Images of Valporaiso

The poet Pablo Neruda compared Valporaiso to a beautiful woman who hadn't had the time to groom herself properly. It was a prosperous port city before the time of the Panama Canal, when the shipping routes between the western US and Europe went around Cape Horn and all ships were required to stop in Valpo on the way. Now, it's scruffy but still beautiful. Vividly-painted houses

hang on the many steep hillsides, defying gravity. The "streets" include many staircases and narrow passageways, and uphills so steep that most cars take them in first gear. It's a bit like San Francisco without a tidy grid street layout. A series of antiquated funiculars whisk people up the hills: charming things, but a dying breed now that collectivo taxis provide a door to door alternative.

Everywhere you turn around, there are panoramic views. And then there are the murals - everywhere. The city is like a giant open air museum.

We were in Valpo for two nights. That didn't give us much time to sample its legendary nightlife, given that the first of those nights

was Monday and on the second we were preparing for a hellishly early morning (another story in itself). It did give us time to do a lot of semi-aimless wandering, the best ways to explore the city. We walked up and down hills until our legs couldn't take anymore - I'd like to believe that coming from us, that says a lot. Here are just a few of my favorite photos.

An aerobic hike through Huerquehue (or why Jorge should not be left alone)

It had been several days of rest and battling colds, and I was getting a bit restless. Melissa was still not feeling up to speed, and, after some discussions, I decided that I would look into a hike in Huerquehue Park, a nice national park near Pucon. Supposedly, there was a nice 4 hour hike, and you could get there by bus. I decided to look into the bus schedule and maybe do it that day or the next day. It was a bit past noon. By the time I got to the bus station, the guy asks me "are you going to the park, because the bus is just leaving"? I took this as a good omen, and decided to go right then. It was 1:00 pm. As I get on the bus, I notice that there are only 3 buses to the park each day, with the last one returning from the park at 5:10 pm. Well, good, that would give me the 4 hours for the hike! Except, I failed to take the drive to the park into consideration. By the time we got to the park, over an hour later, I was getting worried. I got off the bus and went to talk to a ranger, and found another couple already asking the same question: "We have to get back to the entrance to take the 5:10 bus, what can we do while in the park"? He suggested that we had time to go to a waterfall lookout. I asked, "What about the 3 lakes hike"? Oh no, that would take over 4 hours. "What if I run"? I didn't even wait for the answer, I was off...

As I hiked fast towards the lakes, I thought of the first flaw in my plan: I had no watch. I had even left my usual time keeping device, my palm pilot, in the hotel. So I would not even know when I had to turn back. Then I thought about the digital camera, and remembered that it does have a clock, and wondered if I could use that for time keeping. I have not set this clock on the camera since the day I first set up the camera, but there it was, saying it was 10:19. By the time I figured this out, I thought that I should be back by 13:10, which was about 3 hours from when we were dropped. Good, I had a plan. The camera's battery was running low, but hopefully it would last the rest of the day.

I quickly walked along a big lake to the base of the start of the uphill. Damn uphills! I walked faster, coughing my old cold out. Every so often I would pass people along the way, and they would say "What's the hurry"? and I would say "Gotta be back by 5:00". Almost jogging now, I turned a corner and almost stepped on a furry spider about the size of my hand that was crossing the trail. Hoping it wouldn't mind, I snapped a quick picture and continued my quick walk.

Up I went. I saw the sign for the waterfall lookout and checked my time. About 45 minutes. So far so good, but I had most of the uphill to go, so I would leave the waterfall side trails for the return part of the trip, time permitting. I passed something called the first mirador and snapped a picture.



More uphill. I got to the second mirador and snapped a picture.



I ran into a couple by the second mirador and asked them how long until the lakes. "No more than 45 minutes", she said. "I only have 30", I replied. Then I looked at my timer. I really only had 25. I picked up the pace...

Not long after that, I reached the top of the hill. The path leveled, and I reached the first lake. It wasn't that far at all! Good, I would make it after all, I thought. I slowed down and caught my breath a bit. The lake seemed to go on forever, and then I got to a fork on the road. One way to the second lake, the other way to the third lake. Oh, decisions, decisions. I chose left, and picked up the pace.



Reached the second lake, Laguna Verde! Very nice view with the tree. Looked at my timer. 11:40. Turn back time. Well, I was turning back, anyway. I just had a small detour to the third lake left. And it was all downhill for the return. And the bus was not going to be on time, anyway. And I wasn't that tired. Oh, I can make lots of excuses when I want to! I went back to the fork and took the remaining trail.


The third lake, Laguna Toro wasn't too far. A quick picture, and it was time for to start going back. I probably would have time to go to the waterfall side trips on the way back, if I kept a quick pace! Quickly going downhill, I said hello to several of the people I passed on the way up, some of them asking me if I had made it to the lakes and cheering me on. I turned on the first waterfall side trail. Nice waterfall. No time to linger. Down some more. Second waterfall side trail. Even prettier waterfall. As I go to snap a picture, the camera tells me that the battery is dead and needs recharging. Oh well, a mental picture will have to do for this one. At least I could still access the menu with the timer.

After retracing the rest of the way and getting back to the entrance, I looked at the timer one last time. 13:13. Three minutes late from my desired return, but I could see people waiting for the bus, so it was not here yet. About 5 minutes after I got to the waiting area, the bus arrived. About 10 minutes after that, it left. See, I had plenty of time...

The creatures of Chiloe

The island of Chiloe might now be part of Chile, but hasn't been for long. It has its own personality and its own traditions, including a colorful cast of mythical creatures that inhabit the island. This includes the Trauco, an ugly gnome with a ravenous sexual appetite who is somehow irresistable to young women, the Brujos, evil spirits who travel in a boat called El Calueche that can sail upwind and travel underwater, and the Vuida, a barefoot widow who secudes men and then abandons them wherever she pleases. These creatures are very much alive in the culture of the island today. Yesterday, we visited a penguin colony. Jorge, who'd been feeling somewhat queasy all day, didn't bargain on sitting in a fishing boat that was being rocked by the waves just offshore of the nesting area. After we disembarked, he took off to lay down in the grass and attempt to regain equilibrium. Shortly afterwards, when I remarked to a park ranger that I'd lost my boyfriend, he warned me that he'd probably been seduced by the Pincoya, the goddess of sea fertility, and I shouldn't expect to see him again. When we spotted Jorge lying in the grass outside the ranger station, the ranger informed me that the Pincoya had probably left him dead. Fortunately, the Pincoya hadn't completely decimated Jorge. That night, we ate in a restaurant named for her, where I feasted on curanto, the island specialty: a hearty stew of shellfish, chicken, smoked pork, and potatoes cooked together - traditionally in an underground oven made by heating rocks in the fire. I didn't notice any underground ovens near the restaurant, but was so focused on the delicious food that I didn't have time to complain.

The following day, we saw a creature who was possibly more memorable than even the Pincoya: Sebastian Pinera, a billionaire businessman who is running for President of Chile. In his campaign billboards - which are everywhere - he always has a sinister, hungry look about him. The current president is a socialist single mother named Michelle Bachelet who boasts an amazing 77% approval rating. Since the Chilean constitution bars anyone from two consecutive terms as President, she is not running for reelection, and all the candidates have been received with disinterest. All registered voters are required to vote, but many young people have refused to register on the grounds that they don't like anyone. The main election was a few days ago, and no candidate won more than 50% of the vote. So in one month, there will be a runoff election between the two candidates who received the most half-hearted votes: Pinera and former President Frei, who belongs to the same party as President Bachelet but has none of her popularity. Of course, this means one more month of heavy campaigning to the general disinterest of the electorate.

Pinera's been busy shoring up his support in Chiloe, where he'd received more than 50% of the vote - in no small part by choosing a Chilote man as his deputy. We crossed paths with him at a rally in Castro, one of the larger towns on the island. It all seemed amazingly casual: no news teams, only a small police presence, and few suits. Pinera arrived with an entourage that included his deputy, his wife, and a tall, handsome movie star - this was a clever move, since it ensured that the crowd was full of excited teenaged girls who squealed with delight over everything. First, Pinera delivered a speech that couldn't have been more generic: could've been delivered by almost any politician running for almost any office. Then he sang a song - yes, sang a song - a folk song about how good it is to be king because kings can do whatever they want ("with or without money"). So to paraphrase, here was the billionaire Presidential candidate singing a song about the wonders of imperialism! I'm not sure what message he was trying for, but if Frei's folks weren't there to record the moment and use it in attack ads, it was a tragedy of a lost opportunity!

More soaring peaks and massive glaciers!

In Los Glaciares National Park in Argentina, we finally scored on the weather! We had FIVE fabulous days - sunshine, warm temperatures, little or no wind - in place where most visitors never see the famed summits of Cerro FitzRoy and Cerro Torre because they live perpetually inside wind-generated clouds. This is nothing short of a miracle - thank you, Gauchito Gil! Compared to the torres and cuernos of Torres del Paine, the FitzRoy region is less postcard-pretty but more spectacular - and much less crowded. We spent five days hiking and four days backpacking in the area. By the time we were done, both our bodies and our gear were getting worn. This time, I'll let the photos speak for themselves.

Soaring peaks and massive glaciers

Torres del Paine national park is one of the top tourist destinations in Chile, if not South America, and a great place to enjoy stunning natural scenery and bad weather. There are a myraid of ways of enjoying the park, something for everyone. What we chose was the 7 to 9 day circuit hike, one of the greatest backpacking routes anywhere.

To prepare, we spent a day running around Puerto Natales, trying to buy what we could from any store that was open. The options were limited by the combination of Sunday and Damned Siesta Hours, but eventually we were stocked and equipped. The supermarket in Puerto Natales was large for a supermarket here but still small to us, which called for creativity in meal planning. Fortunately, after a long day on the trail, rice with white sauce and parmesan cheese can taste just great!

Day 1: We arrived to clear blue skies, warm temperatures, and mild breezes, nothing short of a miracle! We proceeded directly to the Torres mirador, the classic not to be missed vista point. When we had soaked up the gorgeous views and already set up camp by 3pm, we decided that we could not waste the beautiful weather, and hiked in the direction of Valley of Silence. I threw in the towel after about four hours that included one of the most difficult "climber's trails" I've ever set foot on! Did we mention that there's no such thing as a switchback here? When trails go uphill, they go straight uphill.

Day 2: we set out on the circuit proper, through rolling countryside full of cow pastures. After about eight hours of hiking, we reached one of the established campgrounds, set up camp, and sat back to enjoy the warm sunshine - a rarity in these areas. Before we could get too comfortable, up rolled a minivan and trailer. It spewed out porters, who proceeded to set up an army of tents everywhere! Some time later, the clients appeared: a bunch of about 20 silver-haired Brits, who told us they were also hiking the circuit - same trail as us in the same direction, oh goodie! With that, we said goodbye to any hope of short lines for the one single toilet!

Day 3: we spent the entire morning walking past a lake that our logical minds told us we should be walking past in no more than an hour. This was where we started to realize the funny perspective on distance here, where everything is larger than it seems. At 3pm, we reached the day's objective: Lago Dickenson, where a glacial lake (complete with icebergs) sits bordered by a bunch of snow-covered peaks. We didn't see much of this, because we arrived in a drizzle, and decided to continue hiking in the light rain rather than sit for hours inside a wet tent. The reward was that this put some distance between us and the Brits - who send groups regularly, and they drink like fish when they're there, according to the ranger at the refuge. About four hours later, we finally stumbled into Los Perros, so tired that we couldn't push on to the official campsite, which we'd heard was trashed, while the refuge was still closed for the season. We set up camp in a sheltered spot near a glacial lake, where all evening we enjoyed the sounds of chunks of ice "calving off" of the glacier and crashing into the lake below. The wind coming off the glacier was cold enough that I wore all my clothes that night, including warm hat and balaclava. I appreciated the balaclava, although Jorge said he felt like he was cozying up to a woman in a burqa.

Day 4: the day's objective was to cross the high pass, which wasn't much lower than the peaks around it, and was still full of snow. As a hiking trail, it was hellishly difficult. As a winter mountaineering route, it was not so bad. It's not a jaunt to be taken lightly, or one to be done in bad weather. Before setting out, we assessed the weather (it was marginal), and decided we'd push on anyway. So of course, the weather became worse! It wasn't cold, just wet (a light snow was falling steadily) and hellishly windy! That was the day Jorge got to experience flight! During one of the more violent wind gusts, I noticed a large black thing flying by and reached out to grab it - and grabbed Jorge just as the wind had picked him up and carried him ten feet backwards! Then we started learning that you can hear the more violent wind gusts approaching - like freight trains! - and that they were mysteriously followed by these moments of calm that made great times to push forward. So by hunkering down during the heavy gusts and pushing on during the lighter periods, eventually we made it over the pass. When we got to the top of the pass - prepared for extra fierce winds, and planning to crawl on hands and knees if necessary - the weather gods were kind to us, and gave us a period of calm and a small patch of blue sky! On the other side of the pass, we were rewarded with a panoramic view of the Grey Glacier, a sight so amazing that we forgot our mind off our cold, wet feet! We stopped for the night at the very next campground (Campamento El Paso), with the most memorable toilet on the trail. It was a hole in the floor with a large funnel that you squatted over, something like a Turkish toilet. But when you flushed it (it had a tank that was filled from a nearby stream), you had to be prepared to jump back before the water splashed out of the funnel and all over your feet!

Day 5: finally, the sun came out to dry out our wet boots! We had a very pleasurable walk along the side of the Grey Glacier, so pleasurable that when we reached our intended campground at 4pm we decided to keep walking! Once we reached Grey Glacier, we joined the "W", an immensely popular hike that takes in many of the highlights of the park, and offers the possibility to sleep in beds every night (for a tidy price). This was about when we started seeing the guided parties of Japanese tourists with small daypacks and immense cameras. We finished the day in the lap of luxury, as much as camping goes: a campground by the refuge at Pehoe Bay, where we had dinner in a glass-enclosed cooking structure with panoramic sunset views of the Cuernos. We celebrated with a box of "Gato", the wine sold at the convenience store of the lodge next door. When you've been hiking long enough, even Gato tastes great!

Day 6: Started the morning with beautiful views of sun on the Cuernos, and then proceeded to the Vallee Francese in time to see the views of the glaciers and the high peaks disappearing under the thickening mist. To be exact, they started disappearing after we'd set up camp at Campamento Italiano, and were hiking up a climber's trail to the mirador (vista point) above Campamento Brittanico. I eventually decided there was no point in continuing for a view of clouds, in the rain, and turned around. Jorge had decided that this mirador was his objective and he was going to push on stubbornly even if there was nothing to see. So as I marched down the trail alone, in annoyance, I pronounced him clinically insane! When he caught up with me later, he swore that although the mirador was mostly socked in, he could see the faint outline of dramatic peaks behind the clouds. I've attached the picture so you can see these faint outlines for yourself ;-)

Day 7: Set out in a cold, light drizzle that turned into bright sunshine as soon as we left Vallee Francese. This was truth to the saying that in Patagonia, it's common to have all four seasons in a single day... Eight hours and countless great photos later, we officially returned to civilization by reaching Hosteleria Los Torres, and stopping for the best overpriced beer I've ever tasted!

The last picture is a portrait showing what can happen to a strong, energetic woman after a week on the trail with Jorge. He's tireless, and eats next to nothing. Fortunately, when I tell him that _I_ want to rest or _I_ want to eat, he's responsive. So the onus is on me to speak up for myself, before I start feeling like Kate in the later scenes of "The Taming of the Shrew" - with the risk of also becoming an example of the Stockholm Syndrome! When Jorge took it as perfectly natural that we'd walk the extra 7km from the end of the trail to the main bus stop, rather than opting for the $5 shuttle bus, I really can't explain why I agreed. This photo was taken midway through that 7km. Make sure you zoom in enough to see the look of suspicion in my eyes!

We spent a rest day in Puerto Natales, which included a soak in a hot tub enclosed in a geodesic dome, with Enya playing in the background and the winds roaring outside. Jorge asked if Enya is required music for a hot tub / massage business (yes, the world around!). The other key part of our recuperation was getting our clothes washed - by a cheerful, elderly woman whose business flyer ever so memorably mis-translated "owner operated" as "beware of the owner"!