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.
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. 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.
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