by Zoe Hart
I think that Christmas changes lots over time. From the days as a little kid, opening each door of an advent calendar, and leaving chocolate chip cookies (which my mom definitely ate!!) and carrots for Santa and his reindeer to keep him going to each good little boy's and girl's house delivering treats, writing Christmas wish lists, hanging lights, and spending time with family and friends (this year I sadly didn't get to ring in Christmas with my family, but I carried them in spirit on Christmas day, and thank them for their support, encouragement and understanding of all of my adventures) to what we dream of as young adults.
[Belaying Kirsten Kremer on Christmas Eve. St. Exupery, Patagonia, Argentina. Photo: Maxime Turgeon.]
Santa did show up this year though. I guess I was a good enough girl not to get coal, or, in Patagonia, it would be storms. My letter to Santa wished for sunshine, clear skies, beautiful hand cracks, granite spires, and a summit with some of my favorite people. It all came true. A week of rain and grey skies parted just before Christmas. We packed our bags and headed the seven hours back up the trail to high camp, Maxime, Kirsten Kremer and myself. The day was sunny and clear, a bit windy, but nice by Patagonian standards. We made it to camp around 3pm, set up tents, packed our bags and hoped the forecast was right.