Headed into the wild...

Puerto Natales, Chile

February 23, 2007
S 51°43.585
W 072°30.366

Please note... due to extremely limited bandwidth down here it may be a long time before we get any pictures uploaded, please hang with us.

We had a few last minute items to grab in Punta Arenas before we headed to Puerto Natales such as another fuel can for our camp stove.

However, my main goal was to hit a cute little bakery we found by chance the day before with incredible empanadas and delightful little cookies. We decided these were the best al horno empanadas we’ve had yet in Chile. A typical Chilean empanada contains beef, onion, egg, and olives. Al horno means it is baked versus frito which is fried. The beef is usually a ground beef mix, but at this place the carne was more in chunks which held the flavor better.

The best thing we picked up from the bakery was the cute little cookies. Two vanilla cookies (approx. 2” in diameter) with caramel in between and then the edges are rolled in coconut. Two of my favorite flavors in the world—caramel and coconut—and they were both in one scrumptious little cookie. We grabbed a few (actually eight) for our bus ride. I guarded them carefully to ensure they didn’t break or get wet in the misty weather. I forced myself to wait until we were at least half-way into our four hour journey before we shared the remaining treats.

When we did break out the treats, we shared one with a guy we met on the bus, Roger. Roger was sitting next to us and wrapping up a book at the exact same moment I was finishing my book. I was hoping to find a good home for my book when I was finished, and I immediately offered it to Roger. In exchange I was the new owner of “Notes from a Big Country” by Bill Bryson, a great travel author.

A “Yank”, Roger is in his early to mid 60’s and has traveled extensively. He has an admitted addiction to travel and was headed to do the Torres del Paine Circuit, just like us. We exchanged email addresses and blog sites. Having traveled through South East Asia, South America, India, etc. he had some great recommendations for us. It always helps to get a scouting report from travelers and those who have been bitten by the same “bug” as us.

When we got to Puerto Natales we strapped on our packs, said safe travels to Roger (sure that we would hear from him again) and headed in the direction of Hostel Erratic Rock 2, the place we planned to call home for a few nights.

After checking our map to make sure we were headed in the correct direction, a stray dog did an about face and started following us, almost leading us to Erratic Rock. The dog stayed with us all the way to the door of the place, after he confirmed we were safe he headed off into the sunset. I mention this because this isn’t the first time this has happened; this has become a fairly common occurrence during our travels. In fact, this is the third time on this trip alone where a pooch has decided to befriend and seemingly chaperone us until we found our final destination. Not to be freaky, but we thought maybe it was Spike, Sam, or one of our other dogs looking after us in a new vessel. Who knows…

We head into Torres del Paine on February 25th and plan on exiting on March 5th. Please look for a new update on March 6th.

Holy Cow Batman... it's Penguins!

Isla Magdalena, Chile

February 22, 2007

Magellan Straight
S 53°01.513
W 070°43.233

Isla Magdalena
S 52°55.133
W 070°34.534

We arrived at Terminal Tres Puentes with plenty of time to spare before our departure on the Melinka, the ferry that would transport us to Isla Magdalena. Both of us were very excited to see penguins in the wild.

Under scattered clouds and temperatures in the mid 40’s, the Melinka dropped her landing ramp at about 3:50pm. By 4pm, 75-80 other penguin fans were on board, the ramp pulled up and we were on our way. We spent the first few minutes sitting inside the cabin of the ferry, due to the brisk winds outside, but we could see we were missing out on incredible sites as the Melinka began heading north-east across the Straight of Magellan. We put on one more layer of clothing and headed to the starboard side overlooking the beautiful Straight. The clouds parted and the intense southern sun balanced out the wind-chill on the deck.

We looked east, with the sun at our backs, and scanned the icy waters for signs of life. As we looked towards the wake of the ferry we saw dolphin like creatures intermittently jumping from the water for a breath of fresh air. They went back down as quickly as they came up, but they continued to play in the wake of the ferry which was chugging along at 8-10 knots (approx. 10 mph). The dolphins had black and white markings similar to a Killer Whale. However, we knew they were much too small to be Killer Whales, even though we were very close to their breeding grounds. We discovered the “mini-me” to the Killer Whale to be a Commerson´s Dolphin and one of their favorite activities is to play in small groups around the sides of boats. Lucky us!

As we continued north we lost sight of the dolphins, since they probably aren’t supposed to play out of their neighborhood, but quickly started seeing small pods (or flocks) of penguins—the reason for our journey today.

We could see Isla Magdalena in the distance, gradually getting closer and closer, we were anxious to get on the island to experience the penguins. As we approached within a 1000 meters we could clearly see the island’s lighthouse. Below the lighthouse were several little specs that looked like small rocks, or maybe PENGUINS.

When we unloaded from the Melinka, we were advised we had one hour to explore; an island where humans are clearly the visitors. As we stepped off the ferry, all you could see were thousands of penguins scattered across the island and we were clearly intruding on their space. The Magellanic Penguin, also known as the jackass penguin, because of the loud guttural noise it makes; similar to a donkey’s “hee-haw.” The penguins stick their beaks straight up into the air and open their mouths wide when making this noise. We heard the braying scream all around the island as the intruders made their way from the ferry up the path to the lighthouse.

There are over 60,000 breeding pairs occupying Isla Magdalena which is a National Park and completely dedicated to the penguins, including a lighthouse... which I´m not quite sure how they operate. Each “set” of penguins has a place they call home, a little borough. The males stand guard, very astute, in front ready to dive in if any humans come to close. It isn’t difficult to figure out who is king on this island and we did our best not to get close to the sharp beaks—neither one of us was in the mood for stitches.

On the two hour journey back to Punta Arenas we reflected on our experience. We decided it was very worthwhile and definitely a highlight of our trip. We are also pleased the Government of Chile limits the visits to the penguins to three days per week, one hour at a time. We hope the limitation keeps the penguins happy and breeding for generations to come.

On to Torres del Paine…

A Day of Chores and Angels...

Punta Arenas, Chile

February 21, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

Just because we’re on “vacation” doesn’t mean we don’t have chores to do everyday… today was a long list. The majority of the tasks were things to prepare us for our hike through Torres del Paine. We had to go shopping for our provisions (rice, pasta, soup, ramen, more rice, more pasta…), white-gas for our camp stove, and a bus ticket to get Puerto Natales; the jump-off point before heading into Torres del Paine. Everyone says shop in Punta Arenas—it’s cheaper—as is Modesto vs. Curry Village when heading to Yosemite National Park.

We also secured tickets for the Penguin Tour that visits Isla Magdalena via a ferry across the Straight of Magellan. The tour is supposed to provide us with an up close and personal view of nearly 64,000 breeding pairs. We’re excited, this will most likely be the only time we will ever see penguins outside of a zoo in our lifetime.

We didn’t spend the entire day doing chores; we found time to head to the local cemetery, Cemeterio Municipal. Cemeteries aren’t the most pleasant places, of course, but this one had a lot to offer. The various family plots are morphed into a shrine for the dead. Each plot is different, but most had a place for families to place flowers, pictures, and other sentimental ornaments as a shrine for their loved ones. Many plots have very intricate headstones or complete tombs made of white marble, depending on the wealth of the family. The names on the various headstones date back to the mid 1800’s to early 1900’s outlining descendents from all over the world including Germany, Scandinavia, Spain and Yugoslavia. It makes you wonder what each individual was doing here. Were they Explorers? Escaping the war in Europe? Criminals? No matter… they must have been tuff SOB’s to survive the winters (let alone summers) in Punta Arenas without modern day technology.

On a side note… Marc experienced several very rare camera malfunctions in the cemetery. He was unable to zoom or use the auto-focus on several occasions and once the camera actually started recording without even being in “record mode.” Each time a malfunction occurred he had to power-cycle (off and on) the camera to restore normal functionality. Coincidence? Or maybe some of these tuff SOB’s were goofing on a Gringo.

Au de Sardine...

Punta Arenas, Chile

February 20, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

I think we were both ready to exit Puerto Montt after four nights. The food pretty much sucked (except for the Curanto), the streets were a little sketchy after dark, and in the town itself there really wasn’t much to see. We did make the trip to Castro, making the stop worth it.

After landing in Punta Arenas we headed straight to baggage claim. We waited for our packs, and waited, and waited some more. We started to panic a little bit… we did arrive VERY early to the airport and several flights departed to Santiago while we were waiting so we thought, “Oh great, our luggage is in Santiago.” I began to do a mental inventory of what we absolutely needed in our packs for the night and just then a second cart of bags rolled up the tarmac and we saw both of the packs. Whew!

After a few minutes our bags were finally loaded onto the conveyer belt. Marc grabbed mine first and then reached for his. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, “My strap is totally soaked.” He put his wet hand up to his nose to see if there was any foul odor. Sure enough there was a strong, fishy smell as if a whole dead fish was now on his right shoulder strap. He slung the dry, left strap, over his shoulder and lugged it out of the terminal. We found a bus to Punta Arenas and Marc graciously tossed his pack up to the bus porter; who seemingly didn’t notice the smell of rotting fish.

As we drove to Punta Arenas from the airport Marc figured out the best way to carry his pack with the least impact on his clothes. He opted to remove his fleece, put his rain jacket on; figuring the rain coat can easily be washed out (he hoped).

Of course we didn’t have reservations (what fun would that be), so we walked around for about an hour hunting for accommodations. Marc still reeking of fish, and surprisingly not gathering a parade of cats, we finally found a place after our fourth attempt (I guess three isn’t always a charm). When Marc finally took off his pack, there was a nice oil-slick, or should I say fish oil-slick on his jacket.

It took a lot of Purell, soap and hot-water, but he thinks he defunked his jacket and his pack. Thank goodness…the last thing you want right next to your nose on a ten day hike is the smell of rotten fish. Or, who knows…maybe it would act like perfume (Au de Sardine) compared to our funky clothes at the end of the trek. Too bad we’ll never know.

Back to the 80´s...

Puerto Montt, Chile

February 19, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

“Festival Phenominal!” the headline in the morning papers claimed. We jumped on a packed bus leaving Castro around 9:45 AM; as were many other festival goers. Everyone was still a little giddy from the excitement the festival brought to the town.

When we returned to Puerto Montt around 2:00 PM, the sun was shining, so we decided to go on a “cruise” to a local island about 300 meters across the bay. We paid our 400 pesos and jumped on board a wooden rowboat with about 25 other people. I guess I shouldn’t call it a rowboat. Yes, there were oars, but there was also a little motor that puttered the boat across the bay. There were few rules on-board—smoking, no problem—however, everyone on board had to wear a life jacket. We probably wouldn’t have gone on a long trip in this type of rig, but we thought if this thing sinks we are close enough to swim for it. A picture of our skipper is to the left.

When we got to the little island, we realized why everyone was flocking there. It was at least 10 degrees warmer than the main-land on Puerto Montt. The little cove blocked the wind allowing people to sunbath, and for a few brave souls, swim. There wasn’t much else to do on the island except for warm up—I guess that made the trip worth it.

After we returned from the island, we headed to a little Cerveceria we noticed on our walk earlier in the day. We grabbed a little table in the non-smoking section (this was a first!) right under a couple of TVs. It took us a few minutes to realize the TVs were playing 15 second snippets of American Pop-Rock 80’s videos. Yes, that is correct, music videos from the 80s. Imagine… fifteen seconds of “Maneater”, “99 Red Luft Balloons”, “Footloose”, “Walk Like an Egyptian”, “Rock n-Roll All Night”, “Karma Chameleon”, “Summer of 69” and the list went on and on and on. We choked down another jamon y queso (ham and cheese) sandwich while being tortured by the 15 second clips. This went on for the first 20 minutes until we were “rescued” by full length videos from the 80’s.

Of course, we quietly sang along to The Boss, Blondie, Hall & Oates, Rick Springfield and others, while playing “What does this song remind you of?” It made us think of old friends, high school (junior high or grade school for Laura) and of course home. We hung out until Devo finished “Whip It” (whip it good). Overall, not a bad evening… and the beers were good.

It´s always fun to spend time in Castro...

Castro, Chile

February 18, 2007
S 42°28.909
W 073°45.739

We got up early to catch a bus to Castro, Chile. Castro, on the Island of Chiloe, is about 3 hours south of Puerto Montt. The three hour bus ride includes a 30 minute trip by ferry across the Canal de Chacao. The Chilean government took bids to build a bridge across this natural water-way in 2001, but construction has yet to start—I guess the Bay Bridge is one step ahead. As the ferry slowly carried our bus and others across the frigid waters we actually captured our first glimpse of a couple penguins. They poked their heads out of the water seemingly unfazed as the ferry crossed through their backyard.

We arrived in Castro, a sleepy little fishing town, at about 11 AM. The weather outside was noticeably cooler than in Puerto Montt and the skies were pretty gray, similar to a summer day in San Francisco, or more specifically, the Northern California coast. Reluctantly we’re now wearing our long pants and have traded our Tevas for our boots. Our “cold weather gear” seemed so unnecessary in Montanita, but now we’re glad we have it. The weather gave us an indication of what is yet to come in Punta Arenas, and the further south we go…brrr!

By 12:15 PM we had pretty much walked the entirety of the town. We started to make our way back towards the center of the town when we saw a sign in a storefront window announcing a Folklore Festival in the Park. We figured we had a few hours to kill and decided a Folklore Festival may be exactly what we need.

As we began meandering towards the park we noticed there were now several more people milling about the town than when we first arrived, and many of them were carrying backpacks obviously looking for a place to stay. It seems the Castro Folklore Festival is a big event and we quickly decided to find our place to stay before going to the park. We found a nice little Hospedaje with a panoramic view of Castro’s waterfront, tossed our day pack in the room, and headed back outside to get us some Folklore.

There were now several buses, with Al Parque-Folklore painted on their windows, swirling through the streets, honking their horns and picking up nearly anyone that was willing to go for a ride to “Al Parque.” We figured we already had enough bus time for the day and could easily hike the 3 miles to Al Parque; plus we weren’t in any hurry. After about two miles of walking towards our quest for folklore, the buses that were frantically swirling the streets and passing us as we walked along the road were now at a dead stop. The traffic appeared to be backed up at least a mile leading to the park.

We continued our climb to the park, still unsure of what may be at the other end, and the people around us kept multiplying. At first 30 or 40, as we got closer it turned into 100 and with 800 meters to go we could now see several hundred people all marching towards Al Parque. I turned to Marc and said, “this is like a pilgrimage.” Except we were not going to Mecca, we didn’t really know where we going. We knew one thing for sure…it would be a great story.

All cars and buses were now at a dead stop. We looked over at the bus windows nearly opaque from condensation and the poor people all trapped thinking they had a quick ticket to the Folklore Festival. We were very happy we opted to walk at this point. As we made our way up the final 100 meters along a dirt road a huge Caterpillar was bulldozing to allow for more traffic; yet headed straight towards the traffic. What the heck? Who thought it was a good idea to do this today?

We finally got to the ticket booth around 3:30 PM, paid our 600 Chilean Pesos each, and headed into the madness. As we walked in, we weren’t really sure what to expect. I said to Marc, “is this like the Castro Street Faire? Probably not since there are a lot of little kids.” Marc thought it would be more like a County Faire without the rides and rednecks.

The festival ended up being a nice family affair with everyone drinking some kind of fermented apple wine, plenty of food booths set-up selling meat on metal skewers, empanadas, even Curanto in to-go bags. Of course there were demonstrations such as: milling hay, building a fishing boat, fermenting apples for wine, and even a small rodeo. There were different stages set up around the park with live entertainment and locals dancing. Yup, all good ol’ Folklore.

We strolled around Al Parque for a little over an hour, sitting down on occasion to catch a live act. It was shortly after 5 PM, it looked like the rain would start any time, so we called it a day. We headed toward the exit (which was also the entrance) and found hundreds of people, who had not yet had an opportunity to partake in the fun, still pressing forward. We walked down the dirt road we came up, the line of cars still stretched out for at least a mile… good luck amigos!

First Sick Day...

Puerto Montt, Chile

February 17, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

Today was probably the toughest day to date on our trip. Not because we did something physically demanding, mentally challenging, or encountered a major logistical glitch, but instead we had our first sick day. We both caught colds on one of the buses, planes, metros, or possibly the hot weather outside and cool weather inside… it doesn’t matter, we’re sick. It took a great deal of convincing for me to succumb to Marc’s request to take it easy for a day. With the Torres del Paine circuit in Patagonia looming less than a week away, we didn’t want to jeopardize what we know will be a demanding 8-10 day trek. We figured a day of limited activity and rest was the best cure.

The day was difficult because I don’t like staying indoors all day at home, let alone in some strange place. All I could think about was a piping hot bowl of pho gai from our local Vietnamese restaurant, or maybe a bowl of chicken wonton soup from U-Lee, that I know would clear my nasal passages.

Finding a bowl of good ol’ chicken soup in Puerto Montt seemed almost impossible; fish soup on the other hand, can be found without a problem. We sat down in at least three restaurants, received menus, reviewed the menus, and left shortly thereafter—no soup in any of them! Plus, with my nose running like a faucet and my throat slightly burning, the last thing I wanted to do was spend 30 to 45 minutes “enjoying” the second-hand-smoke from the many nicotine addicted diners during our meal. After playing musical restaurants for about an hour we finally found one with chicken soup on the menu—they even had it. (Long story, but there have been several instances where we order something on the menu and they don’t have it “that day”.) The soup helped with the congestion, but still didn’t compare to my San Francisco favorites.

It’s days like this that make me weak and long for home. The desire to be close to things that are familiar—like our bed, comfort food and cherry Nyquil—challenge my mental ability to be gone for one year.

After a forced day in bed (yes, Marc forced me) I will probably wake up with a clear head and exited about our next adventure…a little overnight trip to the Island of Chiloe.