Days 26-28: El Calafate, Argentina

Mon 5 Dec- Wed 7 December

Monday morning we hopped on a bus and made the 6 hour journey across the border to El Calafate, Argentina to visit Perito Moreno Glacier. Tuesday morning we set out from the town of El Calafate at 9am and arrived in Argentina’s Los Glaciares National Park which covers around 600,000 hectares and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The glacier site is very well maintained and extremely accessible- it was a Disney-like system of buses and transfers and viewpoints. Ally and I agreed it was slightly less exciting than having a panoramic view of glacier grey open up in front of us as we crested a small ridge after four hours of hiking in Torres del Paine.

What makes Perito Moreno worthy of a visit is not just its sheer size (250sq.km), but from the main area we were able to watch massive chunks of the glacier come tumbling off and crashing 60m into the icy water below. The glacier frontage stretches 5km across and stands 60m high- but nearly 110m of glacier sits below the water’s surface.

Perito Moreno is one of Patagonia’s largest glaciers and is also the world’s third largest reserve of fresh water. Why not go for a stroll on top?

We took a twenty minute boat ride toward the edge of the glacier and hopped off on a nearby shore. During the briefing, we learned that Perito Moreno is a stable glacier, accumulating ice at the same rate at which it is shed at the front. It is one of the few stable glaciers in the world.

With crampons strapped on, not a splinter of sun in sight, and rain pelting down with a fury, we stepped out onto this monstrous ice field.

The first 20minutes were spent protecting cameras from the rain and keeping ourselves steady in the gusty wind. It wasn’t long before we were soaked and getting very chilly. Ally had injured her knee toward the end of the “W” hike and the weighty crampons on her feet weren’t helping her mobility. Despite the traction of the crampon, the icy descents were shaky at best and Ally had to turn back to keep from injuring her knee further. At this point my waterproof layers had utterly failed their waterproof test and the winds were turning me into a new ice formation. It wasn’t looking like we would last the scheduled 1.5hrs of hiking atop the glacier. Our guide insisted that if we kept wishing “hard enough,” the sun would come out.

Smoggy camera lense thanks to all of the rain

when the sun finally did come out

 Good wishers we were. Not long after the sun broke through and we were able to hike the glacier under sparkling sunlight; highlighting the crystal blues and pristine whiteness of the ice formations. To my elation the hike was capped off with a glass (or three) of 12 year old whiskey served over 300 year old glacial ice, paired with an indulgent dolce de leche chocolate cake. Don’t worry, I plan to bring oodles of these treats home.

the ice bar

Today we caught a bus back to Puerto Natales where we fly on to Santiago to spend our final few days in Chile back with our ESD compadres.

Days 20-25: Parque Nacional Torres del Paine- the “W”

30 Nov - 4 Dec

Ally and I have just returned from five days in one of Chile’s most popular tourist destinations- Torres del Paine National Park. But it’s no walk in the park. This part of Chilean Patagonia is known to be “wild”- not because of any fierce creatures, as one might expect, but because of the unpredictable and extreme weather. Gale force winds, pelting rain, snow, and blizzards.

To say that we got lucky is an understatement. We saw nothing but sparking sunshine- a sun so strong that even after smothering ourselves in SPF50 sun screen, we left the park sporting significant raccoon-like sunglass tans.

Torres del Paine offers a range of multi-day hikes, but a slew of one-day hikes as well. The two most popular multi-day treks are the 4-5 day “W”, which travels across the park along the general shape of a “W,” visiting the three main valleys of the mountain range. The second route is the 7-9 day “circuit” which circles around the entire base of the range, paired with trips into the central valleys. While the circuit is rumoured to be well worth the extra time, we were limited on time and went with the “W” trek- and despite the highs and lows (physically and geographically)- we loved every bit of it.

We had heard most hiking “traffic” travels west to east, as the wind in the park always comes from the west, allowing for the wind to work with you, rather than against you. Ally and I are both the type to prefer to do things our own way, or at least a little bit differently, so we opted to start in the east and travel west.

Day one began with the longest continuous climb of the trek, heading from Lago Amarga up to Los Torres, the camp ground from which you can trek to the park’s iconic three granite towers (Torres del Paine = Towers of the Sky). We were welcomed by llamas and beautiful views of the towers in the distance. 

We had packed so precisely and cautiously that we found ourselves cursing the bad weather warnings we had heard so much of… it was 24 degrees and we had stripped down to our base layer within 10minutes of starting the trek.

We reached Los Torres by late afternoon, set up camp and then headed up the final 45minutes to the Los Torres mirador for the rewarding view, despite there being a bit of fog.

              

We had been told that an early morning trek back up to the mirador would offer great views of the sunrise, so we awoke on day two at 5:30am, as advised. When Ally first poked her head out of the tent that morning, she was skepitcal…

“I don’t know, Bonita,” she said, “I can see light. I think it’s fair to say the sun has risen.”

“Hm. Maybe it’s still hidden behind that range,” I replied, pointing to the towering mountain side.

We packed up a sleeping bag (to keep warm while “watching the sun rise” and some snacks to take up. Not ten minutes up the trail we crossed paths with a young guy on his way down. Still half asleep, I stopped him to ask if he had been up for the sun rise….and to our dismay, he had.

“I was up there around 4:30am,” he said. This meant he was up at 3:30 as it’s about an hour to get up and settled in. “But you couldn’t see much,” he went on, “It was clear, but the sun wasn’t really shining through.”

I turned to Ally. Not much needed to be said…. we were going back to bad.

When we awoke for the second time on day two the sun was fully risen and we were back on the trail by 11:00am. With the days getting longer and longer and daylight stretching until 10:30 in the evening, we were enjoying the long rest. That morning we saw a small red fox snooping for left over food bits in the camp ground. He turned out to be one of the few animals we saw the entire trek.

Day two took us back down the first valley, traveling mid-way along the range toward the middle valley; a full eight hours of walking in mostly meadowy fields, but offering lovely views of lakes below.

 Before reaching our campground that evening, we arrived at a refugio in perfect late afternoon sun. There are a few refugios along the base trail offering hostel-style accommodation, mostly used by day-trippers or those not looking to camp. They also have small kitchens and serve dinners, but also make for lovely pit stops serving wine and beer- luxuries you wouldn’t think to carry for five days.

We spent night two at “campamento italiano,” and had one of our better meals of the trek; it might even be worth repeating at home (once my distaste for chorizo sausage passes….): white rice cooked in creamy tomato soup with sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, and sliced sausages. It was a fantastic one-pot dish and came out tasting like a fancy risotto!

Day three began with a lovely 5hour trip into the French valley carrying only our day packs. We watched ice and snow crash down from hanging glaciers and looked over the length of the valley as the spring melt rushed down the middle.

We returned to “italiano” and before setting off again, we needed some light first aid for my dog bite wound. With most of the weight from my pack sitting low on my hips, my rear end was getting some extra bruising that was keeping some of the bite marks from healing. While nurse Ally bandaged me up, a park ranger happened to stroll by the otherwise empty campground. He came over to us with a look of grave concern on his face.

Ally and I tried our best spanglish to explain that this didn’t happen on the trail and that it was a dog bit from some time ago. This involved acting out a dog and a “biting” action. Meanwhile the top of my shorts were halfway pulled down my rear, showing the gross looking purple and yellow bruising and tooth gashes. Once it was clear that we were okay, we half expected the ranger to saunter off and continue on his way. But he continued to linger, nattering to us in Spanish. We just nodded and smiled while Ally continued to bandage.

We then set off for the final two hours of hiking that day- headed for refugio grey- unfortunately the most commercial of the campgrounds, but the only one we could make it to within our timeline.

Day four sent us up the final valley toward Los Guardas and Glacier Grey. Even though it was a shorter day, it was a draining one… but the reward was well worth it. I saw ice bergs for the first time and felt like I had walked onto a movie set as soon as Glacier Grey came into sight.

                   

We spent the night at a gorgeous campground with ice bergs floating by- a floating toast to our last night in the mountains!

We trekked out early in the morning on day five, making it back to Refugio grey where we would catch the ferry back to civilisation.

Over the five days we ate nearly 2kg of dehydrated fruit, handfuls of almonds, pots after pot of rice and sausage, and kept our energy up with gummies and chocolate. We saw llamas, mice, a red fox, a woodpecker (just like Woody!), and countless types of birds, flowers and bugs. Torres del Paine was tiring indeed, but it was equally rewarding with some of the most scenic, yet changing, landscapes I have ever seen.

It’s Monday now- and to think that we’ll be on airplanes flying home come Friday seems absurd! We’ve got much more still to see and do… up next: El Calafate, Argentina for glacier trekking.

Days 18-20: Puerto Natales

Mon 28 Nov- Wed 30 Nov

Ally and I are both typical "type A" personalities and consider organising things in life to be, well, part of the fun.

While on the bus a few days ago in Chiloe, Ally shared a dream that she had the night before:

She and I were participating in a reality TV show where a wedding had been booked at a venue, but nothing else had been planned and there were only 48hours to go. Apparently her parents were on my team and we were tasked with food and drink- she recalled my being on a mission for the liquor store, dead set on finding cheap, but good wine for this "wedding." On Ally's team were Benoit (our hiking buddy from a few days earlier) and Sebastien (the hostal owner and dog bite helper/hospital translator)- they were responsible for "building the honeymoon suite." We were having a great time- in this dream, that is.

But we both knew we would find that fun in real life, too.

In light of this tendency to organise, one can imagine the fun we had while preparing for our "W" trek in Torres del Paine.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torres_del_Paine_National_Park

Having landed in Puerto Natales on Monday afternoon to the smallest airport I've ever seen, we have had a solid day and a half to get things organised; from day-to-day baggies of dried fruit and nuts to pre-packed meals and solidly stuffed rucksacks.

The entirety of Puerto Natales airport. Small, but effective. The only luggage coming off the plane: trekking bags.

Ally upon arrival at Puerto Natales airport.

packing day bonanza

My next rabies shot was meant to be on Thursday, but that is halfway through our trek. We made a trip into the hospital here in Puerto Natales and were sent to the "consultorio" just on the edge of town- very similar to Puerto Varas. I've become practiced at explaining, in spanish, my need for a rabies vaccination. I was immediately directed to the vaccination office, where after stumbling through a conversation with the nurse about having the shot earlier or later than scheduled, I decided to just get on with it and have the shot a few days early. I was in and out in less than 15minutes- again without paying a thing. This seems to be getting easier and easier.

Puerto Natales- a lovely view we stumbled across on our way home from the rabies shot.

We leave tomorrow morning for Torres del Paine National Park in the heart of Chilean Patagonia and plan to return five days later, on Sunday 4 December. Sorry, there will be no mountain blogging.

Vamos!

Day 15-17: Castro to Puerto Varas

Fri 25 Nov – Sun 27 Nov

Despite Thursday’s eventful evening, we kept with our plans to head to Parque Nacional Chiloé on Friday.  With another traveler, Benoit, joining us from France, the three of us somehow missed our intended bus to the park and found ourselves killing some time in the quiet town of Chonchi. It only sprinkled rain that morning, and the few sunny breaks were enough to prompt a stop for ice cream before we poked around another wooden church and stopped by a local shoe maker to check out his shop.

A wooden church in Chonchi, Chiloe.

While waiting in Chonchi for the bus that would take us the rest of the way to the park, we met a friendly man in his 60s dressed in jeans, ball cap, and a black jacket with a “Honda Performance” logo subtly embroidered on the front- the classic North American car dealership wind breaker. We learned that he had spent 30 odd years living in Calgary, having left the island of Chiloe to see a French Canadian woman he had met. Alas, upon arrival in Canada, he never did end up seeing this woman or even making it to Quebec, but instead he fell in love with a woman in Calgary. He worked odd jobs in Calgary and ended up running a small home repair/renovations business for the balance of his career before returning to Chiloe for retirement, “It is where my roots are,” he said.

“I live out here now. My family is in Santiago, but it’s too big, there’s some crime there too. I live down this road, in Chiloe,” he went on, pointing vaguely in the direction we would be traveling.

On our return bus journey from the park, Ally spotted a giant Canadian flag hanging in the front window of a long home, surrounded by the thick forest of the area.

We enjoyed the first sunshine we had seen in days while walking various trails in Parque Nacionale Chiloe, weaving through thick forest and then heading to the crashing seaside sand dunes. It was beautiful fresh air and sunshine- where the strength of Chile’s southern sun managed to leave its mark on all three of our faces. Noted: the ozone here is in fact meagre and sunscreen is always must.

Benoit, our French hiking buddy scouting for frogs in the marshlands.

 

Looking out onto the Pacific from Parque Nacional Chiloé.

My rear end is healing reasonable well, with frequent coatings of iodine to mitigate any kind of infection. The bruising is colourful, but the pain is subsiding with each day.

Saturday we left the friendly island of Chiloé- certainly a worthwhile stop for a taste of a Chile as one might imagine it. We couldn’t help but ask for a photo with these two Chilean strapping men in the Castro bus terminal:

Ally and I are convinced their horses were around the corner, with coffee bags, pisco and dried meats strapped alongside in satchels. 

We are returning to Puerto Varas in hopes of catching some sunshine to see the volcano views that were buried under fog and when we last passed through.

 ***

Things were looking promising when we checked into our hostel in the city centre of Puerto Varas and this was the view from next to my bed:

The sun made a spectacular day-long appearance and we got "the" photos of Volcan Osorno and Lago Todos Los Santos:

Before...back on 20 November

After! Saturday 26 November

The view of Osorno from the shores of Lago Todos Los Santos, near Petrohué 

Cruising Lago Todos Los Santos, with Vocal Osorno beyond. This is Ben, who we met on the beach while doing handstands. Ben is an American working here in Puerto Varas on an entrepreneurial fellowship.

As per the above photo, we met Ben on the beach and got on quite well- he also speaks better spanish than Ally and I- helpful in negotiating both a boat ride around the lake, but also our ride back to town with an entertaining man by the name of Carlos.

Saturday evening Ben was kind enough to host Ally and I at his flat in town, which happens to be in a big red barn owned by Vicki- the town's renowned chocolatier from whom we'd purchased chocolate during our earlier visit. It is a small town. We had a tasty dinner of homemade pizzas, more delicious Chilean wine, and a fluffy volcano cake to top it all off.

The three of us were joined by a fellow hostel-goer and Ben then showed us to a great bar tucked away off a main street offering $2 local beers and $4 pisco sours...and we had many of both, soon finding ourselves dancing the night away and making great use of our spanish (which Ally and I been practicing on our many bus rides) with the exceptionally friendly locals. It was an entirely unexpected evening with new friends in a beautiful town- we had a fantastic time!!

Sunday was a lazy morning with headaches keeping us bed ridden til mid day. I was due for my second rabies injection today, so headed to the town's main clinic, which happens to be private. I checked in at Urgencia (the emergency room) but was then told to head to another clinic at the edge of town. Ally and I trekked across town and eventually found the spot- a long squat building looking like an un-used elementary school. The doors stood half open, with rubbish and old wood and cardboard laying about in the entry vestibule. Up until this point, the word "Urgencia" on the faded front sign was the only indication that this was some sort of medical facility.

Ally and I stepped into a very dimly lit open waiting area with a half a dozen people sitting quietly on the few rows of chairs in the middle. To the right were two empty counters with chairs on the opposite side, devoid of any sign of use or purpose. Lining the back wall was a row of doors with big numbers- 14 and 16- and all sorts of papers and posters hung about. The centre columns were draped with tinsel and Christmas ornaments, with posters and pictures of children's cartoon characters here and there.

We stood in the centre of the entrance, taking in the room with a sure look of confusion. An older woman sitting to the left in the shadows said something and gestured toward door #14. I tried to interpret the endless signage but was overwhelmed and entirely confused. I still wasn't sure this was even the right place.

I knocked on door #14 and heard a man reply in spanish- I looked to the woman sitting in the shadow, seeking confirmation of an invitation to "come in,"... I didn't want to find myself walking into the middle of some sort of examination.

"Necesito una vacuna anti-rabica," I said, handing him my slips of papers from the hospital in Castro. He scanned the paper and turned to his computer, expressionless.

I stood next to his desk and noticed that behind him was an aging examination table buried under folders and loose papers. Phew, this was a medical facility.

He tapped away while I continued to stand. He invited me to sit down. He began chatting away to me in Spanish. I understood most of it, but was struggling to differentiate if anything he was saying was crucial medical information or just friendly small talk;

"Where are you from?"

"Canada."

"Where in Canada?"

"Toronto." 

"Is that the capital?" he asks. This is when I knew he was making small talk. Phew.

"No, Ottawa."

"Ottawa?"

"Yes, Ottawa."

"Ahh OTTawa."

"Yes."

There were bits and pieces that followed- I'm pretty sure he was asking if we have stray dogs in Canada etc etc... I like to think I navigated the conversation quite well. But I still wasn't sure what would happen next. He had printed something off, and that's when he handed me my papers, said something, and then pointed out the door to the waiting area.

I stared dumbly at him, the expression that says, "no comprende," as words seemed to have failed me at that moment.

He repeated himself, and I got the gist of it- wait out there and my name would be called.

I sat down next to Ally in the chairs and seconds later door #16 opened and a man in his early thirties dressed in blue scrubs stepped out and called my name.

This time I was sure to declare my incompetence in Spanish at the forefront, 'Hablo solo un poco espanol."

This guy was great- he spoke in Spanish, but nice and slowly and made sure I understood everything; reviewing the vaccine schedule with me (which actually spans over 28 days, not 18 as I originally thought), and confirming where I would be when I would next need the vaccine. He asked about the wound itself, and explained that they would alternate arms each time I got an injection.

He prepped the shot, injected, and handed me a new paper of similar form as my first one- a brief medical report. He smiled and nodded as I stood up to go, "Ciao," he said.

I shuffled out the door slowly, waiting for the instructions about where and how to pay. I heard not a word and sauntered to Ally in disbelief,

"I don't think I have to pay!" I whispered.

"Maybe you paid for all of them the first time?" she suggested.

Who knows... whatever the case, I was pleasantly surprised with the ease and efficiency of the whole process, and that it appeared I didn't have to pay. This was great news since a conversation with my travel insurance provider revealed that these subsequent injections are not covered as "they can be administered in my home country." Damn fine print.

 

Day 14: A lovely day turned rabid- Hospital de Castro.

25 November 2011

I have a history of spending time in new places and eventually making a trip to the local hospital, and Chile seems to be no exception.

Ally and I bumbled off this morning at a reasonable hour, headed for the shoreline town of Dalcahue and then on to Isla (Island) Quinchai. It rained (again), so neither town felt particularly inviting, that is until we came across some sort of children's parade through town. We had no idea what it was about, but they were asking for money and they looked darned cute so we gave them some coins:

Notice the stray dogs...

While on Isla Quinchai, we made a point of heading straight for the main attraction: the wooden church. It was closed.
And then it rained some more.
Fortunately our quiet morning was offset by a spectacular lunch at the end of the sea wharf in Dalcahue.

Recommended by the Canadian/Brit we had met at the hostal the prior evening, this restaurant on stilts is the town's best secret, offering dirt cheap seafood. No, I did not accidentally eat shrimp, but rather enjoyed a delicious serving of merluza, a light and fluffy white fish. Ally had a huge, tasty salmon. We shared a litre of beer and contentedly took in the cloudy and wet afternoon on the quiet water's edge.

Our return to Castro that afternoon was uneventful...until, at around 6pm, I decided to go for a run in the neighbourhood of our hostel. I set out down the quiet residential street, with the homes on my left perched over the sea on stilts, as was our hostal.

I will digress stlightly in saying that Chile has an abundance of stray dogs. More than I have ever seen elsewhere. They are of all shapes and sizes, and up until recently, they have proved entirely friendly and in many cases, very cute.

As I ran along, not 150m from the hostel doorstep in a quiet and safe neighbourhood, I was headed towards some stray dogs wandering the sidewalk and street. In my experience in Chile thus far, this was not uncommon and was no need to worry. They looked a bit rowdy and were fighting/play fighting with one another, and as I came closer, the pack of at least a dozen dogs shifted towards me.

I slowed my pace, recognising that dogs in a playful mood will interpret running as a summons to chase you. Alas, this did me no good, as seconds later I found myself surrounded by dogs averaging 100lbs and standing hip-high...and then I looked to my side just in time to see one bite me. In the arse.

I felt it immediately and shrieked- mostly in fear and in an attempt to draw attention for help, but also in pain.

My memory is a bit fear-blurred, but I dashed forward away from the dogs in my best attemt to deter them from further socialising/attacking. To my left was a small courtyard with a wrought iron fence in front of  a small home- I quickly scanned it to be sure there were no dogs in there and jumped over to try to gain some protection from the pack.

A small car had slowly driven past me not fifteen seconds before I was bitten and I looked up to road to see that my shriek and the commotion had caught the driver's eye. He was slowly reversing back toward me. The car stopped and the front two doors slowly opened- it became clear that the driver and front passenger had either seen what happened or understood from my panicky state behind the fence- and they peered out their car doors to be sure there were no other dogs nearby. A man and woman stepped out, hissing and yelling at the dogs as they scattered. The man waved to me and said something (in spanish...), which I assumed was an invitation to get in the car. I was not going to walk back, no matter how close I was to home.

They kept an eye on the dogs as I climbed in the back seat and met a girl about 13 years old perched next to me. I was teary eyed and in a lot of pain as she tried to smile and chat away with me in spanish.

"No hablo espanol," I said meekly, trying take deep breaths and keep my body from shaking. At this point I pulled up my shorts to assess the damage- it wasn't too bad, but it had broken the skin and was exceedingly sore. It felt like I had fallen on sharp ice.

As soon as I felt the bite my mind had immediately jumped to the possibility of rabies... and as I sat in the backseat of the car and saw the broken skin and blood from the teeth marks, my fears grew.

The man reversed the car toward the dog pack and seemed to be asking me to point out which dog it was. I scanned the pack from the car and spotted the one that I was quite certain had been the perpetrator. The woman had picked up a stone and threw it at the dog as he jumped a five foot fence into the small yard of the adjacent home. The couple got back in the car and drove me back the 100m to the hostel, during which they were chatting in agitated voices, clearly unsettled by what had happened and talking of a trip to the hospital. I was reassured by the fact that not only had they stopped, but that they didn't seem to be taking the incident lightly.

We stepped into the hostel where the man told the spanish-speaking receptionist what had happened.
Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers- walking back on my own would have been scary enough, let alone then having to recite the encounter in spanglish to this woman in an attempt to get help. She quickly called the hostel owner who was there within minutes and loaded Ally and I into his car to head for the hospital. Sebastian was incredibly concerened and took us to Hospital de Castro. He stuck around through the entire process- playing an essential role of translator while I just kept lilfting my shorts to show the damage of the arse bite.

I never waited more than 15minutes and was not asked to show any kind of insurance during the triage process- and while I had insurance documentation on me, I was pleased to see that the bite and possible rabies were of first and foremost concern.

According to Lonely Planet, "rabies is a viral infection of the brain and spinal cord that is almost always fatal. The rabies virus is carried in the saliva of infected animals and is typically transmitted through and animal bite, though contamination of any break in the skin with infected saliva may result in rabies. Rabies occurs in all south american countries."

The bite was cleaned and I was, through translation, given my options. It was a public hospital, and while it all seemed somewhat chaotic (and as one might imagine a remote island hospital to look like), I was efficiently seen and treated.

The doctor believed that the liklihood of my having contracted rabies was small. Despite the doctor recommending that I not take the rabies vaccination, I took the safe route (somewhat out of character...) and went ahead with it. The drawbacks to getting the treatment were minimal compared to the risk of rabies for life- so shots it was. I now must get one shot every three days (delivered in the upper arm) for six treatments. The treatment can be issued from any hospital, so I'm not entirely locked down here on the island of Chiloe. Ally and I look forward to our tour of Chile's medical centres! To my lovely surprise the entire hospital visit cost just under $30USD.

Sebastian was not only my helpful translator, but was kind enough to take me to the pharmacy to pick up some iodine and cotton swaps for the wound care. We then returned to the hostal neighbourhood where I braved a stroll "at the scene of the crime" in an effort to identify the pooch. Things were blurry in my memory, and they all began to look the same: scary, big, and german-sheppard-y.

We returned to the hostal, where while Ally cooked up a mean dinner, I relayed my story to Sebastian who then relayed it to the policeman who recorded a formal police report. I signed the report, after which the policeman told Sebastian that I might have to return for a courtdate. Bonita v. Dog.

Right.

In any case, I was exceptionally lucky with how relatively un-injured I was in the end; my rear end is certainly very tender and I can only half-sit at the moment, but a bite from a dog that size could have been much worse.

Furthermore, I couldn't have been luckier with the generous care of the man and woman driving by, or with the help of Sebastian in caring for me afterward. I don't think Ally's spanish photo-phrasebook would have gotten us through the hospital process quite as smoothly as Sebastian did. All the more incentive to work on my spanish in the event of another dog bite or similar encounter.

I'm safe and sound back at the hostal, having had a tasty dinner and enjoyed the company of strangers from around the world. It's almost like the whole thing never happened...thanks to the helpfulness of strangers, the quality care of the hospital staff, and Ally's level head at my side.

Just watch out for the dogs.

Day 13: Ancud to Castro

Wed 25 Nov

Mother nature relented this morning and gave us slightly less cloudy skies and eased up on the steady rainfall- this meant the fishermen would likely be at sea and that we would be able to catch a ride to see the penguins at Pinguinul.

Hostel Nuevo Mundo, Ancud, Chiloe

After a tasty breakfast at our lovely hostel overlooking the bay of Ancud, we were picked up by Jose in a four door Toyota sedan headed for the penguins. This was the cheapest “penguin tour” we came across and was recommended by a woman at a small tourist office in town who spoke fantastic English. The only difference: Jose only speaks Spanish.

Jose seemed to know oodles about the area as he made occasional stops along the way, pointing out various sights and bits of history.

Jose brought our attentino to some little piggies wandering on the roadside en route to the penguins.

Ally and I had recruited another girl from the hostel to join us- she speaks German, French, Spanish and English- and it was clear she understood much more of the tour than Ally or I. That said, we both surprised ourselves with how much we were able to absorb- from the details about the old train route on the island to various housing developments and facts about the island of Chiloe in general. We figure we’ll have five days in the bush during Torres del Paine hike to really refine our Spanish skills.

We weaved down some questionable roads, slogging through mud tracks that were at times over half a foot deep. Jose was a fantastic driver- especially in a family sedan. As we descended the hillside towards a small bay on the pacific, we came upon a tide stream where Jose confidently navigated us through 25m of sea water that was at times deeper than I thought the Toyota could handle. Once across, the “road” had become the beach, and we drove smoothly along the dark sand past a few fishing huts and cabanas.

We pulled up next to one such hut where a group of fisherman were milling around in their hip waders, with rows of 15ft wooden fishing boats sitting on the sand just beyond. With some time to kill before we set off toward the penguin colonies, we climbed up the nearby hills for a lovely vantage point of the bay and sea.

Penguin-watchers were shuttled to the fishing boat with a neat system:

We saw seals and sea otters and Magellan penguins and Humboldt penguins and all other sorts of interesting birds- the names of which I do not know as it was all in Spanish. The area was wet and cool and incredibly lush and green. They looked like little fantasy bird islands where the winged rule all, beautifully set just off the shores of Chiloe.

 It was a lovely morning that was finished off perfectly with empanadas from a tiny shop around the corner. Empanadas are apparently a South American modification of the British “pastie,” historically known as the miners lunch and consisting of meat and onion and potatoe stew held in a durable pocket of flaky pastry. The traditional South American empanada has a similar filling but comes with a much lighter tasting dough pouch. We enjoyed this super-economical lunch from the glassed-in porch of Hostal Nuevo Mundo, overlooking the Bay of Ancud and more cloudy (but rainless!) grey skies.

This afternoon we caught a bus south to Castro, the capital of Chiloe island and checked in at Palifito Hostel, perched on stilts over the tidal waters with a large kitchen and common area overlooking Palifitos Bay.

Hostal Palifito- the yellow building on the right.

Castro revived the rain upon our arrival and the rest of our afternoon/evening was spent wandering town under drizzly skies. I had to stop in at the pharmacy for some antihistamine... it seems I manage to lure insects as I've been bitten by what I think is a spider in a few places and the spots have led to quite significant swelling. The fact that I didn't know the spanish word for "antihistamine" did not concern me as all I had to do was show the pharmacists my swollen arm to which she gasped and nodded her head, turning away from the counter to quickly collect what I needed.

We had a late dinner back at the hostel and enjoyed the lively company of our fellow travelers- from Austria, USA and then a well-travelled Canadian/Brit who is six months into his retirement and knocking things off his to-do list...including a trip to Easter Island. We shared tasty Chilean wine and stories- including the Brit/Canadian's recent adventure to Bariloche, Argentina. Normally a popular tourist/resort town, Bariloche has been since been devestated and its tourism economy has collapsed thanks to the June 2011 volcanic eruption, leaving the town covered in dust and roadways banked with piles of ash.

Ciao for now.

Day 10-12: Puerto Varas, Ancud

Sun 20 Nov-Tues 22 Nov

We rolled out of Pucon on a quiet Sunday, leaving behind more cloud and fog. We left without ever really seeing the volcano in its entirety from the town centre. I suppose you can’t have good luck with both views and hikes.

The ride to Puerto Varas, known as the gateway to Patagonia, was 5.5 hours and almost entirely through rain. We arrived and headed toward our hostel, Casa Azul, a long blue (azul) house in a quiet residential area about 250m from Lago (lake) Llanquihue. On clear days, Puerto Varas offers stunning views of Osorno volcano and provides a comfortable base camp for accessing the nearby national parks and trails. About 60km from Puerto Varas sits Petrohué, a small town that was the start of Che Guerva’s teenage motorcycle journey through the Andes to Bariloche, Argentina. The route is now a popular tourist route and takes travelers across lakes, rivers and mountain highways. The first lake crossing begins at Petrohué, onto Lago Todos los Santos (“All Saints Lake”), known for its crystalline turquoise waters. Lago Llanquihue and Lago Todo los Santos used to be one lake, but lava flows from long-ago volcanic eruptions divided the two. Crossing Lago Todos los Santos offers views of the three surrounding volcanos (Osorno, Puntiagudo, and Tronador).

This all sounds lovely- when you can see it…and unfortunately it was pouring rain for most of our stay in Puerto Varas and we could see nothing more than a cloudy horizon.

On Monday we wandered town before catching a local minibus toward Petrohué to visit Los Saltos Petrohué, a set of waterfalls about 6km outside of Petrohué that offer an incredible vantage point of Volcano Osorno. Here’s a photo of this view on a clear day, courtesy of google images.

Here's what Ally and I saw:

Despite missing out of the view, we had a nice time on the minibus practicing our spanish with the driver. Ally said he reminded her of Postman Pat, a British children’s storybook character that knows the whole town and is all chipper and friendly. Our bus driver was the Chilean equivalent, exchanging hugs and kisses with many of the passengers as they got on and off along the way.

We were warned that Chilean spanish would only become more difficult do understand the further south we traveled, and this was also the case with “Pat” the bus driver. He was keen to point out various things along the way, narrating the drive. He often finished sentences with what seemed to be questions… I can only imagine, “Did you see that?” “Do you have that in Canada?” and “What did you think of those?” … I resorted to nodding and smiling, numerous “si’s,” and then just giving thumbs up.

Ally had spotted some llamas out the window and the driver was kind enough to open the door to allow for a better view. Thanks Pat.

We were back in town by 6:30pm and ran a few more errands before heading back to the hostel to cook dinner. It turns out that Uncle Rob and Aunt Cindy would be in Puerto Varas as part of a tour group in the next few days, staying at a hotel not 200m from our hostel. Unfortunately Ally and I were booked to head further south the following morning, so we would be missing them. I put together a little ‘bienvenidos’ package and left it at their hotel overlooking the lake.

Our hostel was one of the more…shall we say…formal of the places we have stayed thus far. It is run by a German-Chilean family and has imported the German inclination for rule making and systems and structure. This included a request that men pee sitting down, with diagram mounted above the toilet and all.

Casa Azul had a lovely wood- furnished interior and large open kitchen with soothing massage music (think waterfalls, Chinese chimes etc) playing softly in the background. The place was decked out with copper too; from the radiant heaters to toilet roll holders to clothing racks and shower curtain rods. The kitchen and common area lighting system was an electrified loop of copper with individual LED (or halogen?) bulbs connected to spiralled copper, hooked and hanging directly from the main line. With the value of copper these days, it all seemed quite lavish and was certainly a unique feature. Ally and I were given la cueva, which we think translates to “the attic.” It was a large space and we enjoyed the luxury of two double beds- but the tin roof took some adjusting given the endless rain.

Ally, coming up the hatch into la cueva, our attic space in Puerto Varas.

This morning I went for a quick run along the lake, the clouds and fog still hiding the supposed volcano. Ally was in town and picked up some postcards showing the view we have missed out on. We packed up and caught our bus heading south to the town of Ancud on the island of Chiloé which is known for it’s quirky culture and spectacular scenery. Lonely Planet 2009 listed Chiloé as one of the top ten destinations (in the world), so we’re anxious to see what it has to offer!

Chiloé welcomed us with more rain, this time paired with blustering winds.

We wandered through town and visited the local folk/history museum. The people of Chiloé are known for their Chilote mythology, which was featured as an exhibit in this museum.

A mural in the town of Ancud illustrating some of the Chilote mythology

While the museum was in spanish, Ally and I were able to work out the gist of most of the little placards. I read aloud the description of one of the mythical creatures to Ally:

"A man who lives in a cueva and eats horses and children that are sick." I went on, "A cueva! He must have lived in an attic as well?" I asked Ally, referring back to the name of our room at the previous hostel.

"I guess so...?" she replied.

While uploading this post I was curious and googled the definition of cueva and learned that cueva does not mean attic.

A cueva is a cave. We were delegated the "cave" room at the hostel.

Hardley endearing. But it certainly makes for a better fit with the description of a mythical man who eats children.

Our fingers are crossed that tomorrow will bring sun- or even just less wind and rain- and we can make a trip over to the penguin colony. Tomorrow  (Wednesday) evening we head even further south on the island of Chiloé, where the culture and Chilote mythology are said to be even more prevalent.- to the town of Castro.