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Published: November 22nd 2006
It had been quite a day getting to Chiloé. We'd ridden 60km in a headwind through coastal scrub along the Ruta 5, which south of Puerto Montt shrinks to two lanes while carrying as much traffic as the four-lane highway. We had enjoyed a respite on the vehicle ferry to Chiloé, turned the cranks for a few more kilometres on Ruta 5 island-side and headed north towards the coast. We had only about 10 kilometres to go on small, steep hills paved with loose gravel that we had to coax the bikes over. We crested the last hill, skidded down to the bay on our brakes — and disovered that our road ran out. So much for our map, which had the road following the bay to a nearby fishing village called Caulín.
As it turned out, the best of the day was about to unfold. We sat in the dune grasses and watched two flocks of black-necked swans, and some ducks, feed in the shallows 20 metres in front of us as day settled into evening and the colours faded to silver and black. On the headland away to our right, white dots glowing in the failing light indicated
Last pickin's as the light fades
Black-necked swans in Caulín baymore swans. To our left, stretching down the beach, fishers attended to some last-minute work on their dinghies, which were drawn up into the shallows. The only sounds that came to us were the sighing breeze and the sleepy calls of birds settling for the night.
We had arrived on the fabled archipeligo of Chiloé for a week or so of relaxed exploring.
In that time, we have had days of rain, a day of gales, our hottest day since leaving Cuba, and still silver-grey days of cloud. On the hot day, when the temperature must have reached the high 20s, we could have been riding at home. We ate dust as we passed dry spiky scrub that could have been growing in sandy soils on the breathless hinterland of a Queensland coast. Two days later, cycling from the northern town of Ancud to Dalcahue, on the central east coast, we rode through nasty rain squalls pushed by winds that reached 70km an hour. Thank heavens the wind was behind us: sometimes we could feel ourselves being pushed up hills. The gusts that came from the side were pretty hairy, and we were glad we were travelling on
Tent with a view
The bay at Caulín, November evening a Sunday, when there are few vehicles on the road.
The eastern coastline and islands are dotted with picturesque fishing villages such as Dalcahue and Chonchi. As some traditional sources of seafood disappear, partly due to over-fishing, Chilotes have turned to farming salmon, trout and other species, for which there are profitable export markets. They also harvest the seaweed that is plentiful here; much of this is exported to Japan. Despite this contemporary response to earning a living, to the fleeting visitor these villages retain the air of days gone by. We spent several days in one of them, Chonchi, which we used as a base for exploring the nearby island of Lemuy, and Parque Nacional Chiloé, which protects an expanse of original evergreen forest that remains intact on the wild west coast, perhaps saved from clearing because the population on this, the weather side of the island, is so sparse. The park is an hour's drive from Chonchi on an east-west road that same route that Charles Darwin took in his wanderings here in the early 1830s.
In the east, the rounded hills have long since been cleared and are planted to crops and pastures. One of
the main crops is potato; the humble spud has long been a staple and there is some dispute whether it originates here or Peru. Much of the centre of the island, in the north a plateau of rolling hills, has also been cleared. On our 70km ride from Ancud, we saw no large trees: it appears that the forest that used to cover this land has been felled. Where the land is not actively managed by cropping or grazing, it is covered in gorse. It looks pretty at this time of year, with its deep yellow flowers, but, as in south-eastern Australia, it is a scourge.
Among Chileans generally, the people of Chiloé have a reputation as country bumpkins. However, the Chilotes themselves seem to be proud of their heritage, which is distinct from the rest of Chile because of the islanders' isolation until relatively recent times. The people here aren't wealthy in a material sense, but they have a rich heritage that can be seen in some of the old skills, such as woodwork, leatherwork, and the making of ceramics, carbon and licor de oro (golden liquer). It can be seen in the tradition of minga, a stronger
Thank heavens for pebbles
Much easier going than sand than usual sense of community that reminds me of the bonds among Australian Aboriginal communities. It is often given expression when members of the community come together with goodwill, labour and tools to help an individual complete a big job, such as moving a house. The beneficiary thanks the helpers with a communal meal.
Some of these traditions are surely on the way out. One book of photos of Chilote skills included a portrait of a charcoal maker. He stands next to his pyre, 2.5 metres high, and all around him is a wasteland of left-over forest that a logger would feel proud of. How long can such an old practice last as the forest diminishes? In the same book, it is noted that the leather of sea-lions is preferred to that of sheep and cattle for heavy-duty items such as oxen harnesses, because of its durability. For delicate work, the hides of the pudu (a small, native deer), Chiloé (or Darwin) fox, the sea otter and the huillín (river otter) are preferred. At least three of these — the fox, the pudu and the huillín — are now endangered. It is difficult for an Australian to digest calls
for Chilotes to save their native fox, which we saw in a poster in the museum in Castro, given the pest that foxes are in Australia. As it turns out, the Chiloé fox is one of the most endangered canines in the world. However, one of the fascinating things about travelling is being shocked into seeing the received understanding of your own culture in a different light from time to time, and in this way being reminded that your own culture, rather than being the norm, is just one of many ways of living in the world.
One of the other ways in which Chilote culture differs from the rest of Chile is in the relationship the people here had with the Spanish colonists. This is reflected in several ways, probably most obviously in the local churches. These simple and beautifully balanced spaces demonstrate the best of the new culture that grew out of a dialogue between the indigenous Chilotes and the new arrivals from Europe, so different to the top-down domination by colonising Europeans that seems to have occurred elsewhere in the "new" world. The churches are all made of local woods, and are built in sympathy with
This could be Dave waking with a hangover...
but it's El Brujo, a powerful medicine man who is capable of brewing good or ill the local environment, so that the buildings are on slopes so they can't be flooded, and the deep porticos face away from the prevailing storms. They usually look over sea channels, which aided the locals in keeping a strategic eye on movement by boat (then the main means of communication) in their country. For these reasons, a representative 16 churches were given World Heritage listing in 2000. Many of them have been renovated, or at least their facades have been. The wooden interiors are beautiful; and some are colourful. Apart from showing off the artisans' understanding of their craft, the wood creates a sense of warmth that is not found in stone churches.
Our time in Chiloé is over now, and we are on our way south again.
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B. Levick
non-member comment
what a wonderful place
You two are certainly getting into some wonderful places, you are making memories that you will never forget. looks like I'll have to come out and visit you once more before I retire just to spend a week looking at photos. love Mum XX