A Gift from Patagonia
on cycling the Carretera Austral, adventure as identity, and unexpected transformation
Last month, I cycled a gorgeous route through Patagonia called the Carretera Austral.
When I finished, I wrote a trip report to capture the experience for friends, family, online strangers, and my future self.
It’s funny how much adventure is for our past, future, and social selves.
Over the last year, I’ve been telling everyone “I’m doing a cycle trip in Patagonia soon.” Moving forward, I’ll undoubtedly mention that “I recently finished a cycle trip in Patagonia.” (Look—I’m doing it right now!)
Consider your last big trip. If you couldn’t have told anyone that you’re going to do it, or you’re in the middle of doing it, or you did it—would you still have done it?
Being seen as “adventurous” sends many social signals: courage, creativity, fitness, autonomy, positivity, plus a certain degree of time wealth. All good things.
Yet I find myself increasingly focused on the more transformative, destructive, and “spiritual” aspects of adventure.
As Kate Harris writes in her beautiful book, Lands of Lost Borders:
The true risks of travel are disappointment and transformation: the fear you'll be the same person when you go home, and the fear you won't.
If you take an adventure and it doesn’t change you, what in fact just happened?
Viewed in this light, I don’t think many of us actually want adventure. We want interesting encounters, a bit of novelty, some sunshine and exercise, and shared memories with loved ones. Not a radical shake-up. Not a true before-and-after.
These things are hard to predict and control. Kate Harris is right. Even if you believe you’re ready for some profound experience, you may return home disappointed.
At the end of the Carretera, I did one thing I expected, and one thing I did not.
The first was getting rid of my Americas touring bike, which I bought in 2022 with the explicit goal of riding in the USA (to experience bikepacking) and then taking to South America for the Carretera.
Mission complete! I sold the bike and touring gear to an Argentinian adventurer who will put it to good use. (I have another bike waiting for me in Europe, after all.)
What I didn’t expect was that I would also get rid of my beloved camping gear.
Near the end of Carretera, after many nights spent with my Western Mountaineering sleeping bag, Big Agnes tent, Thermarest pad, and titanium cooking pot—all high-quality gear accumulated over many years—I experienced a sort of break.
“I don’t want this anymore,” I told myself.
Then, a revision: “I don’t need this anymore.”
Ever since devouring The Dharma Bums and falling in love with the Sierra Nevada around age 20, I identified as a backpacker: someone ready to walk into the wilderness for days or weeks. Possessing the right gear is central to this identity.
But now my heart is in Europe, with dance, with civilization rather than wilderness. In this world I want to be fast, light, clean, and connected. No hauling around unused gear. No going unshowered for days on end. Hiking, cycling, trail running, and supported hut-to-hut trips: I can still enjoy nature. And if I desperately need to camp, I can always rent or borrow.
So last week I gifted my beloved gear to an Argentinian friend in El Chaltén: someone who really needs it, and for whom it’s very difficult and expensive to obtain.
He’s overjoyed. I feel unburdened. And I feel scared, too—that future Blake might regret this, for what it says about my identity. But I chose to interpret this fear as a positive sign. That something is transforming. That I am not the same person I was before.
That this, perhaps, is the real gift.
Related pieces:
Living Safely is Dangerous and Deadly (on wanting to move to Europe)
The Religion of Travel (on long-term travel as a vehicle for personal growth)
Ecstasy, Transcendence, Adventure (how The Dharma Bums inspired my dirtbag identity)
How to Have a Good Time on the Sunshine Coast + Am I on an Adventure? (bikepacking in North America in preparation for the Carretera)
Love Letter to the Sierra Nevada (self-explanatory)
A Packing List for Life (what’s essential to own?)
Thanks for always bringing to mind and sharing your fresh perspectives / learnings as you move through life.