Into the Realm of Magical Things

Entering Puerto Varas, I swore I could smell the water. This beautiful little town sits on the shores of Lake Llanquihue, which is so immense that the sailboats bobbing in the surf along the town pier made me imagine that we were, in fact, in the Mediterranean. The lake is really a small sea, or would be if it were in Europe. However, the immensity of the South American landscape dwarfs even this huge expanse of water, diminishing it to a simple "Lago". Yet the scale of the lake lends the town a sort of marine environment, and along with fresh, cool breezes, Puerto Varas boasts some seriously good seafood joints. Like Bariloche on the other side of the border, Puerto Varas was settled by a mix of Swiss, German, and Chilean natives. However, Puerto Varas also throws a significant Swedish population into the mix, just to make it a little more interesting. After sharing a delicious seafood meal at a restaurant appropriately named "Mediteraneo", we found a seriously cozy hostel on the north side of town, where we gratefully found the best bed in all of South America, or at least in our experience so far. Hostal Compass Del Sur is run by a fantastic Swedish/Chilean couple out of a huge, ancient rambling house that features wood stoves on every floor, fantastic homemade bread, and (did i mention?) the best bed ever! After an extremely pleasant nap, we headed out in search of the microbrews that were rumored to exist here. It wasn't easy, but eventually we followed a tip from a local waitress, who instructed us to go to the "dark side of the lake" where the lights of the tourist restaurants and hotels faded away to reveal jagged black rocks along the shore of the lake. Eventually, we found a great local bar with an extensive selection of specialty brews. Along with seafood and microbrews, we also bought some of the best dried fruit and nuts I've ever tasted in Puerto Varas.

Munching on the world's most delicious almonds the next morning, we drove until Highway 5 abruptly ended at the termination of Chile's mainland. From here, the country dissolves into increasingly smaller islands until it eventually tapers away into the glacial tip just miles from Antarctica. Undeterred, we caught a ferry to the largest of these myriad islands: the mystical island of Chiloe.

Chiloe is a world unto itself, and like the rest of Chile, it is breathtaking. Roughly 180 by 60 km, Chiloe has a folklore, handicraft industry, and local cuisine all it's own. It is supposedly home to all sorts of magical creatures, from witches and gnomes to talking animals. The towns on Chiloe are all relatively small, although Castro, the largest, feels busy and important during the evening rush. Of course, we stopped for a picnic at the very first beach we could find on Chiloe, just outside of Ancud. The sight of the ocean after months in the desert made Pat positively giddy. We walked along this deserted beach until sundown, hunting for sea glass and shells among the bounty on shore. I even found a whole starfish for the first time in my life. Of course, true to South American standards of size, it was too big and smelly to put in the car.

We spent the first night in Castro, at Hostel Palafito, which was on pilings on the bay, as indicated by its name. Unfortunately, this place was a bit of a splurge for us, and we couldn't stay another night. We booked a new hostel online, then went on a search to locate it downtown the next morning. When we finally arrived at the discreet address, we found a ramshackle building with a definite 45 degree lean. Upstairs, the hostel turned out be little more than a family renting out rooms, but the dysfunctional shower, army of flea-ridden animals, and militant looking adolescent son gave me the creeps. The proprietor herself was a sweet, good-natured lady who I can only wish the best of luck. But we opted to leave Castro behind and go in search of the penguins.

As is typical of us, we got distracted by the forest instead, and ended up spending the day in Parque Nacional Chiloe. This preserve covers most of the western half of the island. It is full of ancient rainforest, isolated beaches, and hidden lakes. We opted for the beach, and had an eventful hike through forest, pastureland, and eventually ankle-deep cow muck, before we reached a beautiful, deserted beach that looked eerily like my home in Oregon. Huge dunes gave way to windswept waves and unique rock formations on the cliffs. It was cold, slightly gray, and I was wearing a windbreaker as we ran among the dunes looking for good place to hunker down out of the wind. I felt a strange feeling of homesickness well up in my stomach as I was bombarded with memories of running along the dunes in Oregon with my brother (mostly) hunting treasure, playing pirate, or whatever various games we invented in our secret world. Even now, I am tearing up as I remember how that far-flung beach at the end of the world brought me so incredibly close to home for a moment.

Still on a vague trajectory toward the penguin colony, we made our way back to Ancud, the nothernmost town on Chiloe. Here, we once again lost our way in the darkness, but eventually found a great hostel overlooking the ocean. In the morning, we were disappointed to discover that the penguins, although indeed currently nesting off the western coast, were viewable only by boat with quite a hefty fee. It would also take close to an hour of travel time to see the nesting penguins for just under 15 minutes. So, we hopped the ferry back to the mainland and started our long drive north to Santiago along Highway 5.

Although it took us nearly double the time to return to Mendoza on the Chilean side as it did to blow through the Pampas across the border, Highway 5 is so well- maintained and boasts plenty of sights on small detours that it definitely seemed worth it. We stopped to see Saltos del Laja, an impressive waterfall with delicious empanada stands out front. We also took a detour towards two hot spring resorts in central Chile: Panimavida and Quinamavida. These were both too expensive for actual soaking, but they gave us a chance to experience the lush volcanic wonderland and friendly, picturesque villages that lie along the Andes in central Chile. Our hunt for more chilean empanadas was rewarded gratuitously, and we ate nothing else all day. Around sunset, we hit Santiago, where I narrowly avoided a head-on collision with a mattress stranded in the middle of the freeway, and then drove on into the cactus farms around Paso de Los Andes. Making our way up the 29 switchbacks around Portillo in the dark was a treacherous but thrilling adventure, made all the more of both by the onset of slap-happiness in both of us road-weary travelers. We made it home by 1am: 7500 km covered in just under 7 days.

It was one of the best highlights of our time here so far and it also reminded us what it feels like to spend time together, having fun. We both realized that there are some serious deprivations happening in our lives in Mendoza, not the least of which is having time with one another. We have just one more epic road trip planned before we leave, when we head south into Patagonia again in order to reach the frozen glacial wonderland at Tierra Del Fuego: otherwise known as the end of the world. I can only hope that it will provide me with such a wealth of experience to share with all of you again.