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Name: Will Tinapple


Photos: Will's photo libraries

Communique from the End of the World. ( 29th Jan, 2006 )

Communique from the End of the World.

You know..

The problem with sleeping bags that are too short is that you are in constant denial of the reality of your slumber environment.

By definition, the whole idea of a sleeping bag is this soft warm fluffy cocoon thing to burrow your way down into, safely zippered away from any lingering concerns of the outside world. Kind of like an inverted sensory-deprivation chamber. Anything besides a long put off mid-sleep visit to the toilet can wait until the next morning without any guilt attached while you remain confident in the knowledge that it all really is quite cozy.

But a sleeping bag that is too short is all together another kettle of fish. The promise of comfortable enshroudment lures you in, but, try as you will, you just cannot seem to fit all body parts into the equation. Surely not.You brain flicks back to high school mathmatics lessons: it must be some geometric rearrangement that is necessary to get inside. Now was it volume or surface area..or...? As you wiggle your feet and twist and turn, this misplaced confidence rapidly gives way to a sense of faith that really it doesn't matter anyhow. Why do I need to fit into this thing anyway? I'll be asleep soon, anyway, and what does it matter. Can't really be that cold. I'll just squeeze the best I can into here. You suspend your disbelief, hope for the best and fold up your appendages into your insufficient sack. You sacrifice your comfortable stretch-out, and bring up your legs and flex your toes in an effort to get your chin in under the covers, at least. And, as such, crumpled at your extremities, you begrudgingly fall into a exposed, seemingly less-than-satisfactory slumber...

...So this, then, is the Tierra Del Fuego, the Land of Fire. The End of the World ( or the end of Argentina and Chile, anyway). The long torso of South America, supported by its spine, the Andes mountains, gradually peters out into vast, pretty much flat Southlands. Just before the tip, however, the room runs out and South America is forced to jam itself uncomfortably into it allocated space without encroaching into Antartica's. So cram it does. The land is buckled, crumpled and chilly. The stretched-out flats suddenly shift into almost impenitrable, uncomfortable, less-than-sleepy glacier-encrusted mountain extremities. South America has cold, chill-blained toes.

I guess that makes us the toe-jam...


PS Douglas Adams eat your heart out - we're AT the restaurant at the end of the world! (Never mind that it's closed, we're the only customers, and we're cooking our own meals...)

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