12.02.23

After breakfast, Lars and I set off for Refugio Alerces. It has been raining all night and the trail is a muddy mess. Nevertheless, we rush up in 1.5 hours, with plenty of supplies in our backpacks. Pati joins us in the afternoon and cooks lentil stew for lunch. After that, the three of us go to a nearby landslide to gather deadwood for firewood. Since it has rained so much, a stream rushes down the slope where the landslide occurred. Loaded with two wood carrier backpacks and a chainsaw, we climb trees and small streams to a flatter spot where Pati starts the chainsaw. Lars and I climb up the slope and throw down larger branches for Pati to cut.

The sun comes out and we start sweating. So, I grab the bottle of soda filled with a red-translucent liquid. Earlier, when we were heading to the landslide, Pati told me with a smile that it was Jugo (juice). Stupid me, it was just another one of her jokes. After taking a big greedy-thirsty sip, I realize that the red liquid is not berry juice, but chainsaw juice. At that moment, Pati and Lars look at me and shout ¡No!/Nein! The taste is sour, slightly spicy, and burns like moonshine. I spit out the remaining gasoline and rinse my mouth in the stream. But it doesn't help. Absolutely disgusting. After carrying a load of wood back to the Refugio, I feel sick and the lunch goes into reverse with a sharp aftertaste. I make myself a chamomile tea and eat a few nuts to replenish the calories I just lost, but the day is ruined for me. Despite chewing gum, the taste lingers on my palate for hours and every burp tastes like a gas station. The smell of fresh gasoline at the fuel pump will never be the same again.