible.

I say my goodbyes and get ready to go to the airport. “Wait, Scott. Don’t go yet. Your flight has been cancelled!” What? There’s not a cloud in the sky? The weather is amazing. How is my flight just cancelled? Not just postponed, but cancelled. The timing was perfect: I’d leave Sunday, arrive Monday, have Tuesday to recover before my class on Wednesday. But with the cancelled flight I would not arrive until partway through my first class, making it very unlikely I could get there in time for any of my classes. Anne says, “Guess this means you get to go to Antarctica with us!” The head of the art department at my university gives me the go ahead. My flight is rescheduled for Friday.

“Be at the office at 6am Wednesday morning. We will leave from there. But it all depends on the weather,” we’re told. My roommate Brad and I show up at six to find only the other American’s waiting. No one in the office knows anything, and anyone that would know something is not in the office. Probably still comfortably asleep, knowing something we apparently don’t: We are not flying to Antarctica today. Again, Thursday morning we Americans show up only to find no one else around, more in the know apparently. Sadly, Friday I have to fly home, so I say goodbye to all my friends from the past month as they start their adventure to touch Antarctica.

My entire time in southern Patagonia has been such an amazing adventure, and I cannot wait to come back next year to cover the 10th Anniversary race. I learned a lot, and I hope to be much more prepared next year, both physically and gear wise (I hope to have my waterproofing much more dialed in – ziplock bags only work so well). I wonder who I will see again at the race?

For the headshots I moved Ryan into the shadow so I could control more of the light. Shooting with the 70-200 f/2.8 I didn’t put on the lens hood, allowing for some lens flare off of the rim light.

It was pretty hot (over 90º), but Ryan was able to keep his cool long enough to get the shots. Thank goodness for a fast shoot. 

More Photos After the Break! –>

Daniel Staudigel – USA – Team GearJunkie.com



Chelsey Gribbon – USA – Team GearJunkie.com



Chelsey Gribbon – USA – Team GearJunkie.com



Jason Magness – USA – Team GearJunkie.com



Marcelo Sinoca – Brazil – Team Selva NKS Kailash



Rose Hoeppner – Brazil – Team Selva NKS Kailash



Ricardo da Silva – Brazil – Team Selva NKS Kailash



Carlos Fonseca – Brazil – Team Selva NKS Kailash



Marcelo Catalán – Brazil – Team Xingu



Tasman Lawrie – Australia – Team Four Continents



Andre Vogel – Australia – Team Four Continents



Paulette Kirby – USA – Team Four Continents

The Espri 2P is a nice three season tent. It’s great for backpacking because of the size and weight, and ease of set up and take down. When I first took it out of the box I found the packed length (at around 20 inches) a bit unwieldy, but that’s only because of the tent I looked at before (the Meta2, which is roughly the size of a cantaloupe when packed but doesn’t come with poles). If you take the poles out of the tent bag it does compress to roughly the size of a cantaloupe. One small oversight by Nemo is not making the tent bag a compression sac. I used third party straps to keep the bag as small as possible.

With the tent compressed, I could get both my 20º down sleeping bag and the Nemo tent in the bottom of my backpack. This is a huge improvement over tents I have used in the past that generally take over the outside of my backpack.

When you take the poles out of their bag the first thing you realize is the two poles are attached in the middle. If you just throw the poles out and shake them for a bit and they almost find their way together. One side of the poles is slightly more bent than the other and shaded with a darker grey. I didn’t have the instructions, but I quickly found that the poles only fit when installed in one direction. The more bent, darker ends are the back. After a few wrong turns it’s easy to determine which side is which, even in the dark. The lightweight but extremely sturdy poles snap naturally into place at the corners of the tent; Nemo used a ball and socket joint that is extremely intuitive and terribly hard to mess up. The center piece on the poles connects to a corresponding plastic button on the tent. Once the poles are in place and the center of the tent is attached, popping the rest of the plastic tent connectors onto the poles is a breeze and the mesh tent is up. This would be great for a warm summer night, allowing tons of air to flow freely through the tent.

The fly easily attaches, also connecting to the corners of the tent with a simple snap-on mechanism. It doesn’t cover the entire tent but covers all of the essential mesh areas. The fly has a built-in vent to keep condensation to a minimum. The detachable vestibule provides additional space to store your gear outside of the tent but away from the rain. An optional trekking-pole vestibule gives you even more space, but it was unavailable for me to test.

A double rainbow in the fjords of southern Patagonia.

The Espri 2P comfortably fits two, keeps you dry even in the extremes of southern Patagonia, and is lightweight enough to carry with you on backpacking adventures (or from the car to the campsite 15ft away). I’m impressed by Nemo’s quality and ingenuity. Check out their other great designs at www.nemoequipment.com.

It’s not very often that a simple thing such as a sleeping pad draws attention from onlookers, but when I pull out my Intertia-X-Frame from Klymit the common response is, “What is that?!”. Not only do the “high vis chartreuse green/yellow” and the skeletal design attract attention, but the light weight (9.1oz) and compact size (about the size of a soda can when rolled up) ensure the interest of my fellow adventurers. What I call skeletal design Klymit calls body mapped design. There is plenty of padding where you need it and none where you don’t. It’s a pretty simple concept that creates visually interesting and extremely effective sleeping mat.

I took the Inertia-X-Frame with me to Southern Patagonia in Chile for the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race. I was photographing the race, so I didn’t quite put it through the testing that a racer would, but I still needed to move quickly and lightly. I definitely appreciated the compact size and the lightweight, and I loved how comfortable it was to sleep on. Even on rough ground, on top of rocks and roots, I slept contentedly. I have always used simple foam pads in the past, so sleeping on this pad is tremendous improvement.

I hope to continue to use this mat for years to come. I think it promises to be durable, and with such a great design it will continue to win the attention of everyone who sees it.

Edit: The Intertia X-Frame can be purchased for $99 from Klymit

I hope that I get back in time for my classes, because if I don’t…I would have missed a chance to fly to Antarctica for a day compliments of the race.

The Patagonian Expedition Race operations team has been busy collecting all the photos and videos from the media team. Here’s a nice slideshow of photos from the race.

I’m leaving tomorrow to come back to the US, although there are many reasons I would like to stay, including a chance to photograph for a day in Antarctica. But this will have to wait until next year. It’s been great. I will have a full story from the race in a few days, but here are some images to start.

Gauchos preparing the escort the bikers for the beginning of the Wenger Patagonian Expedition Race

Juan, the Chilean goucho

Hiking up to PC3 at 6am

A road worker in Ladakh that told me there was no way to continue, the road was out on my trip around Ladakh in June of 2010. I haven’t posted this photostory on here, but you can see it my Behance portfolio.

I found out two days ago that I will be the official photographer for the Wengen Patagonian Expedition Race in the southern most part of Chilé, IE only about a two hour flight from Antarctica! I entered a photo contest put on by Wenger and National Geographic kind of on a whim. I did not expect to win. But when I landed in Salt Lake City on Thursday, I received a voicemail by a lady named Ann that I could barely hear. Something about, “Congratulations,” and “You’re going to Chilé.” She called me back and let me know what was going on. I am in Utah for the Outdoor Retailer Tradeshow, and she told me to find Denis at the Wenger booth. Denis explained the race to me a bit better and connected me with Michael Clark, who has photographed the race for the last three years. You can read his account of the 2009 race here.

I am super excited to go to Chilé and photograph this race, but nervous for the toll it will take on my equipment. (Michael related some horror stories about the environment he’s endured, and the gear he has ruined.) This is a great opportunity, and I cannot wait to take off.