Tuesday, December 17 Today, we climbed a volcano. But it took a while to get there. After our trek at Torres del Paine, we returned to Puerto Natales for 2 replenishing nights. We did laundry, we had a lovely dinner and “wine crawl” with new friends Molly and Jason, and made final arrangements for our next steps. Originally, we planned to go to Argentina for more trekking, but just before leaving for Torres del Paine, we threw everything up in the air. When it all came down, it landed on Pucon, Chile. |
The travel arrangements were a bit of a nightmare, and I would recommend avoiding Sky Airlines whenever possible, but after much hassle, much waiting, and much rebooking fees, we got ourselves to Pucon, Adventure Capital of Chile!
It was like arriving into a miracle: 85 degrees, sunny, cute little sport and vacation town. School just let out for summer, so plenty of Chileans are lounging on the beach and splashing in the lake. And there are also about a million things to do for adventure-loving tourists.
First things first: climb Vulcan Villarica.
It was like arriving into a miracle: 85 degrees, sunny, cute little sport and vacation town. School just let out for summer, so plenty of Chileans are lounging on the beach and splashing in the lake. And there are also about a million things to do for adventure-loving tourists.
First things first: climb Vulcan Villarica.
The volcano sits like a sentinel on the outskirts of town, visible from almost any casual glance eastward. It last erupted in 2008, but climbing it requires guides, since weather conditions can change in a moment, and toxic fumes can become life threatening. In winter, lower portions are open for skiing.
We awoke at 5:30 am for a 6:30 departure. The van took us to the middle of the mountain, about 800 meters below the snow line. We had the option of taking the chair lift up those 800 meters, but no, Krista and I are gluttons for punishment. We walked it. Oof. If we had known how hard the day would be, we may have made a different choice.
We received a helmet and ice axe (for use as a walking stick), as well as some durable outerwear in our packs. At the top of the lift, we reached the snow line, and after a brief rest, we began our ascent.
Step, step, step, step, step. We formed a line, placing our feet in the boot prints left by those who came before, kicking with our toes for traction on the soft, wet snow, winding our way ever upward in a slow, snaking chain.
We awoke at 5:30 am for a 6:30 departure. The van took us to the middle of the mountain, about 800 meters below the snow line. We had the option of taking the chair lift up those 800 meters, but no, Krista and I are gluttons for punishment. We walked it. Oof. If we had known how hard the day would be, we may have made a different choice.
We received a helmet and ice axe (for use as a walking stick), as well as some durable outerwear in our packs. At the top of the lift, we reached the snow line, and after a brief rest, we began our ascent.
Step, step, step, step, step. We formed a line, placing our feet in the boot prints left by those who came before, kicking with our toes for traction on the soft, wet snow, winding our way ever upward in a slow, snaking chain.
We took tiny steps and switch-backed constantly, but just an hour into the hike and I was utterly exhausted. I almost cried a few times during the 3-hour ascent. Had I the choice, I would have taken a break every 10 minutes, but the guides pushed us up and up and up. We had about 3 breaks on the journey, and they were sweet and too short and filled with guzzling water, pushing food in, and looking at the vast expanse of mountains stretched out below us.
When we were about 20 minutes from the top, the air grew teeth. Sulfur from the mouth of the crater blew down to us in gasping gusts. Awful! But not unmanageable. We pressed on to the top.
Anti-climax: There wasn’t all that much to see of the volcano once we got there, but there were plenty of spectacular views of the surrounds. Also, there was the feeling of pride. The walk from the snow line to the peak was about 1000 meters of elevation gain. Combined with the 800 meters of walking under the lift line, we had just heaved ourselves up 5,900 feet into the air in about 4 hours. Plus, it was up a freaking volcano!
No wait… Climax! We sledded down the mountain on our butts!
It was the most FUN I’ve had in years. I giggled uncontrollably most of the 1.5 hours of sledding that followed. Chutes were established by the butts of prior sledders, and after the first steep descent, we used a plastic wedge to keep us going. The sledding was broken up by brief bits of walking to get to the next set of chutes, followed by more exhilarating descents, laughing, laughing. The exhaustion of the ascent was completely, totally worth it for that joy.
We returned to the tour agency and had beer on the roof deck to celebrate the climb.
When we were about 20 minutes from the top, the air grew teeth. Sulfur from the mouth of the crater blew down to us in gasping gusts. Awful! But not unmanageable. We pressed on to the top.
Anti-climax: There wasn’t all that much to see of the volcano once we got there, but there were plenty of spectacular views of the surrounds. Also, there was the feeling of pride. The walk from the snow line to the peak was about 1000 meters of elevation gain. Combined with the 800 meters of walking under the lift line, we had just heaved ourselves up 5,900 feet into the air in about 4 hours. Plus, it was up a freaking volcano!
No wait… Climax! We sledded down the mountain on our butts!
It was the most FUN I’ve had in years. I giggled uncontrollably most of the 1.5 hours of sledding that followed. Chutes were established by the butts of prior sledders, and after the first steep descent, we used a plastic wedge to keep us going. The sledding was broken up by brief bits of walking to get to the next set of chutes, followed by more exhilarating descents, laughing, laughing. The exhaustion of the ascent was completely, totally worth it for that joy.
We returned to the tour agency and had beer on the roof deck to celebrate the climb.
Friday, December 20
People are people.
The best part of travel is re-affirming that people are people everywhere. Sure, we have cultural differences, personality differences, but really, people are people.
We’re in Pucon, a hot vacation spot for Chilenos. Prime time doesn’t start until January or February, but still the beach is crowded with families on summer holiday. The toddlers play in the sand and scream their joy at a new-found stick or rock. The teens huddle in bunches to trade secrets and look at each other. The parents lie like logs under umbrellas and wade into the water in their large, ruched bathing suits. People are people.
We met Patricia in our hostel. She’s a lovely Brazillian girl, late 20s. We made assumptions when we learned she has a UFC-fighter boyfriend, but when we talked, we learned she’s a lawyer, getting a masters in accounting, “loves the States,” and doesn’t care for Evangelical Christians. She’d fit right in in California. People are people.
The manager of our hostel, Jose, can be found most afternoons in the common room playing boisterous PS3 soccer with a friend, the excited shouts at every masterful play echoing through the building and beyond. Boys.
This has been an adventure trip, not a cultural one. We haven’t been to a single museum. We have not admired any sites not made by nature. We’re here for the views and the sport, not the people. But we are a part of the daily life of Pucon, and despite some small vagaries unique to Chile, we are everywhere, anywhere. We should certainly celebrate cultural heritage and value the differences that broaden our perspective about the world. But I think it’s also important to note, in the interest of calming fears and belaying strife, that people are just people.
People are people.
The best part of travel is re-affirming that people are people everywhere. Sure, we have cultural differences, personality differences, but really, people are people.
We’re in Pucon, a hot vacation spot for Chilenos. Prime time doesn’t start until January or February, but still the beach is crowded with families on summer holiday. The toddlers play in the sand and scream their joy at a new-found stick or rock. The teens huddle in bunches to trade secrets and look at each other. The parents lie like logs under umbrellas and wade into the water in their large, ruched bathing suits. People are people.
We met Patricia in our hostel. She’s a lovely Brazillian girl, late 20s. We made assumptions when we learned she has a UFC-fighter boyfriend, but when we talked, we learned she’s a lawyer, getting a masters in accounting, “loves the States,” and doesn’t care for Evangelical Christians. She’d fit right in in California. People are people.
The manager of our hostel, Jose, can be found most afternoons in the common room playing boisterous PS3 soccer with a friend, the excited shouts at every masterful play echoing through the building and beyond. Boys.
This has been an adventure trip, not a cultural one. We haven’t been to a single museum. We have not admired any sites not made by nature. We’re here for the views and the sport, not the people. But we are a part of the daily life of Pucon, and despite some small vagaries unique to Chile, we are everywhere, anywhere. We should certainly celebrate cultural heritage and value the differences that broaden our perspective about the world. But I think it’s also important to note, in the interest of calming fears and belaying strife, that people are just people.
The Post-Volcano Pucon Itinerary:
Wednesday - Hiking!
Hiking in Huerquehue National Park. Lunching in solitude by a serene mountain lake. Seeking out waterfalls and soaking in the sun.
Thursday - Rafting! (Plus – Panic Attack!)
I’ve never been rafting before, so this jaunt was my first venture out into the rapids. So fun! I like the pull through my back and core as I tug the paddle through the water. I like the splash of water as we jostle our way over rocks. I like the magic of our guide as he expertly reads the signals in the water and has us work in just the right ways to navigate the ebbs and flows. I like the drop of a waterfall, the rush of water over the bow and into my nose and the cheer as we successfully maneuver through a Category IV rapid. I like the views of the mountains from a mid-river perch. These were the fun parts.
Then came the panic. To avoid an 8-meter waterfall, the passengers debarked and followed a path to a rock outcropping downriver. We watched our guides steer the rafts down the falls, and then I began to wonder how we would get down to them.
Oh. We had to jump. Shit.
I have what I like to call an “appreciation” of heights. Not fear, exactly, since I still climb ladders and peak over cliff edges. But jumping – that’s a different story.
I was next to last in line, Krista behind. No one else seemed to have a problem, but when I got to the edge, I saw a 15-foot drop to the river. My brain shut down, my heart started racing, adrenaline filled my body, and I started looking around for another option as tears filled my eyes. There was none. The guide kept saying, “1, 2, 3, Go! 1, 2, 3, Go!” and then told Krista to jump first. After she jumped, I had no more time to delay, so I jumped. It was scary, I hit the water hard, and focused on trying to stop crying as I swam to the boat. It took about 10 minutes to fully calm my breathing.
But really, what’s a vacation without teary hyperventilation? We celebrated our excursion by having very tasty and very strong tequila margaritas (plural) with dinner, and then stumbling back to the hostel.
Friday - Thermal Baths!
We thought it might be a cooler day today, since we woke to an overcast sky. Perfect for visiting one of several hot springs in the area! By the time we got there, the sun had burned through, but we still had a peaceful and lovely time soaking in hot and cold natural pools.
Wednesday - Hiking!
Hiking in Huerquehue National Park. Lunching in solitude by a serene mountain lake. Seeking out waterfalls and soaking in the sun.
Thursday - Rafting! (Plus – Panic Attack!)
I’ve never been rafting before, so this jaunt was my first venture out into the rapids. So fun! I like the pull through my back and core as I tug the paddle through the water. I like the splash of water as we jostle our way over rocks. I like the magic of our guide as he expertly reads the signals in the water and has us work in just the right ways to navigate the ebbs and flows. I like the drop of a waterfall, the rush of water over the bow and into my nose and the cheer as we successfully maneuver through a Category IV rapid. I like the views of the mountains from a mid-river perch. These were the fun parts.
Then came the panic. To avoid an 8-meter waterfall, the passengers debarked and followed a path to a rock outcropping downriver. We watched our guides steer the rafts down the falls, and then I began to wonder how we would get down to them.
Oh. We had to jump. Shit.
I have what I like to call an “appreciation” of heights. Not fear, exactly, since I still climb ladders and peak over cliff edges. But jumping – that’s a different story.
I was next to last in line, Krista behind. No one else seemed to have a problem, but when I got to the edge, I saw a 15-foot drop to the river. My brain shut down, my heart started racing, adrenaline filled my body, and I started looking around for another option as tears filled my eyes. There was none. The guide kept saying, “1, 2, 3, Go! 1, 2, 3, Go!” and then told Krista to jump first. After she jumped, I had no more time to delay, so I jumped. It was scary, I hit the water hard, and focused on trying to stop crying as I swam to the boat. It took about 10 minutes to fully calm my breathing.
But really, what’s a vacation without teary hyperventilation? We celebrated our excursion by having very tasty and very strong tequila margaritas (plural) with dinner, and then stumbling back to the hostel.
Friday - Thermal Baths!
We thought it might be a cooler day today, since we woke to an overcast sky. Perfect for visiting one of several hot springs in the area! By the time we got there, the sun had burned through, but we still had a peaceful and lovely time soaking in hot and cold natural pools.
Monday, December 23
Last Saturday, we left Pucon for Valparaiso, but not before I had a small bit of additional adventure. Our bus was an 11-hour over-nighter, departing 8:00 pm, and giving me plenty of time for a bike excursion to some waterfalls 25km outside of town.
I bet they were really pretty.
I rented a mountain bike from my hostel. With a name like “La Bicicleta,” I expected the hostel to have decent machines. What I got was a clunker. Just 15 minutes into my ride, barely out of town, the back wheel went flat. I had a spare tube and a hand-pump, so I set to work, but couldn’t get the new tube to inflate after 20 minutes of vigorous hand-pumping (I felt a little dirty, sitting on the side of the road). I walked down the road to a service station, and when they filled the new tube, yes, it had a puncture too. Two dud tubes, a constant squeaking somewhere in the bike, and brakes that barely worked. I walked the 40 minutes back to town, hauling the bike, and deposited it back at the hostel along with a few very unhappy words. Then I went to lay at the beach with Krista.
What saddened me most about my aborted bike excursion was ending the joy I felt during those first 15 minutes of my 1.5-hour outing. I was so happy, out in the sun, wheels turning, wind against my skin. It’s time for my hiatus to end. It’s cold at home, but I need to get back on my bike and start putting the miles under my wheels. I have Ironman Boulder in 8 months – let’s roll!
Last Saturday, we left Pucon for Valparaiso, but not before I had a small bit of additional adventure. Our bus was an 11-hour over-nighter, departing 8:00 pm, and giving me plenty of time for a bike excursion to some waterfalls 25km outside of town.
I bet they were really pretty.
I rented a mountain bike from my hostel. With a name like “La Bicicleta,” I expected the hostel to have decent machines. What I got was a clunker. Just 15 minutes into my ride, barely out of town, the back wheel went flat. I had a spare tube and a hand-pump, so I set to work, but couldn’t get the new tube to inflate after 20 minutes of vigorous hand-pumping (I felt a little dirty, sitting on the side of the road). I walked down the road to a service station, and when they filled the new tube, yes, it had a puncture too. Two dud tubes, a constant squeaking somewhere in the bike, and brakes that barely worked. I walked the 40 minutes back to town, hauling the bike, and deposited it back at the hostel along with a few very unhappy words. Then I went to lay at the beach with Krista.
What saddened me most about my aborted bike excursion was ending the joy I felt during those first 15 minutes of my 1.5-hour outing. I was so happy, out in the sun, wheels turning, wind against my skin. It’s time for my hiatus to end. It’s cold at home, but I need to get back on my bike and start putting the miles under my wheels. I have Ironman Boulder in 8 months – let’s roll!
Valparaiso
After an 11-hour bus ride (“semi-cama” means we kind-of reclined), Krista and I arrived at Valpo at 7:30 am. First impressions were not good. It felt like we arrived in the Tenderloin of San Francisco: graffiti (tagging mostly, less of the pretty kind) on every surface, dog poop a constant hazard, and the smell of urine wafting from the stairways. Chile is full of street dogs, but where other towns we visited kept their streets and sidewalks clean, it didn’t look like Valpo even tried. Ick.
Set on a hillside, the streets are winding and steep and stairways take you up the neighborhoods. The stairways we traversed that morning were littered with broken beer bottles, and the town seemed to revel in its disrepair. Valparaiso is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Hmm. We were not impressed.
After freshening up at our hostel, we set out to explore town, and found some nicer areas. Though the graffiti was primarily tagging, in the arty neighborhoods, there was a great deal of street art, some of it quite good. We wandered all over, photographing the nicest, until it was time to cook.
After an 11-hour bus ride (“semi-cama” means we kind-of reclined), Krista and I arrived at Valpo at 7:30 am. First impressions were not good. It felt like we arrived in the Tenderloin of San Francisco: graffiti (tagging mostly, less of the pretty kind) on every surface, dog poop a constant hazard, and the smell of urine wafting from the stairways. Chile is full of street dogs, but where other towns we visited kept their streets and sidewalks clean, it didn’t look like Valpo even tried. Ick.
Set on a hillside, the streets are winding and steep and stairways take you up the neighborhoods. The stairways we traversed that morning were littered with broken beer bottles, and the town seemed to revel in its disrepair. Valparaiso is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Hmm. We were not impressed.
After freshening up at our hostel, we set out to explore town, and found some nicer areas. Though the graffiti was primarily tagging, in the arty neighborhoods, there was a great deal of street art, some of it quite good. We wandered all over, photographing the nicest, until it was time to cook.
Chilean Cooking Class with Chef Gustavo
We read about several Chilean cooking courses in the Lonely Planet and both Krista and I were excited about taking one. We ended up with Chef Gustavo. He was a bit of a character. After a brief jaunt around the central produce market at our request, he took us up to his apartment in the hills of Valpo (where his girlfriend stayed tucked in the back bedroom and his brother dropped by briefly), and got us started chopping. We spent a tremendous amount of time chopping. Technique is very important to Gustavo. Finally, after all the ingredients were appropriately diced, we began combining them in various ways to make a few Chilean dishes.
We read about several Chilean cooking courses in the Lonely Planet and both Krista and I were excited about taking one. We ended up with Chef Gustavo. He was a bit of a character. After a brief jaunt around the central produce market at our request, he took us up to his apartment in the hills of Valpo (where his girlfriend stayed tucked in the back bedroom and his brother dropped by briefly), and got us started chopping. We spent a tremendous amount of time chopping. Technique is very important to Gustavo. Finally, after all the ingredients were appropriately diced, we began combining them in various ways to make a few Chilean dishes.
The class wasn’t worth what we paid, but it was an entertaining afternoon, and we both left stuffed. |
Heading Home
My travel home took 24 hours. The familiar sites of Oakland and lovely feel of my apartment were a balm to my tired body. I went to bed at 7:30 pm, slept for 12 hours straight, and awoke refreshed and ready to reflect on my experiences.
Do you like the outdoors? Patagonia should be at the top of your travel list. Torres del Paine is a natural wonder of the world. I honestly can’t believe a place so beautiful exists. The park is easy to navigate, and you can do it in a variety of ways. It’s challenging walking, but worth the effort of getting there.
My travel home took 24 hours. The familiar sites of Oakland and lovely feel of my apartment were a balm to my tired body. I went to bed at 7:30 pm, slept for 12 hours straight, and awoke refreshed and ready to reflect on my experiences.
Do you like the outdoors? Patagonia should be at the top of your travel list. Torres del Paine is a natural wonder of the world. I honestly can’t believe a place so beautiful exists. The park is easy to navigate, and you can do it in a variety of ways. It’s challenging walking, but worth the effort of getting there.
Top 3 Moments:
1. Day 1 at Torres del Paine.
Visual overload. We arrived at the park, we saw guanacos bounding about in the fields. We took a catamaran on a crystal blue lake. We saw mountains. We came to a lake, and it had ice bergs in it, and I shouted, “There are icebergs in the lake!” pretty loudly. We arrived at the mouth of the lake and there was a glacier. This was a day of amazement. The rest of the trek was stunning, too, but nothing could beat these initial sights.
1. Day 1 at Torres del Paine.
Visual overload. We arrived at the park, we saw guanacos bounding about in the fields. We took a catamaran on a crystal blue lake. We saw mountains. We came to a lake, and it had ice bergs in it, and I shouted, “There are icebergs in the lake!” pretty loudly. We arrived at the mouth of the lake and there was a glacier. This was a day of amazement. The rest of the trek was stunning, too, but nothing could beat these initial sights.
2. Sledding down the volcano.
Oh. My. God. So fun.
Oh. My. God. So fun.
3. Penguins, walking on the glacier, or maybe rafting.
I really can’t choose.
I really can’t choose.
It was a long trip, long enough that I’m glad to be home, back at work, getting into my schedule again. My hiatus is over, and I begin training for the next Ironman soon. This should keep me occupied for a while. I feel sated. Thanks, Chile, for the amazing adventure.