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Published: June 26th 2010
Leaving Bariloche, we were faced with a tough decision: make our way up to Mendoza
and wine country, or say our goodbyes to Argentina and cross the border into Chile´s
slice of Patagonia, a region I confess to knowing very little about at that point.
After a quick committee meeting we decided that as good as Argentina had been to us,
it was time to move on, so off to Chile it was. Little did we know it at the time,
but it was a decision that was to lead us to perhaps the number one highlight of our
trip so far.
A short 5 hour bus ride to Puerto Montt passed almost without incident, interrupted
only as the drug patrol dogs at the border sniffed out an offending rucksack from
the baggage hold, and a rather terrified looking traveller was bundled off the bus.
After a few minutes´ interrogation however, he was let off without charge. As it
turned out, he´d been smoking weed a few days before in Bariloche, and the dogs had
smelled it on the clothes he had packed in his bag! Note to self, wash contents of
rucsack thoroughly in future when crossing borders! 😉 On the trip, we decided that
rather than stay any time in the uninspiring Puerto Montt, we´d press on to a little
lakeside resort town called Pucon.
Our bus got in late in the evening, so as we scoured the immediate vicinity for a
suitable hostel, we were completely oblivious of our surroundings. We found a cute
little place about 5 minutes walk from the bus station, a chalet-style setup heated
by open-hearthed log fires, and settled into bed, but not before the owner, a lovely
Dutch fella who´d left it all to take up life in paradise, brought us a welcome cup
of tea to bring some warmth to our frostbitten bones. When we woke up the next day
and stepped out onto the street for some breakfast, we were awestruck by the
setting. Beautiful mountains of all shapes and sizes, covered in lush green forest,
and a snow-covered, steaming volcano towered around us, whilst the village itself
was very similar to Bariloche in terms of its architectural offerings. Our first day
was spent exploring the town, during which time we managed to pick up a following of
stray dogs. Remarkably, the whole pack, ranging in size from 2 to about 7, proceeded
to follow us around for the remainder of our stay in the town, trotting along at our
heels and barking like mad at anyone or anything that came within 3m of us. Really
bizzare. Maybe it was Katie´s scent. Haha jokes. The other highlight of our first
few days was of a culinary nature. We were introduced to a local restaurant that was
unlike anything I have ever experienced. Unadvertised, unmarked, it was located in a
normal suburban street, in a house as unassuming as any other. You simply walked up
the driveway, rang the bell, and were escorted into an everyday living room,
complete with a lit television set, lazy sofas, family photographs... except that
there were at least 6 tiny restaurant tables dotted about the room ready to recieve
customers. The service was friendly, the food excellent (and cheap!) and the
neighbourhood atmosphere utterly charming. We had a few wonderful conversations with
some local characters... it was so much fun I went back twice!
Unfortunately those first days were again blighted by illness, as Katie succumbed
once again to a nasty flu, and had to spend a day or so in bed. As a result, we were
forced to delay our proposed trek to the summit of Volcan Villarica, a 3000m,
snow-coated volcano that is the
piece de resistance of any trip to Pucon.
Ultimately however it proved a blessing in disguise, as the horrid weather during
that time meant that hours curled up in front of a roaring fire were the order of
the day, and volcano climbing certainly wasn´t on the agenda. Eventually, Katie´s
strength returned sufficiently for us to decide to attempt the climb, so we signed
up for the next day´s shenanigans. The following morning we woke up at the crack of
dawn to decide whether or not it was worth attempting the hike given the week´s
ominous weather. A strong wind was gusting through Pucon, and our guide told us that
our chances were 50/50 that we´d get halfway and be forced to turn back, at which
point no refunds would be offered. So we decided to roll the dice. They took us to
get kitted out with boots, crampons, jackets, and ice axes, and then we all piled
into the bus and began our ascent. The ride was nervy as we passed through pine
forests being buffeted by the powerful winds, and we began to think our luck was
against us. However, when we arrived at base camp after about an hour, we stepped
out into an idyllic winters day, with hardly a breath of wind, and so we began our
climb. It was about 5 hours to the top, all in ankle deep snow, that would
occasionally reach as far as the thighs. To say it was exhausting would not be doing
it justice. It was amongst the most difficult physical tasks to which I think my
poor body has ever been set, particularly the last 200m or so. The steepness of the
climb was excruciating, and the altitude didn´t help into the bargain. What´s more,
with every step you were carrying an extra two to three kilograms of snow on your
boots, and the guides didn´t pause for stragglers. They practically ran us up!
Nevertheless, the scenery and the experience in general were simply breathtaking,
and made for one of the most worthwhile tours we´ve taken so far. You could see for
miles around, and there was not a speck of the cloud cover we´d heard tell of in
Pucon that had blighted other travellers´ experiences. Peaks and lakes stretched to
every horizon, and above us was a whole world of sparkling, untouched powder snow,
with plumes of smoke billowing from the crater at the pinnacle. It was like trekking
to a fairytale castle or dragon´s lair. The silence was also conspicuous, no other
human sound but the soft crackle of our heavy boots in the snow, and the occasional
howling of the wind if we passed over an unsheltered face. And the cold. Once we
finally did reach the top, we could only stay for enough time to peer into the
crater (unfortunately no lava was visible on that particular day) and take some
snaps in various victory poses, such was the strength of the icy wind and the biting
cold. At that point, the last thing my body could face was a similarly arduous trek
back down from whence we´d come. But the guides had a trick up their sleeves. Once
we´d reached the beginning of the steep slope, they instructed us to sit down on our
backsides with our legs out straight in front and, using our pickaxe at our sides as
a brake, simply sled down the side of the volcano! So what had been a 5 and a half
hour grueling ascent turned into a 1 and a half hour slide back down, often at
breakneck speeds. It was thrilling. I almost wanted to climb back up just to be able
to do it again! As we reached the bottom, shattered, shivering but thoroughly
elated, the bus was waiting for us. We had just enough time to take some team photos
before we were on our way back to Pucon, and to a hot shower and bed!
The following day was sadly our last in Pucon, as we had stayed longer than first
intended due to illness. We managed an afternoon jaunt to some beautifully set
natural baths around 20km outside of town, and soaked our weary muscles until
nightfall. It proved a blissful contrast to the previous day´s exertion, surrounded
by lightly frosted pine forests and a crystal clear mountain river as we stewed in
40 degree water with a good book. That evening we hopped on a night bus to Santiago,
filled with a real sense of achievement as we glanced back at the volcano looming
large over the town, bathed in a firey red glow by the setting sun. I couldn´t shake
the thought that the remaining sites on our South American itinerary had a good deal
of living up to do.
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Dianne
non-member comment
Pucon Bariloche
what hostels did you stay in. Recommend to pre book?