On Thursday, I said farewell to the guys from Santiago and took a boat to return to Puerto Natales. Once there, I was really hungry after 8 days of eating on slim rations so I went to restaurant and ordered a huge churrasco (kind of like a hamburger, but a different form of meat, I couldn't tell you what). I went all out, which was a mistake. That night, I boarded a ferry that would take me to Puerto Montt after a 3 day trip by boat. I was going to take a bus all the way back to Viña del Mar (a 3 day trip by bus), but a discounted ticket opened up to take the ferry, so I decided to just go for it. This ferry has like 6 levels (3 of which are for passengers and 3 of which are for cargo, trucks, cars, etc) and is officially the longest ferry in the world (3 days).
On Friday, I awoke feeling quite sick. I'm pretty sure that the going all out at dinner the night before was not the best decision. I'm pretty sure that's what made me sick because my body had gotten used to eating a little bit and then it was an abrupt change. Either that, or it was food poisoning. Something. So the first day on the boat was a little rough. I read a lot and met some other Americans my age that I spent time with. There was actually a couple that had both graduated from Duke. Others from up north in Massachusetts. We passed through the endless sight of the archipelago of southern Chile (tons and tons and more tons of small uninhabited islands). I met a woman on the boat that had worked for many years with the United States Peace Corps, particularly in Africa. She was brought in after the genocide in Rwanda to help rebuild the country with social projects after the turmoil of the genoicde. Quite a challenge. She talked about how there was a group of European students that were on a tour to see the gorrillas of Rwanda (I have no idea why there was a tour into Rwanda only 8 months after the genocide, but that's a different matter) and a group of Rwandan guerillas took over their bus and stole all of their possessions at gunpoint. Quite the tour. She was a really interesting person.
On Saturday, we disembarked in the morning to visit a small isolated town that can only be reached by boat called Puerto Edén (Port Eden) just to see it. I felt pretty ridiculously touristy, because they put you in bright flourescent life jackets when you disembark, so basically it's 50 gringos that are walking around this little town and no one else is out. Only 2 people from Puerto Eden were out trying to sell trinkets to the gringos. The rest of the town was completely dead. If I lived there, I would stay in my house as well the 1 time a week that the gringos swarm upon the town. But they built tons of signs and boardwalks and lookouts to turn it into the tourist location that it is. The ferry is basically the only way for the people of Puerto Eden to get to mainland and buy essential things even though it's a day trip by boat to Puerto Montt (the nearest town). So a few members of the town boarded the boat to go with us. As we were leaving and the boat was sailing away, the people of the town began coming out of their houses and functioning as normal. So in short, there are two modes for the town: normal mode and gringo mode. This day I was still working on recovering completely from my stomach sickness.
On Sunday, we sailed out of the archipelago into the wide open area that is not protected by the islands. Therefore, the boat was ridiculously rocky. Swaying back and forth and back and forth. It was actually quite difficult to walk without falling over. This day was more reading and trying not to get sea sickness. haha. In the night, they had a dancing/bingo night (interesting combo) in the area with the bar. And of course, I was selected to be the King of the Ship with an honorary dance with the Queen of the Ship. Basically the selection was only based on one lady who served the food who decided to crown me. The "Queen" was a young married Spaniard traveling with her newlywed through Southern Chile. This made for an interesting dance as the husband seemed to be making sure that I didn't do anything funny. Anyways, it was a good night.
PHOTO ALBUM 2: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=64034&id=515011896&l=e20fbe262e
On Wednesday, I set off for Torres del Paine. As I was packing my bag, I was actually kind of scared at how heavy it was. I had food for myself for 8 days, a tent, a sleeping bag, a stove, fuel, a pot, a shirt, a pair of pants, a rain jacket, gaiters, water bottle, a camelback, a sleeping pad, hiking boots, my heavy jacket, my eating utensils, my map and compass, my pack cover; all of that. I, personally, had never gone on an 8 day backpacking trip before carrying all my own supplies. I had done tons of trips of 2 days, 3 days, 5 days, even 6 days, but all those experiences were in groups with shared equipment that was distributed among all the group. Not this time. I was on my own. Sure, there would be other people to hike with so I wasn’t alone in that respect, but I was alone in terms of carrying all my own stuff. About 10 minutes before I was about to get on the bus for the 2 hour ride to Torres, I realized that I had forgotten to get sunglasses. And of course the bus was leaving at 2 pm, right in the middle of the afternoon siesta where everything is closed. I had heard about people that had gotten sun blinded by the reflection of the sun off the snow and they had to be lead off of the mountain by people who could actually see. That kind of worried me so I scrambled to find a place open that could sell me sunglasses. I was running with what I think was a 60-65 pound pack in crocks to find a pair of sunglasses, typical gringo stereotype. If I missed that bus I would have lost a lot of money and had to wait until the next day to go which I didn’t really want to do. I finally found this small drugstore and hurried to find a pair of sunglasses. I found a pair that seemed alright, but as the woman that worked there was helping me, she dropped one the pairs and lens popped right out. Great, so they were cheap as cheap can get, but they still seemed to have the solar protection so I went ahead and bought them and ran to catch the bus. During the bus ride I met these group of 5 guys from Santiago who were planning to do the same route as I, the Grand Circuit, so I decided to tag along with them since they seemed pretty cool. As we approached the national park, flocks of animals called Guanacos lined the sides of the roads. It is an animal that closely resembles a llama. We arrived, and the grand lakes and majestic mountain types stood awaiting us. I set off with the 5 guys from Santiago as the wind pounded upon us. Not 6 minutes into the trek, the wind had ripped my pack cover off and carried it so fast that I couldn’t even catch it. Within a few minutes I couldn’t even see it anymore and I wouldn’t have been able to get it. I was thinking, Great, this is a grand start to my trek. 3 of the guys, Cholo, Negro, and Marco were about 25 and were friends from high school and had decided to come trek Torres during their summer break. The other 2, Ody (his nickname because he resembled Ody from Garfield) and Diego were about 22 and were also friends from high school. We hiked the 2 hours to the first campsite. But unfortunately, my bad luck followed me. As I was setting up my tent at the campsite, the wind was pounding upon us. All of a sudden the picked up my tent as I was setting it up and snapped the poles right in half. Great…..Not only did I not have a pack cover in a place where it rains more than the Amazon, but I also didn’t have a functional tent. After some thinking about what to do, I finally remembered that there was a tool that came with my tent that can help in situations such as these. Basically what it is a small piece of pole that slides over the broken part to make it stiff and make it work. Of course, I had pull the string through all the pieces and tie it and then slide the supporter piece over the break. Luckily, it worked for the most part so I actually had a dry place to sleep at night.
Here's a map of Torres del Paine National Park: http://www.torresdelpaine.com/ingles/secciones/02/a/popup/3.htm
On Thursday (Hostería Los Torres to Campamento Laguna), I set off with the guys from Santiago through the forests of the trail, through open fields, all with beautiful terrain. I saw for the first time in my life (at least I think) a woodpecker as it pecked away at the trees. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And then the rain began, pouring down upon us as we made our way to the next refugio. At the refugio, they have places to set up your tents and get water if necessary. There were about 20 people at this specific refugio and a couple people that lived in the refugio for months working there.
On Friday (Campamento Laguna to Campamento Dickson), we slept in until about 10am as it was raining outside and I didn’t really feel like packing up in the rain. That was one difference that was quite nice compared to trekking in the US. In the US, you have to set off relatively early, say before 10 or 10:30 because if not, you’re going to be hiking into the hours of dark, but since it’s southern Chile, there’s sunlight until the hours of 9 or 9:30 meaning that you can begin hiking at 1 or 2 with no problem. So basically I was in no rush to get out of bed every morning. Although being in a tent alone for 12-13 hours (although 8 or 9 hours sleeping) makes you appreciate the company of others. We set off in early afternoon and began to reach sight of the snow capped mountains and glaciers in the distance. As we continued along, there were a number of people passing us in the other direction that had had to turn back because the pass, 2 days ahead for us) had been closed because of a mudslide. This was a problem. The thing was, on the other side of that pass is the grand sight of trekking along the massive glacier, but those that had to turn back wouldn’t get to see any of that unless they travelled the 8 days in the other direction to reach the other side the long way. We were taking a big risk continuing. If we reached the pass (4 days in on the trail), and it was closed, then we would have had to turn back like the others and hike the 4 days back on the same trail that we camin in on, and we wouldn’t get to see the glacier at all. If I had to do that, I wouldn’t have gotten to see the glaciers at all because that would add 4 days to my trip in Torres del Paine, and those were 4 days I didn’t have. But we had confidence that it was going to open up within the 2 days that it would take us to get there but that didn’t get rid of my worries. The next camp took it out of us in terms of the difficulty. It was about 12 miles away with a lot of elevation change and it seemed like we would never reach it. This is where we got introduced to the torrential mud that would of swallowed babies easily (*actually that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but when stepped in, it easily went higher than the tops of your boots). All I can say is thank god for gaiters. They cover the tops of your boots to stop mud and water from entering inside your boots. It was really almost as if we were hiking through streams rather than trails. After a long and tedious day, we finally arrived at the next camp, Campamento Dixon, where a group of 20 or so tents were scattered in the field. Dinner was extra delicious that day. After dinner, we sat around talking into the night, and of course had to partake in drinking some rum to keep warm.
On Saturday (Campamento Dickson), we decided to take a day off to enjoy the areas around the camp more. So basically I slept in until 11 or 12 as the rain pounded upon our tents. We hadn’t had a bath for a couple days so Marcos, Nacho (a guy from Viña del Mar that I met during the hike who was traveling alone), and I decided to take a dip in the lake that was right next to the camp. It was pretty cold with the wind and all and then we were about to get in even freezinger (that wasn’t a word, but now it is) water. In the distance, you could see the glacier as it extended into the water. Needless to say, our baths didn’t last more than 20 seconds, but it took half an hour curled up in my jacket to get warm again. I didn’t have a way to measure the temperature, but I couldn’t imagine how it could be more than 40 degrees. We did some exploring around the area to see what there was to see.
On Sunday (Campamento Dickson to Campamento Los Perros), we set off again as we packed up in the rain, unfortunately. Through the forests and the mud we trekked. When we were about halfway, we got the great news that the pass was open and that we would be able to reach the glacier on the other side!!! I was quite happy to hear that and to know that I wouldn’t have to turn back and trek the exact same stretch that I had done for the past 4 days. We finally reached a smaller lake up in the mountains with huge rocks on its borders. It looked more like a crater filled with some water. And on the other side of the lake, we came to our first glacier up close. It was quite large with the tops of it reaching up into the clouds (or maybe I should say fog). The small lake was filled with miniature icebergs that had broken off of the glacier. Nearby we came to Campamento Perros, which was dreadfully cold. We arrived drenched and we were warmly greeted with a wigwam like structure with a fire and a place to dry clothes. There were probably about 25 people huddled in this small structure to keep warm, talking, drinking mate, cooking dinner, playing games. It was a really nice atmosphere. It was probably 93% Chileans and 7% foreigners. There was one other American, NO Israelis (not that I don’t like Israelis, I was just completely shocked that there were none considering the abundance of Israelis during the rest of my trip), 2 guys from France, and 1 European couple. As the night got darker, the guitar music started, the singing commenced, and the alcohol was passed around. Negro studied music and he had brought his instrument with him (I really wish I remember what it was called, but it was similar to a banjo/ guitar/harp) It was fun. Haha.
On Monday (Campamento Los Perros to Campamento Paso), we set off in the morning to visit a glacier that was nearby that everyone had recommended. An hour hike without packs into this open rock area, we came a glacier that was right in front of us. There was no lake stopping us from touching it, only a stream of water flowing down to form a river. It appeared to be precariously situated as if the top part was going to collapse at any moment. The overhang stood something like 80 feet over us. Bakán (really cool). We hiked back to the refugio and set off for the pass. The mud on the trail was absolutely torrential making it quite difficult to avoid completely dirty. And then the rain came as we made the difficult hike up the mountain side. Finally, we got to walk through the snow considering that we were at such a high elevation. There were probably about 6 times where I thought we had reached the pass, but as soon as we got a little higher, you could see another false pass on the horizon. We finally reached the pass and the rain was pouring down on us as the wind was blowing determined to knock us over. My gloves were already wet so I was clenching my fists to avoid the cold. But the view was amazing. We were on the ridge of a mountain peering down on a glacier field with the size of 104 square miles (I looked it up). All across the the glacier, you could see the crannies and pools of turquoise blue water. Quite a sight. As we hiked down the other side, we always had the sight of the glacier right in front of us. Diego, one of the guys from Santiago who I was hiking with, twisted his knee badly so we went at a slower pace so that he could keep up. Hiking down the steep mountains is even worse than hiking up because you have the constant pressure on your knees and it's a lot easier to get injured. We arrived at the campsite, and I had one of the best dinners of my life after such a long day of hiking. I was the only gringo there so it was definitely a good way to meet people from Santiago y some from Argentina. I spent most of the night by the fire, enjoying its warmth while conversing with the others.
On Tuesday (Campamento Paso to Campamento Los Guardas), we had a pretty easy day, slowly making our way down the steep slopes through the forests right next to the glacier. The night was spent playing music and singing. Fun fun.
On Wednesday (Campamento Los Guardas to Campamento Pehoé), we began entering the world of tourist central. Most people come to do the "W", so that's were most of the tourists are. The old gizzards from America traveling with their guides, the young french couple that just got married, the Chinese woman visiting Patagonia alone, the two British girls teaching English in Santiago, all of these who you wouldn't find on the back side of park (where I was the first 6 days). I saw maybe 4 gringos (North Americans for those who don't know) on the back side of the park during the first 6 days, and about 70 within my 2 days in the front part of the park. We walked along the glaciar until finally reaching the point where it turns to a lake. As we were watching the edge of the glacier, a huge chunk crashed into the water forming one of the new baby icebergs that littered the lake. Some of the points were so steep that it required a 40 foot ladder to go down it. As we finally reached the Campamento Pehoé at dusk, we found the camp of gringos, gringos, and more gringos. We were quite exhausted by this time in the trek, so that night, it was time to enjoy. At this developed campamento, there was a hotel, a restaurant, and basically everything a tourist would need. The guys from Santiago and I started in the bar and enjoyed a delicious hamburger. Having such small portions for 7 days really makes you appreciate delicious food. We met a girl of probably 28 years from China that was traveling through Chile. She was excited to practice her Spanish which was really interesting because her Spanish kept the tones that are part of Mandarin. Her accent was very choppy Spanish, but it could still be understood. I thought it interesting that she didn't really know English, but she knew Spanish. It doesn't seem like most Chinese would learn Spanish before English which was interesting. Afterwards, we bought boxed wine and I enjoyed my last night with the guys from Santiago. There were probably about 11 of us that started the trip and finished at the same time, so you spent the nights in the refugios with the same people (oh and when I say refugios, it's basically, there are places to put a tent, and a small shelter to cook under). So we toasted to a good trip and enjoyed the night.
On Monday I had heard that there was a large population of Magellanic Penguins on a beach near Punta Arenas so I decided to check it out. I took an hour and a half bus ride out of Punta Arenas to a beach with a settlement of penguins. They were just chilling on the beach and waddling, doing what penguins do. The wind was blowing with great force making it generally quite hard to walk. As far as the eye could see, was knee high grass until the beach. About 60 or so penguins were huddled in the sand relatively immobile as they seemed to be sleeping. They had their backs to the forceful wind so as to allow it to blow over them without pushing them over. A couple others had huddled into a log where they were protected from the wind. Every so often a number of them would flock into the ocean for their daily fill of fish. Within the knee high grass, a number of penguins had made underground burrows where they seemed to be keeping away from the cold. I must say it was quite a strange sight to see a group of penguins and not 20 yards away, a group of cows.
On Tuesday, I said farewell to my Spanish friend and took a bus to nearby Puerto Natales, the starting off point for treks to Torres del Paine National Park. I found a backpacker's hostel where there were tons of backpackers just as me. The hostel was probably filled all with backpackers, I want to say probably 70% of which were from Israel, some from Santiago, and some Europeans. As I was walking down the street while doing some errands it was completely sunny, and not 10 minutes later a typical thunderstorm was pouring down upon the town with its dark grey clouds. The wind is so forceful that the weather changes in southern Chile within minutes. That night, the Israelis wanted to go for a night on the town to some pubs so I decided to go along. It was at the bar, that I saw where they stereotype about “don’t be a jew” came from. The whole time during while we were at the bar, the group of Israelis were continuously trying to bargain with the waiter. If the menu said a Rum and Coke costs 2 dollars, they would say “we’ll order 5 for 7 dollars”, always trying to get more for less. I feel that there are some situations where bargaining is appropriate, but not in a formal establishment like a restaurant with set prices. I asked them why they tried to bargain so much and the response they gave me was that as Israelis, they majority travel for 8 months while the rest travel for 2 months. For that reason, they have to save all the money they can or by the end of the trip they’ll be completely broke, hence their incessant bargaining. So that’s their reasoning, although I probably wouldn’t do the same.
On Saturday, I lounged around the plaza reading my book ´In Patagonia´ by Bruce Chatwin. I looked at the newspaper that day and saw that half of the front page stories were stories from the United States. Most notable was about the Obama rescue plan for the economy and secondly the story that Michael Phelps had been caught smoking marijuana. I also found it interesting in the newspaper that there were still news stories about people trying to resolve court cases about holding people responsible for the disappearance of family members during the Pinochet regime over 30 years ago. I met up with the Spaniard and we began the long journey south to ¨the end of the world¨ (or at least that´s what name the very Southern tip of Chile has acquired). I rode along in the truck that he uses to transport his motorcycles for his clients with two seats up front for the both of us. He´s from Spain, lives in Brasil, and works in Chile, so he definitely gets around. Being that his clients are pretty well off he only has to work 4 months out of the year in Punta Arenas, Chile and then the other 8 months he´s soaking up the sun and enjoying the Brazilian women. Didn´t sound like a bad deal. A little ways out of Coyhaique and the comfortable paved road turns to gravel for around a 80 mile stretch. After passing through the Andes to the Argentine side of the border, you are faced with the vast nothingness of the Argentine Pampa as compared to the green landscape of Chile. Nothing but dirt and small shrubs as far as the eye can see with small fences marking the property lines. I was expecting John Wayne to gallop up on his horse any second. The colors in the sky majestic as the sun set over the horizon. Every so often rabbits would scurry out of the way as the truck came barrelling by. I must say at times we were doing a little more of drifting than actually driving on that dirt road which spiced things up. We stopped at some random gas station to spend the night where music could be heard blaring from the nearby town. The gas station was closed at 11:30 but it was suprisingly a popular spot. I´m not really sure what all the people were doing there. We cleared out the back of the truck and laid out our sleeping bags for a good night´s sleep as cars blaring their music would drive by every so often.
On Sunday we continued on to Comodoro Rivadivia to complete our traverse of Argentina and then turned south towards Punta Arenas. Southern Argentina: Patagonia; where every town is a speck in the vast Pampa. I wondered at times how the people that live in these towns survive financially because it seems that farming is out of the question with poor soil quality and there cannot be much of an economy within the small town. We barrelled down the highway sipping maté and listening to Maná (a really good Mexican band) blaring through the loudspeakers as I tried to pick out the Spanish words. Horatio and I both helped each other out, I with his English and he with my Spanish. Farther down the coast you began to see the oil fields with the pump jacks scattered out across the land pumping away. It seemed to be dominated by foreign companies, including those of the United States although I cannot remember exactly the specific companies. At one of the gas stations that we stopped at, instead of a drink machine, I found a hotwater dispenser for those to fill up their thermoses for drinking maté on the road. Almost everyone had thermoses and would put the couple of coins into the machine to fill their thermoses. We made sure to fill up as well before we went on. In the late evening, we crossed the border once again back into Chile to make the final stretch down to Punta Arenas, but not before stopping for lamb at a trucker´s resturaunt. We pulled in Punta Arenas after dark but it was definitely unlike any other city I had been in in Chile. The only word I could think of to describe it was vintage New York for architectural design and the stone buildings and the atmosphere. This night was a comfy hostal bed.
On Wednesday, I woke up early to catch the twice a week bus out of Futaleufú down to Coyhaique, Chile (the biggest city of the south). I was a bit surprised when a 44 person bus arrived to take us and the only passengers were an Australian woman, myself, and the 2 bus drivers. This began the 14 hour trip south along the Carretera Austral (the Austral Highway). The Carretera Austral can hardly be called a highway and for most of the road it´s still a dirt road. This is the road that connects the southern section of the country with the northern part with the road going from Villa O´Higgins up to Puerto Montt. Up until 1976, the southern section of the country was completely isolated from the the northern part. It was only accessible by boat from Chile, or roads from Argentina. The road was the grand project of General Augusto Pinochet during the reign of his military regime. As we moved along, we picked up a couple people along the way, but the most that was ever on the bus at one time was only 7 passengers for the 44 seats. I met a father and son from the small town of Palena, Chile who were taking the 10 hour trip to Coyhaique to buy a television set since that was the nearest city. There was a French couple who we picked up on the side of the road who had been backpacking a bit in a nearby national forest. There were also two Israeli guys who hadn´t had much luck with hitchiking. With the bus drivers, I was pretty amazed at how many people they knew. We stopped in probably 10 towns along the way and they got out of the bus probably 3 times in each town to greet people they knew and pick up a cake or something that someone had baked for them. Many places along the road, road crews were working to improve the road which seems like a neverending task considering it´s a gravel road and the large downpours cause erosion that then has to be repaired. All along the way there were billboards on the side of the road that said something like ¨Mira el Progreso¨ (Look at the Progress) with a picture of the road to highlight the improvements being made in the region´s infrastructure. The gravel road made for a bumpy ride most of the way, but the scenery was beautiful; tons of very blue rivers and snow capped mountains and green pastures. We finally arrived in Coyhaique around 10pm and I went with 2 Israelis to a Hospedaje (like a hostel) that someone had recommended. The city was quite a lot bigger than little Futaleufú. After getting lost a couple of times, we finally found it right next to they Municipality Cemetery. It turned out to be basically a woman´s small house that has a room or two that was converted into bunk beds, but it was still very much her house. The Israelis didn´t speak much Spanish and the lady not much English so I was able to do a little translating to help out. Also at the hospedaje were two British girls, one from England one from Scotland, that were both teaching English in Santiago, Chile for a year before going to college and they were traveling a bit during Chile´s school summer break. I spent a while laughing at the words the British girls were using that i´m pretty sure were not English words, but they seemed to think differently.
On Thursday, I went with the Israelis to figure out bus transportation and see what there is in the city. I learned that there are a ridiculous amount of Israelis traveling everywhere in the world. At least in South America, they are probably known as the nation with the most tourists that come to South America. Israelis all have to spend a mandatory 3 years in the military beginning around 18. One of the Israelis I was with worked as a Tanker Gunman and the other as Special Forces. The Lebanon War had been going on during 2006 so they had both fought in combat during the war. Remembering back to the Israeli River Guide at Futaleufú, he had some pretty horrific stories about his experiences during the Lebanon War. Both of the Israelis in Coyhaique had finished their service a year ago and they had worked for a year, then travel for a year, and then return to Israel to begin university. That seems to be what most Israelis do which means that there is a huge number of Israelis traveling around with their friends, everywhere. This has been confirmed by my experiences of running into tons of Isrealis all along the way (they´re not too hard to spot), on buses, in the supermarket, while backpacking..... There is tons of American television programming and music in Israel which helps them to learn English. Also, none of the American television programming is dubbed, only subtitled so that means that they are constantly hearing the American accent and English being spoken. The result is that most Israelis speak English pretty well. Chile on the other hand does dub a lot of their English programming, but most movies still only use subtitles. Considering the fact that Hebrew outside of Israel is pretty uncommon, they pretty much have to learn English or another language to get along when outside of Israel. While making dinner back at the hostel, the woman whose house it is kept saying I was cooking the meat wrong and that I was using too many bowls so she basically took the spatula from me and cooked the meat herself. I wasn´t going to argue with her, but I didn´t realize that there was really a wrong way to cook meat. She also didn´t like when people washed the dishes and used too much water or didn´t clean it well enough so she didn´t allow us to clean our dishes. I wasn´t going to complain.
On Friday February 6th, I went to the office that sells Ferry tickets to buy a ticket to go down to the south of Argentina but unfortunately I only found that they were sold out until Monday. I found that out and decided to think about it and as I was leaving the office, a man called me over in English and asked where I was going. I told him Puerto Natales and he said he was going to Punta Arenas which is even more south than Puerto Natales and pretty close too. He was a 40 year old Spaniard working for his own tourism company in Argentina renting out motorbikes to those that wanted them. His office is in Punta Arenas but he had driven up the motorbikes to Coyhaique to hand them off to two clients there and he was heading back to Punta Arenas on Saturday. He seemed like a crazy guy and I was thrilled to get a cheap ride considering it would cost about 80$ USD for a bus ticket. We planned on meeting up on Saturday to start the 2 day trek through Argentina to Punta Arenas. Later, while I was at an internet café, these 2, probably 75 year old, proper Irishmen came and sat down at the computers next to me. They were severely technologically challenged and they had the task of opening up gmail and sending an email back to family. They didn´t speak a word of Spanish, and everything on the screen was written in Spanish. Not to mention that the letters written on the keyboard were rubbed off so they couldn´t see what keys they were pressing. They spent probably 5 minutes trying to figure out how to get to www.gmail.com because they didn´t recognize the url area in the screen. Next they spent 8 minutes entering their email addresses asking me every couple of seconds ¨where´s the letter r¨ or ¨where´s the letter ´m´¨ intermingled with sailor´s language of ¨fuck¨and ¨shit¨. The situation was very comical for me. I finally just said let me do the typing and h would tell me what he wanted typed. They kept saying that they really did know how to use the computer well, but I have my doubts. I really don´t know how they got along so well in Southern Chile (or maybe they didn´t) because English is not very common, but kudos to them.
On Monday, I headed out of Esquel at 8am taking the 2 hour bus to the Chile-Argentina border heading for Futaleufú, Chile. The terrain was an expanse of mountains and nothingness. We all crossed the border without a hassle and picked up another bus on the other side of the border to take us the 10km into town. There are only 2 reasons people come to Futaleufú which is either the river or the small town feel. Futaleufú is definitely a small town. It certainly felt like it was on the frontier and I´m guessing it had population of around 1500. There are about 7 rafting companies with a good number of foreigners (including Americans) working at them. I went to 2 rafting companies and both of them couldn´t even go that day because of lack of people. From what I gathered, it was a bad year in general with the ailing economies around the world. I found one company that was going out that day with a group of Israelis so I decided to join. The company, Futaleufú Explore, was started by an American from Colorado who came down here 6 years ago to experience something new. The river guides working for his company included on other American, and Israeli, a Frenchman, a Peruvian, and one Chilean from the north. The Chilean from Chiloé was a really nice guy and fun to talk to. He would actually speak in Spanish, while everyone else wanted to speak in English. The group rafting that day was 6 Israelis, an American couple, and myself. It seems that there are tons of Israelis traveling because after their mandatory military service, they are given a lump sum of money which many use to go travel (as I understand it). The Israeli guys had really big personalities and were fun to be around. The American couple were I believe in their early 30s and they had driven down from California in their jeep all the way through Central America and were passing through South America. They had spent 6 months in Bariloche with the guy studying for the GMAT and applying to Business School while the woman was teaching English at a school there. I learned that a volcano had erupted about 7 months ago a little north in the town of El Chaiten which the white ash everywhere on the ground as we were driving to the put in spot for the rafts. I heard from others that El Chaiten that was a bustling town is now almost a ghost town because it was so devastated by the volcano ash. The color of the water in the river was a blue that I had never seen a river; quite majestic. The color was in part due to the volcanic ashes that had come to the area. We rafted down the river and it was amazing. I had rafted the Gauley River in West Virginia which has a number of 5+ rapids. This river was highly comparable and ridiculously fun to raft. All the Israelis were in one raft while I was with the two Americans in the other raft. We certainly weighed a lot less than the Israelis´ raft which made it a little more interesting. The scenery was absolutely beautiful with rain coming down and the fog through the mountaintops. That night I camped out in a small little hay area behind the rafting company´s building. The town came alive at night. The municipality building was blaring the radio for all to listen as they passed by. Also at the municipality building was a foosball table and a small playground for all the kids. The kids would all whizz by on their bicycles going wherever they were going. The teenagers would gather in the town square with their friends. Later on in the evening, people who I believe worked for the town came up and set up a projector which projected onto a permanent white washed billboard. At the beginning it was videos of people crashing in their rafts set to music. Then it was a presentation of pictures of the greatness of Futaleufú set to music. I´m pretty sure I was the only foreigner that was watching so I had trouble figuring out the purpose of the movies because it seemed like something you would show a tourist to try to entice them to come to Futaleufú. There were about 15 other people watching, basically all young people. It was quite chilly but many were just walking around in short sleeve t-shirts. After a while, the main presentation began which was the TMNT (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles The Movie). This was the newer cartoon version all dubbed in Spanish. A good chance to practice some Spanish. After the movie ended around 1am, everyone dispersed back to their homes, and I to my tent.
On Tuesday, I awoke to the sound of roosters and a blaring radio in the distance. I found out that the bus left on Wednesday morning so it was a pretty leisurely day. At the bank, while I waited in line and I was able to watch the Simpsons dubbed in Spanish. I have found that the Simpsons is really popular in Chile and Argentina. It´s wierd not hearing the voices that I am so accustomed to. While in an internet café later in the day, I saw some people watching Mythbusters dubbed in Spanish which was also interesting. Considering that it was such a small town, I spent most of the day reading and relaxing. For lunch, I had a sandwich very characteristic of Chile. It has beef, tomatos, tons of avocado, tons of mayonaise, and cheese. A little too much mayonaise for my liking. And there was soap operas in Spanish for viewing entertainment. I also had papas fritas (french fries) which I learned is very common in Chile and Argentina. In Argentina, it´s basically the only vegetable they eat with their meat and french fries can hardly be called a vegetable. I had always thought of french fries as a very American food, but it seems that its more common in Chile and Argentina than it is in the US. There isn´t really much of a nightlife in Futaleufú so your better off waking up early rather than staying up late.
On Saturday, Harrison headed back to El Bolsón to eventually meet up with friends to go to Northern Chile and Perú, while I made my way to the South of Argentina. I took a 4 hour bus from Bariloche to Esquel which is a relatively small frontier feel town. It´s basically the last good size town before the vast expanse of very little. I was on a quest to go to Futaleufú which is a very small town on the Argentina-Chile border, next to the Futaleufú River. This river is well known for its high class rafting of 4+ and 5+ level rapids. I arrived in Esquel and it seemed to be a very slow-paced lifestyle city. Walking down the streets around 6pm it seemed as if no one was out. I made my way to the south of town to a hostel that someone had recommended. There I met a 20s year old guy from Holland who had just come back from Chile where he had been camping a long time. We chatted for a while. Only when it became nighttime did people begin to populate the streets and the park. We went out in the evening looking for the party but we found that none of the clubs opened until 3am. There was of course some of the bars open, but we ended up calling it a night.
Sunday was a day of relaxing. I had learned that the next bus to go to Futaleufú was not until Monday so I was just waiting until then. I spent a lot of the day in the nearby park reading ´In Patagonia´ by Bruce Chatwin which describes the experiences of Bruce Chatwin´s trip to Patagonia during the 1970s. He tells about the stories that people told him and connects it with stories from the past including the time that Butch Cassidy spent with his crew down in Argentina and the Unicorn of Southern Patagonia. During the day, the city seemed like a Ghost Town. It seemed like there was no one in the streets, only a couple of people in the park. Not until 6 or so did the people come back out into the streets. The park seemed to be a very popular place to go. A man brought a fleet of small red bikes that he rented for children to ride around the park. The park was only the size of 1 block, but the kids seemed to be having a blast riding the small bikes around the park. Later in the evening I went to an internet café to take part in a Skype interview for the AIESEC Vice President position. Spanish is a little difficult to understand in person, pretty difficult to understand over the phone, and very difficult to understand using Skype through a bad internet connection. Needless to say, it made for an interesting interview. We´ll see what happens. As I headed back downtown, there was a band playing rock songs in the street which it appeared the city had arranged. About 6 blocks in the other direction there was another band playing reggae which made an interesting combo. I came back to the hostel around 11 to find the group of travelers that were waiting for their bus that headed south at 2am from Esquel. Pretty much everyone heading south head to go on this bus, but it only leaves every two days. After spending some time in the bar, I headed to bed hoping that my room partner would wake me at 7am to make the 8am bus considering I didn´t have a watch.
n (Port Eden) just to see it. I felt pretty ridiculously touristy, because they put you in bright flourescent life jackets when you disembark, so basically it's 50 gringos that are walking around this little town and no one else is out. Only 2 people from Puerto Eden were out trying to sell trinkets to the gringos. The rest of the town was completely dead. If I lived there, I would stay in my house as well the 1 time a week that the gringos swarm upon the town. But they built tons of signs and boardwalks and lookouts to turn it into the tourist location that it is. The ferry is basically the only way for the people of Puerto Eden to get to mainland and buy essential things even though it's a day trip by boat to Puerto Montt 
(the nearest town). So a few members of the town boarded the boat to go with us. As we were leaving and the boat was sailing away, the people of the town began coming out of their houses and functioning as normal. So in short, there are two modes for the town: normal mode and gringo mode. This day I was still working on recovering completely from my stomach sickness. 
dance as the husband seemed to be making sure that I didn't do anything funny. Anyways, it was a good night. 
