Baños Colinas

---

I watched from the window in satisfaction as the faded blue metrobus wound its way out of Santiago´s endless suburbs and into the countryside. The sun was dazzling and I ducked my head into the shadow of the curtain to gaze at the river charging alongside us. As much as I had come to love Santiago, three months living on the 19th floor of an apartment block in the centre of such a big city had left me longing for air which tasted clean and a pause from the endless drone and fumes of cars and buses.

I was headed towards the Cajon del Maipo, a stunning canyon southeast of Santiago and a popular area for wealthy Chileans to visit at weekends for skiing in the winter and rafting, cycling and hiking during spring and summer.

The packed bus passed through several laid back towns which became smaller and emptier the further into the canyon we drove. Gradually it emptied, and finally pulled to a halt in San Gabriel, where the driver told me I must wait for a passing car to take me further. Unsure of hitchhiking in such a remote place, I popped into the small police hut to ask what they would suggest. A grin and waving thumb signal confirmed that trying my luck was probably the only option if I wanted to travel deeper into the canyon, and I hovered for a while by the edge of the road, listening for car engines and trying not to think of bad horror films involving lonely roads and travellers.

As the first car steamed past, packed full with children and bags, I noticed that one of the other passengers from the bus was also trying for a lift and sauntered over to ask his advice. He was a friendly local man who lived in the small village after San Gabriel and in very rapid Spanish told me that I should try to get to the end of the road where there was a campground and several hot thermal baths spilling down the mountain, heated by the nearby San Jose volcano. Reassured, and excited by the prospect of a hot bath, I began to signal passing cars with optimism. and after about 40 minutes hopping up and down, a young man in a truck slowed down and told us he was headed for the baños and we were welcome to hop in.

An hour later, the road turned to a small dirt track and began to pass through the mountains, streaked with green and red with the last remains of the winter snows clinging to the peaks. Just as I began to wonder if the road would run out completely, we turned a corner and I saw a number of tents peeking up of the side of a mountain.

Thanking Patricio (the driver) effusively and wishing him well with his job in Santiago, I hoisted my pack and set out for the campsite. A brief battle with strong winds and a high, flimsy tent later and I was ready to jump into a hot bath. They were indeed everything the Chilean man had promised and as I sank down into the steam, wiggling my toes into the mud I began to properly take in my surroundings.

Situated in a valley, the baths have spectacular views of the circling peaks and being at the end of the road the silence is immense. I lay under one of the cascading waterfalls, letting the hot water massage my back. The murmur of wallowing Chileans kept me company as the sun faded and a blanket of stars was shaken across the cloudless sky.

Returning to Santiago on Sunday feeling relaxed and calm, I was greeted by huge celebrations in Plaza Italia where crowds had gathered to rejoice the death of the former dictator, Augusto Pinochet. Luckily, I was home by the time the police had arrived, and the champange had been washed away by the water cannons and tear gas.

---

Photos

Early morning bath
I was told the mud would clean out any impurities

Broken bridge
The only point you could cross the river...