Punta Arenas and Puerto Natales: on the way to Torres Del Paine

I think towards the start of our South American blog I made a comment about how cities here feel the same as cities anywhere else in Canada, America or Australia... and that there was not much of a so called third world or developing country feel about it. (Both those descriptions are strange ones though, which I am never entirely comfortable using). I was talking mainly of Chile, and particularly Santiago. But even then, we did not really spend too much time in Santiago outside the central few blocks where our hostel was. Also, so far most of the towns we have been to have been very touristy, and we had not spent too much time walking about in them, outside of the main streets... well, I have now seen a little outside the glossed over tourist scene, which has been good, I guess, if developing a real and complete picture of the world is what travel is about. Our broken bus trip down to Patagonia meant we spent some time (in the case of Quellon, a very short time) in some areas off the tourist map. Again, I am rambling and should bring it back to the start:

We caught a bus the next day to Quellon, hoping to take a cargo ship over to Chaiten, where we would spend some time in some parks near there before heading down as far as we could through Chile etc etc. One of the parks had been bought by an American called Douglas Tompkins, a deep ecologist who believed in purchasing and protecting significant forest. He apparently bought it under the nose of the government and locals, in small sections at a time through the Conservation Land Trust, ending up with over 700 000 acres eventually. Naturally the project attracted a lot of criticism from the local people and the government when they realised that a ¨gringo¨ had purchased all the land, dividing Chile and Argentina and preventing the locals from logging it and developing. I don´t know what the majority of people think about it now, but we both thought it would be an interesting park to visit. Anyhow, all this about a place that we did not even get to visit, because we arrived in Quellon only to find that the boat was cancelled due to bad weather and the next one was not for another three days. Quellon was the most depressing town we had seen so far. There was nothing even slightly cute, pretty or charming about it. Once colourful buildings shed their shingles and panels like skin cells while drunks shed their brain cells with pisco and cheap rum, the quality of paint stripper, on the streets. Everything was falling apart, dirty, mouldy and broken, including the people and the dogs. When Jono and I found out the boat was not running we practically ran back to the bus station and caught the bus that was just pulling out for Puerto Monte. The quickest decision that I think we have made in our whole time traveling so far. We decided to spend the night in Ancud again, and decide what to do from there. We met up with the Chilean couple from Vina Del Mar (near Santiago) again, as they had also hoped to catch the same boat as us, and the Australian couple that creep man from the Chonchi hostel had ripped off were also there. We all cooked up a big feast together and drank muchas vino, which was fun. Jono and I decided that we did not want to wait another three days for a boat that might just get cancelled again. We were also starting to get itchy feet for Patagonia, thinking that we should get down there as quickly as possible before the weather got too bad and cold. We had always known that going the path we had wanted to go down through Chile would take a little time to do, especially at this time of year, out of peak season, when there were less boats and buses running. SO, we decided to take a bus, which went all the way back to Puerto Monte, before making its way back down South to Punta Arenas. A 35 hour bus ride. Yipppppeeeeeeeeeeee.

But actually, it wasn´t so bad. As I have already mentioned several times, buses here are a dream compared to back home and especially compared to North America. We stopped at a cute family run roadside diner for dinner and to stretch our legs. We had movies to watch. We were given breakfast, snacks and drinks. We had seats that recline to a point where you can actually sleep. Blankets. Pillows. And good views. It was quite cool to see the lush green forests, rivers and mountains around Bariloche as it got dark, and waking up in the pampas. Two entirely different landscapes. The pampas are pretty cool. Vast, dry and wild looking. It called to the cowgirl in me and made me want to go galloping over the plains on a horse...

At Punta Arenas, our bus was met by about 6 people handing out brochures for accommodation. We went along with one of these. It is often a cheaper option than a proper hostel, but not always as comfortable. In this case, we realised when we got there that the only kitchen was the family´s one, and it was pretty small. They said they did not mind us cooking in it, but when we proceeded to do so they made us feel pretty uncomfortable about it. But who cares. We can´t afford to eat out as often as we had been, as we have pretty much been spending more than we budgeted for each day. We did eat out on one of the two nights, and could not find anywhere cheap.

The first thing I noticed about Punta Arenas was a distinct new chill in the air. The central part of town is quite pretty and developed, with nice architecture. Apparently some people did very well here from the wool boom. The area was also used as a jail, and a sealing port. While the central few blocks are neat, the edges of town tell a different story. Jono and I could not believe it when we walked to the water front only to see it was used as the town rubbish dump. Guess they have been doing that for years. I had already noticed in Puerto Monte and on Chiloe that the waterfront does not have the prestige and associated respect that it does at home. Though, if it were better cared for it would be beautiful, so it is such a shame. There were some interesting things in Punta Arenas though, including the town cemetery, even though a bit morbid. The cemetery was HUGE, almost a town of its own, and just like towns are often divided into different ethnic communities, it had a Welsh area, a Scotish area, a German area, an indigenous area, and area devoted to those who died under Pinochet and a Latin American area. Maybe there was more, but we did not walk through the whole thing. The Latin American part was the most interesting and elaborate. Some graves were entire shrines of their own, for whole families. I guess the richer families. Other graves were slotted into a complex like a highrise block of apartments. Each grave with a glass window (see photos) and filled with photos and ornaments dedicated to (or perhaps belonging to) that person. They were a lot more personal than graves I am used to seeing, and you could really get a sense of who that person was. Walking past these and looking in, I felt like I was walking through all these dead people´s bedrooms and loungrooms, rather than walking past a pile of names in stones. It was interesting but also a bit voyeuristic, morbid and weird.

We also went to a museum where we learnt about Patagonia, its native animals, flora, fauna, geography, indigenous populations (some of which, like the ethnic Yamana, are now extinct).

After two nights, we caught another bus to Puerto Natales, the gateway town for Torres Del Paine national Park. I instantly like Puero Natales. It just had a nice feel. It was on a nice fjord, surrounded by mountains and the air smelt and felt clean. We found a cheap but good local hostel, where we planned to stay until the weather looked good (atleast not too bad) in the park where we would spend up to a week hiking and camping. It was the same price as the place we stayed in at Chonchi, but cleaner, nicer, with a friendly owner, free internet and a nice private room. Oh, and breakfast included. The owner´s friend who seems to live at the hostel was making ceviche when we got here (a local dish of raw salmon marinated in lemon juice, coriander etc until it is cured), and he showed us how to make it, even supplying the ingredients. We, in turn made homemade pisco sour for him. Good times.

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