Patagonia Indomita

Santiago and I started off on the wrong foot. I spent one hour and a half at the airport. There was a line to get a visa, another line to get through passport control, and the 3rd one - customs. I ended up going through the passport line twice, because I failed to get the visa first. The customs officers took my beef jerky and trail mix, because I stupidly declared that I had meats and fruit in the customs form. The next ordeal was to find and use an international phone card to call back home. A very friendly young man who helped me make the call (the first and the last one, for I was not able to use the card anywhere outside of the airport) turned out to be a taxi hustler, and he put me in a taxi for which I paid twice the going rate. I knew I was being ripped off, but was too exhausted to try and find another taxi. Ok, my misadventures at the airport were not per se the city's fault. I also have to admit that I dislike big cities in general, and don't do well in hot weather, and it was hot in Santiago: 80° F. Since I only had this day in Santiago, and another one on my way back, I decided to take a bus tour of the city with TourisTour. I was hot and tired, and did not quite enjoy the tour. My main impression: little lawns in the middle of the streets that the guide proudly called parks, on which young couples were lying down next to stray dogs. From the window of the bus, I watched a man chasing a little man. The little man collapsed in epileptic convulsions in the middle of the road. Someone picked him up, carried him to the sidewalk and dropped him there. I do vaguely remember seeing nice places, like Cerro Santa Lucia, and the Cathedral. We did not stop at the central market. I wish I could revisit the city in cooler weather, and explore it on my own, at my own pace. I am sure I would have liked it more under different circumstances. About the food. I had lunch at Como Agua Para Chocolate, with its very fancy and bright interior. The sea bass flambéed in rum looked very dramatic, but somehow the wonderful flavour of this fish was totally absent from it. I had seafood on a couple of other occasions in Chile, and had similar experience: it was fresh and good quality, but tasted more like boiled rather than broiled or grilled. Chilean cooking reminded me of Russian cuisine, where the main spices are salt and pepper, and garlic if you want to get exotic. Another restaurant, Telar, was recommended to me for dinner by a hotel receptionist. When I got there, it turned out that they were having a private party at the restaurant that night. The owners, husband and wife, apologized, and tried to suggest different days and times for me to come back. When I told them that I won't be able to do so, the wife offered to walk me to another restaurant owned by a friend of theirs: Lazul Profundo. There I was whisked past a waiting line and sitted at a small table on the second floor with a stream of cold air blasting from somewhere between the wall and the floor. Soon I had a huge heap of miscellaneous seafood on my plate that I had nobody to share with, and a glass of wine. That's one of the disadvantages of travelling alone: eating in a restaurant in a strange city by yourself is not fun, at least not for me. Though I have a girl friend who in a similar situation would start a conversation with a stranger at the next table, and would be sampling food from his plate five minutes later, all by a way of totally innocent socializing. By the time I got back to the hotel, I was slightly depressed, and had to keep reminding myself that my vacation destination is Patagonia, and Santiago is just a stopover. I liked Hotel del Patio. It had character, my room had a window I could open, and there was a terrace facing a plaza (Patio Bellavista) with a lot of little shops and restaurants. The only problem was the non-stop noise outside. During the day, when I tried to take a short nap after lunch, there were sounds from the street traffic and construction sites. Then later in the evening the party started at the bars with outside tables, and the chatter and laughter went on till about 5am. I think there was a short period of relative calm, and then the traffic and construction noises resumed. Luckily, I was tired and slept relatively well, waking up from time to time to the noise, and falling back asleep.

The next morning I flew to Punta Arenas. I could not wait to see those ropes along the sidewalks I read about, and to experience the famous Patagonian winds and rain. No such luck. It was 60F, sunny and calm. The street that led into town from the airport had what I thought was an unusually high number of monuments of all kinds, including "Monumento petroleum". I also remember passing a little plaque dedicated to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I did a quick search on the internet when I got back home, and found out that Saint-Exupéry "...spent much of his career in South America with Air France..." and wrote a book Night Flight, "... Set in Patagonia, about a mail flight between Punta Arenas and Buenos Aires...". As a side effect of this research I also learned that Punta Arenas "..offered a refuge for World War II Nazi criminal Walter Rauff who designed trucks to poison Jewish prisoners in. He continued his career by designing concentration camps for Pinochet and ran a meat processing plant in Punta Arenas..". Hmm, an interesting little town. I am glad I was unaware of this fact when I was there. I checked in into Chalet Chapital, and walked into town to look around and to have lunch. I asked a local man on the street where I can have some real Chilean food, and was given directions to just that kind of place. As I was following the directions, I noticed that my surroundings were looking more and more deserted, and less and less respectable. When I reached my destination, I hesitantly walked into the 1st floor of the building with the restaurant sign on it, and was driven out by a smell that was hardly appetizing. I found my way back to the center, and had a very good congrio eel for lunch at Sabores. Back at the hotel I overcame my contempt for organized excursions leftover from Santiago, and asked the clerk if she could recommend any. Luckily for me, she came up with a trip to the Otway Penguin colony, and one hour later a van picked me up from the hotel. My companions on the trip were a young man from Japan, who quit his job 1.5 month ago, and had been travelling around the world since then, and a Dutch couple, who had been travelling for 8 months, and seen three different kinds of penguins before coming to the Otway colony. That made me contemplate my own ratio of working to vacation days, and it seemed too high. Fortunately, there also was a government worker from Santiago staying on business in Punta Arenas who had to go back to work on Monday. There were dunes, wind, water, and steppe at Seno Otway. There I finally felt that my Patagonia vacation started for real. A complimentary shot of mango sour before heading back into town made me feel even better.

On Monday morning I noticed a little board in the reception area with the schedule of local museums. Feeling bad about having wasted some of my day yesterday aimlessly roaming the streets, I decided to make up for it in whatever little time I had left. Earlier I got a message from Cascada that I would be picked up from the hotel about 11:30 am. Given the time restrictions, my only option was Museum of Patagonia. A taxi dropped me off at the museum at 9:10am, and was picking me up at 10am. It was a great little museum, a few original houses packed with artifacts from the old days. I would love to have a brochure with the pictures of it all. The man who opened the exhibition houses for me (I was the only visitor) did not speak any English, and my Spanish was rudimentary. I spent probably half of my precious time there trying to find out where I could buy a brochure. From round one of our discussion on the subject I drew a conclusion that there were no brochures. Why? Because the staff of the museum is too busy to take pictures, and the tourists prefer the pictures they take themselves, anyway. Good for the tourists, but I only had one battery, and no power adapter, so I was not about to waste the juice photographing a museum. After I ran through the exhibition, I resumed the conversation with the custodian about brochures of the museum. It transpired that there was a library where I could buy books. I was led to the library, and found a lot of thick historical books with a lot of dry text and very few pictures. Not being academically inclined, I did not buy any. By the time I got back to the hotel, the Cascada van was already waiting for me. In the van there were my future teammates and our two guides: Roberto and Hernan. It was a relief to stop worrying about my sightseeing schedule: now it was all in the hands of Cascada people. From the first moments I knew that ours were the greatest guides, and I didn't have to worry about a thing as long as they were around. I liked the relaxed pace that our guides set from the start. In Puerto Natales we had about 2 hours lunch at a little restaurant, La Pampa. It did not look like much from the outside, but the food was great: it tasted like a home-cooked meal. We stopped at the cave of Milodon before leaving Puerto Natales. I can't say much about it other than it was a big cave. I lack the imagination to get excited about the fact that a big sloth was inhabiting it at some point. It was great to have a preview of Patagonia through the window of the van. The colors of pampas, lakes, and snow-covered mountains made me feel happy. We passed horses, sheep, and cows grazing freely in this vast land. We got to see some wild life, too: guanacos, pink flamingos, and other unnamed birds. Finally, we were at EcoCamp. Roberto proudly showed us the three-chamber compost toilet system. He encouraged us to pee in the woods to make it more efficient. I thought that contradicted a previous recommendation to stay on the wooden paths (at least as far as women were concerned). The good life continued. The first night established the ritual for the remaining nights at EcoCamp: drinks and appetizers before dinner in the sitting dome. After the first few minutes that it took for the drinks to take effect the dome was abuzz with conversations. A dinner with red wine followed. The food was good and plentiful, though not a gourmet quality (with the exception of cream of asparagus soup we had on our first night). The sleeping domes looked less glamorous than in the pictures on the Cascada web site, but the bed was very comfortable, with warm blankets. And, to top it all, we had a spectacular view of the Towers.

The first day was planned as an easy one, and we did not leave the camp until 10 am. We enjoyed a good breakfast and took time packing our lunches, picking and choosing from the variety of foods that was spread on a table for us. Not that I ever felt rushed by our guides, even on the days when we had to stick to a schedule. The porters left ahead of us, carrying the dry bags with our overnight stuff for our stay at the refugios. It was smart of Cascada to set up a slow pace for the first day: all my senses were overwhelmed, and I wanted to take it all in slowly: the colors of the water and the mountains, the smells of flowering plants, the sounds of birds. I could not believe that so much beauty could be concentrated in one land; it almost seemed unfair to other places. In Virginia I would hike for hours through pretty much the same landscape, and be rewarded with a view of a tiny dried-out stream that was supposed to be a waterfall. Here there was something new to admire every few feet: a different shape or streak of color in a mountain, a waterfall, a flower, a bird. You walk another few feet, and see (and then hear) an avalanche of snow coming done a mountain. I was torn between desire to keep moving in order to see more, and wanting to take pictures of everything (though I was never big on picture taking; I had not even owned a camera before the trip). Generous bright growth of the fire bush set the general festive tone, but there were plenty of other, more subtle, flowering plants. We stopped for lunch at a place where a stream was flowing into the lake. There I admired a great variety of arrangements put together by nature: water, stones, and wild flowers. The weather was great, too. It was sunny all day. I was so grateful for all of this that I started picking up garbage from the trail, and carried it in Ziploc bags. I was hoping that this would make the gods of Patagonia happy, and they would continue to grant us good weather. I even was picking up toilet paper. My teammates probably thought I was crazy when I explained the idea to them, but the guides seemed to be approving of it. We reached Refugio Los Cuernos with its attractive cabins about 4pm. It was set in a great spot, with a waterfall of its own. I could see the waterfall and the lake from the porch of my cabin.

We had an early breakfast. I got to try mate and liked it right away: it was slightly bitter, and tasted a little bit of green tea and wood smoke. This was the longest day of all. We left Refugio Los Cuernos at 9am, and got to Refugio Paine Grande at 8pm. The feast of the senses continued. More avalanches, waterfalls, flowers, and mountain views. We also saw condors and parakeets. There were numerous other birds, and our guides were always able to name them (a lot of times, both in Spanish and English). It was sunny the first half of the day, with the temperature reaching 70Ëš F. There were a few sprinkles later on, and windy in some spots, but pleasant for the most part. I did not continue my garbage collection activities because I did not want to slow down the group on this long hike. Besides, my delirium somewhat subsided, and I was terrified that I might contract (if had not already done so) some fatal disease from the toilet paper. In the middle of the day we split in two groups. I went with the group that chose to do a longer hike, all the way up the valley. The other group proceeded to the refugio shortly after we split. Two of my teammates got incredibly lucky: they saw two deer, and took pictures of one of them. Our guides told us that it is almost impossible to spot deer in the French Valley. After a while I started questioning my decision to go on the longer hike - my boots were too heavy and too big for me, and my little toes felt like they were about to fall off. But when we reached the highest point of our destination of the day, the panoramic view of the Paine Massif, my doubts disappeared. I was also convinced that the drink of mate I had in the morning helped me get through the day. Refugio Paine Grande offered a simple but nutritious meal. There I tasted for the first time one of the greatest products of Punta Arenas: dark Austral Ale, Yagan, made with pure Patagonian water. Our accommodations at Refugio Paine Grande were different from the nights before: we had a room with three sets of bunk beds. One of my roommates warned us of his imminent snoring and gave out five pairs of ear plugs. I was exhausted enough to sleep well without them.

It started raining at night, and continued into the morning. We left the refugio at 9am under a steady rain. Fortunately, the rain stopped forty minutes later, and it was just overcast for the rest of the day, with the sun showing up occasionally. We got the preview of Grey the lake and Grey the glacier while hiking to the northern end of the lake. I was savoring the fact that on Thanksgiving Day I was hiking in the beautiful surroundings of mountains, water and ice, instead of watching the meat thermometer pop out of the turkey. We spent about two hours on the boat that took us across the lake, admiring the deep blue of the glacier and the sculptured icebergs floating in the water. There on the boat I tasted Scotch for the first time in my life. It was good, and I am sure the ice from the lake made it even better. On the boat I heard Russian speech for the first (and last time) while in Patagonia. There were two Russian businessmen enjoying the fruits of their new riches. I chatted with them for a while. Looks like the Russians have not quiet discovered this part of the world yet. Back on land, we lingered for a while in the lobby of Hotel Lago Grey waiting for our ride back to EcoCamp. We could still see the ice beauty out the big window.

We knew this would be a strenuous day. We were to leave the camp at 8:30 am and return around 6 pm. Three of my teammates decided instead to treat themselves to the life of luxury and use services of the hotel neighboring with EcoCamp. That involved a horseback ride, massage and drinks in the bar. The rest of us set off on a hike to the base of the Towers. The weather was nice again. We got to enjoy the view of Ascencio Valley and Ascencio River throughout the hike. Saw new birds: falcons, a pair of torrent ducks sitting on a rock in the middle of rapids. These ducks feed by swimming and diving in white water. Our guide Hernan continued to amaze us with his extensive geological knowledge of the surrounding landscape. It was fun going up the moraine, trying to figure out which sequence of stones would provide the easiest and safest path. We could see snow falling down the mountains far from us, and though it was sunny on the moraine, there were tiny specs of snow sparsely floating in the air. Finally, the culmination of the day: lunch above the lake at the base of the Towers, the famous symbol of the Nacional Park Torres del Paine. We had a perfect view, unobscured by clouds. Though I personally would not have been terribly disappointed if the view weren't so good, considering that we had been able to admire the Towers from EcoCamp every morning and evening of our stay there. However, our guides told us about their previous experience with tourists who happened to hike to the Towers on a cloudy day and behaved like children left without dessert, blaming the guides for the bad weather! On a more interesting note, we also heard stories about climbers trying to accomplish "the chain" - climbing up and down from one tower to another. By the end of the day I was pretty tired, but felt elated. My feelings at the moment could be summed up in these words: "Lord, take me now: I've seen Patagonia!"

I woke up to a temperature of 45°F inside my dome. I warmed myself up by chasing giant hares on the outskirts of the camp, trying to get close enough to them to take a picture. During the day the temperature rose up to 60°F, which seemed to be the daily average of my stay in Patagonia. This was the day of relaxation. We rode in the Cascada van visiting lagoons and lakes, getting out for short leisurely hikes. We started observing the wild life from the windows of the van. We saw what looked like a mating dance (or was it two males?) of guanacos. Someone with sharp eyes (probably one of the guides) spotted an ostrich chasing a fox on a hill in time for the rest of us to watch it. The lake-side hills offered a study in green - there were so many different shades of it. As much as I liked looking up at the surroundings, there was a lot going on the ground, too: a great variety of delicate wild flowers, grasses, bushes, and stones covered with lichen and moss. It occurred to me that even if I were struck by some ailment that forced me to keep my head down for that entire day, I would still have enjoyed it immensely. Green bush (Mata verde) looked like it was coming back to life from the dead, with its green branches sprawling out in the midst of grey ones. Fancy flowers of Little Shoe of the Virgin (Zapatito de la Virgin) showed up here and there, surrounded by less glamorous but equally intriguing plants. This was a guanaco kingdom (ruled by the invisible pumas). The sentinels watched out from the distance for the rest of the herd, which did not seem to be too alarmed by the proximity of the humans. My tranquil flower gazing on a hill was interrupted by a teammate calling my name. When I looked up, I found myself within a few hundred feet from a big guanaco running down the hill and spewing an impressive fountain of spit. For a moment I thought I was about to be drowned and/or run over by the beast. Luckily, he did not change his direction, while I was hurrying back to the van. Of course the birds were present in a great variety. I only took note of a couple of names: Black-faced Ibis (Bandurria), Southern Lapwig (Quetehue), Kara-Kara. On the shores of Laguna Amarga we got to see a flock of pink flamingos taking off. The last site of the day was Salto Grande, a gorgeous waterfall. It starting drizzling by the time we reached it. The light rain matched the mood of the last hike of the trip: a walk from the waterfall to the van that would take us back to EcoCamp. The last dinner at EcoCamp featured lamb barbeque, as promised. Of course our vegetarian teammate was offered a tasty alternative, as always. We were in the party mood after dinner, and stayed up late in the sitting dome. Our hopes of dancing were not realized, for the lack of a CD player or any other way of producing music (that was the only shortcoming of EcoCamp). So we just drank wine and talked. Ours was a group of 12 people: 8 Americans, 2 Australians, and 2 Londoners. We all got alone well, despite the language barrier. By the end of the trip I could understand about 80% of the Australian speech, though still had trouble with the Welsh accent of one of the Londoners. I am sure my teammates had their share of difficulties deciphering my English with a Slavic accent.

We left EcoCamp in the van, accompanied by our guides. We stopped for lunch at La Pampa in Puerto Natales. I hate to say it, but I liked the lamb I had there better than the one on the previous night at EcoCamp. We also had time for some souvenir shopping at one of the town's little shops: Ñandú. I had a hard time leaving the place - there were so many good authentic hand-made things, not some gaudy stuff that you see in tourist traps around the world. At the airport in Punta Arenas Roberto made sure we all got our boarding passes before saying good bye to us. My next seat neighbor on the plane was a man from Santiago coming back from a visit with his son in Puerto Natales. We talked the entire time, he trying out his beginner English, and I torturing him with my Spanish I. We took turns looking out the window when the plane was flying over Torres del Paine, which we both had just visited. By the end of the day, I was back at Hotel del Patio, Santiago, where I could once again enjoy the sounds of the relentless night life.

I was determined to get some enjoyment out of the city on my last day there. I had a leisurely breakfast on the terrace of the hotel overlooking the Patio. That was a good start. What's next? Visiting a museum or two sounded like a good idea, that way I would stay indoors, and escape the heat. Unfortunately, as a very friendly young man at the calling center informed me, all museums were closed, as they always are on a Monday, with the exception of the museum of Interior arts (or something like that). So I set out walking on the streets to my destination, with the temperature rising steadily to 80° F. I got there only to find out that there were no exceptions to the rule: the museum was closed. That was it: I took a taxi back to the hotel and decided to dedicate the rest of my day to souvenir shopping within the confines of Patio Bellavista. Souvenir shopping is not exactly my favorite pastime, but once again I was pleasantly surprised by the variety and the quality of the goods offered by the little gift shops. My usual cause of anxiety when buying souvenirs is trying to decide which objects on display I disliked the least. Here my problem was that I wanted to buy everything, and in big quantities. I found the prices reasonable, too. However, I decided to try out the advice my Spanish teacher, a Colombian native, gave me: never agree to the first price offered, always haggle. To my surprise, it did work. I was very pleased with my success, and decided to reward myself with a lunch at La casa en el aier. Fittingly enough, the restaurant was named after a Colombian song by the owners upon their return home from an exile in Colombia. The salmon empanadas were delicious, and reminded me of similar Russian pastries. I did some more shopping after lunch. By 5 pm I felt like I fulfilled all my touristy duties and was ready to leave the country.