I lived in Patagonia for several years, until I had to leave. But there's a pull that always draws me back. This time it was for six days, where I shared mountain rituals with friends. Hiking over 100 km carrying everything I need for life is an adventure, but above all, a lesson that we can live with less. There's something about the inhospitable, the harshness of the climate, the history of the mountains and its people. The backpack with only the essentials, the simple things. The day unfolds in long stretches of hiking across constantly sloping terrain.

Walking, eating, sleeping. The mountains teach us to carry only the essentials, the versatile, the multipurpose. No garment or item is superfluous. They humble us, teaching us to appreciate and care for our most precious resource. They cultivate a patience we never thought possible. They invite us to observe our finitude, how small we are surrounded by ancient ice and thousands of stars. They give us space for reflection: do we need so many material things to live well? Traveling to the mountains leads to a state of constant discomfort that translates into the enjoyment of each ritual. Approaching a shelter to set up camp; preparing for rest; collecting water to cook only what is necessary and what is available. Nothing is superfluous, and nothing is lacking. Traveling to the mountains is accepting the same clothes for many days. It makes you rebellious against fashion because the only thing that matters is that the clothing is functional, and that becomes sufficient. Nothing else is needed. The wind howls icy as it descends through the Fitz Roy River valley. A breakfast of oatmeal and water. A well-deserved dip in Iceberg Bay on Lake Viedma. The ephemeral becomes eternal in our memories. On each of these journeys, my Patagonia gear was always with me.