Stranded Again, But Not Entirely Against My Will...

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It was a pretty short sleep before I had to get up and get on the bus to head north. So once I was on the bus, I got right back to work at getting some sleep. I had a bit of a realization that Coyahaique was by far the biggest place I had been in since Buenos Aires, and even though it only has 50,000 people in it, Coyahaique felt like civilization again after spending so many days in tiny mountain villages and hiking towns. It was a fully functioning city, with industry and everything. So I almost felt a little reluctant to plunge back into the remoteness of the Carretera Austral. But mostly I new I needed to keep moving.

The scenery was good when I was awake as we pressed further northward into Spanish BC. The mountains are really similar to the mountains in BC. It's got similar mountains (and geology, I assume) and we drove past some beautiful inlets along the way too, but it's still distinctly Chilean. Everyone speaks Spanish, for example... so that's a dead giveaway.

And there's some pretty cool stuff along the way. We climbed over one mountain pass and the view down the valley was spectacular. If had more time (and camping gear), I might have tried to visit Queulat National Park.

This stretch of highway was somehow more remote than where I had been previously, further south. So it was mildly unsettling when our bus broke down about five different times. Fortunately, they weren't smoke pouring out of the engine type of breakdowns where the bus would never run again sort of thing. The driver seemed to detect a problem, so he stopped the bus and shut off the engine, and started to work on it. If your a bus driver around here, you also have to be a mechanic it seems.

Each time he'd open up the transmission cover and take a look, and crawl under the bus and do some work. I'm no mechanic, and I don't speak Spanish, but I think it had something to do with the transmission, or an air hose that kept coming loose, or a compressor that wasn't working right. But I guess I really have no earthly idea. I was just glad that I had packed a bunch of food. (And speaking of food, I'd like to profess my new found love for pear juice. It's awesome, and I'm going to look around for it when I get home, and drink it everyday.) Since there were almost zero other cars on the road, if we had to wait there, we'd be there a while.

But we eventually did make it, and the bus dropped me off in Santa Lucia which is at the junction of the Carretera Austral and the highway to Futaleufu which continues to the Argentinian border.

The traditional waiting game began for a minibus that might be late, or might not be showing up at all, so I watched some kids playing soccer in the schoolyard across the street. I realized how bad Canada is at soccer when I saw how good these children were. We have no hope at all, so we'd better stick to hockey.

The minibus did come, and they tied our luggage to the top, and set off on the last stretch of the day long journey to Futaleufu. The sun was setting, and the mountaintops turned red, and I failed to take a picture, but trust me, it was breathtaking.

I arrived in Futaleufu after dark, and quickly found a hospedaje with a good price for the night.

Brett had spent his summer here, and told me about the hostel he had been living in, so I went to go find it the next morning. The owner, Nathaniel. is from the US, but has family ties to Argentina and decided to set up a hostel just inside Chile here in Futaleufu. He's a paddler, and Futaleufu has a popular river for watersports.

When I got to the hostel, it was empty and looked closed, but I eventually found Nathaniel out back working on the septic system. He said he had closed the hostel for a few days while he did some work and figured he might have it open later that day.

So I left my bag and went to do a hike that he had recommended, and it was well worth it. It had a great views, and so far I think Futaleufu might be my favourite place in Chile that I've been to.

I also spent some time counting the number of days I had left and looking at the list of things I wanted to do, and made some important decisions. I just was not going to make it to Mendoza or Uruguay this trip, and I was going to have to fly back to Buenos Aires. I may still get to Igauzu, but only if I fly there as well, so we'll see. At any rate, having made these decisions and let go of some of the destinations I had originally had planned, a huge weight was now off my mind and I felt relaxed and much more at ease. I can take things at a more relaxed pace if I'm not trying to get too far.

After I'd sufficiently enjoyed myself, I headed back down the mountain and into town to get some dinner. I also looked into getting out of town, and (surprise) the next bus into Argentina is not until Friday. So I could try hitchhiking, but I liked it in Futaleufu, so I didn't mind sticking around. And for all my talk and willingness to hitchhike, I have yet to actually do it, so I might as well not bother now.

I enjoyed a delicious pizza at a nearby place. They didn't serve beer, but they said that if I went and bought a beer at a grocery store that I was welcome to drink it. What an excellent policy! I definitely took advantage.

Nathaniel had decided to keep the hostel closed for another night to test out the septic system, so I headed back to Madre Silva (the hospedaje) for one more night.

The next day's adventure was meant to be climbing the Teta. The Teta is a pointy rock outcropping at the top of a nearby mountain, and it looks like it might be possible to scramble to the top. There's not really any trails marked out around here, so it felt like a chance to do some exploring as well.

Nathaniel kindly gave me a ride to the trail head and gave me some directions... which I immediately screwed up. I ended up not getting onto the right path, and was on the wrong side of a river I couldn't figure out how to cross. But there was still a trail, so I kept going. And it was actually a really good hike. The trail went through some people's farmlands, and eventually ended at a farmhouse on the side of a mountain overlooking a lake. I continued up towards the top of the mountain for a view, trying to find a way up despite the lack of a trail, but the weather started to turn so I started to head back.

Even though I went on the wrong hike, in the end it was probably the better choice since it was a bit shorter and the weather didn't hold up. It also gave me some time to relax in the beautiful common area of the hostel by myself and read some articles about explorers in a National Geographic.

After a nap and a shower, I finally cooked up the pasta I'd been carrying around since Chile Chico. This was the first kitchen I'd had access to since then, so it was a break from (tasty but affordable) restaurant meals.

I was not quite the only guest in the hostel, and Nathaniel had a couple of Chilean friends visiting, but my Spanish wasn't up to the task, and I mostly just felt like going to sleep early anyway. I had a bus to catch to Argentina in the morning after all.

I really liked Futaleufu though, and will definitely make an effort to come back someday. The attraction here is actually the river, and I didn't get to experience it this time. It's known as one of the best rafting trips in the world, and features a string of class 4 and 5 rapids. What I incorrectly assumed was that they didn't take beginners on these rapids, but I guess rafts a pretty stable, and they actually do. So I missed out there. Next time...

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Photos

Training at the rodeo grounds
I missed the rodeo by a couple of weeks though

This house looks... confused
But I'd still totally live there