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Lago Chico
It's Chico time. Apparently. For the most part of today we were in a bus. The downside of travelling is that sometimes you actually have to travel. The main difference to today´s journey, apart from the fact that the bus is about 80%!f(MISSING)ull of Israelis (who were given ham sandwiches for lunch), was a cheeky trip through customs. For some reason the idea of customs strikes fear through the very soul (in Hayley´s case) or empty shell (in mine) of the traveller. Maybe it´s because literally all of the guidebooks suggest exercising caution. You watch Freddie Krueger, we turn the lights out and read the Lonely Planet directory by torchlight.
Chile is the first new country of our trip (although Hayley spent ten minutes in Santiago bus station once) and immediately we knew we would like it. Chile is due to be South America´s first first world country - not surprising with Argentina´s stubborn nationalism, Brazil´s favela culture and the drugs everywhere else - and has always had good relations with the English (we gave them some ships a long time ago). Our fears of being internally invaded in a back office were short lived. Nothing to note.
We arrived in our next destination, in Pucon, after an 8 hour trip through South Chile. It was solidly green and raining, could almost have made us homesick except that it was green and raining. Pucon is known for two things - Villarica Volcano and also its lake. To be discussed at a later date.
We always feel so sweaty after a bus journey.
miercoles, 21 de abril The sun was still dreaming of getting jiggy with the moon when we arose this morning for today we had decided to hike the Villarica Volcano. Lonely Planet had told us "there is no technical climbing and no prior mountaineering experience is required" and set our expectation at a manageable hike, hopefully in our shorts if the Sun´s out. So, wait, why do we need this ice-pick and these crampons? To go on the bottom of these 5 stone boots?
Oh. Silly question.
Dressed up like we are in search of the south pole without a map we receive bad news - the sky is overcast. Kryptonite for mountain guides. Our guide, Rodrigo, tells us there is a 50%!c(MISSING)hance of it clearing as it´s pretty windy. If the
clouds don´t clear we won´t be able to go onto the glacier in the crater (ooooooooh, now we see). It´s our choice whether to go or delay. F**k it! Lets do it!
Second bit of bad news (although we didn´t appreciate it at the time) - the chairlift isn´t on. Why would it when only one of the twenty tour companies has decided to climb? Therefore the first hour and a half which would have been equivalent to sitting on a couch in Jack Frost´s house was in fact an immense hike up loose rocks with the wind battering our faces and visibility, usually measured in metres, being roughly the end of our nose. At 50 minutes the token American in the group, a ´student of outdoor education´and hence REALLY wanted to make the top, proclaimed it "was clearing". No lie the guide couldn´t hear him from 5 metres away. It was an optimistic shout.
At the salvation of the chairlift house our 7 strong group became 5. The Brazilian in the group having never seen snow before decided it wasn´t for her. Our other guide, Elias, stayed with her to stop her dying. More American proclamations -
"the Sun´s coming out". Oh good. Thanks. For the next ascent more layers are added, including sunglasses. This has become an expedition.
The incline did not alter for the next stage. Shame. After an hour or so of steep climb battered further by the wind and his best mate the blizzard it was crampon time. That or slip back down the mountain. By now our sense of adventure was diminishing. The conditions were becoming dangerous. Still we plugged away. American hasn´t said much for a while. "So what do you think the weather will be like later?" he asks. "I can see now what the weather is like," Rodrigo responds sarcastically.
We reached the top of the ridge at probably about three and a half hours at where the rocks give way to sheet ice. C*ck this up and it´s down a cravass. No more blogs if that happens. At the top we walked parallel to the ridge. Here the wind went epic. Dorothy and Toto epic. A couple of near falls aside, now time for a lecture...in how to fall down the mountain. What? We have crampons? Oh, they will make it more dangerous if we fall.
Sorry, fall? "Just get on your front and dig the ice-pick in"...our advice to save lives.
It´s fair to say that Hayley led from the front. Queen of the hikes. Until about one hour and a half from the top when the blizzard, and blisters, really hit. At this point it´s time to turn around; there will be no lava today. Time for another lesson - how to look a complete t*t walking down a mountain in crampons. We´re talking ministry of silly walks, the John Cleese bowler hat and briefcase one. Plus the same hurricanous ridge to navigate. Rodrigo´s mood slightly changed on the way down, he regularly looked to the heavens either to get his bearings or to get some form of guidance from God - it was unclear. The snow stopped either of them. Rodrigo grabbed Hayley´s arm to get the descent going quicker. I laughed as he whipped Hayley round a corner and she slid a couple of metres, only to fall flat on his ar*e. Can you spell justice?
Much later he fell again. This time centimetres from the ice pick sticking out of Hayley´s bag. Hayley said she couldn´t love him with
a hole in his head.
In the evening we went to the thermal baths. Six pools of volcanic water - later turned into Volvic, unlucky we didn´t wash our feet - heated between 28 and 55 degrees. Unbelievably relaxing, we were the only ones there. Except our non-English speaking guide. Awkward.....
Jueves, 22 de abril We awoke with a stiffness that caused us to replicate the silly walks from the day before. See how we avoided an erection joke? I am growing. The stiffness didn´t stop me running out into the road at the sight of clear blue sky to be unequivocally devastated by the Villarica Volcano standing afore us in all its glory. Cue Hayley´s abused puppydog frown. Patience would well and truly have been a virtue.
A simple walk to the lake would keep these aches and pains to a minimum. We set off down the road. Hang on, there´s three of us. One block in we´ve managed to pick up a dog. We have no idea why it´s following us but it would not f**k off. Forty five minutes without any attention before we lost it amongst a group of schoolkids doing P.E.
The lake has a beach covered in black sand and was, as is the norm, empty. Everybody wears 10 layers despite the heat so the beach clearly isn´t a pull. It´s overlooked by green mountains to 2 sides. It´s another beautiful photo to add to the collection.
On the way back via a fine lunch of empanadas the dog count got as high as six. Boris at our hostel (Donde Egidio´s) said they can smell the gringos. Must remember to not wash off the smell of barbecued meat (just a joke Chileños - thought it was a funny comment is all). Walking through the town Hayley and I partially separated (dog followed me). All of a sudden:
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR," a siren goes off. It sounds like the old Blitzkrieg ones. The town stands still. I look around, up at the volcano. Sh*t, has it erupted? What the hell do we do now? I jog back to Hayley, oblivious.
"What the fr*g´s going on?" I asked.
"Fire engine."
"Oh."
Remember the time we almost got killed by a volcano.
A chilean told us Pinochet was friends with the Queen today.
viernes, 23 de abril Unbeknown to us but recommended
by the hostel there is a National Park not far away from Pucon. It´s the hardest thing we have done - pronouncing it´s name - Heurquehue (Ay-er-kay-way if you´re bothered). We caught the local bus out of town. Now, apologies for mentioning the most evil man in history for a second blog but a man with a Hitler moustache got on the bus. And he had what looked like a traditional German hat too. It´s widely theorised that Hitler escaped to Chile after the war, a possible continuation of the bloodline? There´s no smoke without fire.
Conspiracy theories aside, the hour long ride was up a windy mountain road with sheer drop to the side. We could only hope the driver´s wife hadn´t left him that morning. At 700m up it stops and the National Park is in front of us. We opted for the lakes route, a 7 hour round trip through forests (Mañio, Coique) and past waterfalls (Aguila, Trufulco) but mostly... steep. Our legs were still knackered too.
The height of the trail meant largely that any shaded area was covered in ice. As the sun rose this turned to water and the trail to one
long mud puddle. Hayley did not enjoy this walk so much, after recently crowning her Queen of the hikes I thought it funny to repeatedly sing the Queen is Dead (what? I like the Smiths). Along the way there were miradores - lookouts directly at the volcano with the forested mountains and Lake Tinquilo reflecting it all below. Best views to date probably.
At the point of "can we be bothered?" we reached the 1300m peak (about 2.5 hours walking solid) and down onto the valley behind. The sun had been hiding here all day like a dog that knows it´s been naughty. What we found were three huge lakes - Chico, Toro (!!) and Verde - all bright blue reflecting the mountainous surroundings. Well worth the walk. We sat out and ate lunch on a rock in the blistering sun overlooking one of the lakes.
On the return we met a Dutch fella who had camped out in the park the night before. He had collected a load of nuts from a tree and dished some out. The Dutchman´s nuts did not taste good.
Somebody else told us there was tremor this morning. Hayley and I
slept through it. But not through the guy sleeping next door.
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Heather
non-member comment
I really enjoyed your Chile post. It reminded me of my own trip there, and how much I loved it! My blog is looking for travel photos, reviews, etc, to share. If you have the time, check it out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com, or email us at dirtyhippiesblog@gmail.com. Continued fun on you travels! Heather :)