Puerto Varas, Part Duex

At 1 I landed in Puerto Montt (closest city to Varas) and was greeted by a taxi driver holding a type-written sign - LAUREN UDWARI. He spoke no english, and so we walked in silence to his van and I slept through the half hour ride to Varas. I decided to splurge today, paying 30 bucks for a taxi and nearly 100 for a night at Vicki Johnson´s Guest House in Varas - a fancy hotel in a historic german building in the heart of downtown.

Next on my to-do list - LAUNDRY. After wearing the same clothes for one week, I was eager to find a Lavanderia and scrub the torres del paine wind, dirt and sweat from mi ropa. However, the only one in town was closed (at 2 PM!) not to open until Monday. Furious and low in cash, I pulled out my credit card and bought some pants at the North Face store and shirt at the Lippi store...at least I was clean now. I headed to Cafe De Barista, overlooking the lake and volcanos Varas is famous for, and had my usual - veg sandwich and cappucino con crema. I perused interior design magazines, wondering how I´d decorate my 400sq foot studio apartment in Denver. (YES, I AM MOVING AGAIN).

On the stroll back to the hotel I discovered a woman doing laundry in her house. I asked her if I could pay her to do my laundry and for a pretty penny she agreed (12 bucks!). Oh well. The price you pay for cleanliness.

I decided to try a new restaurant for dinner - Retorno - known for their chilean style pizza (lots of cheese, no sauce, and served with green stuff - my guess is mashed jalapenos). It was delicious, but still hungry from my 130 km in the park, I stopped for dessert at Cafe Danes. The Nut Cake was delicious and had taken me to the point of fullness.

Tonight would be the first night I could sleep in my bed with out having to wonder if the sheets had been changed recently, or having to deal with torture-esque bed rods or springs.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Punta Arenas

I stepped off the bus in Punta Arenas, eager to change my traveler´s checks due to my fast-dwindling cash supply. According to my moon book, Scott Cambio would do it. They would not.

NOTE TO SELF - TRAVELER´S CHECKS ARE A THING OF THE PAST. NEVER BRING TRAVELER´S CHECKS TO CHILE. ATMs are all you need. Long Sigh.

So I continued on to Hostal Fitz Roy, which felt cold and unwelcoming. The host lead me to my single room, which was the size of a dorm, with three beds. I picked the Queen bed in the middle of two twins, and decided to get lunch.

Earlier I had strolled by Pub 1900 - a very european feeing bar adjacent to a fancy hotel. I ate a vegetarian sandwich and drank a cappucino. Stuffed I decided to skip dinner, buy a bottle of wine, and relax back the hostal. Punta Arenas, Patagonia´s biggest city, wasn´t very pretty in my opinion - it was crowded, dirty, and cold. The wind blew street dust into your eyes.

I was ready to head back north to my favorite city in Chile - Puerto Varas.

The next morning, eager to sit down for, according to my guidebook, the best breakfast in town, but all I got was cold coffee and that christmas bread everyone in the states makes fun of - with green fruit in it. I was told to catch my transfer bus to the airport at 8, and it arrived at 845 - the time I was supposed to BE at the airport, which was 30 minutes away.

I turned some hair grey waiting in the long line, but made my flight, and was in the air headed to Puerto Varas at 10 a.m. I was pleasantly surprised by the airplane breakfast - a crepe filled with eggs, kiwi muffin, cup of fruit, bread and jam, juice and coffee...the best food I´ve had on the trip has been on planes. Go Figure.

a division

I live in an old house where nothing
screams victory
reads history
where nothing
plants flowers

sometimes my clock falls
sometimes my sun is like a tank on fire

I do not ask
your armies
or
your kisses
or
your death
I have my
own

my hands have arms
my arms have shoulders
my shoulders have me
I have me
you have me when you can see me
but I don´t like you
to see me

I do not like you to see that
I have eyes in my head
and can walk
and
I do not want to
answer your questions
I do not want to
amuse you
I do not want you to
amuse me
or sicken me
or talk about
anything

I do not want to
love you

I do not want to
save you

I do not want your arms
I do not want your
shoulders

I have me
you have you

let that
be.


---
I have been reading a lot of Charles Bukowski on this trip. I can relate to him. I think I understand him but the difference between us is that he embraced the pessimist within whereas I fight it every single day of my life.

Charles never apologized for who he was - which was a person living with complete disregaurd for the rules of society. Eliminating most people from his life, and therefore relationships, his closest friends were booze and cats.

What an interesting character. And even more interesting to me that I can feel his every word - a guitar pick on my soulstrings that makes music that is both beautiful and sorrowful.

Back in Puerto Natales

It was good to be back in Puerto Natales. At the hostal I overheard several people saying the pass would take at least 9 days - more likely 10. At this I laughed, feeling pretty good about doing it in 5, but wishing I had more time do it in 7 or 8, so that I could appreciate the scenery more.

Instead of a hot meal that night I bought bread and pears and fell asleep early. I woke up angry - angry that the springs in my bed were poking out of my mattress and into my skin like some sort of torture device. Half naked and half asleep I wandered downstairs and asked Taj - a californian helping out at the hostal for a month - for a new bed. Instead he flipped my mattress, I lied that it felt better, and barely got any sleep that night.

The next day a good breakfast of omelette, homemade sweet bread and real coffee (up until now I have been drinking the Chilean staple - instant nescafe) made up for the horrible night of sleep. Today I would board the bus down to Punta Arenas, so I made one last stroll through town, stopping at my favorite bakery - Pan Pa Ya for heart-shaped pastries, and mailing my postcards, which had done the circuit with me.

I boarded the bus to Punta Arenas happy, tired, and ready for the next leg of this adventure. Little did I know the next leg would be one of the most stressful....

Day 5 - The Pass

On Day 5 we got up at 630 am as planned, had a hearty breakfast of pita and manjar (dulce de leche) and started up a steep hill to the pass.

We were lucky - upon entering the pass the sun was shining and the winds calm. We hurried to put on our sunglasses, hearing that an american who had done the pass sans sunglasses the week before had gone blind.

And then it came, about halfway through the 6km of pass. The winds, the snow, the ice...I found myself using the Ed Veisters technique - pick a point close by and tell yourself you only have to make it that far. I even started counting, one one-thousand, two-one thousand...when I made it to twenty one-thousand I could rest and look up to relocate the trail, which was impossible to see because the snow was so deep it had burried the markers.

At the top of the pass we could see Glacier Gray, and I started to cry. It was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen. Deep blue crevaces, a blue sky serving as the backdrop. We approached a pole where those who had made it had tied a sock, bandanna, or other piece of cloth...I sacrificed my bug repellent bandanna as a sign that I had made it. We snapped pictures trying not to blow away in the process, and started our steep decent to Refugio Grey, where we´d spend our last night. This was our 2nd to longest day at 22km - the day before was 26km.

Going down the steep slope was impossible. We kept slipping and sliding. We finally gave in and started sliding intentionaly, using random branches and trees to control our speed. This didn´t work too well - we´d catch our ankle or twist our knee - lose our water bottle or a trekking pole. After 4 hours of this we had made it to camp. paso - where most who do the pass stop for the night. But due to our goal of finishing the circuit in five days, we would have to go on for another 7 hours to Refugio Grey.

Luckily, they flew by. Jorg had decided to ditch me and Young. We couldn´t figure out why, but decided to take our time and snap pictures of condors and glaciers. I think Jorg was sick of hiking - not the trekking or outdoorsy type. I had tried to convince him to rent gaiters - things that prevent snow from getting into your boots - but he laughed at me. He also refused to rent trekking poles - laughing even harder at me. Well, on Day 5 after 6km of hiking in four feet of snow, he definitely wasn´t laughing.

When we got to Refugio grey, I splurged on a bottle of wine from the little store, in celebration of making it in 5 days. We had heard earlier in the day that the pass had been closed. Several Australians had gotten lost and had to be rescued the day prior. The snow was too deep, rendering the trail markers invisible. This, I decided, was further cause for celebration. And as I got drunk the most beautiful sunset fell over Lago Grey, and I snapped my best pictures of the entire trip.

I fell asleep dreaming of the catamaran ride the next morning, a hot meal in town, and a warm bed at the hostal. Oh yeah, and a night with out a snoring German who insisted on rolling onto my sleeping pad...

...He laughed when I suggested he rent one.

End of Day 5

The Park, Day 4

On Day 4 we awoke knowing we´d have to make up for lost time. We felt energized today, having gotten up at a reasonable hour and having bandaged our swollen, blistered feet. I had also asked Jorg to carry the bigger half of the tent for the last stretch, and it made a big difference in my pack weight.

Despite the first 4 miles being all uphill, we arrived at Refugio Dicksen early, and decided to break for coffee. Jorg was starting to crumble - his ankle the size of a grapefruit and his spirit the size of a pea.

As the coffee started to boil, Young - the German from Camp. Seron arrived, eager to join in on the coffee plus rum tradition Jorg and I had started as a way to break up the day.

Young decided to continue on with us, fearful of trekking through the infamous snowy, windy pass alone on Day 5 - the last day. And so we set a fast pace to Camp. Perros, which had been closed, but had a mongolian-like shelter in which we were looking forward to cooking.

After 8 hours of hiking, with 2 hours to go, it started to snow. My feet felt good, caffeine fueled my legs, rum numbed my blisters, and I decided today was the best day of the circuit. The forest looked enchanted as the snow lightly coated each of the beech tree´s branches. Just before we reached camp we came to a clearing, and a glacier, and a wind so powerful I could barely stand. Young was leading and had veered off trail - we were lost. The boys just stood there, clueless as to what to do. I knew we´d have to back-track - the last thing Jorg wanted as his feet were about to explode - so I volunteered to run ahead and check things out. I found nothing. We have to back track, I said, and luckily, within minutes, we had relocated our trail.

I discovered something about myself today - in the crazy winds, being lost, trekking through deep snow, I felt strong, I felt excited, I felt alive. I thrive in situations that challenge me - that force me to confront pain and solve problems.

By the time we reached camp we were cold and tired. Eating was a chore. We met an australian who had crossed the pass earlier, headed in the opposite direction. He had gotten lost and looked as if he´d just seen death. Good luck in the pass tomorrow, he said, as he crawled out of the mongolian dome and into his tent.

End of Day 4.

The Park, Day Two

We got a very late start - 11 am - mostly due to my previous sleepless night, but also the fact that Jorg is NOT a morning person.

After a breakfast of oatmeal and jam (yuck) we started the 8 hour day far too late, but were destined to make it to Campamento Torres, at the base of the infamous Towers. The hike was long but relatively flat until the last few miles - which were ALL UPHILL. Jorg was breathing heavily. I was panting. By the time we made it to camp we were so tired and cold the only thing we could think to do was drink rum. And so we did. Next we boiled water, realizing the reason it took so long the night before was because we had forgotten the lid! We drank coffee-hot chocolate-rum drinks until hunger lead us to night 2 of pasta - this time adequately cooked.

We hurried into bed, knowing we´d have to get up at 430 am to make it to the Mirador (viewpoint) to see the sunrise over the towers.

End of Day 2.

At 2 am the trees, which had been collecting the softly falling snow for the previous four hours, had reached their maximum holding capacity and a gust of wind every 15 minutes or so would dump a pile of powder on our tent, making it impossible to sleep. It´s like monkeys throwing coconuts! Jorg said, and we laughed hysterically on and off, this image in mind, until my alarm went off at 430. You go and take pictures, Jorg said, as we moaned in response to the beeping alarm.

I pushed us both to our feet and we scurried in the cold up the mountain. The towers were beautiful but ominous in the just-before-sunrise light, as we stood waiting. Several others showed up, immediatley firing up coffee. Unfortunatley, the best view was upon arrival, for 5 minutes later the clouds dropped and the snow came. At 545 we gave up, ran down the mountain and went back to sleep in our cold, wet tent.

At 9 we woke up, getting another late start, knowing it would be a very long day to Campamento Dickson, where we were looking forward to a hot meal and a shower.

Today was a bad day, despìte the first half being downhill. Going down hurts more than going up when your pack is mostly full - your thighs ache with every step. When we reached the Hosteleria, where we had planned to have lunch, we couldn´t even take our time it was so windy. We hiked on a dirt road for what seemed like 10 hours, thought it was only 5, before we arrive at Campamento Seron for a break. An hour before we arrived I noticed my first blister - on the ball of my left foot. Jorg and I sat at a picnic table at Camp Seron, with our socks off, when Young, another German, walked by saying The showers are hot. We decided to stop 4 miles early and camp at Seron.

The hot shower felt good. The meal tasted better. And falling asleep after a bar of chocolate made the pain in my feet nearly disappear.

End of day 3.