When I arrove on the bus at 8am this morning in Pucon from
Valparaiso, I had the good fortune of getting to walk clear to the other end of
town with my backpacks. Not only did this give me a nice quick early morning
workout, it also allowed me to see the entire town in all its glory. And it was
glorious. Okay, not really. It actually looked fairly new and very much like a
ski resort town, much like you’d expect to see in Aspen or Utah or one of those
west coast skiing meccas.
And yes, I did just make up the word “arrove”. More
interestingly, I think every person who reads that first line knows exactly
what it means. Which then makes me think we should add it to the lexicon.
The hostel I was staying at is called Chili Kiwi and is on
the lakefront, which meant there were some beautiful and unique views to be had
for a hostel. The place was brand spanking new too – like two weeks old. There
was only one review on hostelworld (the Tripadvisor for the backpacking
community for housing), but it sounded interesting so I reserved a bed there –
turns out lots of other people thought the same thing because it was packed.
Fortunately for me, the other clientele were about perfect – mix of young and
old, but all friendly and not just interesting in partying. The hostel mascot,
a German Shepherd pup, was even older than the hostel itself. She was
wonderfully playful.
James, the owner, walked me and a Spanish/Belgian couple who
arrived with me through many of the activities that there were to do in Pucon.
Since I had not done much active in well over a week, I was a bit itching to
get out and do something. So when James was confirming a reservation for some
others a few minutes later, he looked up at me and asked “do you want to join?”
– my response “sure!” I joined two girls, Illy and Mari, from the hostel for a
trip to go hydrospeeding that evening.
What is hydrospeeding? It’s rafting, but solo on what
amounts to a boogie board made of several layers of foam. Well, I guess many
boogie boards are made of foam, but I guess this one seemed a little more
low-end than I would have liked. It was good enough – it floated and provided a
cushion for the upper half of my body, which was the intent. The lower half?
You’re on your own!
I’m not joking actually. We were wading through Class 2 and
3 rapids, which was awesome. But more than once, my knees had a harsh and firm
introduction to a smooth rock. If my dermii were pansy enough to show bruises,
I would have black and blue spots everywhere. And it would have been well worth
every spot. So there we were, 9 of us in wetsuits and flippers, trying to go
single file per the orders of the guide, who was probably named Marcelo. And
that’s the thing that really frustrated me – Marcelo constantly demanding that
we stay close together in a single-file. The impact of this is that we were
literally on top of one another – my boogie board kept running into the flipper
legs of the person in front of me and so forth.
Marcelo also had a GoPro camera on his helmet so he snapped
lots of videos and pictures, but since he was in the front and he kept
commanding me to stay in the back for some reason, I’m barely in any of te
videos or pictures. Many of the cute girls were up front and prominently
featured though. I think I need to grow breasts. And maybe transplant some hair
around.
When we got back to the hostel, I showered up and went to go
get some dinner. On my way towards the town, a stage was set up near the lake
and there was some sort of military or police band playing Christmas music. I
think this was actually the first Christmas music I had heard all trip – and
only 2 days before Christmas. In the States, we are so inundated with it for
months in advance (and thanks for that, you capitalist pig manufacturers of
toys and gifts) that by the time Christmas actually comes around, I’m most
looking forward to the end of the dang music. But this time, I sat and listened
and enjoyed a bit. I heard them play “White Christmas”, which seemed odd for
them to sing, given that we were in beautiful sunny weather and it was far from
“white”. It’s probably a racist song anyway – the author was probably a member
of the KKK.
The other song I found peculiar was “Feliz Navidad”, which
was sung entirely in Spanish – no “I want to wish you a Merry Christmas…”. So,
what was a song celebrating multi-culturalism during this time of joy was
transformed into a “screw you guys, we’re in South America” display of
defiance.
Wow. I think Christmas must bring out the sarcastic anger in
me or something.
On a brighter note, I went to a place called Latitude 39 or
Latitude 23 or some other Latitude, which was run by an American chef from out
west. The burger was excellent. James highly recommended the place, and he was
spot on. There was a young 19-yr old kid working there from California who had
been traveling around and decided he really liked Pucon – so he got a job so
that he could stick around as long as a temporary working visa would let him (which
is 4 months, in case you’re interested).
Tuesday, December 24th, 2013
So the big activity to do in Pucon is climb the spectacular
volcano, called Volcan Villarica. The bus came and picked me up at 6:30am from
the hostel and took me to the sister hostel, El Refugio, where I joined the
other 9 tourists to get a backpack full of gear that we would carry with us.
They provided everything, including the hiking boots – all we needed were
clothes to wear under the coat & pants they gave us.
At the base of the mountain is a now defunct ski lodge with
a chair lift. They offered to take each person up the chair lift to avoid a
portion of the climb for the equivalent of $15. I declined, as did only two
others in the group. This ended up being somewhat of a mistake, though I don’t
regret it actually. That first part of the climb was the toughest, even though
it wasn’t the steepest. The ground was sand & unstable rock and that
required a heck of a lot more energy. Of the 100+ tourists on the mountain that
day, only 7 of us in total opted to rough it and walk the first portion. I was
the last of these 7 to make it to the top of the chair lift.
Since the rest of the groups had taken the chair lift, they
started up the snowy/icy portion of the climb well before we did and I was
basically the last person to start climbing this much larger and longer section
of the mountain. It didn’t take long to start passing people in spades though –
the ice was crunched up and perfect for getting in a groove. We took small
steps and followed the footsteps of the person in front of us and kept
trucking. Before long, we had passed at least 30 other tourists.
That’s not to say that it wasn’t hard. It was tough and we
took a break every hour or so to get a drink of water and eat some food. In addition
to our own clothes, we also had to bring our own snacks and lunch. A well-timed
banana gave me the energy boost I needed to continue trudging forward with my
comrades. At the third stopping point, we had caught up with the rest of our
group, though we started hiking a good 30 minutes afterwards. My manhood was
restored and I didn’t feel guilty for holding up the other two
non-chairlift-takers anymore.
The last part of the climb was exceedingly steep. I took a
few pictures to try and give the perspective of just how steep it was, but I’m
not sure of the pictures really convey how ridiculous it was. We were all
pretty pooped by the time we got to the top, so we plunked down and had the
rest of our lunches.
But the view was spectacular – the sky was almost completely
clear and we could see for miles. Or I guess I should say we could see for
kilometers, since they don’t use miles down here. There were lots of other
volcanoes in the area too, but this was the tallest and most picturesque. The
volcano is also still mildly active and emits a constant stream of gas. For
this reason, our guides told us not to walk around the periphery of the crater
because the fumes are too strong on the other side. While I was a bit bummed
about that, I’m glad he told me. Some of those fumes are not to be messed with.
Come to think of it, we had snow everywhere up there. I
guess I ended up getting a white Christmas (Eve) after all. Two of the Brits on
our trip had even brought Santa hats up for just the occasion.
The way down was far better than the way up. Since it was
snow, we got to slide down. Seriously. This is the reason for much of the gear
we hiked up with – ski jacket, snow pants, gaiters, at thick piece of canvas
they called “the ass protector”, and a small durable flat dustpan-shaped
plastic piece that you sat on. Since thousands of people had sled down in the
days prior, there were channels dug out in the snow and all we had to do was
try to keep our legs up and use the ice axe to brake. There were about 4
sections to the slides to get all the way to the bottom and it was incredibly
awesome. By the end, my legs were frozen – I often unintentionally veered off
the existing slide routes and created my own path, the result of which created
a lot of icepack between my legs. I was frozen from the waist down. It was
totally worth it, and many of us kinda wanted to hike back up to do it again.
I learned that for many other countries, the big celebration
for Christmas is actually on Christmas Eve versus Christmas Day. Because of
this, my hostel had decided to have a Christmas BBQ this evening instead of
tomorrow. So for about $13 a head, we would have more food than we could shake
a stick at. But in true South American style, they didn’t even get the
charcoals lit until after 8pm… the first round of brats came out an hour later
and from there, the food continued for the next 3 hours. We all sat outside at
a picnic table and talked, laughed, ate, and enjoyed. For easily a month, I was
very concerned about ending up in a lame place in a crappy hostel for Christmas
– I picked the right time to be in Pucon and I stumbled into the right hostel.
It’s a Christmas Miracle!
Dang… I completely forgot to shout that at every little
mundane thing on Christmas Day. For me, that’s one of the biggest joys of this
holiday that I really don’t celebrate.
Wednesday, December 25th, 2013
I stayed out until about 2pm, with a full belly of beef and
red wine. There was a ton of red wine.,, and it was gooooood. Seriously, it’s
hard to find a bad bottle of red wine down here. I’m so very glad I’m not a
wine aficionado – as I’ve told many others, I don’t understand the benefit of
learning more about wine. I’m pretty happy with most cheap wines as it is. If I
learned more, I would then have to spend more money to get the same level of
happiness and I’d be much more apt to have what I know deemed as a bad bottle
of wine. There are no upsides and tons of downsides. Forget that…
As I learned, a multiplude of others had hit the only read
bar in town (called “Mamas and Tapas” – what a great name) and had a smashing
good time… to the tune of 6am. While I wish I went, I’m also glad I didn’t – I
was pretty hungover as it was this morning. To ease the pain, I went in search
of a nice fresh crisp something or other that would ease my stomach. I went to
the other recommended spot in town, but the menu was a wee bit hard to
decipher… and I ended up with the polar opposite of what I was looking for, a
greasy, slimy, heavy sandwich. Argh.
Before too long, I went back to the same place for an early
dinner and ordered a salad with grilled chicken – that definitely hit the spot.
Not content to do nothing all day, I had coordinated with a
few others to rent kayaks in the evening for a nice little paddle. With me were
David & Clemy, the Spanish/Belgian couple who had checked in with me, and
Petrie, one of my dorm roommates from Holland. Off we went at about 5:30pm to
get the kayaks into the lake. Our idea was to take a leisurely paddle around
the peninsula that separated our small section of the lakefront from the much
nicer beach around the corner, from where a much clearer view of the sunset
could be had at about 9pm.
What we hadn’t entirely counted on was just how difficult it
was to paddle the dern things. The waves were rough and clearly just liked to
mess with us – no matter what we did, they conspired to turn us sideways
because that was the happy spot for them. Unfortunately, that’s not the
direction we wanted to go, so we were constantly fighting the waves.
After getting out to the end of the peninsula, we stopped
for a break at a private beach for a few minutes. The owner was right there
with his young son, but couldn’t kick us out – apparently, there’s a Chilean
law stating that the first 6 meters of beach is public. That seems completely
wrong to me, so I was itching to go where we were unwelcome, and before long we
did exactly that.
After we rounded the corner which never seemed to end, it
occurred to us that going towards the shore of the other beach was no easier
and that the waves were just going to fight us no matter what direction we were
going. So after going halfway, Petrie and I decided to turn around while David
& Clemy kept towards their destination.
Two hours later, Petrie and I finally made it back to the
hostel, dragged the kayak back to hostel, and ran back out to the lakefront to
try and grab as much of a glimpse of the sunset as possible. Even though we
didn’t have anywhere close to a perfectly clean view, it was hella picturesque…
one of those images that stick in your mind for long time afterwards.The four of us had dinner at the hostel (thanks for cooking, David!) and then a fairly sizable group in the hostel started playing Pictionary using a newly discovered website to generate words and a white board borrowed from the hostel’s “What’s Happening” wall. It was lively for the next few hours, with lots of yelling, shouting, and laughing. My time here seriously could not get better.
Thursday, December 26th, 2013
I was completely wrong, it totally got better.
After struggling to get up in a timely fashion because of a
second late night in a row, I joined three others from my hostel (Tanja,
Thomas, and Brandon) plus a British couple who had been on my volcano hike for
a canyoning excursion. We were crammed with our three tour guides (9 total)
into the equivalent of a Ford Explorer for a two-hour ride into the wilderness,
through some roads that definitely needed 4-wheel drive. I have zero idea where
we ended up, but wherever it was, it was about the greatest thing I had ever
seen.
Our guides were local Chileans Miguel & Pasquale, along
with a Danish girl whose name eludes me but I think was Elise. In addition to
assisting the others, Elise also took pictures for everyone. Unless we had a
GoPro, we were all cameraless, and for a good reason as we would soon find out.
The weather was very overcast, which was extremely different
from the very bright sunny and clear days that had been present since I got
into town (and before). For this, we were told we were very lucky. Apparently,
most other days, people were drenched with sweat after putting the wetsuits on.
Instead, we were all a bit chilly, so the 45 minute hike we had to the first
action spot helped to warm us up.
I didn’t really know what canyoning is, but I suppose you
find an awesome canyon and then find creative ways to follow the canyon down.
So the first thing we had to do after our short hike was a rappel – this one
was a pretty good height – probably 40-50 ft at least, but it was mostly
free-rappeling since the cliff face dropped away early on and we just used the
rope friction in the Figure-8 device to lower down slowly. The best part was
that we landed in water, and then could walk a few feet and celebrate in the
waterfall. Which I did. Numerous times. Despite the fact that the water was
freezing… after all, this is mostly glacier water coming off one of the
mountain peaks, but that didn’t matter. I loved it.
I don’t remember the sequence of all of the rest, but I know
we had a several spots where we could slide with the water along the rock
faces, often into a 6-ft deep pool that was spine-shivering, yet still
ridiculously awesome of course. There really was nothing about this day that
wasn’t ridiculously awesome, except maybe the cramped car ride.
We had a great zipline that started above the water, then
you quickly dipped into a pool of water just before a large waterfall, and then
you ziplined and disconnected in the pool below. I was having so much fun that
I let go at the bottom and flipped upside down. Which was ridiculously awesome,
of course.
I believe the next big thing we had was a 15ft jump into a
pool – the water is clear, but because there is so much aeration, it’s white
and was impossible to see just how deep the pool below was. So the first person
was always taking a little bit of a leap of faith in what the guides were
saying. And wherever we fall, the water also has to fall and this pool had a
nice little pool that I got to frolic in.
We had another rappel, this time down a side of a cliff and
then we were basically back at the SUV, where we got to ditch our gear and
dive/jump/pose off a rock into, yes, another pool of water. And Elise was there
to photograph it for us, of course. As you can see from these shots, she is
really quite a wonderful photographer.
After we finally removed the wetsuits (and felt just how
crazy cold the water was without
them), we gathered around a set of rocks and had some snacks and chatted with
our guides for the next 30 minutes, before getting back in the car for the long
ride back to the hostel.
And after another wonderful meal at Latitude 39, I picked up
a large 1.5L bottle of Carmenere red wine from the grocery store and went back
to the hostel to share with several of my new friends. I slept well.
Friday, December 27th, 2013
This morning, my dorm roommate Tanja and I got up early to
catch an 8am bus that didn’t exist. Fortunately, there was an 8:30am bus that
did exist and we didn’t have to wait too long. We were off on a hike that James
recommended to El Cani, a location which was about a 45 minute drive to a remote
area from town, which meant that bus service was not exactly frequent.
Actually, it was kind of hard to know when exactly bus service was since
nothing appears to be documented and everyone seems to have a different
recollection on the schedule.
The hike was fairly strenuous. After paying an entrance fee,
we hiked along a flattish road for about a kilometer before the actual trail
started. This trail followed a road for several kilometers, except this was a
dirt road that only the meanest of 4WDs could possibly conquer – it was really
steep. After an hour of following the exceedingly steep road, the trail veered
off into the woods and actually got a little easier. An hour later, we were at
a structure that was called a refugio (or lodge) where people could stay, but
we both had trouble understanding why anyone would possibly want to stay in
there because it was kind of a complete and utter dump in every sense of those
words. The only redeeming factor was the irrepressibly cute and slightly
emaciated little dog – she reminded me of Julia’s dog Claus who she brought
over from Australia, except this precious was white haired and loved on
absolutely everyone.
After lingering too long with the cutie, Tanja and I
continued on our journey, but now the wide path was gone, replaced with a
narrow trail in the trees. We followed this for another 30 minutes before we
reached what would be a lake in the rainy season, but now just resembled a wide
flat treeless spot where an alien spacecraft may have landed (which wiped out
the trees, of course). I’m putting my money on the dried out lake idea though.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at another dried out lake,
but this one had some actual lakes right next to it as well. In between the
lakes was campsite with at least 5-6 tents pitched. While it would have
absolutely sucked to carry a full backpack up to this point, given the steep
terrain, the location was gorgeous. Lake, nature, mountain peaks all around,
perfect weather… it had everything and Tanja and I were more than a little
jealous.
The trail at this point took a steep turn, upwards. We had
about an hour hike uphill through a narrow trail alternating between
switchbacks and quad-busting vertical ascents. But the reward? Spectacular. The
majority of the hike since the “refugio” shack was covered with the neato
Araucaria trees, which seem to shed their lower branches as they grow taller,
resulting in a very tall trunk of a tree with only an umbrella canopy at the
top. But the very end of the hike ended in a fairly large rocky outcrop, which
afforded spectacular unhindered views of the surrounding landscape… which in
itself was positively spectacular. Volcanos, volcanos, everywhere!
The hike down, as always, was much faster and we ended up
waiting at the bus stop for almost an hour for the next one to come by. Not to
worry – we stopped off at the refugio and I fed the uber-friendly dog half of
my empanada. But before long, we were back safe and sound in the hostel, except
for one small issue. I was originally supposed to leave this morning on a bus
and I extended another day. Apparently there was a miscommunication and they
gave my bed away. So James had the contractor work a few extra hours and
assemble a bed for me in the attic, which they had already been working on
creating into living quarters for their staff. So I got my own private room –
score.
Saturday, December 28th, 2013
The bus to Puerto Varas this morning was supposed to leave
at 8am, but apparently there was some sort of accident on the road which closed
it to all traffic or something. So they were opting to spend that time here at
the bus station instead of jammed up in traffic. Initially we were told it
would be 1.5 hours of delay, then I was told 11:15am, then 2pm, and then 3pm.
Fortunately, after I was told 3pm somewhere around 2:15pm, I just went ahead
and hopped on the bus with a handful of other frustrated souls. Fifteen minutes
later, they just fired up the bus without much announcement and warning and we took
off – it’s a good thing I hadn’t gone for a quick walk or to get some food or
something else. I would have been livid… though that’s how things happen here
in Chile. Things don’t run on schedule, so you can’t be 100% sold to your plan
unfortunately.
When we arrived to Puerto Varas about 5 hours later, the
hostel I booked a room in was only a few blocks away. It seemed friendly,
though my room is full of very strangely quiet people who didn’t really
acknowledge each other or say much at all. So I went out to get a nice dinner
and then buy some groceries for my upcoming trip. Where will I be going? Tune
in to the next post to find out!
Tidbits
1.
My very least favorite word in the Spanish
dictionary is “claro”. While I think it technically means “clear”, it’s used
much in the same way we would say “yeah” or “sure” during a conversation to
acknowledge that we’re paying attention. What I hate about the word is that is
often drawn out into a “claaaaaaaaaaaaaaaro”, and I just don’t like the sound
of it. And you shouldn’t either. In fact, you should smack someone if they say
it to you. “Claro.”
2.
I think your head gets fatter when you gain
weight. No seriously – I’m sure the bottom part of your face & neck does,
but I had always assumed that your scalp was more or less fixed in size since
it’s bone. But maybe there’s a good layer of fat too? All I know is that the
wool hat I bought on Mt. Bromo in Indonesia 11 years ago fits my head again,
whereas 4 months prior, the same hat felt like it was squeezing my brains out.
I’ll add that to the list of benefits of losing weight. This is important
because I really love my Bromo wool hat. It reminds me of good times.
3.
Every town in Chile has a street, statue,
buiding, or square (and often several) named after a fellow named O’Higgins.
Given that I’m in South America of all places, I wouldn’t expect there to be an
O’Anything since the Irish were not known as a seafaring and conquistadoring
type of folk. But as it turns out, Bernardo O’Higgins was one of the founding
fathers of Chile who fought for independence a few hundred years ago. And he
was half-Irish and half-Spanish. O’Ok-I-Guess-That-Makes-Sense.
4.
Firemen in Latin American countries are called bomberos.
When I first saw a bunch of firetrucks, it took me a while to piece together
why there were so many “bomb squad” vehicles sitting around.
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