Patagonia Update (part 1)

HOLA.

Pick a rainy day and settle down in front of your computer screens with a nice cup of hot cocoa and a cat, because this is going to be a monster update folks. You ought not be surprised, it's been what a month since I've last posted anything? Well, let's do something about that.

When I last left this off, I was hanging around in the Puerto Montt area of Chile, and unexpectedly enjoying myself quite a bit. I say this because I was spending a week waiting for a boat in a part of Chile that they call "a waste of time" on the traveller wire. What was happening with me, though, was that I was starting to get a sense of Chilean culture, and liking how spontaneous and inviting it is. One night, for instance, I ended up hanging out with a group of Chilean guys at a Ska concert; another, staying up late with the owner of my hostel playing Blues music (him on his guitar, me on the harmonica); still yet another, going to a Salsa dancing club with a couple of Chileans that I'd just met. It wasn't at all painful that my boat for the south kept getting delayed; quite the opposite.

I did set sail eventually, however, and would take this boat to the village of Chaiten - the first stop on what's called the Carretera Austral, a rugged road travelling through the rural south of Chile. I'd continue immediately by bus from Chaiten to the town of Futaleufu (before the trip, my dad said something about how I was headed for "Timbuktu" and I said he was close). The scenery along the way was striking to say the least. Mountains rise impressively over little villages, and rivers shine turquoise. Futaleufu is one of these little villages, and has a turquoise river of it's own which is world renowned for it's class V white water rafting. This was also the main reason for my stop here to the slight apprehension of my poor family back home. I joined up with some Israeli travellers in the village, and together we formed a rafting group. We found a company to take us out, and the next day went down the river. Lots of fun, and none of us got injured or drowned. Mom was happy.

Leaving Futaleufu, I met a travelling couple who I would join up with and end up spending much of my time with on the Carretera Austral. Lenny, from New York (originally Russia), has travelled all over the world, has a keen eye for photography, and appreciates irony. Isarina, from Switzerland, has all sorts of surprising hobbies ("you were in the circus? really?"), enjoys life, and thinks you should purposefully lose track of time while travelling. I liked them, and our first small adventure together would be hiking through a rainstorm in the rainforest up to a hanging glacier. As that last statement might tell you, Chile is kind of a dynamic place. As for the glacier, it was one of those sights that as Lenny says you want to just "burn into your memory." Unfortunately, I don't think that I can do that for any of you, or even for myself. I do, however, have a picture which I'll put up.

The three of us travelled next to Coyhaique, which is the only town of any real size along the Carretera Austral. I was actually relatively overwhelmed by the population of 40,000, but since there wasn't much to do there except to get some photography lessons from Lenny, we moved on to the village of Cerro Castillo.

We'd split up there temporarily while they went off to do the popular 4 day trek there, and I opted for an alternative 2 day trek. I didn't have any backpacking gear with me, and the only thing I was able to rent was a tent from the son of my hostel owner. Plus, it would be only my second real backpacking trip, and first one I'd attempt on my own. I prepared dry food for the 2 days, borrowed a map from Isarina, and the next day I set off into what would be quite a little adventure. During my walk to camp on the first day, the first thing that went wrong was that I lost Isarina's map. Beating myself up about that a bit, I continued on, and still managed to reach the camp successfully. The rain had started to come down pretty heavily by this point, and so I expediently put up my tent and got everything inside. I'd soon realize, however, that this tent I borrowed from a 12 year old wasn't the best one to have in the rain. The water got through, and I would find myself that evening folding the tarp on the floor to direct it into a corner, while bailing it out of the tent periodically using ziploc baggies. I knew it was going to be a long, cold night, and remember thinking that I'd like to be anywhere else, but then thinking that really what I wanted was just to be with my friends. Cramped up in one part of my tent, I managed to fall asleep, though, and when I woke up the rain had thankfully ceased.

I'd decided the previous night that if the weather looked good, I'd make an effort to continue on and reach my destination. If it looked like more of the same, I'd head back towards town the same way I came from and at least be warm, safe, and happy once I'd gotten there. It did look good though, and there happened to be an elderly Polish guy who'd set up camp there that night, who pointed me in the right direction. This led me up a severely steep, rocky pass, and after pushing myself up it, I found myself looking down upon the lake I wanted to get to; the beautiful Lake Cerro Castillo, nestled under the glaciers of the mountain Cerro Castillo. A successful excursion after all, I thought. Not quite. From the lake I could look see a pass which I suspected was the one which would take me straight back to town. I followed a trail for about an hour heading towards it until I encountered an American couple heading the other way. They had a map which showed the trail back to town as being one that went straight down the mountain from the lake; not how I remembered it, but they had a map and I didn't [little side note: I later found out their map was old, and that the way I had been going would have been the correct way]. So I went back, and searched for a trail leaving from the lake. I couldn't find one, but climbing up a bit above the lake I could actually see the town below and straight in front of me. Shortly after setting off down the mountain without a trail, I discovered that things might be more difficult than they seemed. I'd find myself scrambling above rocky cliffs which I'd have to traverse until I could find a way down, bushwhacking it through thick brush alongside a ravine I couldn't cross, and losing sight of the village as soon as I gotten far enough down the mountain. Things didn't get any easier either once they got flatter. I'd reach a marsh with brush so thick I couldn't go any further, or another ravine, or hills that seemed to just be giant rocks. I knew where town was, but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get there; that is, until I came upon a trail. I rejoiced thinking that I'd found the trail that I hadn't been able to find earlier - the one which would take me straight back to town. It seemed to be going in the wrong direction, though, and before I knew it I was standing in the middle of a field of cows mooing at me. I couldn't believe how ridiculous my situation was, but realized that the ranchers that owned these cows would have a way to get back to town. I found some horse trails in the pasture, and followed them. I had to hop over some fences, but eventually the horse trails took me to a road, and eventually that road led me back. I'd get there at 9pm, about an hour before dark.

Comically enough, the next day, there was a giant national festival in the little village. The place was packed. I witnessed a parade and a rodeo, and participated in a night of folk dancing that night in the gymnasium. None of this was quite as great as it sounds. Since I had to wait another day for a bus anyways, I stuck around to be reunited with Lenny and Isarina the following evening. We had a final supper together before splitting up for good. They would continue south along the Carretera Austral to Cochrane. I'd go to Puerto Ibañez where I could catch a ferry to the Chile-Argentina border. I felt that the time had come for me to cross into the fourth new country of my journey, and couldn't wait. Of course I did have to wait in Puerto Ibañez for my ferry, which was unfortunate considering the liveliness of Puerto Ibañez (or lack thereof). Soon enough, though, I was crossing into the land of steak and tango. That was 2 weeks ago, and that is where I will leave you at the moment. Expect the second part of this update soon!

Saludos,
Stephen