Punta Arenas, Ushuaia, and Tierra del Fuego

I hitched hiked down to Punta Arenas. It was a long journey passing through the Patagonian windy flat lands. The first night, I end up in a little Argentinian village, Tres Lagos. My last driver offered me a place to stay at his brothers little house. Nice family. 

The next day I get picked up, hitch hiking, by a Chilean politician.

I arrived in Punta Arenas and met my host Oren, his friendly family, and a couchsurfing American couple Blake and Catherine. While in Punta Arenas I did some Antartica investigations, went to a park, bought some camping equipment, and had a look around the center. The last day, I met/ had dinner with new couchsurfers staying with Oren.

A few days later I headed out to Ushuaia, Argentina. Interestingly, I got picked up by another Chilean politician.

My Cs host didn’t respond to my messages when I got to Ushuaia, so I checked into a hostel, Refugio Mochilero. The entrance is full of water tanks of turtles and fish.

After having had a look around town and spending a few days in Ushuaia, I camped out in Tierra del Fuego National Park for a few days. This is the prettiest park I’ve been to on my south America travels. Magic.

I met several lovely people in the park, including these 3 children and their 2 mothers. We sat in an open field, with views of mountains, a river, and cliffs. 

Cohaique and Chile Chico

I arrived in Coyhaique and stayed with host Marcelo. Marcelo is a polite guy, recently divorced, going through a change of houses. I was staying in the center of town near the plaza.

Coyhaique is lovely. It’s in a valley surrounded with monumental rocks and snow capped mountains. The food is getting increasingly more expensive as I progress south. Vegetables are expensive and not fresh. I had great pastries here, included a berry moistened chocolate cake and a cream cheese raspberry Danish, both exceptional. It was challenging staying calm while eating them.

The last night, Marcelo invited me to a BBQ at a friend’s house. It was a little difficult to part take in conversation because of the language divide, but the guys were genuine and kind and so that made for  an enjoyable night, despite having to stomach sausages and grilled fatty beef.  

The next day, I hitchhiked south toward Chile Chico. I got picked up by a few times by farmers and local country construction workers. Waiting out in the open to get picked up was enjoyable much of the time. The views were pretty.

I arrived in Ibanez and while waiting to take the evening boat across the lake to Chile Chico, I met Emiliano from Argentina. I enjoyed  meeting Emiliano. He had a sustained interested attention span. He was returning home after having spent a month walking, camping, and fishing through south Chile. The simplicity of his travels (not using the internet or couchsurfing) and the fact that he fished to eat were inspiring.

We parted ways went we hit land at Chile Chico 2 hours later, when I met my host Maria. Maria was enthusiastic and engaged when we met at the port. That was appreciated. We walked to her house, she fed me amazing lentils and quinoa. They were seasoned with thyme, amongst other things, and due to the circumstances of not having had a good hot vegetarian meal since Chiloe, my mouth and stomach were both in a state of great joy.

I met her roommate, Angela, who was also delightful, engaged, and lovely. They are both psychologists. The next day I talked dharma with Angela in the morning, she was sick and so didn’t go to work.

I had a walk around town, went up to the look out point to get a panoramic view of the city and lake, went down to the lake, and stuck my feet in the chilly water. I thought of reflexology and how the whole body is connect with the feet as I stuck my feet in. The shock was felt throughout my body. Its hard to describe, but it was as though some foundational part had been severed. My bottom half felt light and alive afterward. I ran back home.

Later that day , I headed to Antiguos, the Argentinian border town, to look for a more appropriately  equipped sleeping bag. Having had to overcome some discrepancies with my Chilean visa at the border, drops of sweat running down the sides of my inner arm, I arrived in Antiguos and proceeded to try and exchange my dollars on the black market. Actually, its not as exciting it sounds, its simply black because its not done at any official exchange house. You just go into any business and tell them youre selling dollars, find a business that will agree to your rate, check the authenticity of the bills, and youre well on your way to having gained 30% on your exchange.

I wasn’t able to find an affordable bag, but was happy to encounter Emiliano at a shop where I bought some peach wine for that night’s dinner. After a short chat, I headed back to Chile Chico. Maria had some friend’s over. She invited me to watch a movie with them and then go to the lookout point. I declined and instead opted to jump in the lake and start on dinner. The dip inspired joy and energy. My dull headache at the time intensified to some dramatic sharp point of magnificence under the water, which then very shortly after vanished away.

I ran to the supermarket to pick up some ingredients for the lemon pasta I was to prepare for dinner, encountered a Labrador type dog on the way home, gave him an energetic happy patting, and continued on my dash home, looking back to see the dog unmoved from the corner where we encountered.

I made it home, began the pasta, and to my horror discovered the white peach wine I had bought was frizzante! (and cheap sweet tasting). I ran back to the supermarket to buy some more wine and on my way out, was delighted to see the lab waiting for me right outside my door. This combination feeling of horror and delight following each other, I felt came too close together to be coincidental, as I would find happened not irregularly throughout my trip.

The dinner was made, Maria and her friends returned from the lookout point, the wine was appropriate, and the table was set; all was good in the world again.

After dinner and a lovely genuine exchange with my hosts, we went to sleep. That night I had a dream there was an intruder in a space I was occupying and proceeded to shout, identify, halt, and/or otherwise dispel that person from the space. It was dark and I was paralyzed, all but my voice, which I used with great force to compensate for the lack of mobility of the rest of me. At some point I gained mobility and could, by that time, see the intruder exiting the space.

My shouts were heard not only by the intruder in my dream, but by my terrified host, Angelica, who at some point after the intruder was dispelled, proceeded to call out to ask if I was ok. Having apologized I reassured her there was in fact no one in her house that shouldn’t be there.

Some 2 hours later, we had a lovely exchange of emptiness and protector energy over breakfast. I headed out to begin my hitchhike down to Punta Arenas. 

The Moss’s Haus; Ode to Cucao

Some say there is a maus

That lives in the moss’s haus

But I say nay, the moss’s haus

Is a big haus. To get  around,

A maus would need  a little pony haus

Nay I say, the moss’s haus is ubiquitous

Chiloe

After Frutillar, I went to Chiloe, an island in the south part of chile, one island, actually, there are thousands of islands in the south. This is the most populated.

I headed straight for Chiloe’s capital Castro and there met host Hugo. Hugo has a this house he’s been tweeking and customizing for a few years. The next day I walked into town. Outside the downtown area, its all residential winding roads. Getting to the plaza was a bit of a task. Every house seemed to have a barking dog, or a tied up one. The yards are small. The dogs seem full of fear.

Having a look downtown,  I decided to go to Chonchi, a nearby town. There wasn’t much to see here. There was a beach and some barking dogs. It was grey. I walked around a bit on some residential roads and headed back to the house to make pasta.

The pasta was mediocre. The tomatoes were obviously transgenic, had the right texture, but tasted like rubber. Produce here is expensive.

The next day I headed to Cucao, the main park on the island. It was nice, I wouldn’t venture to say drop dead beautiful as the locals claim it to be, but I did enjoy the wooden walkways that resembled catwalks.

There are a few microclimates and a beach. It rained the last half of my time there.

The next day I headed to the nearby island Achao. Achao is nice. Tranquil.

I stayed by the beach most of the time. The dogs are friendly and erratic.

I spinned a bit, under a small pavilion building overlooking the beach.  A group of 12 adolescent boys came over in close proximity and proceeded to drink juice and beer and smoke while I was dancing. I got the impression they were on a school lunch break.

The next day I headed to a town in the north of Chiloe, Ancud. I hadn’t heard great things about this place but I found it to be lovely town.

I found this little, local bakery, I believe the former living room of a house, which had amazing bread, just the right amount of salt.

I walked through town and along the beach. The main plaza was lovely and active.

The next day I headed out south to the port city of Quellon to take a boat to Chacabuco. I got there at 11am to find the boat ticket office closed. So I waited a bit by the beach. I hadn’t heard good things about Quellon, and at this point, believed them to be true, but later I had a walk to the plaza, which over looks the ocean. I was looking for an appropriate place to spin, as there were none down near the beach in front of the boat office. At the plaza I encountered a young group of jugglers, poi dancers, and other circus skilled types. I showed some of the poi dancers a few tricks.

One of them invited me to check out a beach on the opposite side of Quellon that over looks the city. Her mom took us, along with her boyfriend and brother. The view was nice.

After they invited me to stay at their house until my departure time. There they fed me, and I met her dog.

I boarded the boat. 

The trip crossing to Chabuco was peaceful all but at one point when the waters were turbulent and there was much rocking. It was 30 hours crossing. I saw a lot of uninhabited islands and had lots of time to meditate, read, and look at the chilly wind whipping the water. 

Frutillar and Puerto Varas

After Valdivia, I headed to Frutillar and stayed with host Victor. The terminal looked to be in the middle of nowhere. I waited a few hours for Victor to pick me up. It was raining out and the txt message exchange that was going on was a bit weird. Upon meeting Victor I sensed a bit of unconfidence. We walked to his little house nearby and while having dinner he told me he had to leave the next day, so I could only stay one day. So that was kind of surprising.

The next day I headed to lower frutillar (where the lake is) and had a look around. There is a lovely theater on the lake. I found a quiant cake cafe and had a ricotta framuesa kuchen, omg, there are no words for this experience.

I walked on and found a lovely penninsula of sorts that was surrounded by these weeping willow-ish trees and had a nice sit. Cristian from Valdivia called me and told me that he had a friend Cristina who could host me. Excellent news!

That night Cristina had some friends over for a drink. The next day I headed to Puerto Varas for the day, a nearby slightly bigger village, on the same lake, with a good view of the volcano.

That evening, Cristina invited me to go to see Conrad Tao (pianist) at the theater on the lake. It was fancy and dignified.

The next day we went for a jog along the lake, had a conversation about getting out of our comfort zones, and proceeded to jump into the lake. It was shocking and needed. Later we went into upper frutillar to buy some groceries and on the way back sat in cow field over looking the lake and had a mediocre grocery store bought chocolate cake.