Growing up in sub-tropical Brisbane there wasn’t much opportunity to be exposed to snow, nor to craft beer for that matter. Hot and humid was the usual refrain from the weatherman; bland and weak was all you got from the barman.
So to be standing at a trailhead with the intention of traipsing through snowy Patagonia in search of local craft beers seemed at best, a little odd, at worst ludicrous. The fact that I had convinced my wife Sofi to come along could only strengthened the case for ludicrous.
