Santiago, Chile

(More Pictures)

Oh, how interesting my visit to Santiago was. Initially I planned to be there a matter of days. Two to three perhaps, but I still found myself there after a week and a half. Initially frustrating, the extended stay was actually a blessing, and I ended up meeting some great people and having a great time.

The reason for the extended stay had to do with my passport. Running out of space for entry and exit stamps, I found out you can have pages directly added to your passport at an American embassy. Santiago was the closest one, but I arrived on Saturday, and had to wait for the embassy to open on Monday. No worries. I randomly chose an amazing hostel; a giant red house in a chill neighborhood a few blocks from downtown. La Casa Roja came with a TV room, 3 sort of living rooms, 2 courtyards, a big open space out back, complete with a bar-patio area, pool, grass area, ping pong table, and cricket batting cage (the owner is Australian). You can spend the whole day there and have a great time. I met some awesome people, some odd balls, and some people that were just downright strange. I won't really go into all the stories, partly because some are uninteresting, some long, and others just inappropriate. Anyway, with a couple days to see the city, I figured I could get my passport taken care of Monday and be on my way.

(Hostel Dog)

(Night on the Patio. I show this one for Dave, our shirtless friend holding up the peace sign with the beard. Unfortunately, you can't make out the long braids coming off of his chin. He has tried drugs on nearly every continent he has traveled to. What a dude. )

(Night lights of the ping pong table. One night, some people actually stayed up all night playing. Had more to with the beer than the ping pong, but a feat nonetheless.)

(Patio)

(Pooooooooooool)

(Some Cricket mate?)

(Bar and Patio)

(Grass area next to bar patio and pool)





(So yeah, pretty wicked hostel, right?)

I missed the embassy hours for US citizens on Monday (only 8:30 to 11:00 in the morning for some reason), so had to come back Tuesday. I soon found out that the incredibly complex procedure of taping pages into the passport takes an impressive 4 days, which meant I couldn't pick up my passport until Monday of the following week. Having seen and done all I wanted to in the city over the weekend, this was unwelcome news. It was at least comforting to know that American beauracracy is just as efficient here as it is back home.

As it turned out though, I was glad I ended up staying a while longer. I met some great people and had some of the best fun I have had yet on the trip. I met a guy named Nick from England, an Aussie named Sean, and an American named Andrea. It is amazing what can start with just a simple hello in your dorm room or as someone passes you in the hall. We did quite a bit together and had some great fun and a lot of laughs. I hadn't gotten so attached to anybody as with this group, and being the last one to leave was hard. It was the first time I have actually missed people I have been with. Usually you just have a good time and move on, but it would have been nice to stay with this group a bit longer. We played all over Santiago, dancing up a storm in some interesting clubs, lounging by the pool, wandering aimelessly all over the city, sharing our travel stories as we walked city blocks, and continually making each other laugh by being goofy or sharing past experiences. That is a great thing about traveling. Sometimes your plans don't work out, you get stuck somewhere, etc., but then some how, some way, you find yourself having the most fun you have had yet in a most unexpected and unplanned way. I will miss my Casa Roja friends dearly. Hopefully our paths will cross again sometime, someplace, but until then, we each will be burning our own trails with new friends in new places.

(As of yet, I haven't received pictures from anyone, so hopefully those will come soon! They unfortunately include all the photos of people, proof that I didn't just have imaginary friends in Santiago...)

Lonquimay Circuit

(Complete Picture Set)


Yah, so one last trek with my gear on my own before sending the tent on home. The old girl has been good to me. I actually think I started getting so used to sleeping on my 5 mm foam pad, in that I "preferred" it to a normal soft bed. I started noticing these last few treks that the first few nights back it was hard to fall asleep. Sort of weird, if you ask me.

Anyway, the base "town" for the trek was this super chill, super small village called Malalcahuello (say it ten times fast, I dare you). I was told to ask for a man known as Tio Pepe, who could give me the best information on the mountains in the area. Wanting to climb a few more volcanoes, I "searched" for the man by asking one of the other 24 people living in the town if they might happen, possibly, to know a man there going by Tio Pepe. Amazingly, I only had to ask one person. It turned out he actually met another guy from Tahoe back in the '70's by the name of Douglas Wreath. Some of you might know the name (sorry if I spelled it wrong), but he has since passed away, climbing somewhere in Africa apparently. Tio Pepe and his wife were very hospitable, and offered me dinner on top of advice. I love small towns.

I started the trek with a night in a Cabin Tio Pepe owned higher up in the mountains. From there I set off, doing some long, hot days. Nothing but volcanic rock and ash for a trail, and sometimes no water whatsoever for upt to 16 miles. I ran accross a brilliant sign at one point, right at about mile 11, which had the enticing picture of a water faucet dripping with water on the wood pole sticking in the ground. Problem was, there was no faucet, hose, creek, stream, pond, or puddle nearby. I left a bit perplexed, probably muttering something about CONAF (trail administration) under my breath. Not my idea of a good joke.

Days two and three went through the wetter parts of the watershed, and provided some spectacular views of lava fields, volcanoes near and far, beautiful granite mountains, and tree covered hills. I got some good campsites with some great views, one even with a little swimming hole in a river. The last day (three) I was to walk out for a long while...20 miles maybe, but luckily, not long after the trees had disappeared and I was well into the baking hot lava field again, a truck passed by and offered a ride. My pack was off and I was in the back of the truck in record time.

Raftage

Ok, you guys will have to check out the full photo set here, because I am not going to post them all, but they are some good fun. They sort of run in a story mode with comments, so check them out for a photo story version of below.

And I never thought I would ever say this, but I may have found a place that rivals Tahoe. No seriously, as hard as that is to believe. I think it comes up short, but man does this place rock! I have been in the township of Pucon and around in the mountains for about two weeks now, and it has been sweeeeeeeet. Climbing volcanoes, trekking around them, chilling on the lake's beach, mountain biking have been my entertainment, and it is all so close together. Now I have one more to add to the list: white water rafting. Oh yeah baby, life is good.

So the Upper Trancura River is rated class IV, with a two IV's and a IV+ being the main attractions. The bus trip was a quick 15 minutes up the road, and after the typical entertaining orientation about how not to die while river rafting, we pushed up for practice on the water.

We received the usual commands of "forward," "back," "left/right back," "stop," "jump left/rigt (usually highside in the States)," etc. The new kicker was the "get down" command for when you go over waterfalls and things of that nature. Yeah, there were some wide eyes on the raft, hehehe, especially from the 4 Ausies who had never been before. Personally, having been on a class IV river before, and having fallen into the water mid-rapid and surviving, I was all smiles. Ok, ok, I was a little wide-eyed too, but totally amped on the adventure.

Our trip down was interspersed with the smaller rapids, but the big ones were Hellstar, El Feo (The Ugly), and Smiley. We also got to jump off about a 15 foot cliff back into the water after having to walk around an enormous class VI rapid, which was also sweet. It was a fun day with a good group, and we were able to run some more difficult lines I think because of it, and even the swimming breaks turned into pushing wars and water fights. Back in town I chilled out on the beach, now wanting to add river kayaking onto my list of sports to learn.

Villarica Traverse

(Complete Pictures - even more than what is here!)

This trek was inTENSE! It was my first "demanding" rating for a trek, and the 6 days of trekking the rugged landscape around Volcan Villarica lived up to that rating. Throw an unusually angry climate into the mix, and it made it all the more interesting. I think this trek would have had some fo the most amazing scenery I have seen yet, but with the cloudy, rainy days, I missed out on what my book described as spectacular views.

(View to Lago Villarica)

When I arrived in Pucon CONAF was their typical uninformative selves, telling me that the trail was closed due to snow and trail repairs. So I climbed the volcano, went bike riding, and talked to some locals, who told me that CONAF office staff never walk the trails and know nothing, and that the trail should be open. So I went back 3 days later (arrived Friday, so I had to wait until Monday to talk to them again) to pressure them into giving me permission, but another guy was in the office and told me the trail was open. Amazing what can change over the weekend. So I got prepared to

(snow covered trail)

go, and then the weather decided to misbehave. A couple days of rain, so I waited to go. It didn't really clear up but it was supposed to get better according to the forecast I looked at. I paid for transportation up there, a whopping $30, but when I got to the ranger station to register the visibility was terrible, the forecast had changed to three more days of rain from what the rangers had looked at, and I still had around a 600 foot change in elevation before starting the trek, so I decided to throw in the towel and wait a bit longer. I waited, got a new weather report, and went back again (another $30!). Another

(Morning brings frozen tent, but clear skies)

ranger told me the trek was closed (but I now know better than to believe them), so I informed him, politely, that the trail he was in charge of was indeed open, and I was going to go walk on it. So he let me through after I paid and registered, and I continued up to the trailhead. Then came a new twist. Snow. Because of the permanent snow and glaciar on the volcano, the wind comes up mountain, picks up moisture, freezes, gets redirected down mountain, and thus results in snow. I sat in the car with my driver, who owned the company I summited the volcano with, staring out the window trying to decide what to do. I had spent 60 dollars just to get to the stinking trek, and I hadn't even started yet, and I was pretty sure the snow would stop in the afternoon and the weather clear the next day. So I took off, armed against the weather with my will and some gators the owner let me borrow for the trip. It was cold.

(L-Ohhh, preeettttyyy; R-Volcan Villarica)

I walked for about an hour and a half through thick clouds and snow, and it was snowing enough that it started to bury the trail. I finally reached a little patch of trees and decided to camp and wait out the storm, hoping it would clear by the next day. If not, I was only an hour and a half in, so I could walk out if need be. The night was cold, but with a dry tent (inside) and all my clothes on in my sleeping bag, I actually wasn't too cold. I woke up to a frozen tent though, covered in ice on the outside, and although chilly, a beautiful and clear day. The trek was saved.



So I took off on day two with a mission, wanting to combine it with what I didn't do day one, meaning I had a long day ahead of me. I took off at 8:00 and didn't arrive to camp until 6:30, with maybe an hour and a half worth of breaks, so 9 hours of hiking, and about 14.5 miles. It was a tiring day, but easy compared to what lay next. Less distance (9.5 miles) but with some steep trail, day three took me almost as long as day two, and after walking these two days consecutively, I was hurting! I got to camp, I got everything ready, ate dinner, and went straight to bed. The day wasn't that impressive as far as views go due to the high amount of clouds, but I was in some pretty forest and could see a little ways across some beautiful landscape. Just most of the high peaks and volcanoes were hidden.

(Above-Me and Volcan Lanin (GIANT!); L - Volcan Temuco (left) and Volcan Lanin, Below-Close up of Volcan Lanin)

I slept soundly that night, and woke up to the pitter patter of rain on my tent. I hate that sound in the morning. The thing I like least while trekking is having to pack up in the rain, with a wet tent, wet gear, and no garuntee you will be able to dry them later. Hiking in the rain isn't so bad if it isn't too cold, because you will warm up with the activity of walking with your pack. I didn't want to wait the weather out, pretty sure it wouldn't stop raining, and needing to keep moving since I had six days of solid hiking to do. So I packed up, took off, and got wet.

I probably should have stayed in the tent. I went over some high passes, and visibility was extremely sketchy. The trail disappeared naturally on the ground due to loose pumice and sand as well as snow fields. On a clear day, the trail has markers to keep you on track, but you need to be able to see them from afar. Thick clouds don't really allow for that. So I found myself having to stop and wait for a break in the

(L-Soaring Condor; Below-Laguna Blanca Campsite. Not shown, lots and lots of WIND!)

cloud, knowing where the trail was behind me but having no idea where it headed off too in the distance. In the sand at least you could sometimes find a shoe print here and there or some sort of mark indicating someone had been there, but the snow fields are usually long and with almost know trace of anyone walking on them in the past. I was lucky to get those breaks in the clouds, and in retrospect, probably shouldn't have attempted the pass that day in those conditions. But I arrived, so all is good, right? (My Mom and Dad are shaking there heads right now) I camped at a stark but beautiful lake, Laguna Blanca, which is surrounded by desolate hills of weathered lava rock. The wind and rain continued for the rest of the afternoon, but finally the rain stopped in the evening, a huge blessing, as I was able to get some stuff dry. The topography of the area though made it hard to find protected camp sites, so the rattling of the tent in the wind all night was a bit trying on the nerves, but survivable.

(L-The sun is out...quick, take a picture!; R-Smoking Volcan Villarica)

Day five brought clear, sunny skies, and great views, although the volcanoes still hid behind some clouds. I saw some cool valleys, marshy shelfs with cascading waterfalls, and had a beautiful lake all to myself to swim in and camp by. It was also the shortest day of the trek, minus day one due to weather complications, and I was definitely in some need of some rest.

(Top-Day 5, shot of shelf and Mtns; Bottom-On the shelf)

Day six was an uneventful but pretty walk out in the canyons and woods, with no real vistas. I arrived in a place called Puesco, which has a few unused buildings, a border control office, and a CONAF ranger station. I tried to hitch a ride back to Pucon, maybe 60 some odd kilometers away (I don't know it in miles but too far to walk, we'll put it that way), as the bus wouldn't come until the next morning. With little traffic and unwilling drivers, I finally got bored and walked 2 km down to a campground next to a rushing river with a restaraunt and cold coca-cola. The cold river, hot food, and cold coke

(Hanging out by the river)

made my day. It was also nice to see some people, who I hadn't seen since I started the trek. I took the bus back to Pucon the next day to take a long hot shower, relax by the lake, and sleep in a warm comfy bed that night. Although the views were obscured often and the weather made the already challenging trek harder, it was an amazing trip in beautiful country. All the clouds did were make it just short of spectacular, and to know I survived the trek with the weather I did almost added to my sense of accomplishment, like

(Cool mountain range, called "The Comb")

someone finishing a marathon even if they didn't place first. As I sipped a beer with the owner of the company who drove me up the first day, I told him I was headed up north next to do another 6 day trek. He laughed and said that is the spirit of montanistas, that we go out into the mountains and are freezing, and hungry, and tired, and ache, but when we get back to civilization in the shelter of our warm, comfortable homes, all we can think about is getting back out into the mountains. I can't agree more.



















1 - Collapsable Home...................On loan from Dad
2 - 5mm foam bead......................$5
3 - Aged beachwood arm chair..........Free

Having a view better then any plasma/HD TV can produce, all to yourself? Priceless.

Bud Davis

Being far from home has perhaps made me better appreciate my home, my community, and where I grew up. The Tahoe community has always been unique in its culture, and I am proud to be a product of this upbringing, one that all graduates from the north and west shores of Tahoe share. The essence of this community comes from its members, who love the mountain life, its people, and its kids. So many of you have poured into our lives like parents although we weren't your kids, and we have you to thank alongside our own parents for giving us such a special place to grow up. We recently lost a key member of this community after his long battle with cancer. I did not know Bud Davis that well, but knew him enough to see him offer his time on the soccer field, the ski slopes, the restraunt dining room (and kitchen, and bar, and management, and...), the concert halls, long bus trips, the jazz band tours, and the lives of his family and Tahoe community as I grew up, and I know this only captures a snapshot of his life, especially to those that are closer to him and know him better. We all carry a piece of him with us now as products of that Tahoe community he helped shape, and I would like to pay tribute to his commitment and love over the years to that community. May we all be such members in the lives of others and our own communities, no matter where we end up. So here is a small tribute to the life, memory, and legacy of Bud Davis.

Sierra Sun newspaper article

Volcano High

(complete pictures)

After the (lack of) adventure in Osorno, I came up to Pucon, Chile to do the trophy trek of my trip, a 6 day trek around several volcanoes with the highest difficulty rating of any of the treks I had done thus far. Of course, when I arrived CONAF informed me that the trails were closed so I decided to climb the volcano since I was here and it sounded like a great trip. You either have to have a mountaineering certification or a guide to climb to the 2800 meter summit, and not having the former, I shelled out $80 for the latter. I was still pretty amped on it though, as it is one of the most active and climbed volcanoes in the world, as well as my first volcano summit attempt.

(L - Morning view on the ascent; R - Volcan Villarica towering above the shores of Lago Villarica in Pucon, Chile)

I started the day early; 3 am to be exact. Struggling out of bed I drank a cup of coffee, put down some food, checked the pack, and left for the bus. We left the tour office at 4 am to pick up equipment, and were probably walking around 5 am. The upside was that we avoided the circus that started later at 7 in the morning. We had a group of 9 with 3 guides. Unfortunately, every single one of them had almost no mountain/hiking experience, so the pace was a very, very slow walk up the mountain. The guides later said they felt bad for me and could see how bored I was, but there weren't enough people to break into a fast and slow group, so I had to stick it out during the long 5-6 hour ascent.

(The expedition)

(The Circus)

I was bumming on the way up because it wasn't just a slow pace; we were walking nearly half speed of just a typical sunday stroll in the park. It was killing me! Here I am supposed to be doing something new and exciting and challenging, and I am bored to tears. I was really trying to stay positive, but it was hard knowing I could have been up to the summit in at least half the time. The scenery sustained me however (barely), as it was amazingly beautiful and very clear, so we could see the up to several miles away. The coolest part on the way up was the excitement of carrying an ice axe, since it seemed to add to the whole drama and challenge, but it only lasted about 10 minutes, because you don't really use it at all. It is more just a precaution if you fall. Anyway, fiiinnnnaaalllyyy, we reached the summit.

(Steep hill side climb, amazing view)

(Volcano crater at the summit)

I have decided active volcano summits are much cooler in pictures (lucky for you guys), because active volcanoes have a habit of belching out nasty gasses, or at least this one did. Choking on the sulfur fumes, we made the final ascent to give us spectacular views of the surrounding area, and an impressive one of the crater as well. Sometimes you can see molten magma (that word is so cool, especially if you are an Austin Powers fan and can picture Dr. Evil saying it...maaagma), but I couldn't find a (safe) point to observe it. We rested on the top, ate lunch, took in the view, and gagged on some more sulfur fumes. The view helped ease my pains for the slow walk to the summit. From the top you could see various volcanoes towering over the surrounding mountain ranges, beautiful lakes filling the valleys below, stretching out to the horizon. But then came the reedeming factor of the trip.

(Far off volcanic peaks)

(Talk about casting a big shadow)

For those of you who didn't have the blessing of growing up in Tahoe, let me diverge for a moment and explain to you about sledhills. Snow sports abound in Tahoe, but in elementary school, it was all about sledding. We took this sport very seriously. We would come clad in our bright poofy jackets, suspender snow pants, and florescent colored Sorels (aka snow boots, but there was only one brand to have as a kid, and that was Sorels). Some times we would even lug our own sleds and saucers from home on the bus to be ridden at school. The creation of the tracks on the hills was a fine art that we dedicated every recess to, sliding and resliding down tracks on natural hills, as well as on piles created from the snowplows that would plow the blacktop play area behind our schools.

(L - chairlift on the slopes of Volcan Villarica; R - The (butt-sliding) descent)

Now, there are two kinds of slides: foot-slides and butt-slides (self explanatory), although butt-slides were the preferred choice usually as they also allowed for saucers and sleds to be ridden down them as well. Each track was different, but usually included the typical features of banking curves, bumps, jumps, and sometimes drop offs if there was enough snow. Those were called butt-breakers. Again, self explanatory. The tracks would develop and grow, sometimes freeze (making very painful butt-breaking butt-slides), and when a new snow came in, the creation of new tracks would start again. The snow hill was utter chaos, despite our playground aides trying to keep order, and we would bounce down the hill, narrowing avoiding each other (and sometimes slamming into one another!) before sprinting back the hill for another go. I chipped more than a few teeth on those hills and was taken out several times by classmates, and I am sure a survey of our class would not leave out broken bones and other injuries from the list. At least one person was guaranteed to cry each day, minimum. It was a beautiful scene, and one I miss dearly.

(Summit towards Villarica Valley)

Now the reason for the divergence. When I arrived in Pucon I thought of Volcan Villarica as a pretty snow clad peak, and worthy challenge to climb, and that it had adventure written all over it. What did not occur to me, until our descent, is that is the biggest, most epic sled-hill ever created on the face of the earth. As we gleefully slid down the little hill behind our school so many years ago, we never could have dreamed of a mountain to sled down that was so monstrously big, so wickedly steep, as this 8400 foot volcano. While I usually was at the end of the pack on the way up (so I could have some space between me and the other climbers), I made sure I was first down the sled hills, knowing my childhood preparation in the art of butt-sliding would make me the fastest sledder out there. The slides were amazing, twisting and turning down 60 degree slopes, sometimes tossing you up for a little air, and providing an adrenaline packed descent of the volcano. I would have climbed it again that day just to sled down it again. Heck, I might just come back to guide so I can sled down it everyday!

(Summit towards Volcan Lanin)

In the end, the climb was worth the money and a very fun experience, and I was glad I went on it. And with all the volcanoes in Chile, I wouldn't be surprised if I found myself climbing up, and then sledding down, another one in the near future.

Only woes in Osorno

So Osorno is the connecting city to Bariloche when crossing the border into Chile, and along the route is a trek to do around a volcanoe to some thermal baths. All I found waiting for me though was an adventure in a whole other way.

So what is the normal thing to do when you arrive in a new area and want more detailed information on treks or what there is to do? Go to the local park agencies and tourist booths of course. To have information is, after all, their jobs. First thing was first though, and that was to find a place to stay, drop the burdensome pack, and then go for a walk and info hunting. I chose a little hospedaje (family who rents out extra rooms in their house) that my guide book seemed to like. The guidebook warned it was a little worn, but that the charm of the elderly older man who owned the place made up for it. Prefering friendly service to stale comfort, it sounded nice.

A girl from New Zealand had arrived with me on the same bus and had also chosen the place for the same reason. She was also interested in trekking and hiking options, as well as just what there was to do in general in the city, so we took off to the local tourist booth in the main plaza, as CONAF (in charge of park info and trail maintenance in Chile) was closed at that point in the day, as was the national tourist information service.

In need of some practice in Spanish, I let her do the talking. That was of course until the people in the booth fired back the info at light speed with little anunciation and that blank stare of confusion and lack of understanding (something I have felt so many times) made it clear she was getting nothing, so I jumped in, having about 2-3 more months experience than her. It was funny though that this guy thought she would understand his full speed spanish when she had barlely gotten her question out in broken spanish. Odd, just because he is supposed to be used to working with tourists, right?

It turned out they didn't have much for us, just pointed to some national parks on a map and said, "you can go here."

"Well do you have any maps?"

"Not really. We do of this one area, but we can't give it to you."

"Why?"

"Blah blah blah (some excuse I didn't fully understand but that CONAF wasn't giving them out yet for some reason. It is the middle of the trekking season! What do you mean they aren't giving them out yet?!)"

"Ok, so is there a place to buy maps in the city?"

"No, not really. I think they might have them in this city (pointed to a map of some place like 45 minutes away), and at the entrance maybe." (That is so helpful for planning...)

"Ok...um....what is there to do here?"

"Well...." I was handed a brochure with some pretty pictures of some ugly places in the city and was basically told there is nothing to do here, cleverly disguised by detailed explanations that tell you all about how much each place has nothing to offer. Ok we thought, maybe we will just go to CONAF tomorrow and see what they can tell us.

Back at the hospedaje, we did normal traveler things like buy food to eat and cook and ask for information and where we can go and who we can talk to. Normally people are happy to help, but with our woman host (from now on the daughter), it felt more like trying to draw oil from a well. So we sort of gave up, and I asked if I could do some cooking to the daughter (of about 50-60). She said sure, and so I went in looking for pots and pans and all that. Then the old man (charmer, remember) came in, look abhorred, told me to stop, and yelled for his daughter to come down. He irritatedly told her I was snooping around the kitchen, yada yada, so then she had to personally give me everything I needed, then went back upstairs to sew. The old man sat in the kitchen and divided his attention between me and the TV, and I went on cooking.

Afterwards I needed to wash the dishes, so I asked the old man where the dish soap was. He had no idea, and yelled for his daughter (which he does with every question practically, and she gets irritated coming up and down the stairs all the time for trivial questions like where is the dish soap). So I washed the dishes, and left to my room, the only place I felt like I wasn't rudely intruding in their lives like a unwelcome guest. I talked to my New Zealand friend, and she felt the same way; like unless we were in our rooms, we were just a nuisance, and we both wondered where the charm was hiding in the old man. Perplexed by the guidebook's praise, we went to bed, planning to go to CONAF in the morning to search out some info.

So the next morning we showed up bright and early in the morning to ask for info, maps,or whatever they had. We were handed the map we weren't allowed to have the day before, and were shown some trails in the parks nearby. I asked about trail conditions, having had some problems with the snow in Bariloche. "No...it is all good," they said. "No problem." Awesome I thought. They still didn't have very detailed maps, so we went to look for a bookstore and do some other errands.

Chileans from Osorno apparently don't read though, and there was only one bookstore we found that sold books, mostly used novels in Spanish and a few in English. This is another little quirk. We found about 30 librerias (ie, book stores), but apparently if you sell paper or anything in anyway related (and/or unrelated) to books, you can call yourself a libreria. We passed a ton of these so called bookstores who didn't have a single book to sell. So needless to say, after being pointed all over the city to these obscure "book stores" we didn't find a map. Finally we decided to try the national tourist office in a side chance they might tell us something we wanted to know while we listened to a lot of things we didn't want to know.

The people in the office were very nice and helpful, but didn't have any maps or trekking info. They did however give us a telephone number of a cheap hostel right at the trail entrance (hour and a half from town), which was good news after feeling of our hospedaje, where we would want to leave stuff for the trek (but then after the whole kitchen incident and everything else we felt really uncomfortable doing this). So we said thanks and went back to the other side of town to our hospedaje. I went to call the hostel to see if they had room. I got a recorded message saying that number wasn't in use. Well, that about figures now doesn't it. Oh well I thought, I guess we will just have to leave our stuff with the hospedaje.

I remebered a question I forgot to ask CONAF, so in the afternoon I traversed the city again to ask, and there ended up being a ranger from the park in the office. After talking to him about where I wanted to go he said I couldn't because of snow. "Really," I asked. "They said earlier everthing was open." He didn't work that sector, so he gave me a number to call, and so I called it and found out that indeed no, not all the trails are open and that we couldn't do the trek. Good thing we found out before the unfruitful bookstore search. I have since found that nobody in CONAF knows anything about the trails unless they are a ranger, because nobody walks on them. But rangers don't work in the office, which is where you go to find out all the information about the trails that the office people don't walk on and know nothing about.

By this time me and my friend had had enough of the city, the lack of info, the info given by those who knew nothing of what you were asking about, so we had bus tickets out the next day. It was quite a bust, made all the more dramatic that it took a day and a half of walking all over to find out one simple piece of information that would have saved so much time. Oh well, hopefully it is good for some laughs for you guys. And this is, in all its glory, traveling, so it comes with the territory. I just hope it isn't a prelude to similar experiences in Chile. I am optomistic though. So now I am off to Pucon near Volcano Villarica to do another trek. I hope for some better luck this time!

El Bolson Trek and Bariloche Trek

El Bolson Trek (all pictures)

This trek was more of a peaceful walk in the woods than an in your face panoramic survey of the surrounding scenery. Bariloche brought it back to the mountain top views, with some very diverse landscapes to offer. Both were also quite educating and philisophical as well, but we will get into that later.



Above - The oh so blue Rio Azul

Left - View on ridge before descending into the canyon




The best part about the El Bolson hike was the suspension bridges. There were three total, and I couldn't quite believe how old and rickety they were when I encountered the first one. It looked like something out of the movies, where some bridge hangs over a thousand foot ravine, and is the way to safety for our heroes fleeing the danger behind them...the choice, risk death in front, or risk death behind. I only had the bridge, maybe 10-15 feet over a river (and no bad guys chasing me), so it was a little less interesting. But crossing that rickety bridge with its cracked and missing boards, loose nails, and massive bounce and sidesway was the highlight of my trip. The Rio Azul, so aptly named, was also a beautiful river that I was able to follow for several kilometers.


Bariloche Trek (all pictures)
After leaving El Bolson I took a beautiful bus ride through forest and beside lakes to a city called Bariloche, spending the passing of the New Year in the mountains above the city. Now this place is a South American Tahoe, but more like South Tahoe. A city overdone in the typical touristy winter ski resort fashion, with little to offer in and of itself, but set on the shore of a beautiful deep blue mounain lake, and a ton to offer in its mountains around it. I say it is more like South Tahoe because it is a city with a much less personal down to earth feel than the rest of the lake has.

May these never,




EVER,







come to Tahoe!! =)






Why was I there? To do another trek of course! But when I arrived I got some bad news. It appeared I had arrived in Bariloche at the wrong time. There was too much snow to do the trek I wanted, but too little to enjoy any skiing while I was there. I was able to do a reduced section of the trek however, and it was beautiful and very impressive. I really wish I could have done the sections through the higher peaks, but knowing the very real and very serious danger of avalanches, didn't even want to risk it. I do however have this real longing to come back and do it someday though. Anyone want to do a trekking trip down here say, next winter? =) There were some cool mountains, idealic valleys, prety lakes, great views, and lots of diversity on this trek, as well as some very steep interesting trails, yet again. I ran into some bad weather, with a couple days of rain, and one windy, cloudy day on the ridge, but the views and scenery and experience were still amazing!












(L-Cerro Catedral; R-Some awesome valley)










(L-Cold, cold lake...aptly named Iceburg Lake; R-Swimming anyone?)






Lesson of the Day
So onto the educational lesson of the day. Now all you people who have a "cabin" in Tahoe, or have parents or family or friends who have a "cabin" in Tahoe, listen up and listen good (in amost friendly way). I would like to show you all a couple pictures of Cabins, capital C, the real deals, picture perfect definitions.




The lesson? Unless your/your family's/your friend's "cabin" actually resembles this style of house, you do not actually have a cabin in Tahoe! We locals like to call them houses, strange as it is (with some deserving the heftier titles of mansions). So there is our lesson for the day.






Philisophical Answers


Now onto philosophy. You know that whole if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to see (hear) it, does it make a sound riddle? Try and convince me that when this 6 foot diameter tree trunk shattered and the 200 ft tree it held up fell, that it didn't make a sound. Just tickles your brain, doesn't it?