Frutillar-Valdivia

It was slightly cold in the night because the beautiful slow combustion stove was in the hall. As in Puerto Montt, it also served for cooking. The old lady who served breakfast looked Germanic. There were many Germanic-sounding names for factories and companies.

I went to sit by the lake but there was a constant wind. A dog beckoned me to play with it by rolling in the grass. There were a bunch of Pentecostalists at the jetty. Frutillar hosts a music festival (page in Spanish) every summer and the logo is a downward minim with a stave line through it, suggesting the f of Frutillar. Very clever. It is probably very pleasant, but I was 3 months too early. There wasn't much to do so I decided to press on to Valdivia. I caught a colectivo to the highway at Frutillar Alto to spare myself an uphill walk.

The land by the highway looked like cattle country. Valdivia didn't look attractive at entry. First car spare part shops, then turning into shoe stores and so forth. Lots of shopping in the centre. And too much traffic. A foretaste of Santiago? There seemed to be a large number of young people. I think it was due to the Universidad Austral, one of Chile's seven original universities. The students had also injected culture to the city. I did not attract undue attention. Maybe they were used to seeing foreign faces. The plaza was under restoration, but the lights worked and came on in the evening. There was a lot of building activity: restorations, demolitions, and construction. People seemed to be getting ahead in the free market, wheeling and dealing.

I had a lunch of a club sandwich at Dino's. Nothing special. Later I had cappuccino and cake at a patisserie. Also nothing special. In the evening I bought some of those cheap bananas. The residencial's dueña  looked Germanic too. No hot water in the shower in the evening, hopefully in the morning.

Puerto Montt-Frutillar

Puerto Montt was settled by German immigrants in the mid-19th century. I had a half day to spend before moving on to Frutillar just 50 km north, on the shore of Lago Llanquihue, facing Osorno volcano. I wanted to visit the fish markets at Angelmó (page in Spanish). So I left my backpack in storage and caught the bus.

Angelmó is separated by a narrow strait from the island of Tenglo (page in Spanish), where the large cross I saw the day before is located. There is a casual rowboat ferry to the island.

The cross was erected after a visit by the pope. There is a small chapel too. But mainly I wanted to have a panoramic view of the city and the hinterland. The day was clear and I could see Osorno in the distance. I was very lucky as it rains a lot in this region.

The island was not used for any other purpose and there were large clumps of yellow gorse.

At the fish market there were many stalls and restaurants on palafitos. It was extremely competitive with vendors trying to outshout each other. I had a small meal of crab which wasn't cheap but not horribly expensive either. It was served with an aji sauce containing tomatoes, cilantro (coriander), aji peppers, onions and water. I was to encounter cilantro often in Chile.

Back at the centre, I had some ice cream in a shopping centre, and walked through a department store. I noted that fruit was ridiculously cheap, for example, a 3 kg bunch of bananas sold for 500 pesos, about 1.25 USD at the time.

Municipal slogan: No confunda su ciudad con suciedad (don't mess up your city with rubbish).

The bus dropped me off at Frutillar Alto and I walked the 2 km downhill to Frutillar Bajo. There were pretty vistas from the roadside.

I found the Hospedaje Trayén. The room was ok but there was no hot water, so I reported that. It was still the off-season and quiet in the town.

Sunset was about 2030, so at about 2015 I took a walk to the esplanade and on the jetty. The beach was of dark volcanic sand. There were only two couples around besides me. It's not often you get to overnight in a place with a volcano at your doorstep, well, across the lake. The rays of the dying sun illuminated the snow cone and when the sun dropped below the horizon it was as if a switch had been snapped off. I was half expecting floodlights to come on at the volcano.

Dinner at the Club Alemán was excellent which was fortunate because I didn't have much choice as it looked like the only eatery open. I started with a cazuela de ave (chicken soup/stew) and for the main I had congrio frito (fried eel) with papas fritas (potato fries). It was filling because of the soup.

Chiloé

It was warm and cozy in the residencial and I would have liked to sleep in, but the weather was fine so I had to go to the island of Chiloé while I had the chance because the weather in the crossing could be contrary. Breakfast, which included homemade bread, was taken in the residencial's kitchen, where a large wood fire stove served both for cooking and warming the whole room. The owner's family was present and family and guests ate together.

A story by Bruce Chatwin was also responsible for my interest in Chiloé. The island has a rich mythology from indigenous religions that survived the Spanish invasion due to the isolation of the island from the mainland. Chile is a thin country, and towards the south breaks up into islands accessible only by sea. Puerto Montt is the end of Route 5 on the mainland; the ferry link and the main highway on Chiloé are a continuation of Route 5.

At the bus station who should I bump into again but the same group of 9 travellers also going to Chiloé. They however left the bus at Ancud, while I continued to Castro, the provincial capital. A German youth with an Air Iberia bag was saying goodbye to relatives. (As the name suggests, many Germans settled in the region.) A cocker spaniel whimpered in a cage. Would it suffer in the hold for the journey to Santiago?

A huge white cross on the bluff overlooking the harbour was visible from Route 5. The bus drove onto the ferry. (The same company ran both.) The channel crossing over the deep blue water was pleasant. Chileans smiled easily, were curious about visitors and friendly. An agricultural student on the bus told me hay que hacer todos (we have to be jacks of all trades). There was a blonde, all powder and lipstick, from Santiago, and her companion. 

I was very fortunate with the weather, it was an abnormally sunny day. The landscape was lush and green. Hedges of yellow phlox brightened up the scene. The wet fields and mud showed that the weather could be bad on other days. I fetched up in Castro. Everything in town seemed just a little broken down. Poor people seemed to be more prevalant on Chiloé. There was an artisan market near the waterfront. I was tempted but decided to wait until Santiago to buy any souvenirs.

At the waterfront were palafitos (stilt dwellings), which are typical of Castro. With directions from a local I found Donde Eladio, a restaurant serving curanto, a regional specialty. It was a very filling lunch.

The cathedral of Castro is painted salmon pink and blue. The exterior is metal sheeting. You can see on one side that they were soliciting donations for repairs.

A schoolkid mural expressed concern about the environmental impact of salmon farming. A girl in a pastry shop was visibly curious about me.

On the return journey I got a view of the ferry going the other direction framed against Osorno volcano in the background.

Across the Andes

Ok, prepare yourself for a feast of photos. Crossing the Andes was the peak, both in terms of altitude and metaphorically, of my trip.

I got up early to walk to the travel agency where we were put in a bus to Puerto Pañuelo which is the port of Llao Llao. There we boarded a catamaran.

The catamaran headed west on the western arm of the lake called Blest.

Except for the throb of the catamaran, there was perfect silence, with the majestic peaks watching us impassively.

The catamaran dropped us off at the small village of Puerto Blest (page in Spanish) at the western end.

From there we were taken by bus to Lago Frías (page in Spanish), an isolated lake, where we boarded a small ferry.

Here the silence was even more profound, and the turquoise cloak over the scenery made us feel like we had intruded upon a slumbering icy world.

We chugged across the lake to Puerto Alegre. This was our last stop in Argentina.

There we said goodbye to Argentina at the customs checkpoint. A beautiful white cat was glad of a little excitement from the tour group of the day. By the way it's not a gleaming holy cat, just the slide film being intolerant of whites.

From there we were taken by bus 29 km through the pass to Peulla (page in Spanish). This is looking back towards Argentina.

And a few metres away, this is the Vicente Pérez Rosales National Park of Chile welcoming us. Naturally some of the passengers couldn't resist making snowballs.

At Peulla we cleared immigration and had a break for lunch at the eponymous hotel. The food was rather expensive, I suppose they have a monopoly, so I was glad that I had brought my own lunch.

There was also free time to walk around the area and admire a small waterfall nearby.

Then we boarded a catamaran that took us west across Lago Todos los Santos to Petrohué.

We were now west of the continental divide and the weather was sunnier. Note the Chilean flag at the stem.

We also had a commanding presence towering over us now. We were in volcano country and this is the near perfect cone of Osorno.

Can you tell that I was sufficiently impressed by it to take a second portrait?

Along the way we were treated to waterfalls.

There was a group of travellers with us, comprising 3 English girls, 2 New Zealanders, 1 Australian, 1 Swiss, 1 German and a Dutch tour guide. Apparently their travel arrangement was semi-flexible; members could join the group for parts of the tour and go solo for others. At this juncture, the Dutch guide had her back to the waterfall. She looked around and said irritably oh the f**king waterfall. I suppose she was jaded as it wasn't her first time.

I also bumped into a traveller I had met back at Puerto Valdés. There were also a NY resident with an Argentinian parent, and two Spanish couples, one from yesterday's excursion. The catamaran was full, as there were many USAn tourists and their guides.

Lago Todos los Santos is comparable in size to Nahuel Huapi so this cruise took a couple of hours.

The lake waters leave via the Petrohué River, but not before tumbling down Petrohué Waterfalls, which is dammed by basaltic lava from the Osorno volcano.

It was getting late in the day, hence the gloom.

We arrived in Puerto Montt about 2000. It was on daylight saving time so it was still light. I got some cash from an ATM and then walked to the Residencial Urmeneta. Who should I bump into there but the group of 9 from the catamaran.

I checked in then went for dinner. I found a meal of Paila Marina (seafood stew) at the La Nave. It had a chorizo on top, was delicious and cheap but a bit salty and there was grit in the mussels. In general meals were cheaper in Chile compared to Argentina.

I bought some groceries before calling it the end of a marvelous day. I found that fruit was also cheap.

Lake Nahuel Huapi

The weather was still windy and rainy when I made my way to the jetty to join a Lake Nahuel Huapi excursion. Four Israeli girls joined the excursion too. They were travelling around South America, except for Brazil and the northern part of the continent.

I had reservations whether the weather would allow me to see much but it turned out well. The wind chill on the top deck was extreme but the scenery was fantastic.

The catamaran picked up more passengers from Llao Llao, where I had been yesterday.

Our first stop was to Peninsula Quetrihué to see the forest of arrayanes with their cinnamon and white coloured bark.

It's possible to take a chair lift to the summit for part of the hike, but we preferred to walk. It wasn't that strenuous anyway. The wooden path protects the soil from compaction by visitors.

Here's a close up of the bark. The sun was out by this time, brightening up the day.

The trees in this national park are up to several hundred years old. The sign next to the log section is asking visitors in Spanish to guess: How old am I?

The views from the top of the peninsula were fantastic, and some of most memorable scenes of the whole trip. Unfortunately I finished a roll of slide film at this point and realised that I had not brought along a spare roll, so this postcard-perfect scene was taken on print film, so not as good as the slides.

Another great view.

Someone repeated a rumour that the catamaran was leaving soon from the jetty at the other end of the hike and this got the girls worried so we descended, but the rumour turned out to be false. So a couple of the girls whiled away the time dancing on the jetty.

I spent the break sitting on top of the catamaran soaking in the sunshine and admiring the scenery. Some gulls came looking for handouts but they were too suspicious to accept from outstretched hands.

The return journey was uneventful. In the evening I packed my backpack and bought some groceries for breakfast as an early start was required for the crossing to Chile the next morning.

Bariloche

Civic centre with statue of General Julio Roca

The morning started cold and rainy. San Carlos de Bariloche is an alpine town; it's sometimes called the Switzerland of Argentina. Many of the early settlers were Austrians, Germans, Italians, etc, from the alpine region of Belluno. Another similarity: chocolates are made here. I was glad that the hotel served breakfast, even if just toast and tea, because I didn't have to go searching for an eatery on an empty stomach first thing on a cold morning.

I took the bus to Llao Llao Hotel, about 15 km out of the centre, to see more of Lago Nahuel Huapi. Being a glacial lake, it plumbs great depths. The scenery was lovely, but I needed every layer of clothing I wore: singlet, shirt, the jersey I bought in Baires, jacket, and raincoat on top to keep the water out. To make things worse, there was a stiff wind chilling my face.

The hotel had recently undergone a makeover. Clinton had stayed at the hotel during his recent visit. I would have to win the lottery to afford a night here.

I took a walk in the surrounds to look for regional wildlife. I caught a glimpse of the Patagonian hare, too brief to take a picture. These ducks were feeding on the hotel grounds.

It was very quiet and deserted as it was election Sunday. After a while I got tired of the cold and walked back to the terminus, a petrol station, and caught a bus back to the centre. I also decided to forgo visiting Colonia Suiza (page in Spanish) which, as the name indicates, was settled by Swiss immigrants.

Back in town, I treated myself to an inexpensive but tasty lunch of merluza (hake) and potato mash, followed by some of the locally manufactured chocolate. Then I went back to the hotel to nap the afternoon away under the sheets. I knew I was wasting precious sightseeing time, but the cold just sapped my energy and motivation.

For dinner I took myself to a tenedor libre. The owners had come from Taiwan some 15 years ago. The wife told that they had two boys studying in Baires, and a little girl of 3. The husband liked Bariloche for the fresh air. They were one of only four Chinese families in the town. They very kindly gave me some fried rice to supplement the normal buffet which included overcooked meats from the parilla (barbeque grill).

Graffiti on a wall referencing the Dirty War: 21 años de impunidad, no olvidamos, no perdonamos (21 years of impunity, we do not forget, we do not forgive).

When I was researching Argentina before embarking on the trip, I came across the scholarly work Australia and Argentina: On Parallel Paths (1984). The authors pointed out the similarities between the two countries, the size, the population, the rich resources, and tried to explain why their political histories have diverged. It's not widely known that Argentina was richer than Australia until the 1950s when Australia began to pull ahead. The authors postulated that Argentina industrialised too soon at the expense of primary production. To which I would also add my theory that the inherited forms of government: one Spanish and the other British have shaped their respective paths.