Kat & Marty

From our Easter Island flight, around 9:30pm, we hit the ground running. We taxied to the main bus terminal where we spent 30 minutes finding an overnight bus to Puerto Montt in the Lake Region. Marty rushed off to get us a take-away dinner and to our surprise the bus attendant was horrified that Marty was two minutes late - holding up the bus! We have become so used to buses running late that it was a shock to find one that actually ran on time. By 10:33pm we were on the road.

We arrived in Puerto Montt at around 11am on a cold and drizzly day. Our first experience of bad weather in a very long time. We intended to rent a car to drive around the district as there is a lot of hiking and National Parks to explore which are a little difficult to access by public transport. A random person from the bus station gave us even more random instructions to find a car hire place. It was while trying to follow these instructions that disaster struck us. Walking across a car park with our heavy packs on, Marty slid on some gravel and went down on one knee. My first thought was horror that he could have hurt himself, then came the realisation he really had. The weight of the pack had driven him down and he had sliced his knee open so deeply I could see what looked like the cartilage underneath. The cut was full of gravel and looked too awful to mess with so we decided to put a bandage over it to contain the blood and get to a doctor. Fortunately for us there was a taxi rank very close by, but the man who was organising the lines sent us down to the local supermarket for medical attention (!?!) What on earth... There we found a couple of taxi drivers who actually did know where to take us - to the hospital emergency room. We had thought this would mean hours of waiting for dubious and perhaps unsanitary, medical attention but we were wrong. We walked into an empty waiting room and the doctor saw Marty immediately. In a few moments he was injecting Marty´s knee from various angles - the most painful part of the entire incident for Marty I think - then he began cleaning the wound out with saline solution. The sight of this almost made me ill and I had to retreat from the sight of it for a few moments. The general anesthetic had Marty oblivious to the tortures his poor knee was undergoing. Watching the doctor at work I knew we had made the right decision to see him as I could never have cleaned the wound out properly like that. The end result was 5 stitches and strict instructions not to walk for a week! This was bad news as we had lots of day hikes planned and also needed to be training for our climb up Aconcagua. However such is life - we were thankful nothing worse had gone wrong.

We took a taxi from the hospital to rent a car then went and stayed 15 minutes drive from Puerto Montt in Puerto Varas - a beautiful lakeside town full of German architecture and cuisine. Apparently a lot of Nazi Germans fled Germany after the World War and sought residency in South America and Chile in particular. We found a nice hostel to stay in then went downtown to drop off some washing. I had a small run in with a parking attendant as I had parked in a paying bay without realising but instead of paying for half an hour for the two minutes I had been there, I said no thanks and drove off. We decided to go for a drive around the lake and ended up in the Parque Nacional Vicente Perez Rosales. It was absolutely stunning - the scenery looked like an oil painting of the perfect nature scene with clear waters running over stones and tree covered slopes rising in the slightly misty background. We had coffee and Kutchen - a german styled custard cake - at a nice hotel out there and kicked ourselves for not carrying the camera with us.

Back in town we spent ages trying to find somewhere to have an inexpensive meal. Puerto Varas is a touristy town for Chileans to holiday in so everything was slightly more expensive and the restaurants tended toward fine dining. We finally found a place called the Garage Bar where we thought we were in luck. They had a great menu with all sorts of delicous foods on it. I picked out a cous cous salad and Marty had his eyes on something good but when we went to order they didn´t have anything on the menu available. Instead they made us up a nibbles plate and lent us a chess board so we passed a pleasurable few hours before bed. We were thrown that it was still light after 10pm when we returned to the hostel.

Our next day was spent doing errands. The parking man wouldn´t let me back into his area of town so I had to park miles away, despite the fact I was willing to pay for my space this day. I dropped Marty off at a phone/internet station to begin a marathon session of him trying to get in touch with his Mum, Judy. Now that the shock of his injury was wearing off he needed to get in touch with home but it proved difficult to do at such a busy time of year in Australia. We waited around for ages for laundry and other messages to be done before heading back down Route 5 to Puerto Montt for Marty´s bandage change back at the emergency room. The medical attendant gave us a load of bandages and iodine to take with us. Finally free again, we headed back up Route 5 to Valdivia. Here we expected paradise due to a particularly enthusiastic reference from our guidebook. It raved that it was Chile´s gem - the most beautiful town in Chile.... we suspect the writer may have found true love here because the stars were definitely blinding her eyes. We drove in past some pretty wetlands in driving rain to find the strip of hostels recommended a row of hovels with graffiti and some boarded up. The area must have seen better days. We drove around the river that runs through town and ended up in a quiet, boiled cabbage smelling place that was none the less, comfortable. The hostesses were friendly though very quiet and we thought we may have been the only guests though in the morning one place was set at another table. Having our car was brilliant - I was slowly coming to grips with the Chilean traffic where following usual road rules elicited toots and waving fists, while cutting people off and behaving like a general menace was accepted as normal. We drove over to a brewery of a popular Chilean beer with the unfortunate name of Kuntsmann (German of course). This beer was actually really good - the first in a long time that had real flavour. The brewery was located out in the countryside and we decided to have dinner in the restaurant there. Pleased with the progress our Spanish had been making we ordered without checking the dictionary. Marty thought he had ordered spare ribs while I thought I had ordered steak medallions. After the waitress left we read the menu a little closer and had our doubts. We could both see the humour when Marty was awarded with pork ribs and I got pork medallions both served up with huge quantities of boiled cabbage and potatoes. They also gave us a tasting plate of the 7 different beers. Marty clearly enjoyed the position of not having to drive (his knee was unable to bend at this point) and was able to form his opinions on what was the breweries best. The little gem I think they had was a honey flavoured beer that smelt like wild honey and tasted thick and sweet. To finish our meal we had beer flavoured ice-cream, then all beered out we drove back to the hostel Prat (yes, that was really it´s name), and made the most of the English speaking channels on cable tv in our room.

We woke late, breakfasted, then went down to the fish & vegetable markets (Feria Fluvial) for the sea lions that come in to feed on the fish scraps. We were delighted to find that the rumours were true and there were a great amount of rather obese looking sea lions who had dragged their lardy carcasses up onto concrete sections on the water front that almost looked like sea lion drive in feeding bays. The fish mongers would fillet fish for their customers then through the heads, tails and bones to the lazy seals. We were told later of one man who had lost a finger to a seals sharp teeth by hand feeding instead of throwing the fish. We bought lots of cheap cherries in produce section, then I was excited to find a bookstall that had a couple of English books for sale. We then bumped into Chris and Justine who we had hiked the Inca Trail with so spent a while catching up. We were going different ways however - they had more to see in Valdivia and we were headed to a small lakeside town named Futrono.

Driving to Futrono was pastorally idyllic. Green fields laced with broad shady trees and happy looking cows chewing on their cuds fell by our windows. We passed several hitch-hikers but with our gear all over the back seat and Marty´s leg needing lots of room we uncomfortably ignored them while discussing the ethics of not stopping when it didn´t suit us to. Futrono itself was extremely quiet. We checked into a hostal that was as secure as a medieval fortress. We had to ring the doorbell to get in and an old lady with a walker would spend 5 minutes getting down the long hallway to let us in. She rattled of Spanish so quickly we couldn´t understand much of what was said - but the main points were made - what room, how much and when to leave in the morning. We went for a drive, intending to go down to the lake but we couldn´t find any access points. Instead we stopped at a lookout and took photos before going and having dinner in a pollo frito (fried chicken) joint that was playing a football game on a large screen. Marty politely played cards with me while watching the game over my shoulder with the other roomful of men.

In the morning we drove around Lake Ranco. It poured with rain, and being a little more organised this day we were able to stop for a man who was heading to the next town of Lago Ranco. He was still a good two hours walk away and was so relieved to be given a ride out of the rain that he invited us back to his house for lunch. He actually lived in Valdivia in the weekdays to work then came out to the family house in Lago Ranco for weekends. His wife kept a similar routine but worked in a different city. Currently she was still away as her work was further away and it was too expensive to come home every weekend. The hitchhiker poured himself and Marty a shot of whiskey to warm them after the weather then left us watching a Doors music video while he showered and changed. Coming back out he showed us around the house he had designed himself. He had a man´s dream garage with an indoor rotisari, a workshop, and a lit car pit. This last thing was going to find itself utilised in the near future as the reason he´d been walking was that his truck had broken down. He cooked us an interesting meal of steak, spaghetti flavoured as one desired with soy sauce and a Chilean salad of onion and tomato. It was followed by menta tea - similar to mint - fresh from his garden. We left with the need to confirm our Navimag (ferry) tickets for the following day so left him around 5pm. He spoke a little English and we a little Spanish so we felt really happy with the conversation we had and felt we had learnt a lot more about Chilean lifestyle. One challenge we faced here to our belief system was defining what exactly makes you poor. This gentleman who gave us lunch divided Chile into 10% rich people and 90% poor. The injustice of that is fairly clear - but I couldn´t find it in my heart to count this man with two houses - though he still had to work - as poor. Is it a state of mind? Do the people of South and Central America who have enough to eat but no possessions and no debt really hold the status of being more poor than the people of Australia and New Zealand who have piles of possessions but don´t really own anything, holding huge debts. For sure their lifestyle is more simple... Are we only poor when we find out what we can´t have? Are we more or less poor if we get what we want then have to contract ourselves to work to retain it?

We drove on to another touristy town named Frutilla. Frutilla sat on the shores of Lago Llanquihue (same lake as Puerto Varas) and we were able to get a room looking out over the lake above a delicous cake and coffee shop. We both felt tired and out of sorts. The sky outside was grey and rainy still, we had cake and coffee in our room while watching old Star Wars movies screening on TV. In the morning we were up early, driving back down to Puerto Montt to catch the Navimag ferry.

To get from the Lake Region down to Patagonia there are 3 ways. Firstly you can fly, secondly you can cross the border to Argentina and bus, or, thirdly, you can catch the Navimag ferry through the fjords of Chile. Catching Navimag was our choice. We took two dormitory berths which were surprisingly comfortable and had curtains to pull across them allowing a semblance of privacy. The boat itself was just over 100 feet and had 3 passenger decks. We were in the lower third deck (above the car deck), above us was more accomodation and the cafeteria and on top was the bar and a lot of outdoor space which was severely underutilised on this trip due to constant rain and sleet despite the beautiful scenery floating by.

By the time we boarded and were settled into our berths, then watched Puerto Montt fade into the distance, it was time for dinner. It seemed no matter what berth people had splashed out for, everyone had the same choice of lasagne or meat loaf for dinner. After eating, we watched what is now an old favourite of ours on the cafeteria wall, the movie of The Motorcycle Dairies - the journey of Che Guavera through Argentina and Chile up to Peru. Now we could recognise a lot of places in the movie that we had visited ourselves.

In the morning we were woken by loudspeakers for breakfast. We ate handsomely, then went back below deck to rest Marty´s leg. We read our books, made use of the surprisingly clean showers and napped. After lunch we went up to the bar and played some cards and talked to other passengers. The scenery outside rivalled NZ´s Milford Sound with tree covered slopes raising up from still waters. Late in the afternoon we were given warning to take travel sick pills if necessary as we were going out around a point and it would be rough. The pills made me sleepy so we went down and napped some more before dinner. When I woke the ship was rolling around like a 30ft yacht. They later told us we were going through 6 meter swells at the time. Marty and I went up and played some cards. Not many people were at dinner - I was so glad I had taken the medication. After dinner Marty went back to rest his leg some more while I stayed up in the cafetaria and watched a Chilean movie based on the 70s riots and political upheaval. It was a bit of a tragedy and I went to bed feeling sad for our world, the rocking of the boat sent me off to sleep.

In the morning it was calm again. We were called out to see an old ship that had sunk and had now been turned into a life ship. We had joined a ship tour to go onto an island where the local Indian people still lived (now it was the last true blood generation) and sold souveneirs. The winds outside were too rough for the fishing boats that would take us to land for a small fee so we stayed on board reading and talking instead. After lunch we went up a fjord to see a massive glacier. The entire boat stood outside in sleety conditions to photograph and marvel at the huge ice field now in retreat. When the novelty of that had warn off we retreated into the warmth of the bar where we had plenty of people to talk to. Like us, most people we talked to were planning on hiking the Torres del Paine circuit or ´W´. That night was bingo night with lots of prizes up for grabs. We all had a lot of fun about boasting how our boards were going to win. After dinner most people crammed into the bar for the game. It was a lot of fun but not us or anyone in our group won - someone came pretty close to winning the booby prize for the least amount of numbers - but even that fell through. We were pretty happy to dance it up afterwards anyway at the disco party. Outside one young man danced with fire pois. At around 1am we called it a night and slept soundly despite the party raging on upstairs.

This morning brought us into the port of Puerto Natales. This town looked a little windswept and bereft but I quickly grew to love it. Especially when we discovered a chocolate and coffee cafe. We tried to get a room at the popular Erratic Rock Hostel. This is run by an American couple and the staff are all pretty hardcore sports experts or backpackers passing through. One guy - Andy - adventure races professionally with an NZ team. The hostel was booked out this night however so we wandered around miserably looking for anywhere with a room available. We didn´t want to walk too far as Marty still had his injury and we were saved by the Erratic Rock´s manager´s girlfriend who passed us on the street and guessed we were still looking for accomodation. She was going away for a couple of days and rented us her room. Other backpackers were staying in the house also. It worked brilliantly for us. We went down to the local hospital and the doctor gave Marty a big thumbs up on his knee and took his stitches out. We spent the next day stocking up on hiking food, Christmas pressies and dinner to take hiking and other bits and pieces. We ate chocolate at the cafe and drank coffee at a book cafe where I was able to buy a new book - something that always puts me in a good frame of mind. We were ready to go the next morning to the start of the Torres del Paine circuit.

The bus ride in was two hours but with daylight until well after 10pm we weren´t too worried about a late start. We had decided that in the name of training for Aconcagua, we should load our packs up with as much food as we could carry and walk twice the designated distances for each day. The first day hurt! I don´t know why we thought we should have so much food and after passing the first campsite I was really tempted to stop despite the easy trail and beautiful wild flowers (fireweed, clover and daisies among many others) that beckoned us on. To stop so soon was not the plan and we couldn´t give in that easily so carried on around a corner and over a reasonably small hill. Coming to the top of that almost brought us to a complete stand still as terrifyingly strong winds whipped across the tops. Even Marty had to really brace himself not to be blown away. Battling the wind exhausted us. We planned to camp at a site at the other end of a lake we found over the hillside. Once at the other end of the lake we couldn´t find the site anywhere so were a little bit naughtly and snuck off the track to make our own little camp, filtering water from a pond to cook with. Every bone in my body ached!

The next morning we walked 10 minutes down the track and found the campsite. We could have kicked ourselves for not going that little bit further. My pack was a little lighter for having dinner and breakfast and I was well relieved for the break that gave me. Our hike took us down to a lake with a glacier calving into it in the distance and chunks of ice floating around in it. We stopped for lunch, cooking noodles and eating the last of our ham sandwhiches. Marty went to use the facilities and I lay down on the picnic bench in the sun for a moment. Just as Marty came back we heard a huge roar grow. The trees started whipping around then the gust of wind hit us, picking up the bag of cooking gear and dumping it down on my ribs. We hurriedly packed up and continued on up a steep ridge to another small lake with a glacier dropping in off a hanging valley. I couldn´t even stand against the wind at the top of the ridge giving a view down into the lake though Marty was braver and stood it for a couple of minutes to take a photo. Just beyond that we found the campground we wanted to spend the night at. I was in tears of relief, it had been a long day and I was hurting from the weight of my pack. We got out of the horrendous wind and sleet into the trees and soon had our tent up. We went and cooked dinner in the crowded cooking shelter where we met two girls from Kansas, Rachel and Gretchen, who we would see a lot over the next few days and a couple named Andrea and Leon who were living in Barcelona. After a good hot meal I felt a lot better, but we went to bed as soon as we were done. I was almost too tired to remember it was Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day had us waking around 7am with Marty´s alarm. We opened each others presents - a scarf I loved and a ceramic matchbox I had wanted for me; a couple of caribiners, a milodon, a megladon and a box of chocolates for Marty. We read the Christmas story, sang a couple of Christmas carols, made porridge then broke camp and headed up the pass. I found today a little easier - perhaps the lack of wind or the slightly lighter again load. I enjoyed walking in and out of the tree line then up the morraine to the pass. We had a little snow to walk over but nothing to serious or scary. At the top we had the most incredible view of a gigantic glacier - the Grey glacier. It was the hugest field of ice I have ever seen and it was incredible to just suddenly have it there spread out as far as the eye could see. The wind started getting a bit strong so we headed down into the trees. The walk was steep down and Marty´s knees really hurt him after this day. We got to the first camp we intended to have lunch at. The plan had been to carry on down to the lake below, but it was 3pm on Christmas Day and we had a ham to cook (actually it was precooked) and cake to celebrate with. We decided that was enough for today. As soon as the tent was up we fell asleep for a couple of hours. We woke around 6 and went to the cooking shelter to start things going. All the others from the night before were stopped and camping here too - it was a joy to share Christmas with them.

Our next day was short and lazy in comparison. We wanted to do an ice tour out onto the glacier and they ran from the lakeside campsite or Grey Camp. It was meant to be our destination the day before but now we had a whole day to get there. With Christmas dinner gone from my pack I felt free and enjoyed the walk down. Marty´s knees were pretty sore but he made the best of a bad job and we had plenty of time. We stopped at one lookout for half an hour trying to see some ice shear off. Nothing was happening though we could hear the glacier groan a little occasionaly. Grey Camp had a Refugio or a hostal so it was a bit nicer to stay at. They even had hot showers for campers to use! Andrea and Leon were staying in the Refugio that night so we hung out with them a little before having an early night.

The morning was bitingly cold. We were given lifejackets and jumped on a boat that took us across the face of the glacier. We had to go into a smaller dinghy to get dropped off and it almost didn´t make it through the ice pack to get us to shore. Somehow at the last moment the ice gave way and we got through. On land we were given ice-axes and after a 15 minute hike across morraine we donned crampons. I love those things - you can walk anywhere in them. Our first instinct was to stay well away from the edges of any crevasses - some over 25m high - but the guide led us straight over a ridge between two drops. That gave us some confidence. We were taken past holes and riverlets to an ice cave. The ice compacts and with less oxygen reflects an incredible blue colour. Before the day ended the guides set up a 10m top rope so we could try out ice climbing. It was brilliant - I loved it. For some reason it felt a lot more secure than rock climbing though you could hear the ice groaning if you didn´t dig the axe in deep enough. The climb had a slight overhang which made it that little bit more fun too. After everyone had a turn we took a boat back. Marty and I had packed our camp that morning so now we picked up our packs and walked the 3 hours on to the next camp.

The last 20 minutes started soaking us with rain. At the campsite the camp manager was kind enough to let us put up the tent under a porch then carry it to the sight. My sleeping bag had got a little wet which stressed me out till I found it wasn´t so bad. We enjoyed our hot meal that night.

In the morning it was still raining when we got up, but after breakfast the sun came out for a few minutes and dried our tent out. We quickly packed it before the next shower but somehow it was 11am before we really got going. Today was a long day as we intended to walk out to the entrance campsite, then day walk up to the Torres the next morning before taking the bus out. The track was great, following rolling hills, bypassing vividly coloured glacial lakes... Marty´s knees were really hurting him but he made it on with the help of anti- inflamatories. We finally staggered into camp at 8pm that night. We just got the tent up and it started raining again. An Indian couple who we had met the night before were there looking really refreshed. At first we were shocked they had taken the boat across the lake rather than walk - but they were quickly forgiven when we discovered the lady had been part of an 8 month expedition to cross the Himalayas. She certainly had some incredible stories to tell.

We set the alarm for 3am but it was raining so stayed in bed. The Torres need clear weather to be seen so we didn´t worry too much. It was still raining at 7am. The shuttle left for the bus at 12pm and it was only half an hour before this that the towers cleared. We weren´t regretful at not climbing up the 4 hours to the look out as my blisters hurt and Marty´s knees were still aching. Our plan was to spend the night in Puerto Natales then cross over to Argentina and after visiting the Molena Glacier, getting up to Mendoza as quickly as possible to prepare for climbing Aconcagua.

We had a bed reserved in Erratic Rock and enjoyed the ambience and the company there. We went downtown and booked a tour to the Molena glacier the next day, then went to bed well rested and happy.

T