Forethoughts on Exploring Chile

Posted 25 January 2007

Brian and Joan in Far West of China

Why Chile? Fascination with rugged western coastlines, those of Norway, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, not to mention Alaska and New Zealand which I have yet to visit. By reputation it's the safest venue in South America, where they talk the fastest Spanish and baffle further by leaving the ends off their words. (I always did think this Latin grammar was overkill.)

Likened to a small island hemmed in by the Pacific Ocean and the Andes, and only 180km at its widest, but oh so long - ranging from magical equatorial desert to Cape Horn. A people sometimes thought of as the impeccably behaved English of South America - though I guess my Welsh friends will want to claim Welsh speaking Patagonia and they can have the climate, rain for 370 days a year. I doubt they speak much English there, so I will have to exercise my Spanish. 'About time' says Maite, my teacher.

Joan has been reading guidebooks avidly for the past month. All I really know is that we are heading south to their summer holiday resorts at peak period. She is especially intrigued by the Mapuche (indigenous) culture on the island of Chiloe, which used to be off limits even for Spanish speaking Chileans. We now have a map, a superfluous guide one thinks for a country where there are no roads. To get south from Puerto Montt there are three alternatives, fly, take to the sea, or drive by looping over to Argentina's Atlantic coast. Now I learn from the internet that the preferred option is out, the biggest of the two ferries plying this route weekly has been out of action since the end of 2006 and is obviously not expected back in service before March at the earliest. Their site is silent on the reason so the imagination is stirred, a collision with an iceberg perhaps, or the dreaded overdue El Nino storms which occur at about five yearly intervals. (That phenomenon predates global warming and is thought to have been the cause of ancient civilisations being wiped out in far away coastal Peru.)

What to take on these trips and how to do it is a perpetual dilemma. Joan is already in a blue panic about whether she will have to carry her bag because it will cease to wheel (if it ever does!) on the unmade roads of the south. I seem to remember similar thoughts by me of the sandy desert country we were to encounter in western China, which in the event was a false alarm the only problem being on newly laid tarmac pavements. At least those thoughts have made up my mind. I will again start with the same old large rucksack, (which I bought second hand for our first backpacking venture in Nepal nearly twenty years ago). Keeping it as light as possible may mean going without my SLR film camera for the first time. But it necessary to cater for extremes of weather, cold and wet in the far south, hot and wet in the middle holiday area - the so called Lake District, and hopefully just hot in the wine growing and coastal resorts nearer to Santiago. The biggest regret is that we have waited too long - for this must be superb trekking country - but we are sadly too old of joints to contemplate that now.

Undoubtedly Chile will be a huge contrast to China, where we were simply amazed by the speed of development, particularly the opening up of the vast deserts of the 'wild west'. We went to China expecting it to be expensive whereas in reality it was very easy and extremely cheap to live at good European standards. By contrast we expect Chile to be the most expensive country we have yet in South or Central America, with little developed industry except mining, wine and tourism. It has an especial link with Swansea, which was once the most important copper producer in the world, in the day's of the clipper ships and the epic roundings of Cape Horn.

Santiago

Posted 4 February 2007
Had a trouble free trip out here, but not overly impressed by the service of Iberia and certainly not LAN Chile, who hostesses were never seen in between the two meals they served, a bit much for a 14 hour flight with not even a drink of water or fruit juice. At least offered that even though you had to pay a la Ryan Air. Never the less we arrived on time and found an ATM at the airport and caught a bus to the centre and made the rest of the way to the hotel by taxi, on the meter but of course that didn´t stop him taking an overly long route using a policy of homing in by ever decreasing circles.

Hotel Galerias booked via ebookers was good though very unimpressive when viewed from the street. Internally it was built as a modern courtyard design with many floors, each of four sides. The rooms, presumably almost identical, were large and comfortable. We chose this hotel because it was the fifth most popular on tripadvisor.com, which again served as an excellent means of sifting. Buffet breakfast was good with a lot of different fresh summer fruit as well as all the normal European fare. At this time of year it seemed their trade was mostly with tour parties. After the two nights pre-booked we changed to the nearby Paris Hotel for half the price so as to try out the variety and get our bearing costwise.

The currency is easy as there are just over 1000 pesos to the pound. So I will work in thousands and describe prices in thousand, ie 100K can be read as 100 pounds but 100pe (pe for pesos will be just 10p British). Thus Galerias was 43K and Paris was 18K (the most expensive room) but without breakfast.

The most impressive feature of Santiago has been the weather. We arrived to cloudless blue sky and very good visibility, and that continued for the three days we spent here. The evenings are very pleasant, it´s light until 9 pm and the streets are full in the cool of the evening. Some of the streets are pedestrian only. We could not help but smile last night as we walked down one of the precincts last night looking with everyone else at the goods laid out carefully on the floor, mainly pirated DVDs CDs and posters, and the street acts. Suddenly the street ahead was clear and we wondered why. The reason was not long coming in the form of a small police car slowly wending its way through the crowd, twenty yards behind it the pavements were back in action as if nothing had occurred, well it hadn´t had it.

 SPARKLING UNDERGROUND

For this trip we are using the Footprints guide, which we found to extremely good for Andalucia last spring. So far we have more or less followed their choice of restaurants. The best three by far have been El Naturista which is a truly excellent vegetarian restaurant, but unfortunately was closed Saturday and Sunday, Bar National 2 which was hectic at lunch time with a full choice of good meals on their menu, but perhaps the biggest shock was the Mercato Central, about the size of Swansea market, at least fifty percent of which was given over to packed open plan fish restaurant areas, the rest to selling raw fish and meat. In the centre of the market they were quite professional looking, but before spotting this area we sat down in an ordinary popular area more like asian food markets. There Joan had Chupe de Mariscos and I had a huge serving of Reinette, which the guide describes as a sort of Bream, and we shared a two litre bottle of beer all for 7K.

As for drinks we now realise that for all their excellence of their wine produce the people still drink beer, hurrah, and it´s not at all bad. Joan has discovered Borgona, this is not a copy of red burgundy but white wine with fruit juice, a sort of alcopops served by the glass or at 5K for a large jar. A theme like the Vino de Verano in Andalucia but better. Draught beer by the way is Schop(a) which descibes the pint pulling motion (and applies also to Mr Whippy type ice cream), I presume Schop comes from German. Today having taken a funicular to the top of a mountain overlooking the city we disciovered that everyone was drinking Mote con Huesillo in a litre glass a quarter full of soft wheat and two whole peaches and filled with a peach juice. I presume this is a specialty of the venue, or the virgin Mary who looks approvingly on from her perch on top of the hill.

Lican Ray

Posted 6 February 2007
Catching a bus out of Santiago on Saturday was like it must have been at the start of 'Wakes Week' for a northern town in the fifties. There were hundreds of long distance buses leaving for holiday destinations, and many were coming down here to the lakes. We travelled with JAC for 22.2K each for 11 hours in a 36 seater with a breakfast tray, that is to say one down from the most spacious bus here, no places were available on the superior 24 seater. It was more comfortable than we first thought and we both slept OK, but Joan in particular was very tired the next day. We still haven't found our rhythm.

LONG DISTANCE BUS STATION AT NIGHT

Lican Ray is a hic hill billy town, 'Sandy Lane' writ large for those who know Swansea. This southern area of Chile mostly comprises of wooden houses. Add to that the black (volcanic sand) to add to the depressed feel. The lakes however are large and beautiful surrounded by the remains of volcanoes, but now very green, with lots of trees, weeping willows along the river. The foreshore is well equipped with kids water amusements like plastic kayaks and pedalos. Our hosteria, 18K with breakfast, looks straight out onto the beach and the lake in front and has a lovely garden full of flowers and plum trees behind. The women proprietors, who I presume call themselves Los Angeles de Infaflanquen, (which means beach in Mapuche - the indigenous people of the pre-hispanic era), are probably of Indian descent but speak excellent English having lived in British Columbia. They like many of the town live elsewhere but come here for the holiday trade.

Terry writes that Cataluna is sunny, well so is Lican Ray at times and we both have red faces to prove it. But there is also a continual light moving cloud cover, which means that it is like a really hot British summer day in the sunshine, but the cool breeze makes it less appealing when the sun disappears. We have found an excellent restaurant 'Cabala' and make lunch our main meal - at 3pm! - where we can get a tasty tender steak and egg for 3K, and return at night for delicious 'cakes and ale' which cost as much. Nearby restaurants look as good and no doubt we will try them soon. In fact they are part of the contrast here, for although wooden they are modern and professionally built as opposed to the self builds like our hotel. We walked along the lake shore this morning for several hours and after a while came across a section full of luxurious holiday homes, presumably owned by people from nearby towns. The only disadvantage being that we could not get back off this private stretch of beach.

I was hoping to sun bathe and swim for a few days, but so far I haven't made the plunge - well the effort to walk in, the Chileans seem to have no such problem for they lie out in bathing costumes and stay in the water for simply ages. As in Britain on holidays of old it's better in than out. We are intending to go a great deal further south and certainly hope it isn't going to get much colder before we leave the holiday are of Puerto Montt and the island of Chiloe which is top of Joan's wish list. We are well prepared for it to be very cold down in Patagonia and Antartica, though Cape Horn is not so extreme in Latitude as you might think. Still the area has a reputation for extremes of weather, mainly rain and wind, some say all four seasons occur in 24 hours there! On the other hand it has an equal reputation for outstanding natural beauty.

Conaripe y Terma El Rincon, Valdivia

Posted 11 February 2007
Since complaining of the cooler than expected weather it has been beautiful, and we still haven´t experienced any of the rain for which the south is famous.

Discovered a great new way of learning Spanish. Visit El Rincon and sit in a warm round wooden tub, which seats eight people, with seven talkative women and you have to start chatting. Very good for me, and I felt my confidence with the language rising rapidly. The even better sounding alternative is to visit at night, the area being dimly lit by solar powered lights and the style is to drink cocktails in the tubs - I didn't inquire about the state of dress, but used my imagination at its most vivid. The great shame i s that such linguistic progress hasn't continued in the same vein, the problem being that the Chileans like me are rather reserved and wait to be spoken to. In fact its rather like traveling in Europe - I shall have to come out of my shell.

BATHING CHILEAN STYLE

El Rincon was marvelous for other reasons, and was clearly one of the great days which gave us an enormous lift. We decided to take a bus to Conaripe the only other sizable village on the Calafquen lake so as to get closer to the site of several hot springs hoping to pick up a cheap lift. Conaripe is a one street town but which nevertheless gave the impression of being cleaner, more modern and more go ahead than the much bigger Lican Ray. The Tourist Office really did give tourist information and when enquiring about getting to the hot springs the girl immediately ran outside and pointed to the waiting minibus. We were going to Vergelas, the most publicized for 10K each for a 14 km trip on unmade roads including entrance, but when we got there the driver asked if we would like to go on a further 3km to El Rincon which he said was beautiful with a salta de agua, for a further 2K. Not knowing whether this was just a ruse to extract more money we decided to continue. It was the right decision. Instead of a Hot Spring Theme park complete with holiday cabinas and water chutes he had brought us to an unspoiled natural spot, with a huge waterfall cascading into one end from a mountain covered like the rest of the countryside in large deciduous trees with red flowers climbing up their trunks and other red ones on holly like trees. As for bathing there was a choice between a few larger fibre-glass pools for the nervous starters, the tubs I have just described, or the natural pools almost under the waterfall where the bonus was to cover yourself with smooth black mud gathered from the bottom of the pool, said to be very good for the skin.

They also provided home made soup, vegetable quiches, cakes and coffee all at extremely reasonable prices. The sun in contrast to the previous days blazed down on us, though there was plenty of shade, some pools were in the sun, others shaded by the trees, the choice changing as the sun slowly moved around. At 7pm as promised the minibus driver returned and took a full load back to Conaripe. The day was only spoiled by being over-charged only 0.10K for the bus back, till I realised that besides being mischanged I had bought only one ticket, so I returned to the desk and got the other ticket and paid only the proper difference. She didn't complain for long in face of the others in the queue and my new found confidence in Spanish.

Being overcharged or feeling vulnerable to theft is completely unusual in Chile. It´s also delightful after running the guantlet of traffic in China for 60 days to find that here drivers always stop at pedestrian crossings, indeed if you are hesitating about crossing they wave you across, and on several occasions they have done this when we were just waiting at the side of the road without the benefit of a crossing.

We learnt in our tubs a Chilean expression 'cachai', their way of saying you´ve got it, that the water in the lakes was warm and made for very pleasant swimming, a fact which I am willing to believe represented a lost opportunity for we had already decided to move on the next morning. As we couldn't get a bus that day to Puerto Montt we decided to go to Valdivia on the coast instead. Another of those inspired happen-chances.

The bus journey gave us another chance to study the Chilean countryside of the central plain. Very green and gently undulating with small higgledy piggledy fields full of weeds and wild flowers and a huge variety of deciduous tress, with mixed farming, some dairy, some beef, some wheat and a few sheep, run from small wooden farmsteads. Joan and I both felt it resembled, our Warwickshire homeland, the English midlands, representative of the years before the onset of modern highly intensive farming.

Valdivia is a wonderful discovery for those with the time to explore and breath in the very pleasant atmosphere, we are spending four nights here after initially booking for only two. It is surrounded on three sides by water in fact two rivers join to form a wide estuary running out to the sea. We saw the celebration for the 450 th anniversary of the founding of the city, which has many times been destroyed in earthqukes, the last being 1960 and by a Tsunami. The Army, Navy, Airforce and Police goose-stepped their way past the dignitaries, followed by a popular march past of the firemen and then by dancing troups from across Chile and other South American countries in their national costume.

The beauty queen La Reina de los Rios collected the keys to her car.

As you would expect there is little left in the way of Spanish Colonial architecture but they are once again rebuilding the city (about half the size of Swansea) concentrating on the picturesque water front with its white pleasure craft and a very impressive fish market full daily with a huge variety of fish and shellfish.

That afternoon we continued after this unexpected interuption to catch a bus to the nearby fishing village of Niebla. Fishing in bright yellow open boats some with small gaff sails.

Twice we tried to get off the minibus but each time the conductor insisted we wanted to stay for what we now know was El Fuerte, the presence of which we not been aware since we were intent only on lunching in the fish restaurants. Two Spanish forts facing each other across the estuary are being restored. There were magnificent views of the crystal blue estuary from the fort, reminiscent to me of the colour of Saguenay in north Quebec. A fort building had been turned into a museum, with a large number of posters, drawings, accurate old maps and paintings describing in Spanish the changing history of the area, which had been for a long time a Spanish stronghold until usurped by the new republics navy led by Lord Cochrane, a disgraced English naval parliamentarian and friend of Bernard O'Higgins, thus leading the independence forces on behalf of the indigenous people.

Then we walked back towards Valdivia first stopping at the Muestra Costumbrista y Foklorica... de La Municipal Niebla. Starting that very day they had erected a stage on which artists were singing and playing acoustic guitars. There were the four rows of stalls, the first two serving food, mostly sea food and fish but also a huge variety of corn based meals with chicken and steak and of course empanadas, an excellent cake stall and one selling draft Kunstmann Beer, which is brewed locally. On the first occasion we opted for fish, Hake and Bass, served with nice potatoes and salad, 4.30K for us both. For the very first time someone came up to us saying 'you are not from here are you'? It turned out she had been in London for a week some time ago and spoke good English. Unfortunately her small child decided to run off and she had to leave, but not before she had told us that the best night was the end of the two week festival which had just started, the evening is called their Venice Night and the river is filled by a carnival of lit and decorated boats, this year that means the 24 February, too late for us - but then you can't expect to win them all.

When the show finished we walked down onto the beach and around to the first bus stop where small ferries crossed the estuary for 0.60K to the other fortified village Corral. A lovely trip stopping at an island in the middle of the estuary (one of thirty we now learn) and taking about half an hour. A nice walk around soon brought us to the other fort just as a costume version of the storming had been enacted, and then down to another smaller harbour with just a couple of small boats and a stone breakwater.

Next day we went to the park of Saval which was Valdivias equivalent of Niebla the day before. It was a big park with a section devoted to wooden statues which unfortunately we didn't look at properly, food and drink stalls where we discovered that antichuchos were shish kebabs. Sitting at a table opposite were a group of horsemen having their lunch. Joan observed that they didn't drink and drive. Beautiful Arab horses were being walked up and down having just arrived for the week in their horse boxes. A large open circular stadium was not far away and and at 3pm the horse activities started.

The whole show was a competition on the control of a bullock by a pair of horsemen. The competitors were obviously local farmers, often father and son and in one case a very young and skillfull rider operating with his grandfather. Thirty pairs of riders started and this was reduced to the final four after three rounds. Three got prizes which appeared to be solely rosettes.

For the competition the circular ring was switched between a small oval sector and the complete circuit. A bullock was released just in front of the waiting horses who then had to make sure it did three circuits of the oval at the gallop staying against the fences, several bullocks tried to escape by jumping the metre high wooden walls and just one succeeded, then the gate was opened to reveal the full ring one rider had to position himself behind the bullock to drive him on whilst keeping him from the inside berth whilst the other rode rapidly side stepping at the shoulder of the bullock until half way round where there was a padded area of wall, at this point the outer rider put in what a Rugby man would call a big hit with the horses shoulder stopping the bullock dead and then they turned it and repeated the exercise in the anti clockwise direction, before turning a second time and escorting it at walking pace to the exit. Each manoeuvre was marked though we never quite discovered what represented the perfect hit. The clever bullocks refused to get up after each hit until pulled up by the tail and the horns and perhaps the odd prod with their spurs. Initially we feared that the bullock had broken a leg but in fact they were only play acting.

The skill of the riding was superb with tremendous acceleration, and especially the fast side stepping, which until then we had only associated with dressage. I know grandaughter Rachel, a keen horsewoman, thinks it cruel to get a a horse to move in this unnatural way, but she might change her mind after seeing them do so at high speed, matching the speed of the horse galloping straight on the inside, and realising how essential it was to cattle ranching. 

We watched two such displays before leaving and walked backed to the hotel on the other side of town because we wanted to photograph the city in the low western light as we walked back across the bridge.

All this for 0.10K each, we were prepared to pay the full adult entrance to the park of 0.30K, but were only asked for the lower fee obviously being instantly recognised as eligible for the lower price for senior citizens and children. At this price I am almost begrudging the 0.10k charged here for toilets, for a man with prostate this is the major expense, but it does ensure a plentiful supply of well kept public toilets.

In the evening we went back into town to eat and to watch the free Tango and Swing show on a stage near the river. It was a little disappointing though there was a range of acts. Far better had been the group of nine young kids wandering round town, including just one girl, standing and swinging the drums with their knees to keep the latin rhythm. The leader of the drum orchestra had a steel kettle drum to stamp out changes in the rhythm and the overall leader just tapped out the beat or played bongos.

Today, Sunday 11 Feb, after writing the first part of this posting we decided to return to Niebla for lunch. The show was far better than the first day with a huge variety of local artists, all still with acoustic guitars. For lunch we both had Paila Marina, Paila just means the style of earthen-ware dish in which it is cooked, Marina comes from the fact that it was essentially like a Moules Mariniere, but though mostly large mussels it had other shellfish including clams, something with the texture of a large cockle, and others possibly goose barnacles that we could not identify, plus half a sausage, a good sized piece of hake, coriander and a chilli pepper, to eat or not at your pleasure.

Tomorrow morning at 9.30 we are leaving by Cruz del Sur bus which goes direct to Castro on the island of Chiloe, just south of Puerto Montt. This journey including the ferry to the island is costing us 7K each. We have been staying at the Casa Grande, for 25K including two breakfasts right next to the bus station, and eating our breakfasts in a long dining room over looking the river. With luck Chiloe too should be in festival so as to extend the attractions of late summer holidays.

Chiloe 1

Posted 16 February 2007
This is the place, the island which Joan most wanted to visit and we are delighted with it. Rather like Scotland's western isles except that here there are still fishing fleets of small boats and it is warm even though wet at times. The light here is wonderful. The clouds are generally light and the views are continually changing throughout the day. The visibility is superb. If you can see a so plain it´s sure to rain´ as they say in Swansea.

Though before saying more I should go back to our last evening in Valdivia, because just after the previous posting we went to see the evening outdoor concert. It was Les Silphides, a ballet by Bartok and the original version based on the dances of Chopin. But when we arrived at the stage it was deserted, no wonder for it had rained earlier in the day. The journey was not wasted because beached by the side of the stage were three sea lions, we had been watching them earlier feeding just off the wharf of the fish market competing with the sea birds, but thought that they were seals.

GIANT COCKLES

There was a notice saying the concert had been moved to the Municipal Theatre. We had no idea where that was but luckily found it at our first attempt in the impressive looking building which turned out to be the Municipal Building. The Theatre, about the size of the Swansea Grand, had just been refurbished, as usual with a great deal of wood cladding as decoration and sound correction in the interior. So instead of seeing a taster out of doors we were treated to a dress rehearsal of the program they intended to give a few days after we had left. I have often felt that the musical events that we have visited in Central and South America have been light weight, but this was certainly not. It was danced by the Municipal Ballet Company of Valdivia - think in terms of the quality of the Welsh National Opera and you have some idea of the impression they made. The Bartok version was performed in modern dance by just three dancers, the second half was performed by a full company of classical dancers.

As we left the theatre we were again intrigued by the sound of drumming. This time there were a total of 12 drummers including the core of the group we had heard the previous night. Once again they were surrounded by a huge crowd as they performed in a pedestrianize street. They were raising quite a beat. It made us think that there was also a school of drumming in Valdivia.

Straight after breakfast we made our way almost next door to the bus station. The bus was late but it arrived the moment I decided to go for a pee, and was intent on making a rapid turnround. As I walked backed a man waved to me to follow him, he seemed to know that I was going to Castro. A bus was just leaving the station and a petrified Joan was already on board with our baggage. Once I saw her I knew why I was being shepherded in that direction. All ended well as usual. Not only is Cruz del Sur, the same name as a separate company in Peru, the main bus operator in region 10 of Chile but it also owned the ferry boat boat which brought us across the water to the island. The bus of course claims priority and so bypassed the waiting traffic to board via a ´no entry´route.

On getting to Castro I left Joan at the station, as is our style,while I went on a search for a suitable hotel. The town was full of young Chilean backpackers, as had been the Lake District earlier, and so the first few places I tried were full. I then found a superb hotel Hosteria de Castro, with a large steeply sloping wood tile roof, which looked down on the fiord with a superb view from the huge windows. Yes they had a room but only for one night 48.9K, nevertheless I took it. The next day they said we could again stay but only for one night, so I decided to try a little bargaining. Certain authorised tourist hotels are allowed to sell rooms at a price in dollars to foreigners without IVA (VAT to most of you) which since it is 19% makes a considerable difference, we agreed 75USD, but ended up paying only 64USD per night since our second night was in a much smaller room.

We did a recky together that same day but found few places with a room with private bathroom, and even fewer that were prepared to take a booking for the day after. Nevertheless on mentioning in Don Miguel 20K that we were intending to stay 5 nights we were given a room with quite magnificent sea views out of two windows on adjacent sides, one overlooking the main port and fiord, the other the more sheltered mooring area. I used 15 shots this morning just to record the sunrise over the bay.

It still has a traditional feel about it, which was little diminished because a modern cruise liner comes in every night on its cruise to Puerto Montt from Puerto Natales in the far south. A journey we would like to make later, berths willing. We met an English couple briefly at the highest viewpoint in town, they had just come ashore for a few hours - a totally inadequate time to get the feel of this lovely place - only the second conversation we had had in English since setting out two weeks ago.

The wonderful side of Don Miguel is the breakfast with six people sitting around the table, coming and going as they get up or leave. The party in the kitchen atmosphere ensures that there is plenty of contact. This morning we conversed with two 60ish sisters on holiday. One, Rita Martinez now lived in Venezuela - well the Isla Marguarita 300 km offshore - whilst the other still lived in the centre of Santiago, the city where both were born. (I´ve a feeling that Mary Anne Sieghart (Times) finished the catamaran part of her trip in Central and South America there before finishing on mainland Venezuela.) Rita said she had a small printing business, not unlike Kevin, Pamela´s husband. She also introduced us to the drink of Mate, which the Korean man at the table who conversed in broken English considered as green tea. It is apparently drunk in Argentina where they had just bought it. The morning before we had spoken with the owner his wife and a Chilean holiday maker after they had realised I was prepared to have a go with Spanish. The atmosphere here is so friendly, there are certainly advantages in moving down from tourist hotels to this type of Hospedaje.

The first evening on the island I ate Curancho a local speciality bake, mussels, clams and other seafood of course but also a large piece beef, a portion of chicken and a large German sausage (and I don´t mean Frankfurter, this was smoked pork, very substantial and tasty. It´s little wonder that most Chileans are on the plump side. As I remarked from the outset in Santiago,´ Kate Moss was never here´. Their other engaging habit is taking a fourth meal in the day called ónces´ elevenses except that it is eaten after 5pm. We have taken to our daily intake of cake, torta for the gateau, and kuchen for German style cakes made with fresh fruit. One of Joan´s favorites is a donut made with dulce leche, ie condenced milk which has been caramelised - looking over my shoulder she insists that her real favorite is a tart of fresh raspberries covered with egg custard. We go to a little cake shop with two small tables and also a number of bar stools, but the real interest is that they are baking continually, so Joan gets her normal daily cookery fix. Again it´s like being in the kitchen.

Before finishing with food I will mention El Trebol in Chonchi. It´s a quiet fishing port, still with a half dozen small trawlers at the wharf, which used to be a sheltered port for the Cape Horners years ago. It was very quiet town except for their museum which was quite the best one we have seen here and is therefore on the tour routes. A large wooden house had been converted to show traditional life in a kitchen, bedroom, dining room, lounge complete with pianola and a library of piano rolls. We were delighted to find that the pottery laid out on the table was all from Stoke on Trent, a previous hometown, we too once had a set by JG Meakin, and I was very friendly via the Rugby club with the then manager of Johnson´s Ian ..., who arranged such a good send off for me, also a plate from Dunn Bennett. A doctor in the clinic where Joan worked in North Staffs Royal Infirmary was a related Dunn. Burslem and Hanley featured two of Arnold Bennett´s Five towns, though there are in fact six. Tunstall, Burslem, Hanley, Fenton, Longton and Stoke.

When we finally got to the water´s edge we spied the aforesaid restaurant but decided to look for another as it seemed to be doing no business. How wrong can you get. When we returned at 2pm it was full and we couldn´t get a table, but the atmosphere was so good and the food smelt so good that we decided to wait as advised to eat lunch an hour later. Joan had Paila Marina again, I had a huge crab claw salad, we shared an avocado salad and started with pisco sours. With lovely rolls, aoli and chilli sauces it was the best meal yet and cost us just 9K for two, with agua de la llave of course!

 
 

Because tour parties, locally organised largely for Chilean holiday makers, were going around the museum there was a tasting of local Chiloe wines, these were made from fruits like raspberry and blackberry, the full range may show up on my photo. I´m almost ashamed to say that our preference was for the white wine made with milk, which had a parting resemblance to Baileys.

Yesterday, and I am writing on Friday the 16th, we went to Cucao a National Park. Which is beyond Chonchi and on the Pacific Coast. Whilst driving there we noted that the scenery on this island was very much like central Wales, it is after all called Northern Patagonia on the mainland at the same latitude. The park was simply beautiful, our first sight was of a humming bird feeding on at Fuchia flower. There were wild flowers and flowering shrubs everywhere so Joan was in her element, experimenting now with her digital camera´s close up facility, just as I had done with dawn photography that morning.

Humming birds were everywhere so although we never got a close up we learned to recognise their cry. Birds of prey flew over the wooded area. Flowers included tall white orchids. I finished of the day by lying on the beach in the bright sunlight, twice the length of Rhossilli, listening to the roar of the incoming surf.

 Joan wandered off to watch the dragnet fishermen untangling their catch from the fixed net, which they said was Corvina, or Bass, of about 5kg. Joan grins on the picture they took of her holding one of the catch as though she had just caught it herself.

I looked up from my prostrate position on the sand and saw that the strong sunlight was creating a halo around her hair as she shielded me from it´s worst excesses - that would be the day we forgot to put on sunscreen.

THE PACIFIC AT CUCAO NATIONAL PARK

Better was to come when we went to the the 5pm bus and found the only remaining space was standing room for the 90 mins ride directly back to Castro. We decided to wait for the next bus but to walk back to the village so as to catch it on it´s way into the park, to be sure of a seat. But we went into a cafe where a Frenchman, who has lived in Castro for 12 months, gave us some Gold Blend from his own private bottle at the small cafe and engaged us in conversation half in French, half in English. He talked of his love of nature and the very friendly low pressure life in Chiloe, where he had decided to come and live after one of his travels in southern South America. He said there was quite a community of French in Castro and many other Europeans as well. There are few European tourists here, but a lot of Chilean tourists. He said his brother had worked for 5 years in Yarmouth IOW as a barman and now worked in the same line in London, apparently was amazed by the flexibility of the labour market in England and very pleased to be given the opportunity to get more and more responsibility, which he contrasted with the lack of fluidity in France. Thatcher rules OK!

I have 10 mins to sign off but I must remember to tell you about the trip back next posting.

Chiloe 2

Posted 17 March 2007
Whilst talking earnestly to the Frenchman we unfortunately watched the last bus disappear. He said not to worry as there will be more, but nevertheless we decided to go back to the main road. There we met up again with a young American and his Spanish companion from Barcelona, both workers traveling on holiday. They had failed to persuade any of the cars leaving the carpark to give them a lift and so had followed us to the village. Almost immediately they flagged down a pick up truck with four in the cab and jumped in the back. They were a little surprised when we also got in.

WELCOME TO A JOY RIDE- SUDDENLY IT STARTED TO POUR but even that didn't dampen spirits

Off we set at high speed on the unmade road, which was great fun until the blue sky turned to dark cloud and it began to hail with a strong cold wind. In such conditions you quickly make friends. When the driver dropped us a few miles from Castro we found that a bus would not stop, but a lone woman in a 4WD appeared and stopped. She took us right into Castro.

The next morning we went to the hospìtal to see a Dr Fernando Martin, Rolling Stones fan and proud of his English made Land- Rover driver. He was operating and doing a follow up clinic but on helpful intervention by the receptionist came to see me for a minute. He offered me an appointment the next morning. Unfortunately I had been having a lot of hip pain when walking for the last five weeks or so, but expected it to settle down on holiday. It hadn´t - oscillating daily between being fine and it being quite painful to walk. It was for that reason incidentally I missed my last Spanish lesson, Maite.

Today, Saturday, we went to his clinic and he examined me and said everything looked OK except that I hadn´t the usual amount of rotation in the joint. Since we had tickets for the ferry to the mainland tomorrow he arranged for it to be X- rayed straight away and came with us to the centre to interpret the results. He said the X-ray was good and the joint was excellent. He also told me there was no problem emanating from my spine, which is a frequent source of hip pain, and was certain the problem was simply a muscular one. The prescribed treatment was physiotherapy and tablets for muscle relaxants and inflammation reduction. The tablets already seem to be working - the physio will have to wait - but already I feel very much happier and totally relieved that the problem is not serious. It´s nice to have a second opinion. The cost incidentally was only 20.5K for 2 X-rays, 25K for the consultation, and 22K for three weeks tablets.

By midday we were at the Annual Costumbrista Fair in Castro which was packed. As usual the main attraction was food. The stalls at one end were spit roasting beef, lamb and occasionally pork over wood fires and selling huge portions of excellent local meat for 2.5K a plate. Joan and I both had beef which made an excellent change from the sea food we have usually eaten here. At the other end of the 56 stalls, they were selling sea food particularly the Curanco I had earlier. In the middle was a Red Cross volunteers stall, think WVS, who sold gateau, kuchen and coffee. A Selva Negra and a Moka with cafe made a fine desert.

Various bands were performing for TV on a large stage. The one we watched comprised keyboards, violin, cello, flute and guitar and had a pleasant soft modern jazz folky feel. There were continuous shows on stage all day. But we spent the afternoon in the Rodeo ring, the same structure as the one at Valdivia, but if that was a professional ring for gentleman farmers then this was a rustic version for the local subsistence farmers. Although charged, just 0.50K for entry there were never any horses and no cattle. Instead it was used for games and the ring was packed with spectators and there was never any problem in getting volunteers.

CHASING THE PIG

They started with a couple of sack races to get things going then they called about 20 young kids into the ring and made them stand in a circle. Into the middle they put a very lively young black pig and the idea was that the kids chased around the ring

RIDES AROUND THE SHOW

until they caught it. That done they introduced a bigger more mature, still young, pig, but this stood and showed its teeth when cornered. Tug of war for mainlanders versus the islanders finished one all. They then tried a three woman tug of war, the rope having three ends each secured to a contestant by a loop secured by a bowline, a non-tightening, loop with a single turn round the thigh. Each contestant tries to reach a bottle of wine a few yards in front of them. The strong woman won with fair ease. But when retried with three physically matched young men, they tugged to a standstill and after 15 minutes a halt was called and they all limped away from the contest. If you think about the physics that is what should happen because as one contestant makes headway the angles on the rope change so he is increasingly having to beat two opponents pulling against him. In fact the young man in green from the wine district was given the prize for getting closest to winning though he was eventually pulled back to all square, well all at 120 degrees. I have never seen this done before. Blindfold contestants were then set to find a bottle of wine in the ring with only a long sweeping sticks, a task they found exceedingly difficult. Another task was set to lasso a goat in two attempts, only one man succeeded.

We noticed three waste bins where they were trying to encourage separation of rubbish into glass, plastics etc, but no-one had yet got the idea. On the other hand they are streets ahead of us really, or is it years behind, for the majority of drinks are sold in heavy bottles marked Envase Retornable.

DELIVERY NOT BY COAL BUT WOODMAN

Tomorrow we go by ferry, 2 x 16K, to Chaiten on the mainland and the so called Austral highway, which comes to a dead end both north and south and is not paved. This is Chile not China so that when roads are described in the books as difficult that is most likely to be still true.

Incidentally Chaiten is quite close to Esquel, although that is east it is on the Argentinian side of the Andes, nevertheless we may try to go there to see the Welsh town as suggested by Mary's Huw, but the main objective is south to Coyhaique and a boat trip to Saint Rafael Glacier where ice is continually breaking off and being used to fuel whisky drinks for the voyeurs in small boats. After that who knows but some-one we meet will explain the possibilities -probably onward via Argentina.

Breakfast today was another good session a French couple (mother and son, who is married to a Chilean and living in Santiago) being added to our Venezuelan sisters, Korean friend, and a new found dutchman who lives near Carcasonne and on his own admission looks a bit like Santa Claus, and a Chilean family group, the conversation being English, French and mainly Spanish. I´m getting better and can understand more, at first the accent threw me completely - it still does with the locals, but still feel more at home in French even though my knowledge of the grammar is now probably less than my knowledge of Spanish.

VOLCANO at CHAITEN but not the one that erupted after our return

The kitchen here, and in many hospedajes is available to residents. That evening we watched Rosa and her sister Gloria prepare two salads one of vegetables the other of fruit. One fruit was new to us Pepina fruta a sweet form of cucumber which looks a little like a small ripe yellow papaya which they were mixing with peach. There was as much interaction in the kitchen at night as there had been in the morning.

One last dawn before leaving and as usual Joan pulled up the venetian blind on our east picture window just sufficiently so it let in lots of light but still had to stoop a little to see out. The ostrich it is said buries its head in the ground and thinks it cançt be seen. I could just visualise all those dirty old men on the latest cruise liner at their port holes with their binoculars, bird watching. Imagine my surprise on looking out to see not a cruise liner but a Chilean navy warship anchored in the bay. It was camouflaged army style pretending to be a rock flying the Chilean flag. Maybe I was the target for all those young sex starved bisexuals.

The boat to Chaiten, pronounced Shite Ten, wasn't due to leave until 3pm so we spent the morning looking around the inlet and saw from much closer all the palafita houses built on stilts and watch while one received it delivery of coal, except that it was fuel from a lorry piled high with logs suitably sized for the wood burning stoves.

For lunch we went early to Restaurant Octavia which was also built on stilts with a fine outlook over the bay. The waiter owner was eating his breakfast but served us before any other customers arrived with a superb meal Corvina for me and Paila Marina, this time with red crab, and a huge avocado as salad. Forty mins later at 1.30 the restaurant filled up and he had changed into black trousers and a bow tie.

Have just seen the comment on the blog from Terry, Lican Ray, and was sad to hear his 96 year old mother had just died. My mother was born just a few months later and is still fit in body though she no longer recognises me but still enjoys being taken out. Terry, when you have written up the account of your grandfathers experiences in the Somme based on his letters, I would feel privileged to have a copy.

Futaleufu

Posted 20 February 2997
We left Castro by the ferry 2 x 16K which was about an hour late arriving because of problems with its propeller at 4pm for the six hour crossing to the continent. It was very calm and very beautiful. Joan and I both spent time independently on the bridge with the captain of the ship which carried about 100 passengers and 30 cars and lorries.

He explained to me that the weather had been unusually good here for around a month, so whereas a there were normally several seasick passengers today everyone was happy. Spring tides in the area were 10 metres as now but not with fast streams because of the depth of water. They ran a variable nonstop circuit between Puerto Montt, Castro and Chaiten, where we were now headed. He showed me the chart, the radar, the steering which was entirely by varying the angle of the propeller without the need for a rudder and
the master compass viewed through a periscope and was amazed when a pulled out a hand compass, which I told him was nowadays used solely to orient myself on arrival in a new town, to confirm his heading. He had worked in the English Channel and the Thames, and so had a reasonable capacity with English.

We arrived at 11pm and one enterprising hospedaje met the boat with a bus and persuaded most of the passengers without a booking to spend the night with them in the Iquipenque. It was very clean, with rooms barely big enough to house two beds, so that to climb out of bed I had first to crawl over Joan's. But they also provided us with a choice of freshly cooked and cold food which was very welcome at this time of day, or invited us to shop in their supermarket next door. A basic breakfast was served the next day, B&B costing just 5K a head.

Like most others we set out early the next morning. We headed for the small bus station. It was closed but a woman appeared from nowhere to sell us tickets for the bus onward towards the Argentine border for 6K each. Having done this by 9am we walked a little further to a bench on the deserted promenade and gazed at the wonderful bay at low tide with mountains all around, an wondered anew at the wonderful quality of the light. When we went to El Refugio for lunch and were amazed to find it full with a party speaking English, loudly in the overbearing American way.

The bus journey to Futaleufu was through magnificent wooded mountain scenery along an unmade, but occasionally graded Ripio road. The scenery and road reminded us vividly of the roads in the mountainous areas of Canada, such as the Laurentians or the foothills of the Rockies in the fifties, when The Trans-Canada Highway was just being finished. Washboard roads on which I aimed to drive at the speed fitted to the wavelength of ripple so as to aqua-glide along (rarely successful), which incidentally became a surface of motorway quality when covered with snow in winter. For what ever reason the bus driver, who crossed himself before setting out, had to stop twice, once because the notched fan belt was slipping and he wanted to avoid a breakage the other through a puncture when we were within walking distance of our destination.
Basing our choice of hotel on the experience of Castro we headed to Adolphos, 2 x 6K. Another inspired choice. We were immediately having coffee with the owners son Gustavo and a young German couple Sebastian and Christina, who were on their third visit to this hospedaje within the first 4 months of their trip to South America. Gustavo was trying to improve his English, the Germans were intent on learning Spanish before attending Spanish school in Cordoba Argentine, and I of course was wanting to improve my Spanish speech. The combination was perfect. Sebastian and his girlfriend were on very good terms with their hosts and were out till three or four in the morning trying to learn a Chilean card game, but today he was helping Gustavo rub down the exterior of the house ready to take a new coat of paint before winter. Last Saturday for the Summer Festival they had helped Gustavo build the winning float for the carnival, a pirate ship made from cardboard cartons from the supermarket and bamboo as stiffeners.

At breakfast the next morning we shared the table with two young Chilean Sociology students (Stefano, Italian descent, and Javiera) who were just coming to the end of their 2.5 month holiday before going back to university to complete their fifth and last year. They had been staying with his sister who lived in Coyhaique, one of our next destinations after this side trip into Argentina. We spoke at length the next day including to review the differences between Latin American and Castillian Spanish, c isn't th but s. ll isn't y but Spanish j, v isn't b but v, etc. As they left we were joined by Daniela (a student of Nutricion a 4 year course and Angello who is just about to start a 7 year course to become a doctor of medicine). Angello was fluent in English so we conversed quite deeply about society and politics in this language, he stopped us from time to time to translate into Spanish for his girlfriend who was thus fully involved, as was Joan. They came from the world's biggest big copper mining centre of Rancagua, the mine is Chapaverde and exports via San Antonio. Her mother who lives on the coast processes and exports seaweed to Spain and other countries for its calcium, iodine, iron and above all its anti toxin properties.

We came here for a day and will stay 5 nights leaving by the Friday bus at 8.30 for the Argentinian border. It is such a lovely village, a small plain in a valley in the mountains with a fabulous friendly laid back atmosphere founded as recently as 1929 by Polish amongst others trekking in from Puerto Montt.

Tonight, Wednesday the 21 Feb we are going to free concert at 9pm given by Inti Illimani, famous band with an Quecha name (Peruvian Indian) which means Rising Sun. It is free and expected to be crowded in the local gymnasium by the small football stadium.

Yesterday was one of the great days.
We went rafting and kayaking on two man sit on top kayaks in grade 3 rapids. Grade 5 which they have here on the Futaleufu river is the top of grade 5, the highest rating in the world of white water. We did a section way back towards Santa Lucia on the road to Chaiten, rafting the hardest rapids.

Joan wasn't enthusiastic about going but in thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The night before I had established from Gustavo the best company to approach Expeditions Chili (fully recommended by us), just across the road. Before starting the day I had persuaded Joan to go to their office and by the marvellous timing, which seems to characterise our travelling, we happened to arrive at just as a group of four others of our age were just finalising a trip for the day. Andrew 72 born of US parents in Santiago was trained as an heavy Electrical Engineer in the States and worked all over the world in mining, his wife Silvia was Chilean and related to the proprietor of an up market hospedaje here La Gringa where the whole group were staying. Warren was an American doctor still working in his late 70"s in the American Hospital in Istanbul and his wife Irica was Dutch born but had lived more than half her life in Turkey and was now on her second marriage. They were a great crowd and we had a super day with a break for lunch after tackling one grade 1 rapid in a kayak. We were given wet suits, anoraks and life jackets and left our clothes in the two 4WDs that conveyed us up river. The whole experience cost us only 35K per person and there was one helper to each of us visitors.

I managed to capsize our canoe having been by far the best in the boat up till then, thanks to my memory of white water canoeing from the holiday we spent on the water at Le Rosier, Gorges du Tarn, in France with Jim thirty years earlier. The excuse for the capsize is that we tackled the last rapid with the boat almost sinking as the buoyancy tank had filled with water due to being holed. Or maybe this was when we holed it! We had noticed this at lunch and tipped the boat to empty it. This time however we had an exhausting swim to the beach of the wide fast flowing river being towed by a guard man in a true one man kayak, an exercise which must have taken all of 15 minutes. Joan thanked him for his efforts to save us, I too should have - we were very lucky to have chosen such a professional American Outfit..

But it was all well worth while and we happily got back into the boat to complete the route though there were no more rapids. Another helper was an American who told us about his experiences in the Peace Corps in Paraguay, a very poor country next to prosperous Brazil. He loved white water and after this summer will leave for a job in New Zealand.

We were looking in the window of the Futaleufu Restaurant looking for a place to eat when Santa Claus knocked the window where he was seated. We now know him as Theo Reuvres (www.artheo.com) who told us this was the first time he had flown, having been persuaded to join some Argentinian neighbours in Carcasonne on their visit to their second home. They had now parted company for a while as he had no desire to swap Chile for very hot, boringly flat and mosquito ridden Argentina. Since he had never flown we concluded that he was not a traveller, but no he said he had traveled widely in Europe. It turned out that for several years he and the Hazard Brothers (clowns) used to control traveling circuses, including multi big top events and circus for Cottles. His main occupation for the past fifteen years had been the design, building and painting of scenery for what he called Theatre Vivant. He called himself the black sheep of the family but thought that all the others felt very hemmed in by successful careers, one as a top tax man in Holland. For this trip he had borrowed a film camera from his sister and was taking hundreds of photos which he intended to sell as postcards, each with his related comments in Spanish. So he was learning Spanish by reading a newspaper daily, by watching TV with the sound turned off so as to interpret the Spanish sub titles and simply by listening, this last method I would find impossibly difficult. He came to Futaleufu for one night, fell in love with the place like us, and immediately booked for a whole week.

Just as we were leaving the restaurant a 4WD saw us and stopped. Andrew was at the wheel, 80 year old La Gringa was at his side and the other three were in the back. "What have you been doing?" "Eating and Drinking wine." "So have we". They were leaving the next morning and hoped we would enjoy Torres del Paine as much as they had.

Just as we left the Expediciones Chile a woman, Norma, approached me, noticing my knee bandage, said she was a physiotherapist and offered to help. I explained the knee bandage was just a precaution whilst rafting. But the next morning I decided to contact her about my leg and the physiotherapy instructions the doctor in Castro had given me. It turned out that her husband worked for the raft/kayak firm and that she had joined him for a holiday.

She came to our room and showed me in great detail six or more exercises to do to stretch my hamstrings and quadriceps as requested and to improve the amount of rotation and other movement in the hip. She also located a small muscle about 2/3 up my quadriceps which was in permanent spasm, and showed Joan how to find and massage it away. This spasm explained why I had been experiencing pain, not much, with every step since my operation nearly two years ago. She also recognized that pain in walking initiated by standing after sitting, particularly on a low chair, was an known hazard, due to trapping a tendon, or some similar event. We both agreed that the source of pain was quite different to the muscle spasm just described. Hence the intensity of what has been happening in the last few weeks, though my fear of it being nerve pain was completely wrong. Expert physiotherapists are marvelous. I remember a similar debilitating spasm being found deep behind the knee and being massaged away by an American Police physio after a day's hard trekking in Thailand. For some reason they scarcely exist in the NHS. People with replacement joints are left to their own devices and leave hospital once they have been shown how to negotiate stairs safely. Joan can vouch for how much help she got privately in Werndale and from Cheryl Stone and almost none in Morriston. It could be a large part of the explanation as to why the private operation on her left knee was better 

Today we have been out for an eight hour mountain walk to El Lago de Oeste, the most we have done since being in Peru 4 years ago, ie since my hip gave out. Joan is sleeping off her exhaustion, but is otherwise fine, my leg came through OK. Torres del Paine here we come.

Last night we went to the modern gymnasium to hear the Init Illmani concert. An eight man band which has been going and renewing itself for 40 years. The Santana figure, the only Indian in the group, and a couple of others had been there from the start. But there was plenty of young blood too.

 All were multi instrumentalists and five of them sang solo as well. The newcomer a negro playing percusion, soprano sax and clarinet got the biggest cheer at the end - not in my view the correct choice - but the rhythm in Latin American music is so important. One of the key singers played flute, zampona (Andes pipes), Quena (wooden piccolo), guitar and percussion. The violin with pick up was superb as was a lot of the guitar work. Santana, or what ever his name is, played one of the two Charangos (miniature ten stringed guitar) as well as the Cajon (percusion box which is sat on), normal guitar as well as being key vocalist. Their aim is to promote native music from across Latin America including Cuba, and they obviously have a big following in Chile and deservedly so.


A protest banner was displayed to one side of the audience protesting about repression from the government. I later learned, along with the names of the instruments I didn't know, that the government wanted to build three large hydro

TWO OF OUR FRIENDS

electric schemes on the Futaleufu river. That would be the end for this prosperous community with its reputation as a top, if not the very top, white water location in the world.

Tomorrow we leave with misgivings by 8.30 bus to the border where we will transfer to an Argentine bus for the trip to Esquel and the Welsh town of Trevelin, having received some helpful advice from Mary and her cousin.