Valdivia

December 5-7, 2010

Leaving Pucon we took a 3 hour bus through more beautiful countryside to Valdivia, the largest city in Southern Chile. It has a strong German influence- at the end of World War II a lot of Germans came to Southern Chile and Argentina, and have left their influence in architecture, street names, food, chocolate, and beer. We stayed in a hostel that had been a big house, and the woman who ran it (who is from California) told us they found boxes of photos and journals in the attic when they were converting the place. The family that lived in the house way back when had been members of the Nazi party, and the teenage daughter wrote fondly about Nazi Germany and continued ties to the party in Chile.

While that is creepy, we enjoyed the benefits that some German heritage had on the area, and dove wholeheartedly into the food and beer sampling. Not about to be talked into another horrendous bike ride, we spent our first afternoon sunning ourselves on a restaurant deck and enjoying crazy tacos and tasty local brews. We wandered the city and saw some of the largest sea lions (or marine wolves, as their Spanish name translates to!)


Our second day in town we wandered through the morning fish market, then took a local bus out to the coast. After a few wrong turns (and some confused directions) we found Marcelo, the man in the second blue house on the right with the fence around his yard (the correct directions!) who let us into the nature preserve. It is a relatively small plot of land with one trail loop through brush, an old growth wood, and beautiful views of the coast line. It was the perfect day for a picnic and a walk and a snooze on the beach.


We caught the bus back towards the city. This vehicle didn't seem to be doing as well on the steep, narrow, windy roads. There was a lot of chugging going on, and as a rule, I am never very comfortable when the driver crosses himself before heading up a hill or into a traffic circle, though this seems to be a not-uncommon practice in South America. This driver was pretty much on the mark though. The bus broke down on top of a steep hill, and while some trickery convinced it to start again, we coasted down the hill and into a parking lot (luckily!). Everyone was reimbursed the 400 pesos it cost to make it the rest of the way into the city. As we were walking to the next bus stop, and van pulled up with the standard cardboard "Valdivia" signs in the windows. They slowed enough to literally pull a woman with her suitcase in, and we shrugged and jumped in after her.

We asked the driver to drop us at the Kunstmann Brewery where we spent many happy hours. So many, in fact, that we missed the last bus into the city center by a hare and had to take a taxi. Though really, it was worth it. We had a tasting flight of all the beers at the moment and both loved the Torobayo sin Filtrar (an unfiltered amber beer. Yum!) and had a giant steak sandwich.

Our final morning we took a ferry to the small fishing town of Corral and visited an old fort and ate some sea-food empanadas before heading south again.

Climbing Volcán Villarrica!

December 4th, 2010

Finally, our 4th day in Pucón was clear and sunny- perfect for summiting Volcán Villarrica, one of Chile's most active volcanoes. The day before we had already been fitted for all our gear (boots, waterproofs, helmets, crampons, ice picks!!) and we joined in with about 20 other people at AguaVentura, the company that came highly recommended to us by all the locals we encountered. We all loaded into mini-buses and within 45 minutes were at the base of the volcano. We slathered on the sunscreen and were chairlifted up until we hit the really snowy part (since December is summer in Chile, the ski runs were all closed and there was dirt on the lower parts of the volcano).We strapped on our crampons, had a quick lesson about how to walk in the snow and ice (you really don't want to walk with your feet too close together when you have massive metal spikes attached to them!) and then we hit the snow.We zigzagged up... and up... and up. It was beautiful and sunny- incredibly bright with the reflection off the snow- and the perfect day for climbing. We took a couple of short snack breaks, and our group naturally separated into a fast and a slow. In the fast group we reached the summit in just over 3 hours and the wind conditions were good enough that we could sit around, take lots of photos, and stare down into the crater. Unfortunately the lava lake wasn't bubbling up but it was still smoking enough to be ominous.Our trip down involved trekking part way, then layering up with waterproofs, removing the crampons, and sliding down over the snow and ice on our butts (or faces, as sometimes happened). We had little plastic sleds to sit on for when it flattened out a bit, but for me the sledding was the most terrifying part of the day!
By the bottom I was exhausted, but we piled back into vans and headed back to the shop where we all sat on the roof and drank a couple of beers in the sun, back to where we could ogle the volcano from a distance and feel pretty awesome for tackling it.

Rainy Days and Hot Springs

Dec 1st & 2nd, 2010

It was gray and drizzly when we pulled ourselves out of bed. The plan was to take a local bus to the National Park nearby and go for a hike. A couple of other people from the hostel had the same idea and we all set off together in the afternoon. It was a lovely walk, though the views were hazy with mist. We saw a few lakes and a good waterfall, got muddy and wet and waited for construction on a minor bridge to be complete so we could take the bus across it. As you do.

Patrick had a friend of a friend who's family friend was in town, and was under explicit instructions to call this man because he would be very entertaining. So we did, and he was.

We met up with Marcelo and his local friend Paolina for dinner and drinks. Marcelo wanted to take us to this place- he didn't know the name of it, but he said it served "the weirdest food ever". It was "gringo food" and he wanted us to go and tell him if we thought it was weird, too. He had apparently been there the day before and sent something back to the kitchen in a rage because it had meat in it when he was promised it did not, and stormed out. So he warned us "I hope they don't spit in our food or something". We asked why he wanted to go back and he said "you will love it. It will feel like home. And they have good beer". We were not too sure about the first points, but were sold on the third.

As it turned out, they did not still have the special beer they were serving the other day, it was pretty standard gringo fare (the owners had transplanted from Southern California), and what he had ordered before were chili fries, which was way beyond the scope of his imagination or understanding.

The place was closing early, so after eating we walked over to Mamas and Tapas, the place we had been the night before for happy hour. Apparently it is the hot spot in town, but was pretty quiet since it wasn't quite high season yet. We had an entertaining evening where Paolina showed us her trompe, a Mapuche Indian musical instrument like a mouth harp. Marcelo nearly lost his teeth trying it.
They invited us to go to the hot springs with them the following day since it was supposed to rain again. When we left the bar Marcelo insisted on giving us a ride back to the hostel so he would know where to pick us up in the morning. We explained it was literally only a block away, it would be faster for us to just walk, but he persisted and we were surrounded by a pack of dogs, so we all got in the car. The dogs played their car chasing game as we drove off- though these upped the ante by surrounding the car on different sides. Marcelo stopped after half a block to jump out and yell at them. They were actually taken aback and ran off. He got back in, we started off again, and he promptly got pulled over. Turns out they are all one way streets, but with the town dark and quiet, who would have known? Probably someone who has visited twice a year for the past 8 years, or the girl who lives there, but no matter. He ended up getting off with a ticket, drove another 20 feet to let us out by our door, and promised to pick us up in the morning.

The next day was even grayer and rainier, and was perfect for Termas Los Pozones. We got stuff for sandwiches, beers, cigarettes for the Chileans (all of which are forbidden) and after about an hours drive were at a beautiful spot along the river with natural-looking rock and sand pools full of scorching hot water. We spent most of the day soaking in the pools, and when the rain would hit the hot water it would sizzle and steam. It was a wonderful, relaxing day.

Pucón and Why I Never Want to Ride a Bike Again

Nov 29th & 30th, 2010

After 3 days back in Santiago, I was ready to hit the road again. My bags had FINALLY arrived from the airport (after wasting many thousands of pesos waiting on hold to have 3 frustrating conversations in Spanish about why my possessions were not arriving) I was ready to set off. I had a new travel companion, Patrick, whom I had met in the hostel in Santiago before I left for Peru. It was my last week in the city and his first, and for some strange reason I threw out the offer of traveling in the South with me. For some stranger reason he decided to accept, and three weeks later, there we were.

Our first overnight bus was to the town of Pucón, about 11 hours south. Aside from an overhead bin sounding like it was about to come crashing down every time we went over a bump, the trip was pretty uneventful. I slept beautifully through it, as per usual, to the chagrin of my friend who has not yet mastered the art of being able to fall asleep anywhere, at the drop of a hat.


Pucón was bright and sunny when we arrived at 9am, with the chill in the air that lets you know you are in a ski town, even when it is technically summer. We walked the length of the town a couple of times in 15 minutes, had breakfast, checked out the lake, settled into a comfy hostel, and stopped to get information on the activity that drew us there- climbing the volcano that loomed over the town. It was too late to go that day- climbs start at about 7am, and was supposed to rain the next. The dude in the shop (no matter where in the world you go, I swear there will always be "dudes". This one was French, but no matter) guilt tripped us into doing something that day, so as not to waste the nice weather. Fair play to him, really, but his #1 suggestion was an "easy bike ride" over to a lake. Conveniently, his friend across the street could rent us the bikes. He also assured us it would be a lovely, scenic, mostly flat with a few hills at the end kind of ride. It should take about 4 hours, maybe 5 depending how much time we wanted to spend at the lake. We asked for a map and he gave us some line about not wasting paper- but offered to take a picture of the map on the wall with my camera so we could check the image as we went. Brilliant. He handed us a pump and a spare tube, promised we wouldn't need them, and off we went.
To preface this adventure, a few weeks before I had ridden down Volcano Chachani in Peru, which had been advertised for anyone of a moderate fitness level and could control a bicycle. On this particular trek at high elevation (over 19,000ft at the top!!), I thought my lungs would never inflate again, I fell off about 3 times and still had the cuts on my hands to prove it, and I got sick and also couldn't walk the next day. When Patrick and I had been making plans and talking about what we wanted to do, my one rule had been- no biking. First day, what do we do? Get on bikes. Fool me twice...


The ride started out fairly innocently. The highway out of town seemed to take a while and when we hit the gravel road it was kind of a pain to ride over (both literally and figuratively) but it was flat and the scenery was amazing. We crossed a river surrounded by wildflowers, had a great view of Volcán Villarrica smoking away, snow capped mountains, grassy fields. And then we hit the first hill. It was so steep they had to put cement tracks down so cars could drive up it. And then the next hill. And the next. I lost count of how many times I got off and walked that bike- pushed it, really. The downhill bits were really no better- they were steep and windy and lose gravely, and I had visions of going face first over the handle bars. Luckily I kept my terror in check and my face in one piece.


It was almost 2 hours before we reached the first point of interest, Los Ojos de Caburgua, which turned out to be a beautiful blue lagoon with 5 waterfalls dumping into it. Pat decided to jump in, and I probably should have too, if only to try and numb my muscles for the rest of the trip. We wound up on the highway and, after one last mighty hill (I hated those dudes in Pucón with my entire being) we made it to the lake. Which was lovely and idyllic, something out of the Sound of Music with the beautiful mountains framing it as the sun lowered in the sky. We chatted with a fellow cyclist who appeared to be an actual cyclist- he thought it was tough, but I don't think he was hating his life quite so much- took a few photos, and got back on the road.


Until I realized I had a flat tire. Then we got off the road and tried to change it but neither of us had a clue how to properly do that, so we just pumped it up like mad and hoped for the best. We took the highway home which was smoother and flatter, but longer. 26km long, to be exact. I was not above throwing the bike in some bushes and hitching a ride back, and apparently Patrick was thinking the same thing, but we were too polite (at that point) to start whinging. So, unfortunately, we rode the whole way back. The last few kilometers I really thought I might cry I was so tired and painful and angry, but at last we pulled up, dumped the bikes, silenced the dude who started to ask how the trip went with death stares, and stumbled across the street to a place that advertised happy hour and Mexican food. Perfect.

A couple of cold beers and a few plates of fajitas later, I felt like I was out of the woods (it was touch and go for a while there). We hung out, slouched on the sofa-like bench, until we figured we had to get up or we would really end up spending the night there. Back in the hostel- luckily just a block away- I was asleep before I had even stopped talking.

Home Coming

Back in the States! It is hard to believe almost 7 months have passed since I first took off for Chile. So much changed in that time (goodbye, 15 years of being a vegetarian!) but so much is still the same. I have settled back into my job in the office, am adjusting to hearing English all the time, and have rediscovered the joy of having a closet full of shoes!

The last month of my time away was spent traveling in Southern Chile- from Santiago just about as far down as you can go. It was absolutely incredible- amazing scenery, delicious beer and food, great people. I got pretty caught up in the moment (and the lack of internet!) and haven’t had much time for a breather and a catch up until now. Sorry for the neglect to the blog- but hopefully I will get some of the best stories and pictures up before the next big adventure is under way!

Where in the World...

Our Southern Chile route!