The tiniest possible Christmas miracle

Bariloche, Argentina
25 December 2008

Waking up late on Christmas morning I realize that I haven’t prepared for the big hike I have planned for today. I have no food or water, and everything will be closed.

My original plan was to relax, have breakfast and see what’s in the miniature Christmas stocking from my mother that I’ve been carrying for a month. Instead, I scramble to get ready because I’m supposed to meet Bill at the bus stop. I have no way to contact him if I’m delayed.

Down in the lobby I choke down a quick breakfast. It’s always the same at the Tyrol: a croissant, some toast with butter and two kinds of preserves in tiny metal saucers, a glass of orange juice, café con leche. I eat the croissant and drink everything (I’m dehydrated from drinking and staying out late), and stuff some of the bread in my pocket. I talk the staff into giving me a bottle of water on my way back to the room.

After returning from kayaking yesterday, I found in my room a little plate with homemade chocolates, a holly leaf and a nice note from the couple who own the Tyrol. I’d eaten most of the chocolate last night, but I wrap the remaining half-chewed piece of gingerbread in a tissue and pack it in my cargo pocket with the toast.

Not quite enough food and water, but almost enough to get me to Refugio Frey (located on the trail to Cerro Catredal), where I hope I will find open doors, a ham sandwich as good as the one I had at Refugio Lopez, and something to drink.

I have a few minutes before I have to meet Bill. It’s Christmas morning, so I decide to open my present. I cut the dental floss that I had used to hang the little woolen stocking from the curtain rod and tip its contents into my hand. Three hard candies spill out: two peppermint and one colored orange. Sugar. Exactly what I need to make it to the Refugio. I add the candies to my stash of crushed carbohydrates stowed in my shorts, and head out for the bus stop and Bill.

How did Santy know?