In Puerto Natales we went to an information session (in English) to learn more about what to expect trekking in Parque Nacional Torres del Paine. As it turns out the hike itself is not that physically demanding: 8 days, 100 K (66 miles), maximum altitude of just under 1300 M-with the greatest single day elevation gain at 800 M. However, Torres del Paine, pronounced PAIN-YAY!, is infamous for unpredictible and often severe weather-especially in autumn. Considering our cheap second hand tent and our lightweight sleeping bags, the weather was our major concern. You can not control the weather so we left that one to fate. We decided, after much research and discussion, to do the full 8 day circuit and spent the next day and a half in gearing up for the hike.
Our fate for this trek was to be one of luck. We were blessed with favorable-if not excellent for the time of year-weather conditions to complete the hike and see most of the stunning scenery that makes Torres del Paine the primary trekking destination in Chilean Patagonia. The trek itself was amazing and more challenging than I ever imagined. I will not attempt to describe in words the incompareable beauty of the parque, instead I would refer you to our photo gallery. Nor will I bore you with a day-by-day description of the trek, rather I will relate just a few of the experiences we had along the way starting with the comradery.
First I must explain-no, there is no time to explain, let me sum up: Torres del Paine is a victim of its own popularity with 70000 people (plus) visiting the park every year. Most of them only visit the park for a day or two basing themselves out of Hosteria Torres and completing short day hikes. Quite a few people manage to walk the 4/5 day trek known as the "W". This hike visits all the noteable miradors-Valle Francais, Glacier Grey, and of course the Torres del Paine-but does not require the pedestrian to carry any camping equipment (there are rufugio´s or hut facilities available along the route and they serve hot meals). Far fewer people attempt the "full circuit" which incorporates the "W" along with the "backside" into a full circuit of the Torres Range. The circuit is a route that has designated campsites evenly spaced out for a comfortable 8/9 days of hiking*. This means, essentially, that you will spend 8 days hiking and 7 nights camping with all the people who start the trek at the same time as you. They will be an integral part of your experience, like it or not. The nice part about this is that you know someone has got your back, in case you have a problem. On the day we set out from Laguna Amarga, there were about 18 of us in total. Amy and I started our walk alone but after some detours-we befriended a young lad (18 years old!) named Norm from Bethesda Maryland and an Englishman named Dominic. They were great company and we made it to campamento Seron after about 4 hours hiking. Norm opted to continue on while Dominic, Amy and I all decided to set camp for the night. Over the next few hours everybody else made there way to camp: The English trail running couple-actually, they were there when we arrived-two Parisian ladies with an Aussie bloke, a group of 4 Austrians, a young couple from Washington DC (via stanfUrd), and an Isrealie couple. Over the next 8 days we would become a close group, especially with Dominic, the French ladies Gwen and Aurelie, and Tim, the Australian from Germany. This was one aspect of trekking in Torres del Paine that I really enjoyed...having the opportunity to build new international relationships with interesting folks.
Our second night found us camping in a beautiful location on Lago Dickson. We had been blessed with fantastic weather up to this point. There is a refugio at Lago Dickson and so we got to spend the evening in doors drinking beers and talking with our fellow trekkers. At about 10 pm the campers stumbled out to their tents in what could only be described as moderate winds. I quickly fell to sleep. A few hours later the winds started to pick up and before long you could hear the gusts of wind come roaring down the valley and off the lake. There would be a moment of silence and them "WHAM!" we were in the midst of the gale force winds. Our little tent was taking a beating-the gusts would knock the tent almost flat-so was Mo for that matter, as the fiberglass poles would flex and smack Amy on her noggin. At about 0400 I heard pieces of sheet metal flying through the air, the remnants of what was once a shed. It was a real nutter. The tent survived the night-and so did we-awakening to a pleasant, calm, sunny morning. Henry, the manager of refugio Dickson, reported the winds at 140 K/h (85 mph)! Damn! At this point I was pretty proud of our little $30 tent.
I have said it before on this website, the single most challenging and rewarding day of trekking I have ever experienced was making it up, over, and down the Thorong La Pass on the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal. I stand by this claim, however, the fourth day hiking on the Torres del Paine circuit has got to be a close second. The night before the hike there was rain of biblical proportions (again our little tent weathered the storm a-okay). The next morning the rain had stopped, although the sky was still threatening, and the bridge over troubled waters had been washed out. This meant that at the start of the hike we would be wading across a glacial fed, swollen, raging river. Sharp rocks under toe made it necessary to keep our boots on, no sandals for this icy crossing. The water was thigh deep (waste deep for Amy) and there were some intense moments-the Isrealie girl was almost swept away! After crossing the river we came to the environmental nightmare of Torres del Paine: a swampy stretch about 10 football fields long of ankle to knee deep mud sans boardwalks. At this point I was thankful for having had to cross the river in my boots and socks, otherwise I might have spent 2 hours picking my way across the marsh trying to keep dry...instead I just marched right on through. The rain up to this point had been off and on. After the bog we crossed another bridge that led us to the climb up over Passo John Gardner. For the climb we had heavy winds, rain, freezing rain, sleet, and snow flurries. Fantastic. The weather was clear on the other-Western-side of the pass and when we made it to the top we were greeted with amazing views of the sea of ice that is Glacier Grey. We took it all in and then started our decent, 900 M down a steep muddy slope to Campamento Passo where we stopped for lunch. Amy and I decided not to stay at Camp Passo, as originally planned, and instead opted to push on for a hot shower and a beer at Refugio Grey. It is a mostly downhill 3 hour hike from Campamento Passo to Refugio Grey. The trail offers splendid views of Glacier Grey but also takes you along exposed cliffs where winds were blowing so strong that I had to hold Mo down by her pack (she didn´t know I was doing it). I was so relieved when we made it to the flat stretch before Refugio Grey that I jogged the last 2 K and had camp set up for Amy when she arrived a half hour later. It was an extremely challenging day of hiking. Not so much physically, we only went 22 K with a climb of 800 M to an altitude of just under 1300 M, but more mentally challenging. Starting out wet in ice cold water was daunting. By the time I got to the end of the swamp I was asking myself "what in the F##K had I got myself into?!?". The snow flurries over the pass stung the face and eyes but then came that view of Glacier Grey and I knew. I knew it was good. The winds couldn´t blow us away-not after that night at Dickson-and after that it was a piece of cake, another rewarding day of trekking.
We completed the trek in 8 days and we were able to see almost all the picture postcard views of the hike. The only exception was the Valle de Francais which was complete white out with rain and snow. Standing at mirador Torres del Paine, taking in the towers, I had a real sense of accomplishment. It was one hell of a hike and, while I would not want to do it again, I would recommend it to any avid trekker. Spectacular, as our pictures will attest.
Back in Puerto Natales we spent a few days catching our breath and arranging our forward travel. We also met up with the gang from the trail, Domnic, Gwen, Aurelie, and Tim for drinks and dinner. A few nubies who were leaving for the Torres the next day joined us and listened apprehensively to our tales. On St Patty´s day morning we caught a bus from Puerto Natales headed to Argentina and the city of El Calafate, gateway to Glacier Moreno and Los Glaciers Nacional Parque. It was a 5 hour ride including the ordeal of crossing the boarder (in the snow) and all we wanted to do was find a place to sleep and then try some of Argentinas legendary beef. Unfortunately for us, El Calafate was not so welcoming and it took Amy and I almost 2 hours to find accomodation-the city was over run with gringos. We eventually ended up at Hostel El Calafate where, low and behold, Gwen, Aurelie, and Tim were also holed up. We agreed to meet up for St Pattricks day dinner at an all you can eat meat joint. It was just what the doctor ordered (or not) after a long hike. I was a complete glutten-I even managed to have 6 bowls of ice cream! Stuffed to bursting at the seams, we made our way to the local Irish Pub, of course there is an Irish pub in El Calafate, for a drink to celebrate...it was Gwen´s 30th birthday after all. It was a good night but Amy and I needed to be up early the next morning to catch our bus out to the Glacier Moreno.
Glacier Moreno is one of about 12 glaciers in Los Glaciers Nacional Parque. It is far from the largest glacier on the Hielo del Sur or Southern Ice Sheet but it is interesting in that it is an advancing (arguably) glacier that ends abruptly in Lago Argentina. The Nacional Parque has built a range of viewing platforms from which tourists can get up close and personal with the galcier. The face of the glacier is 5 K long and almost 60 M tall! To be there when a sirac of this magnitude calves off the glacier and crashes into the icy blue waters of the lake is as much an aural experience as it is a visual one. In a word: AWESOME! The noise is unbelievable and indescribible. Unfortunately for us, it was a rainy day at Glacier Moreno. We were stuck at the glacier, like it or not, for 5 hours until our bus returned to El Calafate. That in itself would not be so bad if the viewing platforms were covered (they are not) or there was a cafe to sit back and enjoy a mate (there is, sort of-but it has no seats). We spent most of our time trying to escape the elements but we did get lucky enough to wittnes a sirac calving. Wowsers! However, I would not say it was worth the $30 in bus fare and parque entrance fees-maybe on a sunny day but certainly not on the day we were there. I could not really complain about the weather considering our luck at Torres del Paine.
The next day we had an early morning bus to El Chalten and the part of the nacional parque where you can access hiking trails and campsites at the base of Cerro Fitzroy and Cerro Torre. It is another 5 hour bus ride from El Calafate to El Chalten but, when the weather is clear it is an eye popping ride. We were once again blessed by the weather gods-there had been 20 straight days of rain at El Chalten-and got a bright, clear sunny day. The views of the Cerro Torre and Cerro Fitzroy Ranges is phenominal from the road that approaches El Chalten. The bus driver stopped 3 times to let everyone get out and snap photos. We got to see Nandus (ostrich like Patagonian bird) and a fox. It was all very exciting. El Chalten itself proved to be a pleasant little pueblo-with really good meat available, of course. Originally it was just a boarder outpost, established when Chile and Argentina were having regular boarder disputes. The pueblos proximity to the impressive mountains of Cerro Fitzroy and Cerro Torre^ have made it somewhat of a tourist destination, although still somewhat off the beaten track. We planned to spend three nights camping and exploring the trails and miradors around the Fitzroy and Torre ranges and a few more nights back in El Chalten relaxing. As I have already mentioned, once again the weather was with us and our first four days in the Fitzroy area of Los Glaciers Nacional Parque were splendid. We camped three nights at Lago Capri and did day hikes to Lagos Los Trec and the impressive Fitzroy Mirador as well as out to the mirador for Cerro Torre. We spent one day mountaineering on rough trails between the ranges and the rest of our time was spent back in El Chalten enjoying the Argentinian beef and micro brews. El Chalten is a great place to spend some time and I was sad to leave after 6 nights.
But leave we must. From El Chalten we had a scheduled 14 hour bus ride to the boarder town of Los Antiguas where we intended to cross back into Chile and head up the Carterra Austral. Well, we made it in a rather uneventful trip. The next day we crossed the boarder back into Chile and the frontier pueblo of Chile Chico. Chile Chico is a dusty little town on the shores of South Americas second largest lake (definitely its deepest at 590 M). Because the busy season has come to a close we have found ourselves trapped in Chile Chico trying decide where and how to get to our next destination. We have finally decided to head North tomorrow, across the lake by ferry and then a 2 hour bus ride up to the city of Coyhaique where we hope to spend a little time exploring before we continue North up the Carterra Austral and eventuially back into Argentina at Esquel. I hope you have enjoyed this blog more than I have enjoyed typing...if you have enjoyed it just 1 tenth the amount that I have enjoyed all my experiences in Patagonia then you will probably have a hard time going to sleep tonight-like a kid on Christmas. It is that good. Ciao!
NOTES:
* There are exceptions: some people trek faster than others-like the crazy British trail runners who started the same day as us but who were planning to do the full circuit in like 4 days-and some trek slower. These freaks and turtles generally do not camp at the recommended daily camp sites. The freaks may do 2 or even 3 days hike in 1. The turtles, well, hell, I don´t know what they do. I suppose they just curl up in their shell whenever they think they have gone far enough for the day.
^ Despite its relatively low summit at just over 3000 M Cerro Torre is considered to be one of the most difficult mountains to climb in the world. Indeed, it was considered impossible until it was first conquered in 1974. The mountain is, as the name suggests, a rock tower that climbs abruptly and straight up into the cold blue Patagonian sky.
I am a traveler of both time and space.*
Since Arequipa we had been traveling sort of like flying by the seat of our pants. Thus we found ourselves at the long distance bus terminal in Arica, Chile trying to determine some sort of itinerary for the next few days and weeks. Reviewing our handy-dandy and recently purchased Footprint Guide to Chile we knew that we did not want to spend much time in the boarder town of Arica. Beyond that, we did not know a whole lot about Chile. Some peeps we had met along the way said that San Pedro de Atacama in the deserts of North Eastern Chile was supposed to be amazingly beautiful. Considering all the desert we had already come through we were not particularly excited about San Pedro.
However, San Pedro de Atacama is not Arica and it is in the general direction we wanted to go-that is, South-and so we decided to give it a shot. While Amy scrutinized our Chilean travel bible I went to the Tur Bus ticket agent and learned the next bus to San Pedro de Atacama with 2 seats available was an over-nighter departing in 2 days. I shopped around with other bus operators, same story. Yikes! Welcome to the busy season for travel in Chile. After a quick pow-wow with Amy I looked for buses leaving that afternoon to near by Iquique, no luck. We soon realized we were stuck in Arica for at least one night and started to make alternative plans for the next day. The problem was that all buses headed South were full. Finally I managed to get 2 classico seats on an over night bus to Calama in the middle of the desert but only 100 K from San Pedro de Atacama. I even managed to get a connection from Calama to San Pedro. We were set, in 2 days time we would be exploring the lunar landscape of the legendary Atacama desert. Now we just had to find a place to sleep for the night and a way to kill a day in Arica. Amy made a few phone calls and got us a double room with private bath and after several hours in the long distance bus terminal we were finally ready to set off to Arica proper.
Before we even left the bus station headed to our new digs I could see, feel, taste, and hear the differences between Chile and Peru. I heard the difference when I was trying to arrange forward travel. Chileans speak fast and have the tendancy to drop consonances, slur words, and mumble in general. There is also a distinct Chilean dialect of slang that, I am told, even confuses native Spanish speakers of other nationalities. Ugh! After a month in Peru I felt that my Spanish skills were much improved and that I could express myself, be understood and understand, in Spanish. Just that morning in Peru I was negotiating a share taxi, now, across the boarder, I felt like my Spanish was regressing-I had struggled communicating with the bus sales representatives. I got my first taste of Chile from one of the cafes in the bus terminal. I had satisfied my hunger with a completo-the ultimate Chilean snack.^ We could feel the difference between Chile and Peru in our wallets. The cost of transportation suddenly tripled along with the price of accomodation. The ride to our hostal provided testament to the visual differences between the neighboring nations. Chile boasts very modern architecture and construction, pedestrian right-of-way is respected by drivers, and there was even a McDonalds, the ultimate sign of civilization.
Our hostal proved to be a pretty legit place and after we settled in a bit we decided to have a wonder about the city of Arica in search of an ATM and dinner. We managed to find an ATM and once again I am a millionair-in Chilean pesos. Then we had a tasty meal at the local fire station. Most fire stations in Chile are volunteer and they often run a restaurant with good cheap eats as a way to make some money for the station and volunteers. The next day we headed out the Valle de Azapa to the Museo Arqueologico San Miguel de Azapa. As far as museums go it was not bad-they even provided written English explanations of the exhibits that basically consisted of archiological artefacts from local pre-Columbian societies. Interestingly enough, the museum depicted the Incas in a different light from that portrayed in Peru to the North. This museum made it seem that the local Chilean pre-Columbian societies suffered under Incan rule. The argument goes like this: local agriculture, pottery, and textiles suffered because the best talent was taken to the Incan capital of Cuzco far away (although I thought the evidence was pretty transparent). Just another perspective. The museum itself is located in the fertile Valle de Azapa where green olive trees provide another stark contrast to the surrounding brown desert mountains and clean blue sky. We found ourselves back in Arica just afternoon with another 10 hours to kill before our departure. We made for the beach where I relaxed with a book and got a killer sun burn. After a few beers and a quick bite to eat we collected our bags and went to catch our bus.
Calama is about a 10 hour ride from Arica and I was a little bit concerned about the classico seats I had bought for the ride. I was pleasantly surprised when I climbed into my seat and found plenty of extra leg room. Fantastic! Who needs semi-cama (reclining bus bed seats) when the classico is this good? Through the night I even managed to get some restful sleep and when I woke up to morning tea I was all smiles as we cruised through the desert. Mo and I were watching the clock (actually Mos watch-but you know the saying) as we had a connecting bus to San Pedro de Atacama to catch out of Calama. It was going to be close so I asked the bus steward when we expected to arrive. At least I thought that was what I was asking but when he responded that we were not going to Calama because it was raining I thought I had misunderstood him or his Spanish. I looked outside at the vast desert rolling past and the crystal clear blue sky above, what rain?!? Then we suddenly came to a place in the road where about 10 buses and some trucks were all pulled off the road. We stopped for a few minutes and then came the announcement: we could not get to Calama because it was raining and the associated flash flooding had washed out the road. There were gasps of disbelief and I still did not think I was understanding correctly. We were in the middle of a desert and the flipping sun was beating down on us, what effing rain?!!??. The Frenchman next to us confirmed: the road is washed out due to rain. No way! We turned around and headed back towards the coastal city of Antofagasta. Suddenly everyone in the bus was pointing out the windows to the East and, sure enough, there was a raging torrent of water tearing across the desert landscape. Weird. That was our calamity of a trip to Calama (pun intended) that ended up in Antofagasta. The bus stations in Antofagasta were overrun with displaced travelers. We waited in line to claim a refund for our tickets and get an explanation for when the road to Calama would be open. The prognosis was not good. They were saying maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. MoWenck held an emergancy huddle: what should we do next9999 I expressed to Mo that the road to Calama would not likely be open for days and that seats on buses out of Antofagasta were going to be difficult to buy very soon. Amy was in complete agreement. I quickly tried to find a bus ticket South, anywhere South. Screw San Pedro, I just wanted to get to the South. But the rush was on and seats were already hard to come by. Finally I secured the last two semi-cama seats (separated) the next night this time headed for the port city of Valaparaiso. We fled the bus terminal crowded with angry stranded passengers and started our desparate search for accomodation. The citys accomodation could not support the influx of stranded travelers. Finally, we managed to claim a rather rustic room at a friendly family run hospedje. The room would not be available for several hours so we dropped our bags and exhausted we went to the local market to have a good feed. We had heard about marisco-a type of Chilean shell fish, seafood soup and this was our fisrt opportunity to give it a whirl. It was delicious. Satiated we made our way back to the hospedje for a much deserved good nights rest.
The next morning we found that we had yet another day to kill waiting for a bus in a Chilean city that did not offer a whole lot in the way of attractions. We decided to get out of the city proper and head for a place on the coast called La Portada, where there is a beautiful arch carved from the cliffs by the ocean. Of course getting there was an adventure. We tried like hell to find a local bus that could take us there but neither Mo nor I could understand the instructions we received in Spanish. We were wondering the streets, lost and frustrated and I was cursing everyone and everything Chilean under (in English) when a young couple stepped up to offer their help. Fortunately for us they spoke a modecum of English and helped us find the correct local bus that would put us on our way to La Portada. I asked the bus driver if the bus was going to La Portada and how much was the fare but I could not understand his response. The driver was a very patient man and finally he just collected the fare and told me to sit down. I obliged. We twisted and turned our way out of the city to the North until we finally came to a sort of terminal. Finally I understood what the driver was trying to explain: we needed to transfer buses to get to La Portada. We hopped on the next bus, paid the fare and away we went. I was happy when I saw signs for La Portada. I was a bit skeptical when we went the opposite direction from the arrows depicted on the signs for La Portada. After about an hour we found ourselves in the fishing village of Juan Lopez some 38 K North of Antofagasta. Sure, there is supposed to be a nice beach there but not much else and I already had a bad sun burn. We convinced the driver to drop us at La Portada on his return trip to Antofagasta for no additional charge. Finally after about 3 hours we found ourselves looking at La Portada. Sure it is beautiful but it was a little disappointing considering our ordeal to get there. We sucked it up-figuring we were only burning time anyway-and did the hike down to the beach below the cliffs. The most entertaining thing at La Portada that day was the filming of what was apparently a music video. Three dudes in flamboyant yellow jerseys and black parchute pants performed MC Hammer inspired dance numbers for a video camera. It was hysterical (see photo gallery). Much amused we made our way back to Antofagasta to wait out the bus.
Back at the bus terminal complete pandamonium reigned: the road to Calama was still closed and travelers remained stranded. There were news crews interviewing passengers-they even tried to interview us. Our bus was late and we did not depart until well after midnight. It was a rather uneventful ride to Valaparaiso and we actually made it to our destination. We had instructions for finding our hostal and using local bus transport managed to locate Casa Aventura in Cerro Alegre without further difficulties. The hostal was swell and the city of Valaparaiso looked ripe and ready to explore. The city has a long and rich history as the first major port in the Americas on the Pacific Ocean. The city itself is vibrant with colorful houses climbing the hills surrounding the bay. The houses are an interesting mix of colonial mansions standing next to ramshackle shacks all with impressive views from the hills. The streets and alley ways of the hills twist and turn in all directions and it is an adventure just to explore every nook and cranny. There are killer stairs and the ascensors (funicular railways) to avoid them. It is a beautiful city the only drawback-aside from having to walk steep hills, but no problem for a Berkeley boy like me-was that the streets were covered with land mines of dog shit. We met some really friendly travelers from England, Columbia, Switzerland, Luxemberg, Australia and France all of whom were staying at our hostal. We spent four days exploring the hills, streets, beaches and markets of Valaparaiso. We visited one of the former homes of the Chilean poet cum politician Pablo Neruda which was very cool. The house was entirely designed and decorated by Neruda himself (including much of the furniture) and I have never been in a house that had so much of a personal touch as this place. We ventured out to the resort of Vina Del Mar for a day at the beach. We went to an open air screening in the Plaza of a movie debut. The movie was about the socialist leader Salvador Allende (born in Valaparaiso) and his rise to the presidency of Chile. He was quickly over thrown and killed in the Uncle Sammy supported military coup of one Augusto Pinochet-also born in Valaparaiso. Unfortunately the movie was in Spanish and lacked the promised sub titles and was therefore very difficult to follow. I was saddened to learn the history of the life and death of Salvador Allende. I am no longer shocked by the United States policy of regime change and what our government is willing to do, has done, and will do again to remove opposition leaders from power. It was just sad to learn the horrible results: Allende was killed, Pinochet seized power with a relentless hold for the next 20. Chileans suffered under Pinochet who proved not only to be ruthless with his advasaries but also a big phat criminal. Seems like a familiar story line with US led regime change-from Nicragua to Iraq the same story repeating itself, ad nauseum. I guess old Fidel Castro and Victor Chavez in Venezuela do have something to worry about. But I digress.
While we were in Valaparaiso we managed to aquire some camping gear from a kind Swiss traveler who had just come from the Southern Patagoonia region and no longer needed his gear. We also had a fun night when two French Navy ships pulled into port. The French sailor boys who had been couped up for a month on the ship were happy to set foot on solid ground and more happy to drink like-well-sailors. It was interesting to drink and talk to the sailors and hear their stories in a mix of French, Spanish, and English. I had a good time despite the horrible French pop music they were playing and besides, they gave me beers for free. The next day with only a slight hangover we made our way to the bus terminal for the hour long bus ride to Santiago. We got to Santiago without any calamities. We set off into the city in search of the hostal where we had reservations but did not have directions to get to. We hopped a local bus out to the part of the city where the hostal is located-the bohemian Bellavista district. Then, closely following our map I lead Amy to where our hostal was supposed to be, unfortunately for us, it was not there. We wondered around a bit in search of the place until finally some kind gentleman pointed us in the right direction. When we finally got to our hostal we found that our room had been given to someone else. Damn! The hostal owner, Gonzolo, made up for it by offering us a room with bunk beds for the night, free of charge. The next day he promised we would be able to move into the best double room in the place. Free night, fine, we took it. We spent the rest of that day and the next running errands about the city. We bought sleeping bags to complete our camping gear. We changed our flight home from Buenas Aires on the 12Jun06 to leave from La Paz on the 15Jun06. We bought a flight down to Punta Arenas and the far South of Chilean Patagonia. Santiago is a big city (70% of the population of the country lives in the capital city) and we were happy to be able to use the very efficient and reasonably priced public transportation of the city to get around. We were able to easily get everywhere we needed without having to pay for a taxi. Finally on our final day in the city we were able to explore some of the attractions. Our first stop was to a museum that had a display of Pre-Columbian (ie. Mayan) Mexican American sculpture. It was really cool but unfortunately everything was in Spanish and it took me a long time to translate the desciptions (but I was able to for the most part). After the museum we wondered over to the Palacio Cousino a large mansion in French rococo style. The house was built by Luis and Isadora Cousino, part of a wealthy Chilean family dynasty that made its money in mining and wine. The mansion features tapastries, antiques, and paintings imported from France and Italy. There is a chandalier made from over 13000 pieces of crystal, a staircase made from over 20 different types of marble, parque floors with a different design in each room, gold leaf, the whole kit and kaboodle. Even today, the word luxurious falls short of describing the palace. Combined with my experience at Pablo Nerudas house in Valaparaiso and then the tour of Palacio Cousino, I now have some really good ideas for outfitting a house when I finally find the time and money to buy one. After the Palace we climbed the hill called Santa Lucia before returning to our hostal for a brief break. Then we took the funicular railway to the top of Cerro San Cristobal (in Bellavista and not far from our hostal) for unrivaled views of the city. Santiago is set in a valley at the base of the Andeas mountains that-on a clear day-provide an amazing backdrop for the city. Of course the mountains are also a problem. They trap the smog of the city in the valley and the views from Cerro San Cristobal reminded me of dropping into the San Fernando Valley from the grapevine in California. So much haze and smog that you could barely make out the mountains in the distance. Just like looking towards the San Gabrials on a smoggy day in Passadena. Ick!
It was a good day and we finished with beers on the rooftop patio of our hostal waiting to catch our night bus South to the Mapuche city of Temuco, gateway from the North to the lakes district. We enjoyed our beers and the sunset in the company of other travelers and Amy went to take a shower. Before we knew it, we were running late for our bus and we still had to collect our gear, pay for the room, and make it to the station. Very hurried we collected our shit and then tried to get a cab. Nothing was available over the phone so we took to the streets. I managed to wave down an empty taxi (I was lucky because another guy tried to score the same cab but the driver took us, the foreigners instead) and we crawled in. The driver asked where we needed to go, I said the bus terminal. He asked which one, there are 4! Oh shit I said. The one on the Alameda. Again, he asked which one, there are 3. Damn it! I told him the one near the train station and the other bus terminal. He smiled, he knew where I needed to be, or at least I thought he did. Of course the taxi guy knows the back streets better than the tourist and he has us going in a direction that I am sure is wrong. I am trying to communicate with him and managing okay but I am still not sure that we are going the right way. Finally I see the Alameda ahead and the train station, whew, we were going the right way the whole time. When we first got in the driver asked us what time we needed to be at the station and I told him 20 minutes. He said no problem and true to his word he dropped us off right on time. We paid and hustled our arses across the street to the terminal where of course our bus was delayed. Doh! Finally we boarded the bus and settled back for the night.
Yet another uneventful bus ride deposited us in the city of Temuco at about 0700 in the morning. We checked our guide book for recommended accomodation and I made a few phone calls with disasterous results. I could not hear the responses to my questions and was unable to locate anything. Mo gave it a shot but was not able to confirm anything so we decided to wonder around the city in search of a room. We checked out a few hospedajes before we settled on a room. We promptly fell asleep for a few hours. I woke up to Amy jerking her head up and saying "of shit!". I asked what was up and Amy mentioned that she left her passport and travelers cheques in the strong box back at the Bellavista hostal in Santiago. Doh! The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to determine if it would be possible to send Amys passport and cheques via a currier and how we would pay for it. Amy could only speak with the hired help and not the owner of the Bellavista (good ole Gonzolo) and thus she was unable to confirm anything. We would have to call back the next day. The next morning Amy was able to communicate with Gonzolo and it was determined that the passport and cheques could be sent via Tur Bus currier services (Gonzolo would foot the bill-only 1500 pesos or so) but not until Monday for a Tuesday delivery. Swell but that meant we were stuck, again, in a shitty Chilean city, this time Temuco. We decided to make the best of it and went out to explore the streets of this proud Mapuche city. We visited the plaza and then wondered over to the cleanest most organised third world fruit market I have ever seen (see photo gallery). We even decided to buy some fruit before making our way to a local bodega to drink some beers, play cards, and watch football (soccer). The next day we ventured 30 K to the near by village of Chol Chol where not much was happening and we found ourselves in another bar waiting for a bus to take us back to the dusty streets of Temuco. The 5pm bus back to town was crowded and they were not going to let us on but in light of the fact that we were foreign they took special pitty on us and gave us some standing room. The bus was loaded with young Chilean men who were drinking heavily enroute to some kind of function. It was a jocular bus ride. Back in Temuco we rushed to the internet to confirm that Gonzolo had sent the package. Amy had a message from Gonzolo stating that he had spaced out and that he would send everything first thing tomorrow. He even asked if we still wanted it sent to Temuco and Amy responded by telling Gonzolo we were moving on to Pucon and to have it sent there.
The next day we left Temuco behind and took a 2 hour bus ride to the resort village of Pucon on the shores of Lagos Villarrica where we intended to climb Volcan Villarrica (an active Volcano) and do some hiking in Huerquehue National Park before heading South to Puerto Varas and a date with our flight to Punta Arenas in the far South Patagonia region of Chile. We made reservations for a room in a tiny little hospedaje called Lucia where Lucia actually greeted us and showed us to our room. Excellent. We had access to the kitchen and so we planned to cook a few meals and save some casheesh. We walked around the town trying to locate a tour operator to take us up to the top of the volcano. After visiting 4 different tour operators we settled on the cheapest one: $50 US for all transfers, guides, gear, and a full day climb. Bring your own food, water and sunblock. After some grocery shopping Mo went to check on the status of her passport. True to his word Gonzolo sent the package first thing Tuesday, before he even checked his email and therefore the passport and travelers cheques were headed to Temuco and not Pucon as Amy had requested in her email response. Double doh! That is how we found ourselves at the Tur Bus office with Amy explaining that the package needed to be delivered to Pucon. Tur Bus was obliged to respect her wishes but she would have to pay the difference (another 1500 pesos or so). Fine, do it!
The next day we woke up early to climb the volcano. The weather was clear and we got the green light to go for the climb (the peak is 2840 M and weather conditions need to be clear before they will set off). We were outfitted with our gear (old shitty boots for Tyler´s big feet) and crammed into a bus for the half hour ride to the starting point for the ascent. There is a ski lift at the start of the hike that takes you up 450 M and saves an hour climb but it costs 4500 pesos. We didn´t have the option to take the ski lift because when we got there it was broke down (with people stuck on it). We set off on the climb and by the time we reached the top of the ski lift I had huge blisters and the lift was operational again (sort of). After a brief break to take pictures we started the climb on the soft snow and ice-we did not put the crampons on all day-slowly climbing up the volcano. There was one really steep pitch and then the summit was within view. The crater was spewing smoke as we neared it. Before the final pitch the clouds rolled in on us and it started to snow and it looked like we may not be able to make an assault on the crater. Full speed ahead, damn the snow! We went for it and we were rewarded at the top with spectacular views and lava spewing fireworks. Awesome. The sound and visuals were out of this world. The snow stopped and the sun poked through the clouds while we spent nearly an hour at the summit. Finally it was time to start the descent. After we climbed down from the crater and back onto the snow we were able to ass-slide down the volcano. That was a blast! The ass grooves of all the climbers to descend before us created deep and steep "shoots". It was like ass-luge with only the ice axe for control and a brake. Needless to say, it did not take long to come down off the mountain. It was a great day and well worth the $50 US.
The next day we went out to Huerquehue Nacional Parque for some day hiking along the Los Lagos (the Lakes) trail through the park. The trail provided stupendous views of Volcan Villarrica and the surrounding region. The trail also visits several lakes-as the name would suggest-along the way passing through beech forest with the native Arracuyans (sp?) trees also known as "Monkey Puzzle Trees". We spent two hours all to ourselves at an isolated point on Lago Toro soaking up the sun and reading. Fantastic. Back in Pucon Amy was able to pick up her passport and traveler´s cheques from the Tur-Bus office and we were finally set to continue our travels South. However, our time in Pucon had been so enjoyable that we decided to spend another day lazing about on the shores of Lake Villarrica. We also spent some time uploading pictures (see photo gallery-third plug for the gallery) and I started this blog. I have to admit Pucon I was impressed with Pucon. I was concerned that it would turn out to be another Queenstown, New Zealand: a once beautiful village turned into commercial nightmare. But Pucon retains its small village charm while offering many opportunities to enjoy the amazingly beautiful countryside that surround the town. Excellent and highly recommended.
Alas, we had to leave Pucon and get down near Puerto Montt to catch our flight down to Punta Arenas on Monday 06Mar06. The description of Puerto Montt in the guide book did not make the city seem all that appealing and so instead we opted to spend two nights in Puerto Varas-20 K North of Puerto Montt. This turned out to be a great decision as Puerto Varas is a beautiful community on the shores of Lake Llanquihue with spectacular views of Volcan Osorno. We had really good (but not cheap) accomodation at Casa Azul and we were able to make further plans and preparations for our time down in Patagonia especially since it rained the day we had free in Puerto Varas. Monday morning we were able to catch local buses (on the cheap) out to the airport where our flight was only slightly delayed. As far as flights go-particularly flights into Punta Arenas-ours was rather uneventful. Sure there was the expected nasty turbulance as we approached for landing but nothing that legends are made of-and there are many about landing at Punta Arenas. We did not even go into Punta Arenas proper and instead opted for the direct bus out to Puerto Natalas, gateway to Parque Nacional Torres del Paine where we intend to spend 8 days trekking "the circuit", weather permitting. So, today we have been preparing for the hike. 8 days food for two is a lot to carry! Add to that the fact that you must be prepared for any and all weather conditions-from sunshine to snow, wind and rain turning to hail-Torres del Paine has it all. The big worry is wind and rain. We spoke to some people who just got off the trail and they said even when it is blue skies over head it might be raining because of the wind. They also talked about such strong winds that he had to hold her down (with pack on) just so she would not blow away! Sounds like fun, eh? Well, they also talked about mosquitos, ankle deep mud, and freezing temperatures. Why do it? Well, you should take a moment now to google Torres del Paine and you will understand why 70000 people a year visit the park. Shoot, you may even be tempted to catch the next flight down-in that case, we´ll see you on the trail-if the rain isn´t so heavy we miss each other. LOL! Anyway, pray for good weather for us, I am and I gave up religion for lent. Guffaw!
Ciao!
NOTES:
* I will never forget the day I learned that we are all travelers of both time and space. I was singing Led Zeppelins Kashmir as I walked into my highschool physics class when Mr. Ramonda (we always called him Mr. Fromunda, you know, like From Unda My Balls) said to me "That is right Tyler, we are all travelers of both time and space." before launching into a lecture about dimensions and physics. That day I did not learn anything I did not already know but it was like I had the clouds that had obscured my view suddenly removed. It would be a long time before I ever thought to question the exhistence of time as a dimension but that is a whole other can of worms.
^ The completois basically a hotdog that comes with a lot of condiments. It almost always involves lots of mayonaise and avocado. It may also include-but not be limited to-onions, tomatos, catsup, mustard, relish, and if you are really lucky, sour krout. It is easily the most disgusting, unhealthy food imagineable. But they are so damn cheap and tasty!