Travel broadens the mind...

Not having made enough southward progress to this date I cancelled my trip to Parque Pumalin (now on the list of future places to visit) and, though not really needing a rest per say, decided to change up my travel routine by voyaging south to Puerto Natales via boat instead of bus. Joining something like 200-250 people from around the world I boarded the Esmeralda, a cargo ship with sleeping cabins, a restaurant and bar on the top three levels. The four day-three night voyage would take me from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales, winding through the Patagonian Channels, stopping to re-supply a small port/fishing town on the route, and even setting out for a time on the open ocean. I had heard good things about the trip and so was looking forward to seeing what would develop.

Day one was spent getting to know the ship as well as the people in the bunks near me and many others on the boat. I was in “C” class, which meant bunk beds and shared bathrooms. But everything was surprisingly comfortable and ended up working out very well. Perhaps because everyone knew there were four days ahead with little but each other for company, or perhaps because travelers (or the people on this boat) are just wired in a certain way, everyone was quite amicable and social toward one another. One (of the three) “groups” of people my age, with whom I would hang out with quite a bit, was a group of four kayakers that had spent the previous month running the world class white-water rivers near Futalefú. Coincidentally enough, one of the three was from and grew up in Boise (yes, we knew some of the same people), and two others lived and worked in McCall. What a small world…

As I would do over the next several days, I spent a few hours outside on the decks taking in the mountain scenery. The landscape consisted of a foreground of green hills and foothills over a backdrop of the not too distant Andes Mountains. The constant though shifting landscape was almost hypnotizing and it made it very easy to get lost in my own thoughts, something that would happen frequently over the next few days. After dinner I returned to the deck to watch the sunset. With a cold wind in our faces the people on the boat were treated to a spectacular sunset over the ocean; and as we all turned around to go back inside we were blown away by the site of a full moon rising over the Andes. Truly a unique and memorable moment.

After sharing a bottle of wine with another group of people that I met I decided to take in the movie that was being shown that night, then hit the wall around 11:30 and was asleep soon thereafter.

Days two and three were very similar in that they were spent reading, watching and photographing the landscape, sun bathing, or catching up on my travel journal on deck; playing cards or chatting with the other people; or participating in some of the activities on the boat. Midway through day two we left the calm, protected waters of the island channels and set out for the open sea. According the captain and crew we were lucky in that we had pretty mild seas for our trip. In spite of this, many people became sea-sick and spent the night in the bathrooms or in their beds while most others, not feeling sick but not feeling well either due to the rocking of the boat, opted to spend the night reading in their bunks. But not everyone. A small group that included an hilarious retired Norwegian couple, several people from the UK and me passed the night in the bar until the wee hours of the morning. The Norwegian, Bjorn (whose joking motto of the night “we’re going down like the Titanic, we must drink like there is no tomorrow!”), and two of the English would not let anyone at the table be without a drink and so before long there were many, many empty bottles of beer, wine and liquor scattered about the empty bar and nearby tables. Between the antics of Bjorn, the humour of the Brits and the stories that everyone told (and in turn fed off of to tell another), and several rounds of drinks I laughed more and harder that night than I have in a long time.

On day three we also detoured to see one of the glaciers/snow drifts that are scattered throughout southern Chile and Argentina. The sheer size of this huge, though comparatively small, “ventisquiero” is hard to convey, nor can I express how cool it was to see this river valley walled up by a 55 foot wall of centuries old ice. In either case, it was incredible to see, particularly in that, crass and negative as it may be, the odds of this existing in even a few years are slim… Night three the whole boat gathered in the bar for a last night party that was filled with bingo, dancing (for the bingo prizes), and many, many drinks; I was amazed that almost everyone on the boat participated in the party and most were up until well after 2:30.

On the morning of our last day we began to see the spectacular part of southern Chile. We passed mountains that you could tell were big and sharp even from a distance, and we continued to weave through the islands that were occasionally spotted with fishing boats or villages. More than anything the journey heightened the sense of anticipation of coming to southern Chile, with some of the most beautiful terrain in the world.

In all, the trip was better than expected. I met many new people, many of whom I hope to meet up with again (such as the Idaho people) and was able to recharge my batteries in anticipation of my soon to be realized excursion into Torres del Paine and other national parks/wilderness areas in the south.

As I described in an earlier entry there are two routes through the Andes between Chile and Argentina. As I had already made the trip via the highway on the highway I decided to make the trip this time via the lakes (ferries) and roads (buses).

I had been told that this route was absolutely spectacular. While there were parts that were beautiful, I realized after the fact that many of the people that described the trip as amazing were not from parts of the US/world with mountains. Naturally they would be blown away by anything more than a foothill; a western boy is a little more difficult to impress. Nevertheless...

The route itself is pretty cool. From Bariloche you have to take a bus to Puerto Pañuelo, from Puerto Pañuelo a ferry across Lago Nahuel Huapí to Puerto Blest; from Puerto Blest a bus to Puerto Allegre; from Puerto Allegre a boat across Lago Frio to Puerto Frio; from Puerto Frio a bus across the border to Peulla; from Peulla a ferry across Lago Todos Santos to Petrohué; and finally a bus from Petruhué to Puerto Varas.

I ended up missing the first part of the trip. It turns out that there is an hour time difference, and my alarm clock (i.e. - cell phone), which normally changes the time as needed, did not. Ergo, when I woke up at 6:20 thinking I had plenty of time to eat, pack up, and get to the bus station, it was actually 7:20, five minutes after the designated meeting time. Luckily, I was able to flag down a cab and make the trip to Puerto Pañuelo with an affable cab driver that had lived in Bariloche his entire life (75 years) and who en route to the port treated me to a brief history of the area/Argentina, complete with color commentary from his own perspective and experiences.

The rest of the trip was a mix of down time, scenery that ranged from pleasant to strangely incredible. The first leg (for me) to Puerto Blest cut through forested mountains that were pretty but not spectacular. The highlight was that most of the tourists on the boat were feeding crackers to the hoards of seagulls that were following us. Their faces, a mix of terror and shock (shock I don't understand as they were holding the crackers out and waiting for the birds...) and made for some damn good comic relief. The trip on Lago Frio was interesting, though short: the water, isolated and comprised of runoff from the mountains, was a strange green color. It was interesting to be surrounded by thick, thick forest on all sides with some views of the just visible peaks of the mountains in the distance. The bus ride from Puerto Frio to Peulla was nothing spectacular as the forest was so thick there were only two parts where you could really see anything. That said, trip on Lago Frio and the road between the lakes proved it was probably a good idea not to make the trek on foot: the road I planned to walk had little views and was quite steep - it would have been a helluva trek with little upside - and there would have been little hope of hiking around Lago Frio, as I had planned, since the forest was so thick. Thus, I would have essentially had to make the same trip as the rest of the tourists. C'est la vie, but I'm glad I didn't learn that the hard way.

The highlight of the Cruce de Lagos was Lago Todos Santos in Chile. The last water leg of the trip treated you to beautiful views of the mountains and surrounding volcanoes, and the water itself was an almost eerie green/blue/turquoise color due to the minerals from glacier runoff. I won't say that this leg made the trip worth all that went into it (cost, time, etc.), but it was truly beautiful.

Arriving back in Puerto Varas, I had dinner at the house of Jim´s (Hunglemann) assistant, Sandra with Jim, Sandra and her two Children. We spent a great night eating (cooked vegetables!), drinking wine, and talking (in a mix of Spanish and English since both Sandra and her son, Juaquin, speak English) about everything from travel to Chile to Sandra's experiences under Pinochet. The family was very gracious and friendly, and was another reminder of how warm and friendly Chileans are.

A brief bus ride from Pucón found me in Valdivia, a "German" port town that lies at the confluence of three rivers near the coast in southern Chile. With few activities and fewer sites (though there is quite a bit of history) one might ask why I decided to stop here, and the answer is quite simple: Kuntsmann. (I should clarify for some that Kuntsmann is a beer; shame if you thought different.)

Due to growing up in the north-west, the micro-brew region of the world, and having lived in England, I am an unabashed, unashamed beer-snob. Much to my dismay, upon arriving in Chile I discovered that most beers left more than a little to be desired. Most, that is, except for Kuntsmann and Austral, fruits of the German immigration and instustrialization of southern Chile that took place in the late 19th century. The Kuntsmann Brewery is in Valdivia, ergo I was obliged to make a pilgrimage and pay homage to one of the beers that got me through the year. I intend to visit Austral when in the extreme south.

Unfortunately, after making the trip to the brewery in hopes of touring the facilities I learned that they only allow large, prearranged, guided tours to go into the back and see where the magic happens. Strike one. After being caught trying to sneak in the back (strike two) I decided to just have lunch and sample the extra beers - unfiltered blonde, unfiltered torobayo, and the high-octane (7.5%) Gran Torobayo.... soooo delicious - that I believe you can only get at the brewery itself. Right then the trip was worth it in my mind.

As I was finishing up with my food and getting ready to leave two Chilean girls sitting at the next table invited me over, and after another drink they invited me to go with them to visit the military forts on the islands surrounding the area. The forts date back to the Wars of Independence between Chile and Spain and are only accessible by ferry, which in itself was pretty cool. You pretty much have free access to wander around the forts, climbing the walls, the turrets, where ever. And at one there was even a re-enactment of a battle that took place between the Chileans and the Spanish (note: I have never seen a people so proud and so engaged in a battle re-enactment as the Chileans were this day. There were cheers, whistles, and very forceful applause, and afterward people had the opportunity to get their picture taken with "dead" Spanish soldiers. Several, adults and children, delighted in the opportunity).

After the forts I went out with a group from the hostel for, famous words of mine, "one or two drinks and an early night". After the party got rolling with the group, the two girls that I spent the afternoon with also came out to the bars. I expect not to get home until the wee hours of the morning in Santiago or Valpo, but didn’t think that it happened in Valdivia. Suffice it to say I was wrong. And needless to say, I ended up being out very late, missed my bus in the morning, and spent an extra day in the city.

J.A.F.A., no?

Santiago

The plan was simple enough: take the train, which is much more comfortable than a bus, from Santiago to Temuco or as far south as it would go en route to Pucón. The problem: the train, for whatever reason, don't go "far south" until the end of January. Enter plan B: a bus to Pucón. In the end this worked out pretty well, though I really didn't need to be in Santiago to make the trip.... The bus was at night, so I saved myself the trouble of finding and paying for a hostel, and because I arrived so early in Santiago I was able to hang out with a friend Pauli from Católica. We wandered around Santiago for a while, she took me to cerro Santo Cristóbal then I caught my bus to Pucón. Good afternoon in all.

3 Days in Pucón

I arrived in Pucón with a cold (thank you New Year's Eve, and my last party night in Viña) and so opted to stay in a hostel rather than the campground on the outside of town. Worked out well, if only because I could use the kitchen.

After walking around the city for a bit - a city that with its layout, the lake, and architecture, reminded me of a mix of Ketchum and McCall, Idaho with a Chilean flair, with two massive volcanoes overlooking the city (one of which, Villarica, was smoking the entire time I was there.... how cool) - I rented a bike to explore the area outside of town. The area is surrounded by mountains and filled with lakes, rivers, forest and other greenery and I felt like I was in central Idaho again. I found a trail by a river and followed it for a while and eventually found myself on a more established trail/road that after 20 km or so lead to an area called Ojos de Caburga, a park-like thing with hiking trails, camping, and a waterfall and lagoon area (the Ojos). I hiked around the area a bit and eventually made my way to the Ojos themselves. After the Ojos I intended to make my way to the lake for some hiking and whatever else, but just as I was leaving the park the bolt on my bike seat broke. Oh joy. Now instead of riding to the lake and exploring I got to ride some 26 km back to town without a bike seat. The irony here does not escape me. I rode into this area to get into the outdoors and away from people, and sure enough when I would have loved a ride back into town there was no one to be found. After the whole ride (55 km on trails?) and the second half spent standing up, I was dead tired but in all both the scenery and the exercise were amazing.

I slept in the morning of day two, trying to get rid of my cold, and after dallying around went on a 3 hour white water rafting trip. The trip itself was really cool, with a series of class III and a class IV rapids, swimming, and one incidence of cliff jumping (cliff being maybe 15 feet, but still). I meet some really cool people on the trip; in my boat alone Spain, Argentina, Japan and the US were represented. And afterward I met a bunch of people on an REI trip and some other travelers. Good stuff. I ended the day watching the sun set over the lake and looking forward to the trip I had scheduled for the following day: climbing the still-active Volcan (Volcano) Villarica.

I woke early the following day since we had to meet at the guide agency at 7:00 for the climb. As soon as I walked out the door I was skeptical: it was cloudy all throughout the valley, windy in the city (which I was sure would mean A LOT of wind on the climb, and you couldn't see the top of the volcano. Sure enough, after we suited up and made the trip to the base of the volcano most of the top half was clouded-in and the guides all said that if we wanted to we could climb, but that not only would it be tough to see, very windy and cold, and we may not make it to the crater, we wouldn't have any views of the valley, what we climbed, etc. In the end we opted not to make the trek and get a refund; throughout the day I looked at the volcano and don't think that it was once clear. Good decision. That said, I was a little disappointed, not only because I didn't get to climb and eventually get a picture of me on the crater rim, but also because I had planned to SKI down. No dice.

After getting back to the city, I decided to head to one of the hot springs outside of town and spent the afternoon wandering around the hills, trekking up the river (rock hopping), and relaxing in the springs. All and all a good decision and a good way to spend the afternoon and a good way to end my visit to Pucón.

Next stop: Valdivia.