Showing posts with label Chile. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chile. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Just Another Bus Story...

Punta Arenas, Chile

March 7, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

We arrived in Punta Arenas a little before 1:00 PM today and quickly headed to the same place we stayed last time we were in Punta Arenas, approximately two weeks ago. We expected to arrive a little earlier, around noon, giving us one hour to do a few things before the siesta started and everything closed down. Instead, we hit it perfectly!

The reason we were later than expected is because of a little “mishap” on the bus. The bus departed Puerto Natales at 8:30 AM for the 3 ½ hours ride. I quickly finished my book, “Hard Rain” and relaxed in my seat for a nice little nap. Two hours into the trip I woke up, confused as to why the bus stopped, and assumed we must be picking up a new passenger. I wasn’t sure where the passenger was coming from since it appeared we were in the middle-of-nowhere (BFE). There was nothing for miles except for open fields.

The driver and his assistant, possibly both mechanics, headed to the back of the bus to check out the engine. Marc peeked out the window and noticed a fan belt in the middle of the road. “We must have broken a fan belt,” Marc said. I figured we were in good shape and would be off in no time since the two “mechanics” seemed to have the situation under control and were making a few calls via cell phone (possibly notifying their boss they will be a little late). The driver came back onto the bus to start the engine. The engine struggled to catch, but failed... apparently something was still really wrong.

Marc and I got off the bus which was now steaming hot, especially since we were both wearing sweaters. We wandered around BFE for a few minutes since we didn’t have anything else to do. We thought about hitch-hiking the rest of the way, but figured the bus would be moving soon enough. We didn’t want to catch multiple rides, and really just wanted to get to Punta Arenas.

After about 35 minutes a white service truck pulled up. The driver quickly walks over to the truck and grabbed two big canisters of petrol from the back of the truck, the assistant grabbed the other two. Each container probably held 5 gallons of gas each.

We stood on the side of the road and watched our driver and his assistant proceed to siphon (coughing and spitting) the gas from the canisters, to the bus... we were in shock. How does a bus driver or a bus company forget to put enough gas into the bus before a 3 ½ hour bus ride? After the gas was in the bus, the driver jumped on the bus and the bus started right away. Yes, we really did run out of gas in the middle of BFE.

How this happened is beyond us… we did make it to Punta Arenas for what we hope is our last night in Chile. We just hope the next bus we get on doesn’t forget to fill-up first!

Real Food and Friends...

Puerto Natales, Chile

March 6, 2007
S 51°43.585
W 072°30.366

We spent the last few days re-entering society after our extended stay in Torres del Paine National Park. We had to do laundry, (yes, our clothes are officially de-funked), caught up on email and current events, and most importantly we gorged ourselves with the wonderful pizza from Mesita Grande.

We talked about the crispy, thin crust pizza from Mesita Grande since we ventured into the park. We knew it would be our first meal, complete with a bottle of wine, as soon as we got out of the park. The trip to Mesita Grande was better than expected when Luke and Fran, a nice Australian couple we spent time with in the park, walked in and shared the dining experience with us. It was perfect—good company and good food!

The pizza did not disappoint either. I ordered one with onions, mushrooms, ham and cheese. The crust was cooked perfectly in the brick oven, nice and crunchy, like a pizza from A16 or Pizzeria Delfina. Marc had a similar pizza, but his had local salami on it too. We ordered a nice bottle of local Cabernet Sauvignon, also a first since we returned from the park. We rounded out dinner by sharing a one of a kind pizza with shaved apples, walnuts, cinnamon and sugar, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a nice scoop of, yep; you guessed it, vanilla ice cream. We needed help with this pizza and called on Luke and Fran to pitch in and eat some of the scrumptious dessert.

Luke and Fran (in their mid 20’s) arrived in Chile a little over a week ago after spending four months working in the Falkland Islands shearing sheep and harvesting the wool. Luke explained the art of shearing to us, one of the last jobs that is truly manual and hasn’t changed in over 50 years, and described the shearing circuit that allows him to work all over the world. Luke is able to shear up to 200 sheep a day depending on the size of the sheep and the grade of its wool. It takes longer to shear a sheep with course hair than one with fine, and, of course, larger sheep take longer than smaller sheep. We found the process very intriguing and enjoyed hearing Luke and Fran talk about their experiences.

We bought our bus tickets for Punta Arenas. We head to Punta Arenas to catch a flight back to Puerto Montt; where we will catch a bus to Bariloche, Argentina. We’re ready to leave Chile behind, especially the food (with the exception of Mesita Grande), and really get to know Argentina. Hasta Luego Chile!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

So this is Patagonia...

Torres del Paine National Park
February 25th thru March 4th 2007


Mark Twain supposedly said “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” I guess he never visited Patagonia in the summer time, specifically Torres del Paine National Park. We were subjected to all types of weather during our trip through the park. This included snow, rain, sleet, and not to mention winds that literally knocked us off our feet on more than one occasion. We estimated the wind gusts were up to 50 mph, making me wonder how news reporters can actually stand, hold the microphone, and speak as they are standing in the eye of a hurricane with winds up to 100 mph and driving rain. I guess they don’t have 40 lb backpacks strapped to their torsos (acting as primitive sails), but that is completely different story.

The weather actually forced us to alter our route. We originally planned on doing what is know as the Circuit through the park (approx. 105km), but after waking up to sleet that quickly turned to snow after our first night we opted to do what is known as the “W” (approx. 85km) in reverse starting from our current location, Acampamento Torres. We were pleased with our decision after several others we met turned back due to snow that varied between mid-calf to mid-thigh depending on who you talked to. However, we still had our nights in the bitter cold snow.

The “W” is an excellent way of seeing the park. The fairly well-marked trails guided us to the beautiful sites in an appropriate order of good, better, and best. We scrambled up a ridge, as sleet ripped into our faces, over granite boulders ranging in the size of volleyballs to VW Bugs. Ultimately reaching the summit we were able to view the glorious Torres del Paine; three massive looming towers of Andean batholith rock standing over 2500m. The sun broke through the clouds and gave us perfect views for at least thirty minutes before the clouds moved back together; almost instantly hiding the towers, as if they were just a dream. The sleet followed our descent, making the boulder scramble not just technical, but dangerous and forced others to retreat without seeing the towering site—we felt fortunate.

The trails between camp sites were spectacular, whether it was a stunning waterfall, a rainbow falling into the lake, or a path through a forest that almost made you forget where you were. We would pop-out on the other side and see a snow capped mountain, or as we experienced going through Valle de Frances, our first sighting of a glacier, Glacier Frances. As we continued up the path to get a better view of Glacier Frances, we were able to catch a quick glimpse of the Cerro Paine Grande on the opposite side from Glacier Frances. As the wind ripped over the ridge we hiked up, it knocked us off our feet. Marc was literally caught mid-stride and tossed into a bush a meter off the trail. He could only laugh; we knew who was in charge at this point… the Weather and the Elements, it was now our job to follow their orders. In awe of the sites we pushed forward and continued snapping pictures while we had a rare break in the weather. The trek back down from Camp Britanico in the morning, after we camped in the snow, didn’t provide us with the same views as on our way up the day before, but we were still stunned at the beauty (even with snow hitting our faces like little bullets!).

We finished the trek with what we believe to be the most impressive natural sight we have ever witnessed, Glacier Grey. We reached the first lookout point over Lago Grey and immediately thought we were looking out into a white capped lake, but what we were really seeing was our first sighting of Glacier Grey.

From far away it was breathtaking, but we really couldn’t put a size perspective to the mountain of ice. We reached Acampamento Grey in the early afternoon and it was actually sunny! We set up our tent and immediately headed to the mirador, or lookout, for a better view of the glacier—we were not disappointed. Words cannot begin to describe the beauty we saw at the lookout, the view was 360 degrees, and we didn’t know which way to look. We had views of the glacier with monstrous snowcapped mountains in the backdrop and from the other directions we watched dozens of icebergs skirt across Lago Grey.

The lake water, gray in color, was speckled with icebergs that broke free from the glacier and were now free-floating, lost, like missing puzzle pieces. Others melted to almost nothing, translucent, hovering like pieces of ice in an evening cocktail, each unique in color, texture and shape. One had holes in it, resembling a piece of Swiss cheese; another looked like shaved ice that had been formed into a snow cone. As we sat and watched, the waves of Lago Grey steadily pummel the sculptures, melting them, constantly changing and destroying the art forms at the same moment. The colors varied from brilliant white against the grey waters of the lake to brilliant shades of blue depending on the angle, and strength of the sun, which continued to struggle and do its best to peak through the clouds.

We attempted to compare the glacier to something tangible since it appeared mammoth from our vantage point. It was at least a mile wide, and extended endlessly — unable to see the termination point. Eventually a ferry, packed with tourists, cruised by the front of the glacier, providing us some perspective. We estimated the towers of the glacier to reach at least ten stories high with massive crevasses separating the towers.

As we sat on the rocks, mesmerized by the sites around us, we heard chunks from the glacier break off into the waiting lake below, more missing puzzle pieces. This was exciting, at first, until we thought about what it really meant—losing the Glacier forever as it continues to recede.

The sites in the Park definitely make it worth suffering through the weather and the arduous kilometers of accents and descents. However, you quickly realize the people that are out on the trails with you make the downtime and the entire adventure more bearable. Misery loves company, right?

As we sat in the campsites, we traded trail stories with some wonderful people from all over the world. Some people just came from where we were going, or vise versa, and we would provide each other tips on how to bear the weather, sites that shouldn’t be missed, or other little nuances that help make the trek better.

I do want to mention Roger, Ralph and Isabella by name. We started the trip on the first day with the same intention—doing the Circuit. After our first night we seemingly all lost contact, but assumed that everyone was headed off to conquer the entire Circuit. Roger and Isabella made it up to Camp Seron (the first stage of the Circuit) before they headed back and found us along the trail two days later. They assumed we powered through and were very concerned about us, as we were very concerned about them, and were all pleased to see each other safe at the campground.

We assumed Ralph, a nice gentleman from Tasmania (only the second Tazy we have ever met, the first one in Fiji in 2002), was the remaining sole that was still attempting to forge his was through the Circuit since no one had seen him in two days. However, we literally bumped into Ralph on our way down from our night in the snow at Camp Britanico, as he also smartly abandoned his hope for conquering the Circuit due to the weather. Ralph also thought we powered through, and was happy to see us safe and us to see him. We all departed from the parks at different times with promises to see each other sometime in the future—we hope so.

We carried all of our own gear on this trip, no cushy porters to alleviate our load—this included our food. We each had a bag of food that included soup (chicken & rice, lentil, and semolina), a large chocolate bar for breakfast, pasta and sauce, a kilo of rice, a salami, and a small bottle of hot-sauce that magically added flavor to everything we ate, a chunk of cheese, some trail mix, and about eight Clif bars. We mixed the rice and soup mix for dinner each night, ate a small chunk of chocolate for breakfast, and shared a Clif Bar. The soup was chocked full of sodium, slightly diluted by the rice, and caused us to wake up each morning with cotton mouth as if we had been out partying the night before. We would snack on the trail mix, salami and cheese in between “meals.” As Marc continually reinforced at each “meal”… It’s just fuel, don’t worry about taste, worry about getting enough carbohydrates in your tank so you can keep warm and trek another 15km tomorrow.

Needless to say, we were at a caloric deficit each day. Marc assured me we could run at a caloric deficit for at least eight days (possibly ten) without entering a severe ketonic state. We knew there was a trade-off, more food meant more weight to carry and thus more calories expended each day. Less food meant less weight to carry, but also meant fewer calories burned each day… it was a balancing act. I just dreamed of our return and the tasty pizza at Mesita Grande in Puerto Natales. We returned too late for pizza our first night back in Puerto Natales, but we will have it tonight—I can’t wait.

We were shocked by the number of people who seemed to be unprepared for the trek. We heard from Isabella that a group of young Israeli kids showed up at Camp Seron without a rain fly for their tent. It snowed that night and they slept in the showers after being denied access to the lodge by a Chilean ranger, who had a dislike for unprepared Israelis in particular.

We arrived at the park with the proper gear, possibly saving our lives, but definitely making the adventure bearable. The most important pieces of gear for us were our waterproof tent (MSR HubbaHubba), zero degree down sleeping bag (Marmot-Never Summer), rain jacket (Patagonia & Eddie-Bauer), and well-worn water-proofed boots (Vasque). We had two sets of clothes—warm and dry—we put on the dry clothes at the end of each day, which reduced the energy to keep our bodies warm (again, it’s all about calorie conservation). We wore tights under our pants the entire trip which kept us nice and warm in the high winds, rain and snow. Our Nalgene bottles (only made in USA) proved invaluable too, not only did we drink out of them during the day, but we were able to fill them with boiling water at night and place them in our sleeping bags. This warmed up our bags before we got in them, reducing caloric output from our bodies to heat them up—calories our body really couldn’t spare.

Our hygiene, or lack-there-of, was another topic throughout our trek. As I said, we kept our tights on the entire trip, except for when we used our little anti-bacterial wipes to “bathe.” We tried to make our hygiene tolerable to those around us, but there is no denying, we reeked! The clothes we wore during the day, including our socks, went into the bottom of our sleeping bags at night to dry out, but this allowed our sock odor to permeate into the rest of our clothes. Not that our other clothes smelled of roses, no, those were filled with sweat during the day. We “bathed” regularly with the towels and applied fresh deodorant, which temporarily masked the sweaty, stinky smell. The showers at the campsites were tempting, but the water was “sometimes” hot, and a cold shower in the cold wind and rain wasn’t really inviting. As Marc would also continually say, “Never, ever, let yourself get cold and you won’t have to waste the energy to get yourself warm!” We did hit the shower as soon as we got into Puerto Natales and took our clothes to the Lavanderia with hopes that they will be defunked when we pick them up!

The bus ride in and out of the park was a little rough since the Chilean government is literally building a road to transport more visitors into Torres del Paine. The road into the park is gravel and dirt, with a few sections that are paved. The bus jumps on and off the paved sections throughout the journey as the construction workers monitor the traffic.

The expansion of the park was apparent in the Refugios, or cabins, along the trails. The Refugios that are easily accessible to tourists who couldn’t, or don’t want to hike, have more amenities, such as rooms with a bed, full meal service, and of course a hotel feel… similar, but not as swanky as the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park. I am sure the Refugios will continue to grow in size and level of comfort, as the number of tourists who discover the beauty in the park increases.

As our trip progressed, we would occasionally sit in one of the lodges at the refugio, and hear different rumors that were passed amongst the travelers. I mentioned the varying levels of snow along the circuit, some people said calf-high; others claimed it was thigh high. The number of days Paso John Garner was closed also varied as did the weather reports. We also heard about, and might have even seen, a guy either training to run, or running, the entire Circuit in 17 hours. The goal is to break the all time record which is currently around 23 hours. As with the game of telephone, the stories changed as they were passed between different travelers, but it was all in good fun!

Now that we are back in Puerto Natales, we thought a little bit about what we would do different next time—when we come back to conquer the Circuit. We decided we would definitely come earlier in the season, such as December or January, for better weather, at least we think. We would also make sure we have knee high gators. We trekked in gators that are mid-calf that are more designed to keep debris out of our boots, but the knee high, Gortex gators would be better in the rain, snow and wind we encountered during our trek. In fact, we will pick these up in San Francisco before we head to New Zealand.

In summary, we were up against elements we have never experienced, specifically the wind, but we rallied, worked together and had a spectacular time in Torres del Paine National Park. We both grew up with Yosemite National Park and the Sierra Nevada’s in our backyards, spending a lot of time there, but Torres del Paine is on an entirely different level of beauty. If you are at all thinking of heading south to see the Glaciers and the beauty in the park, do it soon! (Please wait until “summertime.”) When the paved road to the park is finished in the upcoming months, each day will bring more tourists to this beautiful park. At some point, the government will have to limit the number of daily visitors to preserve the parks trails and wildlife, similar to the Inca Trail in Peru’s Machu Pichu. Come… come, before it is too late!

A few final tasks...


Puerto Natales, Chile

February 24, 2007
S 51°43.585
W 072°30.366

We woke up rather late this morning and headed to grab some coffee. Our plan was to get coffee, update the blog and grab some cheese and salami for a little protein in the backwoods.

We got to El Living, the place for coffee in Puerto Natales, right around 11 AM. They weren’t quite open yet, so we headed to the cheese place. They weren’t open either…based on our list; we decided to hit the internet cafe. We quickly back tracked after we finished updating the blog and checking email and grabbed cheese, got some coffee, and hit the Carneceria for the salami right at 1:00 PM —closing time.

The siesta, or mid-day break, still exists in both Chile and Argentina. Our day has to be planned around this break when everything is closed between 1:00 to 4:00 PM (sometimes 5:00 PM!). Some days we plan things perfectly, but other days we get really frustrated trying to find something open during this break. Today we accidentally hit the Carneceria perfectly, but later in the afternoon we were rejected time and time again when trying to find some last minute essentials for our trek. Let me explain…

After the Carneceria we headed back to our room and made a final dry-run of the tent set-up; since winds in Torres del Paine have been reaching 30-45 mph. It went fairly flawlessly in the sheltered backyard of Erratic Rock 2, but we needed a process before setting the tent up in the whipping winds. Mission accomplished.

However… while making a final inventory of our packs we discovered two key items were “missing.” One of the items, my gloves, most likely ended up in one of our drop-ship boxes and was left at home in San Francisco. The other item, Marc’s headlamp, was last seen in Montanita… either lost or stolen. We tore everything apart searching for the items without any success.

Next mission… go out and find a headlamp and gloves. We knew exactly where to go, but when we got there the store was closed, of course… we fell in between the 1:00 and 4:00 PM timeframe. I looked at my watch and it said 2:30 PM. Marc suggested we go grab a beer to waste the time. We figured it would be our last beer for several nights, we might as well. We tried a few places and they were closed until 6:00 PM. “Do these people ever work?” we said to each other.

We opted to walk down near the water to waste time until siesta was over and the shops re-opened. We headed back up to the town center a little before 4:00 PM and the store finally re-opened. They had what we were looking for, at a premium of course, but these were essentials. We were pleased we budgeted the extra $10 per day for miscellaneous items—the gloves and headlamp clearly fell into that category!

Tomorrow… Torres del Paine.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

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.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

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.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

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.

Monday, February 19, 2007

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.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

We´re headed south...


Puerto Montt, Chile

February 16, 2007
S 41°28.372
W 072°56.750

We traveled from Santiago to Puerto Montt today after an all day bus ride from Mendoza to Santiago yesterday. Today’s travel was pretty easy, a 1 ½ hour flight followed by a 15 minute bus ride into town compared to seven hours on the bus from Mendoza.

Still, back-to-back travel days take it out of us… imagine hauling two 40 lb. backpacks and a 20 lb. daypack from your hotel, onto the metro, into the airport, from the airport and back onto the bus, out of the bus terminal, and then thru the streets of a city (with no street signs) you have never visited, all in a quest for a hotel that may or may not have a vacancy when you arrive.

Anyway… the best part about today’s flight was the descent. I peered out the window by chance and saw a sea of cotton white clouds. As I looked closer, I saw snow capped peaks poking through the clouds, completely blending into the scenery like chameleons. The scene was absolutely stunning. As we continued our descent, we approached a large, bright blue body of water surrounded by several snow capped peaks; it appeared to be a picture post-card, but it wasn’t a picture… it was real.

After landing in Puerto Montt, we took a very easy bus trip into the city. As we headed towards town along a very narrow two lane road we would occasionally pass farmers driving their horse or oxen bound trailers doing their best to avoid traffic. We made a few turns and then had a straight shot downhill into the town. On the downhill, we had panoramic views of the town of Puerto Montt and the port with the mountains in the background.

After exiting the bus station we took a short hike (800 meters) through the city and found a place to stay; Residencial La Nave, a hotel and restaurant all in one. After a few confusing minutes of discussing Pesos per night ($22 USD) with the woman who seemed to be in charge, we dumped our gear in our room and decided to get some lunch.

We made our way back downstairs through the restaurant (which was now full of locals) and saw several people with large caldrons on their tables filled with seafood. We decided we needed to go no further and to have lunch right there. The caldrons were full of a Puerto Montt’s local specialty, Curanto.

The restaurant, a very simple place (like our hotel room) had square tables and wooden chairs. It appeared the majority of locals were ordering the Curanto—we had to try it! We decided to share one caldron since the bowl was massive. Our waitress brought us all the essentials for eating Curanto—a plate, spoon, knife, fork, bowl to place the discarded shells, bread, and a plate of lemons. After a few moments our very own caldron arrived.

The overflowing bowl had at least a dozen muscles, half a dozen clams, potato, sausage, pork belly, chicken, and a couple different dumpling type things, one with chunks of pork. The bottom of the caldron contained a piping hot tasty broth which was also served on the side in a cup and saucer.

The entire spread was somewhat overwhelming; we weren’t quite sure how to attack this meal. After sneaking quick glances, left and right, to see how the locals eat their Curanto, we determined you cut off a piece of meat or dumpling, put it on your spoon and dunk it into the broth in the cup and saucer. It also seemed important to squeeze the lemons over the entire cauldron, and dip the bread into some of the broth—at least that is how we did it!

Half the fun of traveling is trying new things, I am glad we tried the Curanto!

Our place was only $22.00 a night and of course all the toilet paper we could use right outside our door ;-)

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Observations about South America


February 13, 2007



  • Dinner starts after 10 pm, even on “school” nights.

  • It’s normal to see toddlers out running around at midnight.

  • The mullet is in…big time! The most popular mullet style is the dread-lock mullet. Business in front… smoke a bowl in the back. Pictures will hopefully be forthcoming and posted to www.mulletsgalore.com

  • It is normal to see young boys, three years of age, “training” their mullet; obviously with the consent of their guardian.

  • The steak and wine are fabulous in Argentina even if you aren’t a big red meat eater.

  • When walking through a park, you are likely to find at least one, usually more, young couples making out on a bench, on the grass or in the shade of a tree.

  • Everyone loves their ice cream. There are more places to buy ice cream than to buy coffee.

  • After grabbing an ice cream at the heladeria it’s not uncommon to light up a cigarette or two or three… shit, why not just smoke the whole g’damn pack.

  • We have not seen a single Starbucks! Whew!

  • Stop signs do not mean stop; more like pause and punch it!

  • It isn’t unusual to see a new mother walking down the street breast feeding—talk about multi-tasking.

  • The stray dogs have a very good demeanor. They aren’t threatening at all even when approaching packs of them.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Valpariso and our first familiar face...

Valpariso, Chile

February 11, 2007


We decided to take a day trip to Valpariso instead of hauling our luggage on the bus and through Valpariso for only one night. We didn’t want to miss is the city all together after reading good things about it in our guide book and feedback from other travelers. Plus, we hadn’t been on a bus for a few days and thought we needed some “bus” time.

We booked our tickets in advance. Good thing since the return trip home was completely sold out even though they had a bus leaving every 10 minutes. We opted for the 8am bus leaving Santiago, and the 6pm bus home. Each way was approximately 2 hours, so we thought this was perfect.

First, I should explain the bus system in Chile is very nice; there are even different classes of service mostly depending on the distance being traveled. Since our trip was short, we were on the Clasico, but the seats were comfy and with plenty of leg room. This felt like pure luxury after the infamous trip to Montenita.

We don’t want bore you with the details on Valpariso. We walked around the entire city by 12:30pm after arriving at 10a, and didn’t see anything too exciting (except for some of the graffiti art). The city is a big port town which also comes with the highest HIV rate in all of Chile. We saw a lot more homeless people here than in Santiago (or San Francisco for that matter). We don’t know if the people were homeless due to HIV, or drugs (the homeless did look “cracked” out), or both—most likely a combination.

The main attraction in the city is the 15 ascensors spread throughout the city. The ascensors, which translates into elevators, were used to bring goods and services from the port up to the people living in the hills surrounding the port. They are now simply a tourist attraction; similar to San Francisco’s cable car. They were built on railroad tracks, a big cable wheel, and a long cable with a car at each end. The big cable wheel rotates so one can go up and the other can go down. The cars are very rickety and, as Marc stated, makes the cable car look like an engineering marvel.

The ascensors might be the highlight for Valpariso, but the highlight for us was seeing our first familiar face from home. We met up with Kelsey Smith, Elise Tuttle’s roommate at UNR, who is currently studying abroad in Santiago. She happened to be in Valpariso for the day and was able to meet up with us. We were only able to spend a few hours with Kelsey and her friend Gabriel to share a few beers before heading back to Santiago, but it was nice to see she is doing well in her program.

The best way to compare Valpariso to something familiar is to compare it to Oakland, CA and the fact that it is always lost in the shadow of the larger city looming near by. In summary, Valpariso is to Santiago what Oakland is to San Francisco without the daily gang shootings (at least we think) and the street art in Valpo is awesome (see above).

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Something smells fishy. Maybe it’s our laundry or maybe it’s lunch.


Santiago, Chile

February 10, 2007

We woke up early on our first morning in Santiago to continue our quest for a Lavanderia. We have been carrying around two bags of stinky, sandy clothes since we left Montanita on Wednesday. Our plan was to take care of the laundry in Guayaquil, but after searching the city for several hours we gave up, completely defeated.

After deciphering the Santiago Yellow Pages we found three places fairly close and within walking distance. We wanted to get our laundry done and then spend rest of the afternoon exploring Santiago. We struck-out at the first place since it wasn’t open on Saturdays, headed to the second place, and were successful—finally! The only catch, it was an autoservicio lavanderia which means you leave it, they wash and fold it, and you pick come back to pick it up. This actually worked out better for us, giving us time to do other errands while our laundry was being tended to.

With the chores out of the way, we finally headed out on the town for a walking tour. We hit all the highlights in Santiago, including the Mercado Central, a seafood market similar to Pike’s Place in Seattle. We were told to get seafood here, towards the center of the market, most importantly, we were told to be adventurous.

We walked into the market, which looks like it used to be an old seafood processing center. Along the outskirts of the market are the fish purveyors selling calamari, sea urchin, sea snails, various types of fish, mussels, shrimp, clams, and other unidentifiable sea creatures. The purveyors weren’t tossing the salmon as you see at Pike’s Place; however, they were playing their own little jokes on the crowd by playing with some of the various fish for sale.

As we headed towards the center of the market the hosts from the various restaurants started vying for our business, telling us they had the perfect table for us. We did a few laps of the market before deciding on a restaurant, La Joya del Pacifico. The decision was easy because the suave host explained he knew exactly where San Francisco was and loved Gloria Gainer and Jefferson Airplane. After we sat down at the table, the waiter promptly brought us bread, butter and a very fresh looking salsa. There were no chips with the salsa but it tasted wonderful with the soft bread and was a nice alternative to butter.

We both decided to get a bowl of the mixed seafood soup in an attempt to be adventurous. The seafood soup arrived at the table in a scalding cast iron bowl, and I immediately decided we were very adventurous since many of the unidentifiable items sold by the purveyors were now in our soup. We each took a bite—fantastic!

The sauce consisted of standard ingredients such as garlic, onions, tomatoes, white wine, cilantro, pepper oil, and small chunks of ham. The mix of seafood included clams, mussels, calamari, shrimp, white fish, sea snails, abalone, oysters and sea urchin. The final touch on the soup was a bit of sand and a few broken shells…we decided it wouldn’t be seafood soup without these final ingredients.

We both ate as much of the seafood as possible, dipping some of the bread into the soup or into the salsa, and washing it down with a nice cold Cristal beer. As we hit our limit, it appeared we barely made a dent in the dish, but our bellies were full and we were ready to explore some more.

We took one final lap of the market before heading back on the street to see more of Santiago.

Another travel day... Ecuador to Chile

February 9, 2007

We happily left Guayaquil, Ecuador and headed to Santiago, Chile today. Another travel day, it was bound to be adventurous, but not as crazy as the bus ride with the pisser—at least we hoped not.

We knew our arrival in Santiago was scheduled for almost ten o’clock in the evening, so we wanted to arrange a hotel and a ride from the airport in advance. This isn’t as easy as one would think. We started sending emails to different hotels prior to our departure from San Francisco near the end of January. Unfortunately, we never heard back from any of them. The day before our departure from Ecuador, we called our desired hotel (Hotel Monte Carlo) to ensure we had a reservation at arrival. They couldn’t pick us up at the airport, but we secured a reservation. Whew!

We landed in Santiago on schedule around 9:30 PM local time. We quickly deplaned, headed to the immigration check point, grabbed our bags, and, after customs, we braced ourselves for the normal onslaught of taxi cab drivers dying for our business. Our plan was to quickly grab some local currency at the airport ATM and jump in a cab. At least that was the plan… when we walked out of customs we saw a young Chilean gentleman holding a sign that said “Marc Heckman.” Perfect, we thought… the hotel actually came through with transportation for us – nice, we don’t have to haggle with the many cab drivers. Marc gave him the head nod and a big smile, he acknowledged, and we made our way towards him.

We started walking out of the airport without going to the ATM and I decided to ask the young gentlemen if we can pay him in US Dollars. He turned and explained we could take care of it at the hotel. The Velazquez Hotel won’t have any problems handling this transaction.

I turned to Marc, “The Velazquez Hotel?” I said, “That isn’t the place we called yesterday.” Marc and I kind of stop behind the guy and opened our trusty Lonely Planet guide—I scanned the page for the Velazquez Hotel. I couldn’t find the place on my first scan. The guy stopped, looked back inquisitively and waited for us up ahead; we quickly caught up with him. We had no idea where we were going, but figured it would be an experience and, at the least, a ride into the city center and a place to stay.

We got into the car and immediately noticed his gas tank was on empty—as in below the red line. As we drove out of the airport, headed to some unknown location, we saw a sign stating Santiago 16 km.

I thought… Oh great, we’re on the road to “somewhere” and the story behind it will be even better when we run out of gas. Every few minutes the car let out a little beep-beep to remind the driver it desperately needed a fill-up. Our driver didn’t seem phased at first and sped by gas station after gas station. The beep-beeps started getting closer together, and I think I saw sweat building on the driver’s forehead in the rear view mirror. Now he began to panic and started driving a little faster, determined not run out of gas with us in the car—we appreciated this. The beep-beeps were now coming about every 30 seconds when we finally exited the freeway.

The driver quickly drove to the hotel, even running through a questionable pink light and rolled up to Hotel Diego de Velazquez. We don’t know how they had a reservation for us, maybe an email sent a month or so ago, but they had a room with our name and we had a place to stay that night. We’ll take it!