Adventure is out there and it's waiting for you to answer its call. Expeditioning is like the edge of a blade; on one side you are in touch with the sharpness of the human experience which draws out who you are at a core level, allowing you to discover who I call your "inner wild" — someone primal that exists within all of us. On the other side, the reality is that we are exposing ourselves to the risks inherent to exploring very remote locations.

On the ferry to our Tierra Del Fuego Expedition launch.

My first awe-inspiring expedition brought me to the most mysterious lands in the Americas: Tierra Del Fuego — "The Land of Fire and Ice." I was so enthralled in the experience of visiting one of the most remote places left on Earth. Parry Fjord was a place like no other — lush mountains streaming with waterfalls like icy blue veins. We shared this space with no other humans — only a mature leopard seal which was hauled out on a sheet of ice only 30 feet off the bow of my kayak. I will never forget making eye contact with this stunning creature; it was in a singular moment that my experience shifted from enveloped curiosity to absolute eye-widening terror as she smiled back at me with her razor sharp teeth.

My dreams of increasingly remote expeditions were overshadowed by logistical issues. I simply couldn't get around these challenging locations with a traditional hard-shell kayak. I needed a kayak that could go where I could. My lifestyle as an international sea kayak guide would have me spending my summer months guiding along the coasts of Vancouver Island,with winter months spent in Patagonia. I needed a seaworthy kayak that I could travel with.

A couple of years passed before I would lay my hands upon the TRAK kayak, the solution to my problems. I knew one thing to be clear right away: this was the kayak that would eliminate the logistical barriers to executing the remote expeditions I was dreaming of, and discovering that the craft didn't sacrifice performance capabilities was an incredible bonus. I got connected with the Canadian-based company and not before long I had arranged to field test what was the latest production model of the TRAK 2.0 kayak on my upcoming guiding season in Patagonia.

Finally got my hands on my folding TRAK. Photo by Zack Kruins.

It was the autumn of 2018 when I started a new contract with Bigfoot Patagonia out of Puerto Natales, Chile, spending my season working out of Lago Grey, taking adventure travelers to see the beautiful Grey Glacier, one of the forty-eight glaciers that make up the Southern Patagonia Icefield, which happens to be the third largest reserve of frozen fresh water in the world. I was a little hesitant at first to paddle the TRAK 2.0 around the abundant ice in those waters, but I quickly realized the hull was built for rough hazards, and the adaptable rocker would allow me to weave between icebergs with ease.It could have been built specifically for paddling in Patagonia.

Icebergs in Lago Grey. Photo by Rodrigo Pizzaro.

I was enjoying the guide life on Lago Grey when I received an email from long-time TRAK Ambassador Zack Kruzins, who has paddled the TRAK farther than probably anyone else on earth. He invited me on an expedition he and his friend Ken Storm Jr. were planning. He told me it was an expedition into "deep time" — that caught my attention! Zack went on to explain that this expedition would take approximately 15 days and would cover 530km from the Andes to the Atlantic ocean. I was sold on the concept and it was the portability of the TRAK that would make our source-to-sea adventure to the Atlantic Coast possible.

I would meet Ken and Zack in beautiful El Chalten, Argentina. Once together, we would put our boats together and spend two days sorting gear and working out the last details of our passage plan before departing.

The first morning we launched on the northern shores of Lago Viedma, and steeled ourselves for an exposed 16-km crossing to the western shore. We were welcomed by the most magnificent sunrise I had ever laid my eyes on. The way the light rose over the Andes was something to behold, and it lit the fire within all of us. We were going to need it.

Andes Sunrise. Photo by Ken Storm.

Gale force katabatic winds would force us to rely upon multiple modes of transportation to reach the Rio La Leona that begins 80 km south from the Viedma's West shore. Without a truly portable kayak we never would have been able to effectively transport our boats from Estancia Maria to Hotel Rio La Leona.

We would paddle the length of the Rio La Leona River in a day, discovering ancient beds of primordial fossils, mussels, oysters, and coral along the way. We encountered head winds of up to 35 knots before making camp at the end of the La Leona, really putting our skills and our kayaks to the test. Our boats performed well in the following seas of Viedma and the head winds of La Leona, and I was beginning to comprehend the dependability of these boats. For three days and three nights our team would rest and recover as we waited for our weather window. Paddling the eastern shore of Lago Argentino would be the most exposed paddle we would face and, to our great fortune, we weren't met with even a breath of wind during our passage.

The excitement was building as we approached the Rio Santa Cruz, our arrival leaving a deep impression on my heart and mind. The sheer remoteness of the Santa Cruz really leaves you feeling separated from the rest of the world. The river was teeming with wildlife: herds of guanaco and groups of choike (rheas) would gaze down upon us from the shores of the Santa Cruz, the same fauna that would gaze down on the adventurers who came before us.

Cliffs along the Rio Santa Cruz, in the steppelands of Argentina. Photo by Ken Storm.

In April of 1834 Captain Robert Fitzroy led a 21-day expedition up the Rio Santa Cruz while the HMS Beagle was laid ashore on the Atlantic coast for repairs. Included on that expedition was the now-famous naturalist Charles Darwin — the tale of their exploration is worthy of many articles on its own. While navigating this river I spent a lot of time with Ken Storm Jr., a naturalist himself, who had brought with him not only an encyclopaedic knowledge of the local fossil record, but copies of Darwin's & Fitzroy's journals and illustrations from their expedition. We paddled the same route that Fitzroy walked, retracing their footsteps to famed locations such as Condor Cliff and Basalt Glen.

Our expedition reached its conclusion at the mouth of the Rio Santa Cruz, on the Atlantic coast of Argentina. We had paddled 530 kms from source-to-sea, crossing a vast steppeland that many humans will never experience themselves. Discovering ancient fossils and living fauna in this threatened ecosystem has made a mark on me. Rivers, and water for that matter, are not resources for us alone to exploit; the temptation to harness the Santa Cruz for hydroelectric power generation is a reckoning that Argentina will have to face in the coming years.

Paddling in squalls. Photo by Zack Kruzins.