Cochamó Valley & Seakayaking in the Fjords of Northern Patagonia

Admittedly, our spirits were a bit low heading to Puerto Varas, having just left behind our friends at 13 Lunas and the comfort of an amazing hostel. We arrived shortly after dark so we didn't get a chance to see what Puerto Varas was like until the next morning. It's actually a very nice city with positively stellar views of the mountains and the picture-perfect snowcapped cone of Volcan Osorno across Lago Llanquihue. The tourism industry is big business, detracting some of the natural charm from Puerto Varas but I suppose that's to be expected. No different than Banff or Lake Louise back in Alberta.

City of Puerto Varas, Chile.

View across Lago Llanquihue.

We didn't have much time to enjoy the views in Puerto Varas anyway - we had one day to pick up supplies and get organized for a trek into the Cochamó Valley, located about 3 hours from the city. The La Junta region of Cochamó Valley is remote, accessible only by a moderately challenging 12 km hike. Nevertheless, its popularity is growing among climbers and trekkers, attributable in part to ever-increasing comparisons to Yosemite National Park in the US. We were hoping to see it before it really does turn into Yosemite in a few more years. 

Our plan was to take the bus to the town of Cochamó and then hire a local driver to take us the remaining 6 km up a gravel road to the trailhead. Unfortunately both the bus driver and his assistant forgot to let us off at the right spot. I saw a flicker of surprise and recollection on the assistant's face when he saw us still sitting on the bus after we'd left Cochamó. Next thing we knew, the bus stopped and we were unloaded on the side of the road, just after a bridge, with the instruction that we could ask about a "taxi" al frente (in front). The only things al frente were farms and wilderness. The bus pulled away and we stood there, wondering what the heck to do next since we were now far from town and actually didn't really know where we were with respect to the trailhead. We could see someone working on a nearby property so we passed through the gate and made our way towards him. We explained that we were looking for a ride to the trailhead. He sort of laughed and said there were no taxis, only this camioneta (small truck). Next thing we knew, he opened the back gate and told us to put our packs inside. Then we got into the cab and he started driving. We figured he would take us back to town but he turned off the main highway a few minutes later and we suddenly realized that he was actually taking us to the trailhead. So lucky!! 

After driving for several kms he was forced to leave us in front of a section of muddy ruts that the truck wasn't able to pass through. We thanked him for going so much out of his way and gave him the money we'd planned to give the "taxi". Then we shouldered our packs and continued on up the road to the trailhead. The next six hours were spent making our way through the various stages of the trail: 1. to Rio Piedra and crossing, 2. uphill push, 3. logs and marshes, 4. La Junta.

Start of the trail into Cochamo Valley.

Stage 1 of the trail led us past several ranches and then began to climb uphill via a rocky path. I nearly had a heart attack when a dog appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to follow us up the trail. He seemed so excited to have encountered us that we wondered if he was lost. A few minutes later a full-fledged gaucho  on horseback appeared behind us and the dog rejoined his true owner. Eventually we arrived at the river. Scouting along the shoreline lead us to conclude that the water was a bit too high to attempt rock-hopping across (especially unbalanced as we were with our reasonably heavy packs). A little ways upstream there was a small group working on a massive log that spanned the river. They were adding a handrail and some ridges to the log itself to help with traction. I asked if we could pass that way and at first they gave me a hard time, saying I was too short, likening the bridge to a ride at the midway. But they let us pass, saying that we were the first to use the new bridge. That was kind of cool.

Bridge construction at Rio Piedra.

The next stage was the uphill push. It wasn't terribly steep. The more challenging part was navigating through the deep maze of trenches where the ground has been eroded by the thousands of livestock brought through this area annually since the 19th century. Oxcarts filled with seafood went from Chile to Argentina and cows were driven the other direction. Ranchers still use the route but seafood and other goods are now transported by more modern methods. The trench bottoms were a thick, hoof-pocked mud but were fortuitously drier than normal thanks to an absence of rainfall over the past week. We'd heard reports of mud up to your knees! There was some mud ahead, however.

Stage 3, logs and marshes, was just what it sounds like. Rows of logs were laid over the trail to provide a measure of stability as the route traversed a vast, soggy marshland. The surrounding forest was spectacularly verdant though not exactly lush. It was just that all the trees were completely coated with green moss. We stopped for a lunch break to wait out some rain under the trees before continuing on for another few hours of logs and marshes. Finally the forest opened up and were were able to see some of the magnificent granite peaks of La Junta. We also got our first up-close views of the beautiful Rio Cochamó. A little further on the trail entered a huge clearing - we'd reached La Junta and, specifically, the camping area. It was deserted when we passed through but it fills with climbers during summer. We would've liked to camp but were still lacking a stove and cooking equipment so we'd decided on another accommodation option...

"Logs and marshes" portion of the trail

La Junta!

The final challenge of our journey was to cross the river. This was accomplished by zipping across in a wood-frame box attached to a pulley system. I say "zipping" but it was actually a bit of work pulling ourselves to the platform on the opposite shore with our heavy back along for the ride. Pretty cool feature of the trek though!

Crossing Rio Cochamo to get to the Refugio.

Just a few minutes later we arrived at Refugio Cochamó, a gorgeous wood lodge built by an American-Argentinean couple who fell in love with La Junta many years ago. The views from inside and around the lodge are mind-blowing. Even with heavy grey clouds obscuring many of the peaks we were awed by the natural beauty of the place. It's no wonder Silvina and Daniel wanted to make their home there.

Refugio Cochamo.

View from the veranda of Refugio Cochamo.

Cool HDR of the veranda and view.

The next day we set out to explore the circuito de las cascadas (the waterfall circuit) on the advice of Mono, a young guy who'd been working at the lodge for several months (we assume Mono was his nickname as it means monkey in Spanish...). The route was more uphill than our trek into the Refugio the previous day but it was indescribably picturesque. See the photos because words would be inadequate. We found a shelter at the second of 3 waterfalls where we made a fire and hunkered down for a few hours, soaking up the positive energy from all those negative ions. It was a perfect day, even with sprinkling rain and cool temperatures.

Relaxing at Refugio Cochamo after our day-hike.

For our final day at La Junta we decided to attempt part of the route up to Cerro Arco Iris (Rainbow Ridge), the most difficult hike accessible from the Refugio. It was also a beautiful route through a forest of lush green shrubs, lianas, and wispy young trees dwarfed by towering redwoods. We made it up to the first set of ropes but the steep rock slab was slick with water and more water cascading off the overhang had soaked the ropes. We climbed up a little way to see what the top looked like but couldn't get a clear view and just ended up very wet. Weighing our desire to continue the ascent against the risks of climbing in poor conditions we hovered at the bottom of the ropes long enough that a soaring condor took interest in us, flying closer with each pass above the deep valley adjacent to our position. Eventually we decided to turn back and find somewhere to eat our picnic lunch.

Near the start of the Cerro Arco Iris trail was a branch point to another trail so we decided to explore it. We found an incredible place beside a waterfall where we lounged for a few hours. We also braved crossing a bridge suspended over a deep gorge a little further downstream. Another perfect day!

Road back to civilization.

We couldn't escape the feeling that we'd only just scraped the surface of La Junta's treasures but our time in 

Cochamó Valley was up. The next day we packed up and returned the way we'd came, this time enduring slightly more muddy conditions due to the showers that had plagued our time at the Refugio. We also had to walk the gravel road back to the highway since we hadn't made any arrangements for a ride. My muscles and my feet were pretty angry by the end of the 18 km journey but it felt good to know I could do it. Gives me more confidence about our future multi-day hikes with full packs!

Exhausted as we were from our long hikes over the past 4 days, there was no time to rest - we were leaving the following morning for a seakayaking trip with YAK Expediciones. We reorganized our stuff, adding bathing suits and our inflatable mattresses to the same gear we'd taken into Cochamó Valley. This time we used giant garbage bags in place of our packs since Juanfe, our guide, explained the bags would form to the shape of the kayak and be more waterproof than our packs. Seemed like a good plan but man did those poly-something sacks stink like the petrochemicals they were made of! Maybe that was a good thing since it covered up the fact that we didn't have time to wash our clothes after the hiking trip...

Juanfe picked us up from our hostel and we met the other couple that would form our group for the next 4 days - Veronica and Sepp, from Germany and Austria, respectively. They were cycling around North and South America. Yah. Uber-fit. I was nervous. Haha.

From Puerto Varas we passed through Puerto Montt and then south along Route 7, crossing by ferry to continue past Hornopiren and into Parque Nacional Pumalin, a 3,250 square kilometer natural reserve owned by American billionaire Douglas Tompkins (co-founder of The North Face). Yes, a private park owned by a foreigner. Something previously unheard of in Chile. According to Juanfe, many Chileans are suspicious of Tompkins' true intentions in buying so much land and theories range from him selling off all the fresh water in the park to selling parcels of the land to wealthy Americans as a place of refuge should another world war break out in the future. Juanfe also told us how the local people who lived on some properties purchased by Tompkins were pretty surprised to find out that the titles they thought they held were no more than a piece of paper. The titles had never been officially registered. Their land was not their land after all. It was the government's and the government sold it to Tompkins. Despite this, the people have remained. Most are still fisherman and farmers, skeptical about the future of the land, but many have embraced the new wave of ecotourism that came with establishing the park. Others have become stewards of this protected region, deemed a Nature Sanctuary in 2005.

Comau Fjord in Northern Patagonia.

Salmon farm on the fjord.

Juanfe drove us to a little fishing village on remote Comau Fjord where we set up our base camp beside the homestead of Señora Nora - an 83-year-old lady who made our meals when we were at base camp. She was a hilariously feisty host, threatening to bring out her paleta to beat us if we didn't eat everything on the heaping plates she put in front of us. Then she'd burst into giggles and serve dessert.

Senora Nora's homestead on Comau Fjord.

Sunset on the fjord.

Trying to stay dry - on the porch at Senora Nora's.
(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

That afternoon we did an on-shore lesson with our guide (Juanfe). Being onshore didn't mean we stayed dry - it poured almost non-stop the entire 2 hours we were out there. Yes, 2 hours. Juanfe was really thorough! I appreciated it even though I've done lots of canoeing and some kayaking before. After doing our best to eat Señora Nora's dinner of epic proportions, we retired to our tents to rest up for real kayaking the following day.

Our visit to the school.
(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

We had more rain overnight but stayed perfectly dry in our new tent. Hurrah! After breakfast we made a quick visit to the local school where we told the kids (all grandchildren of Señora Nora) a little about ourselves and where we're from. They asked us questions like what sort of animals there are in Canada. Chris and I gave them a new book to add to their little library. Juanfe told us that it won't be long before the school has to close because there aren't enough children in the village to justify paying a teacher. The times are changing....

Practice capsize.
(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

Next it was time for our practice on the water. Luckily it was sunny but still pretty cold. We started with some paddling practice and then had to tip our kayaks so we'd know how to get out of them if we accidentally capsized under bad conditions. I was terrified, thanks to my stupid phobia of underwater things., but there was no avoiding this part of our lesson. At Juanfe's behest, Chris tipped us. My first instinct was to  panic because I was in the water. Then I was panicking because I couldn't find the loop to release my spray skirt. I kept reaching forward, feeling for the fiberglass shell of the kayak but grasping only water. Finally daring to open my eyes, I realized I was already out of the kayak. So I just swam up to the surface. It was super cold in the water even with wetsuits and a sweater on but we got out pretty quick (Veronica and Sepp "rescued" us). Immediately afterwards I made the mistake of telling Juanfe that I hadn't had to release my spray skirt so he staged his own capsize and swam to our kayak to tip us again.... Trying desperately not to succumb to an anxiety attack I scrambled back up to lie prostrate over the kayak while Chris stabilized it from the water. Then Juanfe asked Chris whether he'd remembered the first step - checking to make sure the foot pedals for the rudder were in proper position. Next thing I knew, I was back in the water; Chris had tipped us again while hoisting himself up to look into the kayak's rear seating compartment. Fun fun.

Once everyone had had a proper practice dunk (or three) we paddled around to the far side of an island to see a sea lion colony and then to another tiny island looking for penguins - we didn't see any there but saw some in the water elsewhere. So cute! Then we had to paddle through some big waves and wind to get to hot springs on another, bigger island. We had lunch there and soothed our sore muscles in the steaming pool before heading back to base camp and another of Señora Nora's feasts.

Checking out the sea lion colony on one of the islands. (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

Soothing our muscles and warming up in a hot spring pool on an island.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

The next day we had a rainy morning to pack up and head south towards a secondary fjord called Quintupeu. I found the kayaking way harder than I expected. Physically, I mean. My back and arms were sore pretty quickly, probably in part due to poor technique the day before.... Chris was a machine. Good thing I got to share a kayak with him. And sit in the back where he couldn't see if I was paddling all the time....

Still smiling despite the weather. (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

En route to the secondary fjord we crossed to another part of the same island that had the hot springs. We came around the southern tip, entering a wide channel that lead to the Gulf of Ancud (and ultimately Chiloé island). We went ashore quickly, fighting waves and wind. It was also raining and cold so Juanfe had chosen that spot for a break because he knew the community center just up from the shore would be open and provide us with shelter from the rain. Because we were so wet, we started to get chilled once we weren't moving anymore. It would've been a funny site had a local stumbled upon our group of wetsuit-clad gringos pacing and doing jumping-jacks all over their community center. Despite the wind continuing to blow and the waves getting bigger, Juanfe took us back out on the water where we persevered to make it across to the entrance of the secondary fjord. The opening is really narrow - only a few hundred meters. The problem is that the narrow gap and the steep sides to the fjord concentrate the wind and the waves. Made for hard work!

Approaching the entrance to the secondary fjord, Quintupu.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

Kayaking in Quintupu Fjord.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

 Waterfall (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

There'd been so much rain that we were lucky to see lots of waterfalls inside the fjord but I'll be honest - I was mostly focusing on paddling and staying upright so I didn't enjoy the view as much as I would've had things been calmer and less rainy.

After about an hour of paddling into the fjord we stopped at a small beach for a pee break and to see one of the large waterfalls up close. We then crossed to the other side of the fjord to see another big waterfall emptying right into the ocean. There we had to decide whether to continue to the end of the fjord to camp. Juanfe had received word that the weather was supposed to get really bad later that afternoon and last until the next morning. The option was to kayak back to our original base camp at Señora Nora's (~3 hours away) or continue to the end of the fjord (~ 1 hour). We decided to stay in the fjord. I was glad because I was already very tired. We'd kayaked several hours the day before and at least 4 already that day.

Setting up camp in the rain.      (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones     

It seemed to take forever to reach the end of the fjord. My arms were stiff, my fingers frozen, and fatigue was setting in. Finally Juanfe pulled ashore. I was so relieved! But I couldn't relax just yet - first we had a to portage our fully-loaded kayaks about 200 m inland to the camping area (we had the disadvantage of arriving at low tide). We put up our tents in the rain and did our best to keep our sleeping bags and extra clothes dry. Not an easy task, I assure you. The inside of our tent was wet from being packed up in the rain that morning so I dried out the inside as best I could using the one towel we'd brought along. That worked pretty well so I changed into dry clothes and then set up our sleeping mats and bags. Meanwhile, Juanfe  had prepared a delicious spicy lentil stew for dinner that we all wolfed down hungrily. We also had a cup of wine each! Well, except for Juanfe because he was technically working. Despite the early hour (~8 pm) we all retired to our tents shortly after dinner. There wasn't much else we could do if we wanted to stay dry since the rain refused to let up. I was so exhausted from the day that I fell asleep before the even sun set. It was a really really REALLY wet night but our tent kept us dry and warm!

Our campsite in Quintupu fjord.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

For our final day, the plan was to wait out the bad weather and leave around 11 am instead of the usual 4 am departure for this trip (hurrah!). Juanfe woke us up around 8:30 though because the weather looked alright so he wanted to get going. After a quick breakfast, forcing ourselves back into our sopping wet clothes, and packing up we headed out into the wind and rain.

The only photo Juanfe managed to snap during our attempt to escape the fjord.
(Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

Conditions got bad right after we left our camp. The waves were big and many were even breaking. I'm not going to lie - I was pretty terrified right off the bat. Things got worse as we moved further toward the entrance of the fjord where we had to go into more exposed areas. The wind gusts were unreal. I could barely move my paddle in the air, let alone the water. Nevertheless, we kept paddling, moving painfully slowly, struggling to follow Juanfe's path in the turmoil, helpless to hear his instructions in the howling wind. Finally we reached another sheltered area a few hundred meters from the entrance. The four of us clung to branches overhanging the water while Juanfe scouted to see whether we could attempt to get out. The waves were getting bigger and the gusts stronger. We were soaked when we started so by now we were getting really cold.

After some discussion we decided to try to make a crossing to the other shore as the first step to approaching the narrow entrance of the fjord. Our first attempt failed because some crazy gusts started as soon as we emerged from behind the sheltered area. We went back and waited for another opportunity. A few minutes later we tried again, desperately fighting against the wind while trying to cut across the waves as perpendicularly as possible. It was terrifying. Everything around us was happening so fast but we were moving barely at all.  Thoughts of the worst case scenario were threatening my resolve but I kept my eyes alternating between Juanfe's kayak ahead of us and the incoming waves, trying to stay on track while avoiding disaster. Every muscle in my body was screaming for a rest but I kept on paddling and Chris did too, salty spray whipping into our faces as the wind howled its protest at our progress. Just when it seemed like we might actually make it to the other side, Juanfe signaled for us to turn back. The other couple was too far behind us and they were struggling to stay perpendicular to the waves.

Turning our kayak to return to the sheltered area was a scary experience but we managed to do it without capsizing. Now the gusts were at our back but I can tell you it wasn't any less terrifying. Just a slight error in keeping the kayak perpendicular to the wind meant we were broadsided and spun off course, putting us in position to be further buffeted by the strong waves. Talk about gaining perspective of just how insignificant we were, there in our tiny boat, at the mercy of a violent sea. Finally we landed at the small beach where we'd had our pee break the previous day. I wanted to kiss the ground. Juanfe decided we needed to call for a rescue boat due to the extreme conditions. I was so relieved! Of course, by the time the little fishing boat showed up conditions had improved and the water was almost flat.... I didn't even care by that point. I was so tired, cold, and exhausted. Overjoyed to be rescued. The best part was that the little fishing boat had a wood stove in the cabin. Warmth!!! We were all so happy to have heat again, sitting there with giant grins on our faces, steam wafting up from our wet suits and jackets.

Awaiting our rescue boat.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

Loading up the rescue boat.  (Photo credit: YAK Expediciones)

So, it was an adventure. But we survived. Both Chris and I figure we aren't really cut out for seakayaking. At least in crazy conditions like that! But we tried and it's definitely something we'll remember forever! Thankfully we had a good guide who knew when and who to call for help when it became clear that we couldn't finish the trip on our own.

After the seakayak expedition we spent a few days regrouping in Puerto Varas before catching a bus to Bariloche, Argentina where we are now, awaiting the arrival of our friends, Tim and Kayla. They will be joining us for about 3 weeks. Chris and I are nearing the end of our time in South America but there is still a lot more to see before we head home. Our next adventure will be a road trip through Patagonia. We can hardly wait to enjoy the freedom of the open road and actually having our own set of wheels for a change! Meanwhile we are relaxing in Bariloche, enjoying local microbrews, artisan chocolates, and Argentine beef. It's a tough life. :)

Chiloé Island

En route to Chiloé island, we arrived in Puerto Montt, our final stop on the mainland. I wouldn't call it a particularly pretty city; despite an oceanfront locale, Puerto Montt is more industrial than touristy. A gloomy gray sky and scattered showers did nothing to enhance the appeal. We didn't realize how easy it was to go directly from Pucon to Chiloé island or we wouldn't have booked a stopover there. On the other hand, we'd read about Puerto Montt's fancy new mall and thought it might be a good opportunity to pick up a few items that wouldn't be available on the island.

The road in front of Casa Perla (the yellow house).

Our accommodation for the night was at Casa Perla - a family home that has been operating as an hospedaje for more than 20 years. Staying with Perla was sort of like staying at your grandma's house. We really liked the homemade jam she served for breakfast!

We didn't have much luck with our trip to the mall. Our goal was to find blister pads of the Second Skin variety (not sold in Chile), polarized sunglasses (way too expensive),  and I wanted some insoles for extra cushion in my shoes (yah, pantomiming that one did not work out so well).

On the ferry to Chiloe.

The next morning we travelled by bus and ferry to Ancud; the biggest city (~50,000 people) in the northern part of Isla Grande de Chiloé. The island has a cool history and is culturally distinct from mainland Chile. Inhabited primarily by fishermen and farmers, the island has a laid-back feel and instantly reminded us of Newfoundland. Tourism is getting bigger there but it's still a fairly new addition to the gringo trail. The island is famous for its architecturally unique churches constructed from wood using special techniques for joining beams without nails. The island is also saturated with mythological lore and superstition, the likes of which rival the Greek's. At least in terms of bizarreness. For your enjoyment, here is an excerpt from the Lonely Planet (Chile & Easter Island, 9th edition, 2012) regarding some Chilote mythology:

• Brujos (broo-hos) The center of Chiloé’s mythology, brujos are warlocks with black magic powers, bent on corrupting and harming normal Chilote folks. They are based in a secret location (most likely a cave) near Quicavi.
• Cai-Cai Vilú (kai-kai-vee-loo) The Serpent God of the Water who waged a battle against Ten-Ten Vilú (Serpent God of the Earth) for supremacy over the domain. Cai-Cai Vilú eventually lost but was successful in covering enough territory with water that Chiloé stayed separated from the mainland.
• El Caleuche (el-ka-le-oo-che) A glowing pirate ship piloted by singing, dancing brujos. Their melodious songs draw commercial vessels into El Caleuche’s trap. It is capable of sailing into the wind and navigating under the water’s surface.
• Fiura (fee-oo-ra) A short, forest-dwelling hag with a ravenous sexual appetite and breath that causes sciatica in humans and is enough to kill smaller animals.
• Invunche (een-voon-che) The grotesque guardian of the cave of the brujos. Invunche was born human, but the brujos disfigured him as he grew: turning his head 180 degrees, attaching one leg to his spine and sewing one of his arms under his skin. He eats human flesh and cat’s milk, and is extremely dangerous.
• Pincoya (peen-koi-a) A naked woman of legendary beauty who personifies the fertility of the coasts of Chiloé and its richness of marine life. On the rocky shores she dances to her husband’s music. The way that she faces determines the abundance of the sea harvest.
• Trauco (trow-ko) A repugnant, yet powerful, gnome who can kill with a look and fell trees with his stone hatchet. He is irresistible to young virgins, giving them impure erotic dreams and sometimes even a ‘mysterious’ child out of wedlock.
• Viuda (vee-oo-da) Meaning ‘the widow,’ Viuda is a tall, shadowy woman dressed in black with milk-white bare feet. She appears in solitary places and seduces lonely men. The next day she abandons them where she pleases.
• La Voladora (la-vo-la-do-ra) A witch messenger, who vomits out her intestines at night so that she is light enough to fly and deliver messages for the brujos. By the next morning, she swallows her intestines and reassumes human female form.

Yah.... Wow.

Statue of Viuda (the Widow) in the main Plaza of Ancud.
There were statues for most of the characters described above.

A pleasant surprise awaited us when we crossed the street from the bus terminal to our hostel, 13 Lunas. It was hands down the best hostel we've stayed in during our entire trip. Owner Claudio has thought of everything and made it the perfect refuge for travelers. He and his cousin Pancho, both young guys originally from Los Angeles (Chile), have done a lot of travelling themselves so they get it. It's the small things that make a place just feel so much more comfortable. Like extra wide beds in the dorms, a plethora of hooks to hang all your things, consistently hot showers with awesome pressure, big open rooms, comfortable common areas, and a spectacularly well-equipped kitchen with two gas ranges! I was in heaven. We'd only booked one night because we'd made arrangements to go to another part of the island the next day but we knew we'd want to come back after that.

Deck at 13 Lunas.

View from the deck at 13 Lunas.

Despite how amazing the hostel was, some things remain out of your control as the hostel owner... A minor crisis was developing as we arrived: apparently the city was doing maintenance on the water supply and had to shut down everyone's water from 6 pm until sometime the next morning. We'd arrived at around 5 pm and the hostel had only just received notice of the imminent shut-down. The staff were hastily filling bottles with water and everyone was rushing to take a last minute shower. Chris and I ran to the grocery store so we could prepare our dinner before the shut-down. I filled one of the bathroom sinks with soapy water so we'd have something to wash in. We also filled our camel and all our water bottles just in case the hostel ran out of the bottles they'd filled. After all that, 6 pm came and went without the water being turned off! Gah. Oh well. Better safe than sorry.

Some sort of parade we came across during our run to the grocery store in Ancud.

The next day we caught a ride with Claudio and Pancho to the village of Chepu where Chris and I had booked a few nights at an Eco Lodge owned by former Santiagans, Amory and Fernando. Their goal is to be entirely self-sufficient in terms of their energy and water usage. Fernando is a retired electrical engineer and has put his training to use designing an incredible system for harvesting both solar and wind energy. They are still on the grid but Fernando feeds energy into it such that they are still net positive for energy consumption (in other words, they contribute more than they use). 

Fernando also designed a water collection system by laying a huge geosynthetic sheet underground on a slope so that rainwater percolates through the ground into a tank at the bottom of the hill. He also collects rainwater from the roofs of their house and reports he gets more volume that way but it's still good to have the extra from the hill set-up. Obtaining fresh water is their greatest challenge at the Eco Lodge; the Rio Puntra that runs in front of their property is salty and digging for wells is not often successful on Chiloé. 

It was neat to visit with Fernando about all the initiatives they've taken to be environmentally conscious and their interest in educating visitors about it. One of his next projects is to install monitors in the solar-heated showers so people can actually watch their energy and water usage live-time while they shower. His idea is that making people acutely aware of their consumption will increase the likelihood of changes to their behaviour. I think people would be even more motivated if he posted a chart showing everyone's consumption, to make it like a competition among groups of guests, past and present.  Might end up with a lot of stinky folks though...

Although there was a sweet camping area next to the river we'd decided to stay in one of their dormis (a tiny cabin with bunk beds) in the hopes of keeping a bit drier. That's the other reason Chiloé reminded us of Newfoundland; the weather. Or at least the way the locals talked about the weather - the day we'd arrived it was brilliantly sunny but our guide book warned of lots of rain, wind, and mud so we thought we'd better err on the side of caution.

After hastily unpacking our things we set out to explore the property a bit and enjoy the marvelous view from the common area of the lodge (which, I should mention, was really basic - mostly just a roof over your head with tables, chairs, and a small area with a 2-burner gas stove for cooking). Amory and Fernando's Eco Lodge is situated on a high bank at the confluence of three rivers, looking out at what is now a sunken forest thanks to an earthquake in 1960 that sank the ground about 2 m. This massive land subsidence allowed salt water to infiltrate the area and kill all the trees. All the trees in 140 km² of forest. Crazy.

View from the Eco Lodge at Chepu. 

Sunset over the rivers at the Eco Lodge.

I barely survived our first night in the dormi. It was sooooooo cold. I think the only reason I didn't die of hypothermia was that I made Chris come down and sleep beside me on the narrow bottom bunk. Our sleeping bags are rated to -5... I don't think it was actually colder than that but I definitely wasn't warm enough in mine! Makes me a little nervous about camping in Patagonia... Thankfully Amory took pity on me and gave me a big comforter to use the next two nights!

Once I'd thawed out sufficiently we decided to hike the 6 or so km to the ocean. Following a gravel road over gently rolling hills, we passed dozens of quiet homesteads and ranches under the watchful eyes of cows and sheep. Chris wanted to adopt all the adorable newborn lambs that were frolicking around the meadows on their gawky little legs.

We finally reached a point where the ocean came into view from a hilltop at the end of the gravel road. Chepu is on the northwest part of Chiloé so it was the open expanse of the Pacific that we were gazing at. To reach the shore we had to make our way through a bizarre stretch of sand dunes. The sea  breeze whipped sand into our faces and erased our footprints as we walked. We managed to find a sheltered area to have our lunch and then continued toward the beach, slowly navigating through the next impediment in our path; a mucky marshland. Eventually we made it to the frothy shoreline where we walked for a ways before finding a new (but not much easier) route back to the road.

On our way to the ocean from Chepu.

These calves aren't very well camouflaged.
Good thing there aren't really any predators on the island.

Frothy waves of the Pacific Ocean breaking on Chiloe island.

Trying not to blow away.

Swampy area inland from the desert of the beach.

For the next day we'd made plans to partake in the Eco Lodge's feature activity - a kayak trip at dawn. Fernando instructed us to meet in the main lodge at 6am where he would outfit us for the excursion. We did as instructed and arrived to find the lodge dark with no sign of Fernando. A few minutes later he bustled in, commenting that it was early. I responded that it sure was but he rephrased to say that we were early. I said, "No, it's after 6..." but he took out his phone and showed me that it was only a little past 5. Totally confused, I ran back to the dormi to get the iPod (our alarm clock) and found that I hadn't made a mistake setting the alarm and confirmed that the time was after 6. It took a while to figure out that our iPod was an hour ahead because we'd set our timezone to Uruguay and they'd changed off of daylight savings overnight! Bah! Oh well. Better that we were up too early than too late.

Ready for our kayak at dawn experience.

After donning wetsuits, neoprene boots, gloves, lifejackets, etc we followed Fernando through the darkness to the dock where he loaded us into a double kayak and pushed us out over the black water.

It was utterly surreal setting out in the moonlight, depth perception all askew and hypersensitive to the nocturnal noises echoing across the water. The crooked vestiges of long-dead trees protruded from the placid surface like the charred bones of great sea monsters. Waves of dense mist rolled in just as the first hints of light appeared on the horizon, making for an extra eerie experience.


We found a good spot to watch the sunrise, anchoring ourselves to a partially submerged stump. It was so cold that I lost feeling in my feet and fingers but the promise of a gorgeous dawn kept us fixated on the eastern sky, anticipation more or less outweighing the discomfort. Slowly the colors of dawn began to bloom and transmute, paled at times by mist swirling between the riverbanks. We waited, mesmerized. When the fiery edge of the sun finally emerged over the hilltop it was an absolutely stunning moment and worth every bit of the painful wait. 

Once Chris had snapped a sufficient number of photos we disengaged from the stump and paddled further upstream, sliding through gaps in the sunken forest to check out a cluster of huge bird nests affixed to some of the taller dead trees. Eventually it was time to return to the lodge and warm up. Despite the cold and early morning it was a truly magical and memorable experience.

After we'd warmed up a bit!

Kingfisher.

Black-necked swans with goslings.

Ancud's church under reconstruction.

We returned to 13 Lunas in Ancud the following day, unexpectedly hitching a ride with a friendly old bee farmer who picked us up while we were waiting for the bus. We did our best to make conversation during the drive and had a hilarious moment of confusion when we thought he was telling us that the Queen of Canada had come to Chiloé. It turned out he had imported his original queen bee from Canada. Haha.

Lulled by the comfort of 13 Lunas and the companionship of Claudio and Pancho, we ended up spending the next 5 days chilling in Ancud. It was nice to have a sort of "home" for a while - the last time we'd felt that way was in Buenos Aires, nearly 2 months ago. We didn't go out much aside from trips to the grocery store but we did take one afternoon to wander around town to see the main plaza, the old fort complete with huge cannons directed menacingly out to sea, and we stopped by Ancud's small museum where they had miniature scale versions of some of the famous Chilote churches and other cultural artifacts on display.

Small marina of Ancud.

Miniature scale reproductions of Chiloe's famous churches showing the construction techniques.

Sure, I'll have a hug from a creepy old priest figurine.

At the Fort of Ancud.

Bay near the Fort.

Chris's lunch at the Ancud market - paila marina (a seafood soup)

We made one trip out of the city to visit another fishing village called Quemchi. It's on the east coast of  Chiloé so you can see mainland Chile on a clear day. Quemchi's main claim to fame is having the highest change in tides (7 m) on the island. We went to see all the beached fishing boats but they must've all been out at sea because there weren't very many. Lots of salmon farms though. We had lunch at El Chejo, supposedly one of Chiloé's best restaurants. The set lunch was pretty tasty but I thought we'd had a better meal at the market in Ancud for much cheaper.

Quemchi - one of many small fishing villages on Chiloe island.

Speaking of the market... Chiloé is also famous for the knit goods they produce from all those sheep on the island. We visited the market first and then a store recommended by Pancho and Claudio, coming away with a huge haul of items. Of course that meant we had to send home another box. Hopefully it'll be the last one! Chris also ordered a custom-made sweater that Pancho promised to ship to us at our next destination when it's completed.

I was really enjoying making full use of the fantastic kitchen at 13 Lunas but we had to venture out in order to try Chiloé's most famous traditional dish. Curanto is an enormous bowl of shellfish, pork, chicken, potatoes, and a sort of potato fritter served with jugo de mariscos (broth made from shellfish). The traditional preparation involves cooking it in a hole in the ground using hot rocks and covering the meat and seafood with the giant leaves of a native rhubarb-like plant. Nowadays it's usually just prepared in a pot but you can still get it al hoyo in some places. Chris ordered the curanto since I'm not much of a seafood lover but I did have a taste and it was good. I had salmon with a chorizo sauce, which was also tasty but a bit overpriced.

My salmon with chorizo sauce and potatoes. 

Curanto - Chiloe's traditional dish.

"Curanto. Helping people to have better sex since 1826..."

We finally decided it was time to get off our butts and see some more of the island so we headed south to the city of Castro for a few days. Known for being a bit more cosmopolitan than Ancud, Castro definitely has more big city amenities but retains traditional island charm in the form of palafitos; houses built on stilts over the water. We splurged a bit and stayed in a palafito hostel. It was a pretty neat building but a long walk down a huge hill from the center. And it definitely didn't compare to 13 Lunas back in Ancud!

Palafitos of Castro at low tide. Our hostel was the yellow one.

Low tide in Castro.

Church of Castro.

Our main purpose for visiting Castro was to use it as a base for seeing more of the island since it's basically right in the middle of Chiloé's east coast. For our first daytrip we took the bus to Dalcahue, a village on the eastern shore north of Castro. We wandered around there for a while before catching a ferry to the small island of Quinchao that lies between Chiloé and the mainland. Unfortunately the minibus to the first town on the Quinchao was already full when it arrived at the ferry so we had no choice but to start walking. Curaco de Velez is about 11 km from the port...

The view from the road was quite scenic as it was a clear day and we could see across to the snow-capped peaks of Northern Patagonia on the mainland. We walked for around an hour before one of our attempts to hitchhike was finally successful. Although we'd been enjoying the view and the nice weather, we were happy for the lift. In Curaco we found our way to the Rincon Gastronomico near the modest plaza but were disappointed not to find any of the delicious Chilote foods mentioned in our guide book. We came away with two sort of dry bun things and meandered along the shoreline until we came upon a soccer tournament in a field behind some buildings. We watched for a while and then decided to see if there were any restaurants in town. It being Sunday and low season, nothing was open. We could've gone further southeast on the island to the town of Achao but decided instead to call it a day and head back to Castro where we were certain to find something to eat.

Building in Dalcahue.

Dalcahue market - not open yet for the day.

Dalcahue's church.

Church in Curaco de Velez.

The following day we packed a lunch and took a minibus to Parque Nacional Chiloé about an hour west of Castro. It was kind of a nasty day but we'd decided to hike anyway, figuring we could do at least a portion of the really long hike mentioned in our guide book. When we went to the administrative office to pay our park fee we were disappointed to learn that they didn't have any maps and that there were only short hikes available, none of which actually crossed into the park proper. The administrator told us we'd need a guide to do the longer hike. Sounded like BS to us and to a French guy who'd packed supplies for 3 days, intending to do that hike. A bit disgruntled wondering why we had to pay the park fee if we couldn't even get into the park, we left the admin building and quickly completed the first short circuit through a forest of tepú trees. It wasn't bad but not what we've come to expect from national parks in Chile. Just a little overdeveloped. There was actually a sign along the trail directing us to an artesania - basically a souvenir shop...

View from the mirador in Chiloe's National Park.

Next we did the beach trail, making our way down through some grazing land to the sea. Along the way we came upon a rust colored cow that had lowered herself onto her front knees to graze. It was such a strange sight, her back angled sharply down, muzzle buried in the grass. Every once in a while she would shuffle on her knees to a new spot and continue munching. We didn't know what was wrong with her but she didn't even get up when Chris went very close. I think she might've had an injury... Poor thing.

View from a mirador on the Beach Trail of Chiloe's National Park (technically outside the actual park...)

It started to get really rainy by the time we reached the water so we just turned around and found a sheltered place back up the trail to have our lunch. Then we figured we'd head back to Castro on the next bus, which we thought was at 2. Since it was only about 1, we walked back to the main road and popped across to a little cafe to have a hot chocolate while we waited. There we found out that the bus wouldn't come until 4. It was raining so we loitered at the cafe for about an hour and then decided to walk towards the town of Cucao, en route to Castro. After crossing a bridge we were approached by two young guys who we'd seen drinking with a group near the water. At first I was worried that they were going to be belligerent or at least annoying but we ended up having a really good visit with them (in Spanglish, of course). They were interested to know what we thought of the island and excited suggest more places we should visit. They also told us that there is a proposal to build a bridge between Chiloé and the mainland and that they are strongly opposed to this plan. They complained that the mainlanders don't respect nature and just throw their garbage everywhere, ruining the scenery. They don't want more tourism on the island and a bridge would certainly mean a greater influx of vacationers. It was interesting to hear their thoughts. Plus we managed to use up a lot more of our waiting time so it wasn't long before the bus appeared to shuttle us back to Castro.

We returned to 13 Lunas in Ancud the next day for an exciting reunion with a couple of my friends from Canada. Mandi and Dan were honeymooning in Chile and we finally managed to work out a place where we could meet up with them. They'd gone on an excursion to see a penguin colony so they weren't at the hostel when we arrived. The good news was that Dalca, Claudio's dog, was back. During our initial stay at the hostel she'd followed one of the hostel guests on a long bike ride and hadn't returned. We were very happy that she was home safe.

A few hours later, Mandi and Dan returned with Claudio and Pancho, happy to have seen one penguin along with some dolphins and a whale. We decided to have a barbecue that night and had a great time catching up, swapping travel stories and gossip from home. Claudio and Pancho joined us after the Chile-Argentina futbol match was over and we had a fun little party.

Friends from home - Mandi and Dan.

Barbecue with friends.

Claudio turning up the music under the latest addition to the room's decor.

Pancho (left), Claudio (upper right), and Dalca (lower right)

Just before we had to say goodbye again. Fun times were had!

The next day we toured Dan and Mandi around Ancud a bit, showing them all the great spots that Pancho had showed us before, including a little kiosk where you can buy piping hot churros filled with dulce de leche (like caramel). The two of them loaded up on a ton of knit items just like we did. Wedding thankyous and xmas gifts all in one stop!

All of us were feeling rather tired after our little fiesta the night before so we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the common area of the hostel. Eventually it was time for Chris and I to catch our bus back to the mainland so we said our farewells to everyone and to the best hostel of our trip. Next stop: Puerto Varas.

I'll leave you with the following photo that exemplifies the typical style of election posters we've encountered all over Chile the past few weeks. Photos of candidates are superimposed over a landscape or cityscape, with the candidate extending an friendly "thumbs-up" to encourage voters to choose them. Awesome.