A Lonely Trip To Lake Potrerillos.

Yesterday was a day filled with wakeful moments, metaphorical experiences, and valuable lessons. I decided to head to Lake Potrerillos in the morning and embark on a trail along the lakeshore. It wasn’t a crowded trail, and that was precisely what I was seeking.

I wanted to be alone in the midst of the Andes. According to Nguyen, Ryan and Deci (2018), solitude that is actively chosen — rather than imposed — tends to have a calming, relaxing effect and reduces stress, unlike unwanted aloneness.

The trails had no markings. So I had to stay close to the path, especially when there was no one to ask for directions.

Initially, the sun was shining beautifully, and the path appeared clear. However, it soon meandered and disappeared amidst the thick hawthorn bushes that blanketed the entire valley.

Moreover, the path twisted around the river, making it easy to lose my way whenever I had to change shores. Multiple times, I made wrong turns and found myself ankle-deep in a green swamp or wrestling through dense bushes.

Each time, just as I was about to turn back, the path miraculously appeared between the bushes. And with a heavy sigh, I pressed on.

What Happened When the Fog Rolled In?

Eventually, I left the riverbed and began ascending towards an unnamed peak that I intended to conquer. As I ventured further, the landscape became more desolate but unfortunately, also foggy.

Suddenly, the surroundings turned cold and white, and visibility reduced to just fifty yards ahead. Though I considered turning back, I encountered a peculiar Argentinean family returning from the mountains.

The man had striking yellow eyes that seemed straight out of a horror movie. He calmly informed me that I had only two kilometers left to reach the summit.

“Two kilometers, just half an hour…” I thought and continued my journey, despite feeling cold and having just finished a meal.

In hindsight, it took me around two hours, not just two kilometers, as I later estimated. Fortunately, he was mistaken; otherwise, I might have retreated. Nonetheless, I trudged onward, battling the fog and struggling to discern the path, which I lost two more times.

Who Else Was Up on the Mountain?

At one point, I was startled to discover a white tent beside the path, where two boys I had met earlier were bustling about. It turned out that I needed to take a turn near a distinctive boulder to reach the summit. I would never have found it on my own.

With perseverance, I continued my ascent. The fog momentarily cleared, revealing the direction I needed to climb, only to be quickly enveloped again. The boulders and stones were draped in green moss, casting a greenish-blue hue that felt eerie.

At times, I felt a twinge of fear as I had never been in such a dimly lit place before, especially at an altitude of almost four thousand meters. According to Bärtsch and Swenson (2013), acute mountain sickness can begin to appear at elevations as low as 2,500 meters and grows more likely with further ascent. Finally, I reached the summit, and behind it, there was a waterfall I had hoped to see.

Unfortunately, the fog was as thick as milk, obstructing any view. All I could perceive was the sound of cascading water.

Yet I felt an inexplicable joy knowing I had reached my intended destination. I was certain the waterfall was there, even if I couldn’t see it.

What Is That Feeling of Wholesomeness After a Hike?

According to Bratman, Hamilton, Hahn, Daily and Gross (2015), walking in a natural setting measurably reduces rumination compared to walking in an urban environment.

From that moment, my heart warmed, and the cold ceased to bother me. As I descended, I didn’t make a single mistake and felt immense delight, despite the landscape growing increasingly desolate. Alongside the fog, I came across several dead cows, strangely preserved as if untouched, except for their hollowed-out eyes.

Nonetheless, I continued my descent, reaching the gate and returning to the real world. To my dismay, when I opened the camera, I discovered that there was no memory card inside, causing all the photos I had taken along the way to vanish.

And thus, my enchanting time on the trail came to a close. Then, reality resumed, and I crossed paths with three fellows from Cordoba who graciously invited me to a barbecue at a nearby rented bungalow.

Later that night, I delved into the art of Argentinean barbecuing, immersing myself in learning the techniques. According to Woolley and Fishbach (2019), sharing food from a common plate — even among total strangers — increases perceived cooperation and social bonding between diners.

How did it escape my mind that onions can be cooked over the flames, just like potatoes? Grilled onions turn out to be an incredibly delightful treat, much like peppers stuffed with a grilled egg.