Fear in the eyes..
Santiago's streets are bustling with traffic. Avenida Providencia, is four lanes of traffic each way separated by a wide tree lined boulevard. Traffic hustles right along this main thoroughfare. Two lanes in each direction are dedicated only to buses, taxis and commercial traffic...Most intersections seem to be the convergence of at least three streets, all coming into the intersection from various angles and curves, which makes for crossing the streets a bit of a walk through a minefield. Unlike Canada where pedestrians wander aimlessly and blindly across street, here in Santiago, one see's fear and trepidation in the pedestrian's eyes. The crosswalks have pedestrian Walk/Do Not Walk signs but with a bit of a difference. We have grown accustomed to a delay from when the pedestrian sign flashes to Do Not Walk until the accompanying traffic light changes to green. Here, the second the Do Not Walk sign flashes on, the light turns green and traffic seems to immediately descend on the intersection doing 80Km. It is somewhat comical to watch a group of pedestrians eyeing up traffic and debating whether they can cross or not. Not to mention that these folks are serious jay walkers. The brave at heart challenge the traffic regularly between lights. The government recently tried to start to cut down on the number of bus/pedestrian collisions... Needless to say, they usually end up as fatalities for the pedestrians. The government apparently over the last year has seen an improvement to the number of incidents. It is no wonder that the pedestrians are cautious... There is definitely respect for the vehicle here!
In the colonial days it was common for cultures to erect gigantic statues of Christ or the Madonna atop hills overlooking the cities.. Santiago is no different. Smack in the middle of the city is a small mountain top. A glistening 100 foot high white statue of a priest giving his blessing sits atop the mountain and overlooks the city. That in itself is very picturesque. The desecration of that landmark is the fact that the statue is surrounded by radio towers. Perhaps a total of 20 of them that dwarf the statue.. One would think that if we as a modern culture are going to erect these statues dedicated to technology that we could at least design a bit of beauty into them... Ah.. the march of progress.....
Big city, big market
So the walk down Providencia changed dramatically as I turned towards the Plaza del Armas... A broad, vehicle banned street full of street peddlars, pedestrians and the typical chain stores found downtown anywhere.... At the Plaza del Armas, one is surrounded by the classic architecture of the 1800s. Most of the early government buildings were here.. Many have fallen down due to earthquakes over the years, but they seem to rebuild each time.. Today it is a wide square full of milling people. The old buildings have been converted to museums and art galleries. Two Peruvian commedians were keeping a throng of bystanders busting thier guts laughing for over an hour.. I wish my Spanish was better and I could understand it. Mime artists and musicians abound here, luring Satiagans, and tourists alike to put money in the hat... Further along one comes to the local mercado... Now if you have ever seen a market, take the biggest one you have seen and multiply it by ten. Huge, ginormic, and such words do not describe it. Each area of the market seems to be dedicated to one type of good.. Fish markets, meat markets, vegetable markets, and between them all are interspersed the various food vendors and street peddlars. The smells, and sounds are intoxicating.....
Yellow Panties..
As most sidewalks on the main promenades are 50 feet wide, they are strewn with street peddlars.. Peruvian Indians lay their blankets down and spread their wares on the blanket.. Hats, jewelry, clothing, candies, mostly very cheap product..... Perhaps the strangest commodity of all is the number of street peddlars with their blankets covered with yellow woman's panties.. Within any block there will be at least two or three blankets covered with yellow panties... Old women, young women, and middle aged women would stop, hold up the panties.. look at them, stretch them, hold them in front of themselves.... Thongs, g strings, gramma panties.... Every size and shape imaginable... As I wandered the streets, I found this very odd and began wondering what on earth it was all about? Do these people have a fetish for yellow panties? What is with that? I am not usually one to walk around the streets trying to visualize what kinds of panties woman is wearing, but after seeing hundreds of kiosks selling yellow panties, I did find myself on occasion allowing my mind to go there... I must be going mad.. Finally I found someone who spoke enough English to explain to me that the locals think it is good luck for a single woman to wear yellow panties. It improves her chances of finding a suitable mate..... Different strokes for different folks........
First Adoption
I had my first adoption on New Years Eve. Vancouver could learn a thing or two about fireworks. The city put on an amazing display of fireworks. The crowds thronged to them. No evidence of any trouble even though the crowds stretched for miles..... A local woman struck up a conversation with me.. She was in her early 60's and had apparently spent some time in London, England a few years back. She loved practicing her English and hence started talking to me.. She was there with her husband, daughter, son in law, and two teenage grandchildren.. After the fireworks they invited me over to thier place for coffee.. I immediately accepted... Coffee soon turned into wine..... The conversaton was interesting as they did own some property in Patagonia, so I picked her brain for whatever information I could about the area.. As she was the only one of the group that spoke any English at all, the others soon amused themselves with a guitar and singing....Once the music got going, Sonja, got distracted from our conversation and modern Latin song became the name of the game. As soon as she started singing, the son in law insisted on speaking to me in Spanish.. Well folks, I thought I was prepared for Spanish. As I could get some basic ideas across to him, he immediately assumed that I could speak fluent Spanish.. Not only that but Chilean Spanish is known world wide for being spoken very very quickly and the words slurred together...I was at a loss for most of the evening, but I did pick up enough info from him to learn of his life here as mechanic, his vehicle, the areas of Chile to visit....etc.. It amazes me how much information can be communicated when there is such a strong language barrier... At 5:30 AM, I finally had to leave the party and take a taxi home...Today, I am meeting the family to go for a walk up the mountain in the city.....Definitely a New Year's eve to remember....
On with the adventure...
Trust the Irish.
Today was the day to meet the New Year's Eve family. The mountain that is nestled in the heart of Santiago rises 500 meters above a flat plain. Plazas and squares named after him.. It turns out our Mr O'Higgins was born in Chile to an Irish immigrant family.. As with most Chileans he grew up in a politicatlly aware family and lived his life in the political arena. He was the leader of the revolutianary forces in Chile at the ousting of Spanish Rule.. He was the signatory of the Independance Document.. Trust the Irish to lead a revolution in a foreign land.
Electric Trains
Although Chile does not boast a huge network of trains what it does have is very interesting. All the trains are electric. Freight trains and passenger trains alike are pulled by electric locomotives. The tracks are large long length tracks with cement ties. Overhead of the tracks is a continuous cable supplying the electricity to the locomotive. I was a little surprised that whilst travelling hundreds of kilometers at great speeds Riding the electric passenger train was very enjoyable.. Nice large seats, steward service, and smooth.. None of the clickety clack of normal train service.. none of the belching smoke of the diesel locomotives. Passenger trains consist of only four cars, one of which is the locomotive/second class car. The cost of train ride for 200 KM was $20.00 CDN, for first class, and $10.00 for salon class The train clips along at well over 100 km/hr and runs to within seconds of the schedule times.. Via Rail could learn some lessons here...
Communication systems:
As one walks the many streets of the towns and cities of Chile it is impossible not to notice the many overhead power and communication wires. Intersections are a jumble of mixed and open connections. How anybody could possibly figure out what is going on with them. My guess is that when there is trouble with an existing line, it is simply abandoned and a new line strung in. They do not cut the tree branches where the lines pass over a tree, and often the lines are completely hidden by the foliage. I don't think that underground cables have been invented here yet.
Buses in Talca
Talca is a mid size town in the heart of the central valley. Perhaps 100,000 people. As I sit here in the park in front of the train station awaiting the train down the valley to Constitucion on the coast, I am noticing the frequency of the buses. Although the buses are mini size compared to Canadian transit buses, they run at a frequency of no more than 30 seconds apart. It is common to see two or three buses of the same route waiting for a traffic light. The cost of riding a transit bus: 70 cents Canadian. 30 cents Canadian if you are a student...
Not All Trains Were Created Equal
Now that I have beatified the public transit in Chile is the reality of living in yesteryear.... The track from Talca to Constitucion on the coast was laid as narrow guage track that winds and turns along the Maule Valley. The reason they built it back in the 1800's as narrow guage is that it meant moving less rock to carve out the rail bed.. Since the initial building of the line, it has been maintained, but only minimally..The old rail cars have been replaced with newer 1960's type cars. Each train consists of only two cars.. These are not electric, but rather diesel driven.. The first car has the engine in it, with the engineer and conductor sitting ahead of a glass bulkhead, and seating for thirty behind them.. The second car is passenger seating only. As there is no main road down the Maule River Valley, this railway serves as the main life line for the communities within the valley.. The train stops and picks up anyone that flags it down, and drops many people off seemingly in the middle of nowhere.... At several communities along the line, discarded original passenger cars up on blocks serve as the stations The train does not really hurtle along.. It covered 95 kms in about 3 ½ hours..
Mayo, mayo, mayo....
I may have stumbled upon a culture fascinated by mayonaise... Everything is served with mayo. And not just a bit of it.. It is slathered on.. Poured on.. dowsed with may... The national fast food is called a compleato... Essentially a hot dog that is served on a large bun and then covered with onions, an inch of guaucamole, and then covered completely with mayo.. A typical compleato would have a ¼ cup of mayo on it... My dinner tonight... corvina vasco... A firm white fish covered with a layer of sliced potatoes and then coated entirely with a thick thick coating of Hollandaise sauce... In fact there was so much Hollandaise sauce on the fish and potatoes, that neither one was visually recognizable....
Collectivos
There are many different ways of transiting from one community to the next. Between large communities are the full size highway buses with large seats and air conditioning... From the large centers to the smaller centers and between the smaller centers are small 20 passenger buses. These are very economical but seem to lack the professionalism and luster of the larger buses. From the smaller communities to the tiny communities they have what are called collectivos. In essence, they are taxis that pick up more than one passenger.. There are specific locations within a center where the collectivos gather. The taxi waits until he has four people going somewhere, and for a set price he drives there. A passenger looking for passage on a taxi would stand at a collectivo location and as the taxi approaches hold up his hand showing the number of passengers that are going.. If the taxi has room for them, he stops and picks them up.... It would appear that these taxis are licenced only for collectivo services..
Curanipe .
Curanipe is a small village on the Chilean coast approx 80km south of Constitucion. It is reached by bus from Constitucion to Chanco and collectivo from Chanco to Curanipe... It is well known along the coast for it's annual surfing competition. It boasts miles of black sand beach with Pacific Ocean rollers pounding against it. The wind seems to blow relentlessly from the SW. Sitting on the beach one is literally sand blasted by particles of sand driven along by the wind. Erosion of the sand must be a fierce problem.. For the record, due to the Humboldt Current flowing up the coast from Antartica, the water temperature dictates nothing more than perhaps dipping the toes into the frigid waters.
A man made break water extending 300 meters out to what was once a little rock offshore island provides some protection on the leeward side for the fishing fleet..The original breakwater was approximately 10 feet high. Since it was built the windward side has filled in with the drifting sand, and the leeward side is regularly cleaned out.
Lo Tech Travel Lift
The fishing fleet in Curanipe consist of approximately fifty boats, nearly all the same construction. Thirty foot by eight foot beam open fiberglass dories with a high prow. All the boats are powered by between 75 hp and 150 hp tiller steered outboard motors. Yamaha definitely has market dominance. Each boat has three to four men on board.. There appears to be no depth sounder nor navigation equipment on board. The only equipment on board is a gear driven rope windlass driven by a small gasoline motor just forward of amidship, used for bringing the nets back on board. The boats are not moored nor anchored, but rather hauled out of the water at the end of the day.. When a boat is ready to come in from a fishing expedition, it stands off shore waiting for the right wave. When the helmsman figures it is the right time, he throttles up, the boat gets up on a plane and he heads at right angles to shore at full speed. Just as the boat reaches very shallow water he kills the engine and tilts it up.. The boat continues gliding along until it comes to a rest on the shore... There it either met by a team of oxen or a big four wheel drive tractor that immediately takes the bow line and drags it further up on the beach where the waves nor tide will reach it.. When the net is pulled on board the boat whilst the boat is out fishing, they do not take the fish out of it. They await until the boat is pulled up on shore, where it appears various wives, family and relatives show up and they slowly lower the net over the side of the boat onto the sand.. As the net is taken off the boat, the relatives/helpers/friends take any captured fish and throw them into a plastic box. When the net has been emptied, an ox drawn card comes along and the boxes of fish are loaded onto the cart. The ox team then takes the boxes up to waiting refrigerated semi trailers where they are off loaded.. When the fleet has finished emptying thier catch, the trucks whisk off to the markets in Santiago or other major centers.. When the fleet is ready to go back in the water, the ox team is hitched to each boat, and the boat is dragged back to the edge of the water. The oxen are about chest deep in wather when the boat floats off. The engine is started and the boat is off...
Geography lesson
The central valley of Chile is the narrow valley between the high Andes mountains to the east, and the coastal mountains to the west. The valley is approximately 50 miles wide, and is the heart of the wine producing and agricultural producing area of Chile.. On the eastern side, the rugged Andes make agriculture impossible. To the west, although the coast mountains are not as high, they are not agreeable to agriculture. The western coast mountains are primarily pine forests right down to the ocean edge. These are the forests that compete with Canadian lumber industry for both lumber and pulp products. Several pulp mills dot the coast and logs are hauled in from many miles away. Ony when when the eastern side of the coast mountains subside to foothills do we see a bit of ranchland. Further east than the foothills we start to see the cornfields, wheat fields and oat fields. Further east yet from the coast (90 km) we begin to see the market gardens and grapes being grown. The fertile sector of the central valley is probably no more than 50 km wide....
He Is Back...
Every town I have visited has had a square, a statue, and main street named after Mr Bernardo O'Higgins..This guy is definitely a national hero. Just to add a bit of confusion to the works as I work my way south I am starting see at MacIvor being a bit of focus of attention... Are there no true Spaniards here?
Getting Around
Today the objective was to leave Curanipe and head for Chillan.. It took three different bus rides with three different companies to get back onto the Pan American highway... From the small collectivo to the mid range bus, to the large Volkswagon highway passenger bus.... Finally at Chillan, I find it a fairly modern city.. Apparently it has been literally levelled by earthquakes three times in it's past. The last one in 1960's... Each time they rebuild it, the architecture is of the day.. No old colonial architecture is left standing.. A very modern, curved roof church was the gift of the Mexican government after the last earthquake.. The latest city is modern in every respect. Clean wide streets adorned with fairly young trees.. The Plaza O'Higgens is adorned with huge elm trees that makes Canadian elm trees look small....
Southern Central Valley
As one moves further south in the Central Valley, the landscape turns from fertile intensive farming to range land and intermittent forest. The terrain could be Anywheresville, Manitoba or Saskatchewan. Small farms, fields of wheat and oats, pastures with cattle grazing, interspersed with small sawmill operations. Most of the forestland is second growth ranging from a couple of years after replanting to approaching mature second growth forest ready for harvest. It is interesting to note that even the forests that are ready for harvesting have been re planted.. Silva culture has been in existence here for some time. It was also interesting to note in the freshly cut forest, that the slash had been piled neatly, and was being mulched and loaded into trucks. As to what was being done with it after it was loaded into the trucks, is anybody's guess. There definitely seems to be much more of a managed resource perspective here than in Canada.
Hats, hats, hats....
Yesterday, I bought a broad brim canvas hat for $2500 Chilean Pesos ($5.00 CDN). After the day in the sun, I thought it a good idea to keep my head out of the sun for a while.... My first bus ride of the day today, I left it on the bus... I called it my 24 hour hat.. While in Temuco today, I bought another similar hat.. a real sweetheart of a hat, that was wide brimmed, canvas, and rolled up into a tiny roll... I now call it my 12 hour hat, as I went and left it on the second bus that I took.. Sheesh and double sheesh! I refuse to buy another hat, as I head south as I think I will be looking for something warmer as the weather deteriorates... sheesh!!!!
Villaricca
The architecture has slowly been changing as I move south.. From the Spanish colonial buildings of the north, to the more modern earthquake reconstruction of the southern central valley... Here in the southern lake district the buildings have a distinctive Germanic flavour.. Dormers, steeper roofs, more windows, more wood, there is definitely a difference.. Street names have changed from Spanish names to Germanic names like Kromer etc... I had made contact on the internet before I left, with a gentleman named Wolfgang who has been managing a sailors network via single sideband radio and he lives in in Villaricca. I have sent him an email and am hoping to meet up with him for a drink or coffee tomorrow... I don't think he is Irish..
Pucon
Pucon is the Banff of the Andes. If you can climb it, gaze at it, swim in it, slide down it, or jump off it, this is the place to be. A half hour ride from Villarica by bus puts one at the base of Volcano Villaricca and the surrounding mountains.. A beautiful little town, with many day trips out to waterfalls and other small mountain communities.. If it were not for tourism though, most of these communities would not exist. Surprisingly, most of the tourists are not American nor Europeans, but other South American citizens. The whole tourist scene seems to be geared to them.
Valdivia
From the mountains back to the coastal town of Valdivia. As in a lot of Chilean communities, the original colonial buildings have been levelled by earthquakes time and time again. Valdivia is no different. Most of the architecture is from the 20th century except for a few old wood frame houses and
churches. For some reason or another, what was rebuilt in Valdivia is a modern very good looking city with good architectural practices.. The place is beautiful. Also unusual for a Chilean city, is the fact that the city was built around the convergence of three rivers before they empty into the Pacific Ocean. The fishing fleet here is not that big, but what fishing boats there are, are huge.. mostly well over 100ft, obviously designed and built to fish the wild waters of the Pacific. The university is the main industry in town, boasting beautiful botanical gardens and an vast array of fine buildings and museums.. I did stumble across a Chocolate Festival where artisan chocolatiers from Chile, Peru, and Argentina were flaunting their wares. Having a sweet tooth around a vast selection of inexpensive chocolate was a very rewarding experience..
Close Calls...
My contact in Valdivia, Wolfgang Kirsten had emailed me of a boater in Validivia that was heading for Antartica, and looking for crew. I went and visited him. His boat.. a custom built 55 foot powerboat that was built for serious serious ocean. The owner and his wife, had crossed from England to Greenland, across the NW passage, through the Bering Strait, and down the coast of Canada, and the US. From there they had done a passage down to Columbia and then to Valdivia. Although the boat was in very good shape, it was designed for cruising with two people in mind. The boat was absolutely packed full of spare parts, and provisions. Accommodations for crew would have been atop a stack of provisions in the fore peak. After talking with them for a couple of hours I decided this was not the adventure for me.. The only heat on the boat was a Dickenson oil stove in the aft cabin, which would mean no heat for little old me up in the fore peak. In addition, after visiting Antartica, they were going to head up to New Zealand and Australia.. It would have been pretty tough to do that trip with my time schedule.. The owner did refer me to sailboat also in Valdivia, looking for crew... I went and chatted with them, as they were planning on cruising Patagonia for the next few months... Just my luck, they had found someone the day before and had committed to taking them on board for crew.. And that was it for cruising boats in Valdivia.
Blur....
Life is becoming a bit of a blur as to which town had what, and what I did in each town.. I am getting it down to a science to be able to arrive in a town, case the area, and get the lay of the land.. As bus seems to be the main form of transportation, it is important to find out where the bus stations are. Some towns have one main bus station. Others have a half a dozen... Bus companies vary from center to center, so it is not possible to get on one bus and travel all the way to one's destination.. Fortunately, the bus depots never seem to be that far apart and a short walk of a mile or two takes one from one bus depot to the next.. The blur occurs when one is trying to think of where one ate today or yesterday... Puertto Montt is only 300 KM away.. Puertto Montt is the end of the central valley and the beginning of Patagonia. I plan on laying low there for a couple of days. It will be nice to wake up in the same town for a few days in a row..
First things first
Like all travellers in foreign lands becoming accustomed to the place names.... Travelling around Chile, there are the express runs which run from large centers to large centers.. And then there are the mini buses that run from smaller center to smaller center.. This necessitates learning the pronunciation of many names of small towns and villages.. As many of the place names in Chile are the from the local indigenous people, one must look at the word, figure out how to say in with the Spanish pronunciation, and then figure out how a Chilean would say it... Mispronunciation of the place names seems to bring blank stares from the attendant.... I am getting quite use to long blank stares of lack of comprehension. Needless to say after several moments of the blank stare, a surprisingly number of Chileans attempt English in a much better way than I can speak Spanish.
Corrugated Metal....
I am getting excited about finally getting to the end of the central valley and the beginning of Patagonia. As the central valley approaches the point where it dips below sea level, the quality of land goes downhill significantly.. Gone are the orchards, the vineyards, the rolling hills of grain.. The rolling hills remain, but now it is covered with scrub brush and a bit of pastureland. Swamps abound. A bit of poor ranch land with the occasional small community. Throughout most of Chile so far, the older buildings have all had the red terra cotta tile roofs. Economics must have dictated that corrugated metal roofing is far more economical, and most newer houses find their roofs decked in such a manner.. As I move south, I notice that the corrugated metal roofing has now progressed to corrugated metal siding. Considering the rich architecture of the north, the metal clad, metal roofed buildings add a flavour of poverty and destitution.. A bit of research has revealed that these communities are called Tin Towns.... Apparently the Pinochet government of the 1980's tried to modernize the adobe and thatched huts of the area and corrugated metal roofing and siding won out over other techniques..Ah, the benefits of design by government committees...
Shingle Siding
Although most of the buildings are clad with corrugated metal, most of them have been spruced up a bit by the addition of cedar shingles applied to the walls of the front of the houses. The interesting thing about this is that it appears that each carpenter that installed them put a different and distinctive bottom on each row of the shingle. I have begun taking photos of the many different styles that a shingle can be finished in... It is a little strange that shingle siding in North America never picked up on the idea of changing the bottom line on the shingles to add a bit of style.. Now if they could only learn here how to paint something once the original paint has deteriorated.. Perhaps the word maintenance doe not exist in Chilean Spanish.
Puerto Montt
At the point where the central valley finally meets it's nemesis, the Pacific Ocean there grew a port. The terminus of the road, terminus of the railway, and the gateway to Patagonia.... Puerto Montt. The old section of the city consists of many winding streets cluttered with poorly built, poorly maintained little houses. Most are in dire need of repair, although the occasional one has been renovated, adjoined to a neighbouring house and turned into a hostel.. The town abounds with cheap accommodation, albeit barely one star accommodations at around $10.00 Cdn per night.. Towards the newer part of town things pick up a bit with acceptable when one is prepared to spend $20.00, where you can expect a private bathroom and decent bed. The newest part of town has been completely rebuilt with a wide boardwalk and bustling business section. After finally crossing 41 degrees south, the weather has deteriorated significantly. The sun appears to have taken a hiatus and been replaced with clouds and drizzle.. It is time to buy a sweater..... For $12.00 CDN one has a choice of lighter alpaca sweaters or very heavy duty sheep wool sweaters, all hand knit by the locals. An infinite variety of colours, quality, and designs... I opt for an alpaca sweater......
Not even close...
Puerto Montt is also the last jumping off point for cruising boats heading south. I checked in all the marinas in town for yachts or boats in transit. Not very many at all.. There is quite the fleet of fishing boats, both large and small, but very few pleasure craft. I did run into a Norwegian sailor, and we sat down and had a chin wag..... He was moored in Puerto Montt, awaiting his friend from Norway to join him and then he was heading south. I would have been welcomed as crew, but he was not set to leave for another month... onward and upwards.....
Gran Isla de Chiloe
Although the central valley meets it's demise at Puerto Montt, the coastal range also continues to drop in elevation and forms the island group of Chiloe, before they too no longer rise above sea level.. Chiloe is the closest that remains of the fierce Mapuche Indians.. These Indians resisted conquest by the Spanish for almost four hundred years before finally succumbing to them in the 1880s. Every town has a large artisanal market where crafts by the natives are sold. Wood carvings, wood burnings, wood turning, sweaters, shawls, toques, and knit dresses abound. Most are of touristo quality, but few shine as true works of art. Prices seem very fair, with little or no room for negotiations. It is interesting to walk amongst the market merchants and not be hounded nor accosted by merchants anxious to sell their wares.. These are very gentle folks... Very soft spoken...Very polite.. The market stalls are quite small, but very clean with nicely merchandised product. The attendants are helpful even though there is a considerable language barrier.....Perhaps the biggest difference is the complete lack of gringos.. No loud obnoxious Americans, Germans nor Brits...Although these markets are geared to the tourist, it appears they are geared to other South American citizens travelling through Chile..I compare these markets to Mexican markets or Arabic markets and am impressed that the same amount of trade can be conducted in such a civilized manner..
Choices......
Today marks the two week point of my odyssey.. I had given myself one week to get from Santiago down to Puerto Montt, and one week of hanging around Chiloe... I am behind schedule, as I have just arrived in Chiloe at the end of my second week. I do not want to miss the opportunities and adventures that await me at the southern Patagonia region because I dawdled too much en route... My choices..
Return to Puerto Montt and travel via mostly land and occasional ferry trip across inlets to the middle Patagonia region.
Return to Puerto Montt and hop on the four day ferry down to Puerto Natales at the southern end of Patagonia.
Hop on a ferry from Chiloe to Chetain on the continent, and carry on overland from there.
Hop on a ferry from Chiloe to Puerto Chabuco for a 24 hour ferry ride.
I have elected to go to Puerto Chabuco. This ferry, the Don Baldo, stops at a half a dozen little towns and communities en route that are accessible by water only.. It travels up several inlets and meanders down eventually to Puerto Chabuco. The Don Baldo acts as both passenger ferry and freighter. The ferry south only on Tuesdays, so I had to pass on spending time on Chiloe, in favour of making more progress south. For this crossing the Don Baldo was running 6 hours late from the start. Leaving Chiloe at midnight, and crossing the Gulf of Corcovado during the night.. I checked the marine forecast online before I left.. They were calling for 30 knots of wind and 12 foot seas...I think they were right...The gulf is wide open to the west and most of the night was spent taking the waves on the beam and the boat rocked and rolled drastically.. By the time I booked my passage, all 25 berths on board were booked,so I ended up with just a seat... I must say that even though the passage was rough, not one person on board appeared to suffer from sea sickness.. Whether this was from them previously ingesting something like Gravol, or just plain tough constitutions is debatable.....
Don Baldo
The Don Baldo is a 200 foot ship.. I am guessing that she was built in Greece and serviced the Greek Islands for some time before being commandeered for this run. Several signs around the ship have Greek writing on them...This is a much much smaller ship than a typical BC ferry. From the brochure it looked like a modern ship. As I watched it approach the pier, it looked good.. In reality, it appears to be of moderate quality, but badly in need of paint, just like everything else in Chile.. Interestingly, the boat ties up stern to at the pier.. As the tides and tidal currents here are similar to those in BC, it can only load and off load at high or low slack water. It would appear that whoever drew up the schedule of the ferry did not look at the tide book when they did so...Passengers embark via the vehicle ramp, and are met by a bridge officer who speaks perfect Spanish, German, English and French.. Apparently all the bridge officers are German, while the rest of the crew are Chilean. Security seems a little lax though.. While the boat was loading, I set out on an adventure to explore the ship. As I approached the bow, I noticed the door to the bridge was wide open. I could not resist so I entered it.. It was abandoned.. Not a person in sight. I walked across the bridge, inspected the electronics and exited the other side.. Nobody knew I was there.. I did resist the temptation to grab the helm and take the old girl for a spin.....
Melinka
Passengers in the seats seemed to sprawl all over the floor and seats in an attempt to catch a few winks. I had purchased a $10.00 sleeping bag in Chiloe, suspecting that it may be cold on the boat. Needless to say, it was quite warm on board, but nevertheless it was nice to snuggle under a blankie, sprawl across a couple of seats and catch a few hours sleep. I got up several times during the night when the boat hit a big wave crossing the Gulf. My guess they were 20 footers, but I am also guessing that the boat has stabilizers, which reduced the rocking to manageable levels. 5:00 AM and the ships whistle awoke me. We were in Melinka.. Well, not really in Melinka, but abeam Melinka..stopped about 300 yards offshore.. I went up on deck and the crew lowered a 20 foot tender into the water. Passengers disembarking at Melinka stepped off the Don Baldo into the tender to be carried ashore.. As there was no dock or pier substantial enough to moor the Don Baldo, she was met by a landing barge which took several vehicles and freight off the Don Baldo. I don't understand why the passengers also did not exit via the landing barge.....Melinka is and island community accessible only by water. My guess would be the population would be 500 people... Nary a light was on in town as the Don Baldo approached. Only after she had come to a full stop in the bay did a few lights in town come on.... By the time we left Melinka, the sky was getting light, and the shore was dotted with people coming down to watch their supply ship come and go. It is makes me think of the days when the outports of Newfoundland and the BC coast were accessible only by water..
Santa Domingo, Melimoyu, Puerto Gala and beyond.....
Sliding down the inlets here in Chile reminds me so much of the many inlets of BC. If I closed my eyes and opened them and was asked where I was, I would redoubtably say it was the west coast of Canada. Sharp peaks, steep sides shorelines covered with coniferous forests, shrouded in low clouds and a continuous drizzle. Most of these little ports of call of the Don Baldo, seem to consist of nothing more than a few houses on shore, and nothing else. Populations of less than 200 people, maximum. The last three ports were for the disembarking of three or four people only. No freight delivery... It makes me wonder about the economics of bringing a large vessel such as the Don Baldo twenty miles up an inlet, make it stop, off load the tender, ferry the passengers ashore, and leave again. The parent company NavieraAustral must receive some sort of compensation from the Chilean CDN per person. Considering a crew of approximately 25 men and women on board, the numbers just do not work in my mind.....
Crossing the 45th
As we approach the 45th degree of latitude south, the weather continues to deteriorate.... I am thinking it is time to dig out my last line of defence against the cold.. Long underwear.. Me thinks next stop will have to include a toque or winter hat of some kind. The cold Humbolt ocean current flowing up from Antarctica definitely influences the weather.. I have no idea what the water temperature is, but I am guessing it is cold....
Another head's up...
I received another email from Wolfgang Kirsten telling me that there is a UK boat that is due into Ushuaia in the next few days. He is sailing over from South Africa and apparently is looking for crew... I have my fingers crossed that this lead may work out....
I received another email from Wolfgang Kirsten telling me that there is a UK boat that is due into Ushuaia in the next few days. He is sailing over from South Africa and apparently is looking for crew... I have my fingers crossed that this lead may work out....
Ferry ride...
It is approaching 19 hours now on the ferry.. Truth be known, it is a little boring. Being a small ship, there is not a lot to do. The weather has been quite uncooperative.. Even though we are cruising along the fjords and inlets, the wind is still blowing at 20-30 knots with driving rain. Occasionally the rain lets up a bit and we can venture out on deck. I have to give credit to the boat handling skills of the crew.. We have pulled into several ports with minimum facilities for a boat this size, and each time they have managed to come alongside the crude docks with little or no problem. This, despite the constant wind...... I am sure there were a couple of moments where the skipper's knuckles were white as he clasped whatever he was holding onto.... We are due in to Puerto Chucabuca at 5:00 AM.. Apparently they are going to allow us to sleep through and not make us disembark until 7:00 AM. From what I gather there is not much of anything in Puerto Chubuko. It is a relatively new port as the old port of Puerto Aisen, 17 km upstream was the original port and town until the harbour silted up due to the facilities built there... So getting off a ferry at a deserted port at 5:00 AM , in driving wind and rain, does not sound like a very exciting experience.
The Next Choices...
The last accessible port on the Chilean coast is Puerto Chabuco. It appears that between here and Puerto Natales is a truly desolate zone with no fishing villages, nor outpost towns. I plan on hanging around Puerto Chabuco long enough to find out if there is a possibility of catching a fishing boat or freighter further down the coast. To be honest, I am not holding my breath that such a venture will be successful. Unfortunate perhaps, but considering the remoteness and isolation of the coast here, it comes as no surprise.
From Puerto Chubuco/Puerto Aisen, one must head inland to the city of Coihaique to rejoin the Pan American highway. From there the choice is to take a ferry across a lake and head into Argentina, or to head to the very south end of the Pan American highway, at, you guessed it, Villa O'Higgins... At Villa O'Higgins, again a ferry ride across a lake, but the a foot trek down a trail to the Argentine border. There is rumour of being able to rent a horse for about $30.00 for the trecking part. Although it sounds like an interesting way to cross a border, I am going to have to research a bit further as to the reality of it...
People
Riding the ferry has been interesting in terms of the people I have met.... Three young men in their mid twenties from Santiago.... All three spoke very good English.. One of them spent several years in Austria living with his English aunt.. His English was near perfect except for the Austrian/English/Spanish accent. The three of them had two weeks holidays from their jobs. They had ridden down from Santiago non stop on the bus to catch the ferry. They disembarked at Santa Domingo, a very very small hamlet. They had no idea if there was a hostel or hotel in the area or not. If they had to sleep outside due to lack of accommodations, they were not very well prepared for that. I do know that they were up for the adventure. They were staying only two days there and then catching the ferry back and the long bus ride back to Santiago... It is good to see young people who are up for an interesting adventure.
Billa and Stewart hail from Australia.. Billa is an Israeli, but has been living in Australia for thirty years. They have been travelling South America for seven months so far. When they depart the ferry they have ten days to get back to Santiago, and out 2000 miles into the Pacific Ocean to the Easter Islands.. The flight from the Easter Islands on to New Zealand was sold out over a year ago, so they must fly back to Santiago, then jump on a plane back to New Zealand on the same day.. From there onto home in Australia... Me thinks that will be a long two days in air planes and airports...
A young Frenchman from Paris with three weeks holiday. He flew to Buenos Aires and then on to Temuca where he has been heading steadily southwards. His destination to be as far south as he can go before his time runs out...
A doctor from England... Originally took his medical school in Germany, then moved on to Australia and then England where he completed his training as an orthopaedic surgeon....Just wandering around on his four week break....
A young soft spoken couple from Seattle on their second trip to Chile.. They are here for three weeks but have the wisdom to know not to try to do the whole country in that time frame..
Two young girls from northern Spaiin. They have been travelling for six month. They have hitch hiked a lot and been quite successful at it. I seem to be regularly running into them.. Last seen they were hitch hiking down Ruta 40... As they were not on the bus later, I am guessing they were successful.
Carlos.. An Italian national living in Spain. He is a health and safety consultant for industry in Spain. He manages to get three months off at a time twice a year, so he travels a lot.. It has been a blessing travelling with him as he is fluent in Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and English. Not to mention being very well read in all his languages... It makes me feel pretty puny as a Canadian and speaking only one language...
Opportunities and decisions....
I received an email from the boat in Ushuaia, La Rose.. I have had several communications with them and it would appear that I am lined up for crew on board, if I can get down to Ushuaia by Tuesday.. The boat is a 54 foot sailboat, registered in England, but crewed by South Africans. They are heading out of Ushuaia to round Cape Horn then off to Deception Island in Antarctica.. A five week journey, there and back. It would appear the die is cast to make a bee line to Ushuaia....
Frustrations, Borders, and more Frustrations....
The Chileans are not early risers... The ferry pulled into Puerto Chubaco at 4:00 AM, but the ferry company allowed the passengers to continue to sleep in their seats until 7:00 AM.. I had been hoping that they would open the canteen and at least allow us to buy a cup of coffee...Alas, this was not the case..There was nothing open in Puerto Chubuco.. For anyone who knows me, they will know that the first cup of coffee in the morning. I took a mini bus in from Puerto Chabuco to Puerto Aisen, Even by 8:00 in Puerto Aisen there was nothing open. Trekking several kilometres around town finally tracked down a restaurant that actually served real coffee.....Not only was it open, but it served real espresso coffee and coffee con leche instead of the Chilean standard of Nescafe Instant coffee... Bonus upon bonus, it also had wifi.. It was here that I received the above mentioned email about sailing to Antarctica. A couple cups of coffee, studying the map and guide books and I had a master plan as to how to get to Ushuaia... The first step would be to get to Coyhaique, and then take a bus from there across the Chilean border... sounds easy... It was easy... well as far as Coyhaique... This is where the difficulties started...There are four bus companies in Coyhaique, but only two of them cross into Argentina.. No big deal right? Wrong... Unlike central Chile where buses run every hour, the border crossing buses only run every second or third day. My luck and I had just missed a bus that morning.. What to do???? What to do?
Studying the map it appeared that the town of Balcmeda would be the easiest place to take bus to, and then perhaps hire a taxi to get across the border.. No such luck... no buses to Balcmeda for two days... After trudging across town to three different bus companies it appeared that the only way out of town was across the lake.. Off I trundled to that bus office.. No problem.. they sold me a ticket for the bus..It would drop me off at the ferry across the lake.. They did inform me that they did not sell tickets to the ferry, but that to ensure that I could get on, I should trudge back over to the other side of the town to get a ticket for the ferry. As I was anxious to get across, off I trundled.. No problem again.... they promptly took my money in exchange for a ticket on the ferry. Finally a bit of time on my hands, I grabbed my first food of the day around noon, then settled in for the three hour wait for the bus at 4:00. The bus ride was spectacular, right across the backbone of the Andes.. Incredible views of incredible peaks.. Incredible view down into the valley as we inched our way over the pass.. Things were going well. As we came through the pass the landscape changed instantly into barren hills, devoid of any vegetation except sage brush. More of a moonscape than a land scape.. Slowly the spine of the Andes dropped behind us and we found ourselves on the shore of a large lake. Sitting there was a bow loading ferry built circa 1960. Not very big.. butt ugly, and used hard for 50 years.. After off loading the north bound traffic, they allowed us to load. Seven cars and small trucks, and the deck was full... In addition it took approximately 100 passengers. While still at the dock the wind was whistling down the pass and across the lake at 25 knots.. It was fierce enough that one had a bit of trouble speaking into the wind... As we moved away from shore, it seemed to increase. Well quite frankly, it did increase.. Spindrift is when the top of a wave is literally blown off by a strong wind.. That does not usually happen until 35 knots..... Most of the waves had their tops blown off them.. The wave size increased and the wind increased again... There were mini whirlwinds of water spouts as the wind churned the surface of the lake.. Violent would be a very gentle word for the experience. The ferry plugged along.. It was evident that they see this kind of wind on a regular basis... Most of the passengers were tucked away below deck... I am not going to mention the smell below deck of the diesel fumes mixed with people who were not doing well.. By the end of the trip, most of us were up on deck freezing our asses off, but at least in fresh air..
As we approached the dock, talking to a couple of other passengers, it became evident that we would arrive at the dock at 9:00 PM, and the Argentine border closed at 10:00 PM. That would give us an hour maximum to arrange transportation the 10 km to the border, travel to the border, clear Chilean Customs and then make it to the Argentine customs... A Czech couple, and Italian, and myself grabbed a little mini van who was willing to take us to the border.. He explained he could take us to the border but did not have the necessary clearances to actually take us across the border. Time was running out, so we jumped on board for a speedy ride to the border.. Clearing Chilean customs was less than 15 minutes for all of us. The issue appeared to be that the border offices are not right beside each other the way they are in most border crossings. They are another 10 km apart.. After a hair raising drive to the Argentine custom, ( and another $25.00 for the driver), we made it to Argentine customs just as they were about to lock up and head home... The Italian with us, speaks perfect Spanish and he convinced them to stay open and clear us... Fortunately they did that with no issues at all.. Immediately after clearing us, the border officials locked the doors to the customs house, climbed into their vehicles, and drove the two miles into the closest town.... leaving us stranded out at the border.... A two mile trudge into town after dark, at 10:30 at night was not something that made us all happy.. Needless to say, we did it....
Once in town (and we can barely call it a town). We found everything was locked up. No restaurants, no hotels, no anything.... As there was no traffic, and the town was not big enough to even warrant a taxi, we had few options open to us.. We eventually flagged down a police officer, who stopped, and sympathized with us.. He made a few phone calls on his cell phone and found a couple of places that could put us up.... He could not give us a ride to the hotel, but he did give us directions.. A mere mile away..... Off we trudged.....Upon arrival at the rather shady hotel, the hotel keeper brought to our attention that he would like to get additionally compensated for having to get out of bed and renting us a room... What choice did we have? We paid approximately $80.00 for a double room.. No hot water, no breakfast included, no heat, one scrinchy little light bulb, and a door into the room that was no more than 5 feet high.. I hit my head on it several times. Me thinks he rents it out more regularly to Hobbits..Here it is almost 24 hours later and I can still feel the bump...I had not eaten since noon, but I was so bagged after the two nights of sleeping on the seats of the ferry, that I just crashed... Carlos, the Italian and my room mate, headed out to see if he could find something to eat. He returned at 1:30 PM to tell me of his failure at the mission to buy some food..... We both slept like logs, and awoke around 7:00 AM. There is nothing like a cold water shower to wake you up and make you want a steaming cup of coffee.... As soon as we were showered, off we went into town in search of a restaurant that would be open.. Our search led us to no avail... We did find a bakery and bought some sweets, but they did not have coffee.. Even a Chilean instant Nescafe would have been welcome.. We finally abandoned our search and decided to head over to the bus depot on the outskirts of town. We figured we could organize our transportation and surely there would be a coffee shop or even a coffee machine of some kind there. Wrong! There are only two buses a day out of town.. The first one at 7:00 AM, and the second one at 6:00 PM.. Not only was it an unacceptable schedule for us, but they only opened the coffee shop for an hour before the bus. It was closed and would not re open until 5:00 PM. By this time we were both hurting for coffee, and frustrated as hell, because it looked as if we would be there for the day... We decided to try our luck at hitch hiking.... Off we trundled the mile and a half back to the highway... Fortunately for us, the first vehicle picked us up and as a courtesy to us, took us two miles down the road to the police inspection location.. As one approaches an Argentine border town, there is customs on one side of the town, and police inspection on the other....It is customary when the vehicle stops that the police ask if the vehicle can take along passengers that are standing there.. In reality, it is a hell of a system.. After an hour of standing there we did manage to get a ride into Peridito Moreno. At the bus station we learn that the next bus towards the south does not leave until 4:00. As this is the best I could come up with, I purchased my ticket.. Carlos decided to take his luck hitch hiking... I took a hike into town and picked up some fruit and pastries for the trip and when I got back, there was Carlos standing there.. In two hours of hitch hiking, only two vehicles passed him.. We both climbed onto the bus down to Rio Gallegos.. 14 hours later it pulls into the bus station at 7:00 AM.. The station is deserted, so we hang around until 8:00. all the while, hurting badly for a cup of coffee after riding the bus all night.. As soon as the ticket agents open we find out that the bus to Ushuiaa today is full, and the next one will not be until Tuesday.. Sheesh.. I am beginning to fret about my time line... I checked online and to fly to Ushuia there are no available seats until Tuesday... Carlos picked up a bus to El Cafete and left the station at 11:00. I decided to head to Punta Arenas and see if I can get better luck from there. Carlos's plan was to be Ushuaia on the 19th, so with luck, he will be there to see us off.. I hope he is, as I think I would like a pic of us leaving....My plan is to check for a bus from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, If nothing is available, I will take the mini bus up to the ferry, cross the Straits of Magellan as a foot passenger and then hitch hike from there... Someone wish me luck! It is a strange situation where to travel from the north of Chile to the south, one must transit through Argentina.. And to travel from mainland Argentina, to their portion of Tierra del Fuego, one must transit through Chile...One would thing that with all this transiting from one country to the next that it would be easy... Some things in life, just do not make sense!
The adventure continues.....1:00 PM and I am on the bus....
Nothing can compare...
After crossing the back bone of South America with the drama and awe inspiring vistas of the Andes it seems to be a bit of a let down to find myself on the Argentine pampas.. Most of us are familiar with the badlands of Alberta.. Nothing can compare though to the miles and miles that go on for hours and hours of nothing but nothing....Gently rolling gravel hills in all directions for as far as the eye can see. Nothing but nothing. Small sparse sage brush with the occasional clump of grass, but that is it.... Nothing but nothing...Nary an animal, although I am sure they are out there.. No farms.. not even the occasional farm... No trees....nothing but nothing... Where are the pampas with the gauchos chasing cattle on their horses? In reality it should come as no big surprise as the leeward side of the Rockies are quite dry right from the Mexican border up to well into Alberta..
It changes.....
Ok, so several hundred kilometres into the pampas and things do change a bit.. Not the addition of animals and farms, but the addition of oil wells... Seemingly out of nowhere and the landscape is now peppered with them.... The town of Los Rejos is the only sign of civilization for over 200 km.. It would appear that the only reason for the town is to develop and maintain the oil fields.. The houses are new.. The streets barren of trees of vegetation... The Alberta of the south? In one field of approximately a quarter section, I counted 22 wells.. Me thinks they have lots of oil here...
Garbage
The wind seems to blow incessantly here.. It is not quite desert, but regularly, there are sand dunes that fill the ditch.. As one travels closer and closer to a town, the firs thing one begins to notice that there are plastic bags and garbage strewn in the sage brush... The closer one gets to the town, the more garbage amongst the sage brush until on the outskirts of town, the landscape is more plastic bags than sage brush.. Mankind has a hell of a way of marking his territory.....
South of Rio Gallegos
As I head south of Rio Gallegos to the Chilean border, the terrain still has not changed. No oil wellheads down here.. The sun is shining brightly and the horizon is perfectly flat except for the occasional knoll. in the middle of the desert. There is life here.. I just saw my first flock of llamas.. I figured something could live here, although I had my doubts there would be enough for a cow or horse..I was downloading pics into my computer from the camera, so I could not snap a pic.. Damn.!.
And if you thought...
And if you thought entering Argentina was physically challenging...... Leaving Argentina is mentally challenging... As we approached the border, I noticed that both Argentine and Chilean customs were both in the same building.. My mind flashed back to entering the country and the trudge between border posts, and I thought to myself “Well done!! They figured it out at this border crossing!”. Wrong.. Oh how could I be so wrong....Yes, both customs facilities were in the same building but they were in the same room also... The room was packed with people trying to get across the border both ways.. There were no line dividers so the milling and mixing between lines was horrendous to say the least.. As far as signage goes the only help was a sign that said “1st Step: Immigration, 2nd step Customs.... No problem, most of us thought.. We were entering Chile and so we got into the Immigration line up.. After a half an hour of waiting when each of us gets to the front of the line, we are told that we must go to Argentine Immigration first, then Argentine Customs to check out of Argentina, then Chilean Immigration, then Chilean Customs. Each step along the way you are issued a form and it is stamped. By the time you get to the end of the line you have four pieces of paper, two of them in quadruplicate, and the last guy takes all of them and issues you with one that you must have in your possession to leave the country.. This is in addition to your passport.... Sheesh.. All in all the single bus was at the border close to three hours. Even the locals seemed to have no idea nor understanding what we were supposed to do. And we thought we had Canada/US border issues.....
Roll call...
Uh oh... Somebody is missing.. They have walked through the bus three times now counting heads and came up short.. The last time they came through with the passenger list, trying to figure out who is missing... Did they make a dash for it when the bus stopped? Or did they fall over dead in the line ups in the customs building? Or are they in the line ups but just going around in endless bureaucratic circles? Time will tell....
Not Dead...
Well they found the missing passenger.. He was not dead, but close to it.. A tiny little scruff of an old gent.. He must be well into his eighties..Five foot, one inch and maybe a hundred pounds.. It turns out he got a little confused and lost one of his pieces of paper.. The bureaucracy could not deal with that.. They could not issue him new papers, and they could not let him through without the papers.. His life came to a standstill... I am sure as far as the officials were concerned, he no longer existed in this version of time and space.... Needless to say the bus is not allowed to leave corpses at the border, dead or alive, so the bus driver, amid much talking and waving of arms, walked the officials through what they had to do to finish clearing the border.....Bureaucrats! They are the same, the world over....Thank god they do not carry tasers down here...
Things are not what they seem....
As we drive across the southern Chilean tip of Patagonia, the landscape is reminiscent of the rolling hills of southern Alberta in the fall.. A clear blue sky, gentle hills, the ground cover the colour of mature wheat, (albeit it barely pasture land). It is a beautiful day here.. I am having trouble believing that this corner of the world is renowned for some of the most wicked weather in the world......I have crossed latitude 52 degrees south.. About the same latitude as Kamloops is north of the equator.. But there is an eeriness in the air here.. There is a feel that there are great powers that visit this land.. Powers that can humble a man......
Different strokes...
As we drive away from the border, we pass a line of vehicles perhaps a half a mile long, waiting to cross the border into Argentina... Unlike Canadian customs, there is only one lane to line up in.. There is no shoulder of the road to pull off and await your turn.. The locals know the issues involved with the paperwork at the border, so they pull into the line up, park their vehicles in the middle of the only lane, and then walk up to the customs office to stand in line to get the paperwork trail started.. That is not so much of an issue until you find that a vehicle is in the middle of the line up, the occupants have cleared customs, but they cannot move until everyone ahead of them clears customs... Needless to say this was another fine opportunity for horn honking, arm waving, and loud shouting..... How do they accomplish anything here?
Few Places
Driving across mainland Chilean Patogonia is probably one of the few places on earth where you can have one foot in one ocean (Atlantic Ocean) and the other foot in a different ocean (Pacific Ocean). Not a big deal but it is interesting...The official separation of the two oceans apparently is Puerto Espora. I think a fella should try to find the offical line in the sand while one is down here, and a fella should stand in two oceans at the same time!.
If I have have to..
The buses down here are actually quite nice. A lot of double decker buses.. I usually try to sit up high whenever I can. The view is better but there is a lot more swaying of the vehicle.. Most bus rides of an hour and a half or more, show a movie.... The movies? Lets just say that ultra violent shoot em up, car chase, and fist fight movies are the rage... One does not need earphones to listen to the movies, there are speakers spread all over the bus that broadcast the sound.. In fact, it is impossible to escape the soundtracks... If I have to live through one more fifteen minute scene of violence, blood, gunshots and car chases, I may end up going on a violent rampage myself... I have watched enough of them that I thnk I know how to do it now! All one has to do is get a gun that never seems to run out of bullets, a fast car and hot mama to rescue.....
Punta Arenas
I arrived in Punta Arenas at around 6:00. I enquired at the bus terminal about getting a bus out to Ushuaia ASAP. I was informed that their busses were full until Tuesday. I asked if there were other bus companies around. I then hiked over to bus company # 2. I was given pretty much the same story there, but they directed me to bus company #3. When they also told me the same story, I put on my biggest puppy dog eyes and explained to them that it was absolutely neccesary to get to Ushuaia. The girl behind the counter, looked over at her supervisor and then glanced back at me. She told me very softly and under her breath that I should be at the bus company at 8:00 AM sharp and to ask the driver if he had room. I offered to pay for the ticket then and there, but she refused and simply said to talk to the driver of the bus in the morning. It sounded a little clandestine to me, but it was the best option I had open to me. I scouted the immediate neighbourhood for a hostel and found one only a half a block away. It was a nice old building, with private bathrooms and quite well maintained. A bit on the expensive side ($40.00 USD), but considering it's proximity to the bus station, I took it. I went for a walk around Punta Arenas and had dinner. Quite a pretty little town, I liked it. It definitely had the Chilean hospitality to it. Friendly people etc...
The next morning I was over at the bus station at 7:30 AM, wondering why the bus counter attendant had been so secretive about the morning bus. Something just did not fit. I was the only one there, and I began to wonder about whether my clock on my computer had been right. Slowly other passengers straggled to the bus station. The building itself was closed, so we all hung out on the sidewalk There were a couple of tour groups from the US, that had booked space on the bus. When the bus pulled up, I explained to the driver and the conductor my plight.. They told me to just wait and see. Lots of two person groups showing up. I tried to count the number of people waiting, to get a handle as to what my chances were, but the people were arriving and mingling much too fast. My heart was in my mouth when they started loading the bus. And yet another couple straggled up to the line up. When there were only four people left to get on the bus, three more couples showed up. Finally the conductor came to the door, and waved me aboard. While I had been waiting to board the bus, I had been conversing with the other passengers and explaining my plight. When they saw me board the bus, a huge cheer went up in the bus. I was in!!!! I turns out it was a regular bus in the morning but it was booked full.. The employees of the company seem to have this thing about not quite fully booking the bus, but leaving a seat or two open for people like me. I did get charged a bit of a premium, and I was not issued a receipt, so it looks like the employees put the cash from these last minute deals in their own pocket.
The bus ride was back across the Chilean panhandle of pampas to the ferry across the Magellan Straits. The ferry was uneventful and unremarkable. Once on Tierra del Fuego, it was more of the same flat land with little or no vegetation. The Chilean/Argentine border was about the only buildings we came across. Surprisingly border crossing here was a breeze.. Stand in line for a half an hour, but then get shuffled off in the right direction to the next station. Yippee... I had made it into Argentina. If they threw me off the bus at this point, I am positive that I could find a local bus to Ushuaia, still 100 miles away. As soon as we crossed into Argentina, the road changed from a two lane paved highway to a one lane gravel road. Bounce, rock, roll, sway, potholes, it was a bit of a rough ride. Far too rough to type or to read. I struck up a conversation with a young Israeli girl sitting beside me. There seem to be a lot of Israelis travelling around. There were six of them on the bus. Her boyfriend had stayed behind in Punta Arenas as he wanted to go on a tour of the penguins there. She had elected to go through to Ushuaia, to try to secure a last minute deal on a cruise ship to Antarctica. I explained to her what I was up to, how I had come across the opportunity, and we chatted most of the trip away.
The bus ride was back across the Chilean panhandle of pampas to the ferry across the Magellan Straits. The ferry was uneventful and unremarkable. Once on Tierra del Fuego, it was more of the same flat land with little or no vegetation. The Chilean/Argentine border was about the only buildings we came across. Surprisingly border crossing here was a breeze.. Stand in line for a half an hour, but then get shuffled off in the right direction to the next station. Yippee... I had made it into Argentina. If they threw me off the bus at this point, I am positive that I could find a local bus to Ushuaia, still 100 miles away. As soon as we crossed into Argentina, the road changed from a two lane paved highway to a one lane gravel road. Bounce, rock, roll, sway, potholes, it was a bit of a rough ride. Far too rough to type or to read. I struck up a conversation with a young Israeli girl sitting beside me. There seem to be a lot of Israelis travelling around. There were six of them on the bus. Her boyfriend had stayed behind in Punta Arenas as he wanted to go on a tour of the penguins there. She had elected to go through to Ushuaia, to try to secure a last minute deal on a cruise ship to Antarctica. I explained to her what I was up to, how I had come across the opportunity, and we chatted most of the trip away.
Ushuaia
Well, I did make it to Ushuaia on time..
So I arrived in Ushuaia about 8:00 PM. I hiked through town and found the yacht club... By the way this is a beautiful little town... Hemmed in by snow capped peaks on three sides and a beautiful natural harbour....
Final Chapter..
I suppose this is the final chapter of my Chilean adventure. It seems like I have been on two different adventures. Chile and Antarctica. Reality seems such a long way away that it makes me wonder if there is a reality at all. I sit here and write my journal. I wonder who I am writing for. Will anyone ever read it? It is after all, just a diatribe of my experience. Everyone has their own experiences and what makes mine any different. For that matter, will I ever sit down and re read my words. Perhaps I am just living in my own mind and talking to myself.. I am sitting in a sidewalk cafe savouring probably my last cafe con leche, on Providencia Avenida in Santiago Chile. In a few short hours, I will be climbing aboard my plane back to Canada. It is perhaps a time to reflect about what this adventure has meant to me...Chile still fascinates me. Every experience here has been positive. Nary a negative experience. If I had to describe the country in five words or less, I would call it the Canada of the South. There is an affinity here for me. I cannot explain it. It is not a poor Latin Americaan country like Mexico or Peru. Nor is it pretentious like Argentina. It is a chilly day here by Santiago standards. My thin long sleeve shirt is not quite enough. I should put a sweater on, but I know full well that sweater time is right around the corner for me when I get home. Traffic is whizzing by, like it does in every big city. Perhaps what I like the best about Santiago, are the streets with people walking around. I have found that all Chilean towns and cities are laid out for people, not automobiles.. My short excursion into Argentina confirmed that.. Argentinian towns are like North American towns, they are laid out for a vehicle. Every town I visited in Chile was laid out around the town square, which usually fronted the main church and government buildings.. But the streets were crowded with people walking around. All sorts of people. Business men, trades, young people, old people and everything in between. They are clean, well groomed, well dressed, not over dressed, not under dressed, and walk with smiles on their faces. They seem to be happy people. People with good work ethics and a vitality to enjoy life. They are not scared of touch.. Greetings are always with a peck on the cheek. Couples, not only those courting, walk hand in hand. Seldom does one see a whole block anywhere, without people walking somewhere. They are not pushy, nor aggressive.. They could care less about gringos or touristos. One is not constantly harangued by street peddlers and beggars. There is a definite lack of chain store mentality. Every street is lined with small Ma and Pa operations. Coffee shops, restaurants, hair salons, hardware stores, furniture stores, bakeries, pharmacies, computer stores, camera stores, banks, tourist agencies, eye glass shops.. .....all are small shops, with just the occassional larger supermercado thrown in. The service in these shops is very human. The guide books talk about not much English being spoken here. I must say that my Spanish is not very good, but when it comes right down to it most people's English is infinitely better than my Spanish. I found it a curiosity that most peope would listen to me stumble through what I wanted in Spanish, and then answer me in Spanish, until I hit a barrier where I could not express what I wanted. At that point, so often, they would speak broken English to me, but claim they spoke very poor English. They are a proud people. Proud of their language, proud of thier culture and proud of their country. Ah, another sip of real coffee. Perhaps I do have a complaint about Chile. They do not make coffee. They drink coffee, but one is very very hard pressed to get a cup of coffee that is not Nescafe instant coffee. Go figure! And not to mention helpful people... when asking a stranger on the street for directions, they will explain how to get there, and then double check that I understand. If I am still confused, I have been taken by the hand to where I wanted to go. Traffic continues to zip past me. The public transit system here is incredible. 5 major subway lines that criss cross the city. Clean, well lit and efficient, apparently it moves 2 million people a day. Once off the subway, every street has bus service that runs every few minutes. One can whisk from one destination on one side of the city to a second destination on the other side of the city in literally minutes. After ;living in Vancouver where the public transit system seems like it designed not to work, it is truly amazing to see one that was designed to work.. Designed to be used by the citizens of the city, rather than designed for the benefit of land developers. Adding to the vibrant life of the pedestrian, rather than trying to discourage it. Subway stops where people want to go, not where some developer wants to cash in on the subway system. This is sounding like my rant for the day. I have finished my coffee.. Still a couple of hours to kill... Should I have another one? Or perhaps a beer? Maybe I should go for a walk in one of the many parks? Or maybe just a stoll down the street and try to soak up some of the vitality of the city? It is a little after 1:00 now and the sun has come out. It is warming up.. Me thinks the stroll down the street won...Ahh... A park bench in the sun. A block away from traffic, so I know I am still in the city.. The sun feels so good on my back. I must clean my computer screen though the sun seems to highlight the gunge on the screen. Times seems to have changed things a bit. It seems that nearly everyone is carrying a small day pack with them. Men and women. Men in business suits women in business suits, the young and the old. It must be lunch time. A lot of people are walking about munching on food tidbits from one of the many little cafes. Damn the pastries are good here. Perhaps I should have one more completo before I head home. Perhaps something a la pobre.. Perhaps another pastry....Apparently the one common denominator here is with the big motorcycle operators.. They sure like to be loud... I am a block away from Providencia Avenue and I still hear every motor cycle that goes by..Some things are the same around the world. I don't thnk I have sen another tourist all day. That feels good. Still some time to kill. Maybe a nap in the sunshine... or another stroll....Ok one more cafe con leche... My feet are tired from walking. I must have covered five miles today. I counted.. every block or second block has a small plaza or park with park benches and outside cafes. People strolling through.. Office people munching on their lunches groups of people enjoying a lunch in the cafes. people just having the time of day to enjoy the time of day. Nobody in a hurry....Perhaps part of the novelty that I am enjoying here is the fact that I am around people, after the isolation of Antarctica... A realization of the contrasts of our planet. Uninhabitable land to a roaring metropolis. No people to crowds around me.
