Chapter Fifteen

Buenos Aires to Puerto Montt, Chile

Halfway through spring I felt it was time to continue the journey, on the final leg to Tierra del Fuego. Once again, with determined anticipation, knowing that there were more adventures ahead, more interesting people to meet and more countries to travel through, I started my engine and drove away in search of exciting new experiences. My intention was to cross the continent again, through the Pampas to San Carlos de Bariloche and the Argentinian Lake District.

In Argentina the region around San Carlos de Bariloche is considered to be the Switzerland of South America. Magnificent mountain panoramas surround this pretty town situated on a beautiful lake with clear blue waters and surrounded by grand deciduous forests. The wealthy from Buenos Aires flock to this resort town in winter to ski the scenically spectacular slopes.Just outside the town, some twenty kilometres, I found a picturesque spot to camp for a few days at the edge of a clear stream, with forest immediately behind me and high snow-capped mountains in front. I prepared a campfire for cooking and warmth during the chilly evenings. At these locations, the intrepid traveller desires extra company to share the experience! The peace and tranquillity of this idyllic setting, with birds whistling in the forest, mountain trout swimming upstream in clean clear water and the smell of fresh coffee brewing on an open fire all helped set my imagination afire. Yet I was alone; but there was a choice available to me! In Buenos Aires I did meet an attractive young girl, Jamila, who was from Venezuela and who had hitch-hiked around South America with her two year old son. She had visited me several times in the port and had expressed her desire to accompany me. I was quite tempted to invite her along as we did like each other but at the last moment I refused on the basis that her young son, as nice as he may be, could restrict my journey considerably. Reluctantly I left them in Buenos Aires and continued on alone, but at this beautiful spot I did some serious thinking and decided to call her to ask if she would be prepared to take a train to the nearest railway station at Zapala, several kilometres north of San Carlos de Bariloche. When I telephoned her, she accepted gladly and looked forward to sharing this adventure with me.To get to Zapala, the railhead terminal, required a drive through the picturesque lake district of Argentina, passing through the little towns of San Martín de Los Andes and Junin de Los Andes. I met my two passengers who were delighted to see me and accompany me further. After bathing in a cold mountain stream to wash off the dust from a long rail journey we drove off into the mountains to cross over into Chile. The little boy seemed quite enthusiastic as he sat on my lap holding onto the steering wheel and imagining that he was the driver!The first mountain that we came across in Chile was Volcan Lonquimay. Six months before this fiery mountain erupted, with molten lava spewing out spectacularly from the fumarole and high dark clouds of black ash forced skywards in huge plumes, slowly descending and covering the surrounding landscape with volcanic ash. We drove up this ash covered mountain as far as was possible until we were bogged. Then we climbed the rest of the way up the mountain slope along an ash covered trail, to within a short distance of the fumarole still fuming enormous clouds of black ash and smoke and emitting wild thundering rumblings from its depths! The wind was fiercely cold and blowing volcanic dust furiously. The little boy wanted no part of this adventure and cried continuously as I carried him up the slope on my shoulders. But what is the intrepid traveller to do in these circumstances? For me I was determined not to miss this as I had been told of its fiery eruption earlier by other travellers. I had therefore put it on my agenda of places of 'must visit'. The boy had therefore to accommodate a little discomfort in his travelling itinerary!I found that travelling with a little Latin American family made it considerably easier to make sincere contact with the local inhabitants, there being no intimidation between 'Gringos' and Latinos. A pleasant evening was spent engaging a Chilean family in conversation who were living near the mountain in a loghouse. In front of a roaring open fire the conversation was both delightful and interesting. They told us of some hot springs nearby which we visited the following morning and found these refreshingly soothing waters perfect for bathing off the volcanic dust, left on our bodies from the previous day's outing to the fumarole.The scenery changed constantly around every bend as we passed through the Andes Mountains. Lush verdant valleys filled with forests, green fields and running streams had grazing sheep and cattle out on pasture. This region of Chile is renowned for its scenically spectacular volcanoes and lakes. Mountains such as Villa Rica are still active with steam fuming from the caldera and red hot molten lava deep within its crater. Another mountain, Osorno, whose perfectly shaped conical form not unlike Mount Fujiama of Japan, has lured many mountain climbers to its top. From a distance the smooth surface of its snow-bound sides seems to indicate an easy challenge to the unwary climber! Yet some of them however have died in their attempts to climb this photographically beautiful mountain.The rough gravel road wound through magnificent scenery along the edges of several lakes, where small farmhouses dotted the countryside. Many of the wooden farmhouses belonged to German immigrants who came to Chile in the 1850s to escape religious persecution. They found scenically attractive and rich fertile soil which reminded them of their own country back home in Germany.We passed through this pleasant countryside and arrived at the coastal city of Valdivia, named after Pedro de Valdivia, an early pioneer and explorer who led a group of settlers south from Peru in 1540. He was responsible for setting up this township located on a strategic estuary. Three colonial forts protected the estuary from foreign intrusion. Spanish ships coming to the new world were able to anchor safely within the confines of this safe anchorage. The richness of the soil inland from the estuary ensured its settlement. During the independence fight, Cochrane's navy raided and captured the forts, thereby cancelling out the Spanish power in this region. While in Valdivia, we visited one of the forts, Niebla, located at the north-western tip of the estuary. The view of the sea and the surrounding landscape enabled me to understand the reason for the strategic positioning of this interesting fortress at this particular location.Several days were spent with Jamila and her son travelling through this part of Chile. At times it was very pleasant indeed. We visited several little villages in the lakes district. Late one evening we were looking for our usual camping spot somewhere off the beaten track, when we happened to come upon a little farmlet. The owner invited us to drive onto his land and share an evening meal with his family. We provided some wine and vegetables and, while sitting next to a warm wood-burning kitchen stove, had a pleasant evening discussing life's events with these poor and simple people. They were proud to show us their wooden floor, recently finished after they had saved for eighteen years to gather the money required to pay for the wood!Eventually however as I had predicted, Jamila and I had unresolvable problems and in particular with the little boy restricting my journey. As they could not be solved, the only solution was that she and her son return to Buenos Aires on the next train from Puerto Montt. It was a sad farewell when the train finally left the station made worse once I returned to my empty van, but at the same time I felt a relief. After all it was my choice!Within minutes I was wandering around the seafront at Puerto Montt when I met a Swiss man who lived in the town of Osorno. Initially it was the foreign numberplate on his VW van that encouraged me to ask where he came from. He invited me to his home and as we arrived his German school teacher wife came out of the house in a frenzy of excitement to tell us the latest news. She had been listening to international German radio news, which they frequently did, and heard the amazing announcement that East Germany and West Germany were to be unified at last. The Berlin Wall was to come down! They decided to celebrate immediately with a bottle of Champagne and I was delighted to have had the opportunity to experience this first hand with Germans. At the time, as with all Germans, they were not to know what was in store for them to rebuild East Germany to fit economically and politically into the West German standard.After some days relaxing with these fine people I felt replenished and drove south again to the island of Chiloe, just south of Puerto Montt. There were few asphalted roads on this island, making it a rough drive but the scenery more than compensated for this discomfort. Quaint fishing villages, with wood shacks built on wooden poles jutted out into little bays, where fishermen could throw out their nets and catch a feed of fish when the tide came in. At low tide fishing boats lay steeply at a sharp angle on the muddy bottom. Children played while parents repaired nets. From my campsite, while sitting beside a camp-fire, I watched the fishermen working their boats and nets using traditional methods. Many times I was allowed to take a handful of fish which I would cook up for my evening meal. On some of the beaches I found men still working with oxen used to pull heavy logs and to do any other heavy labour that required brute strength.

After my drive through Isla Chiloe came to an end, I returned to Puerto Montt where I waited nine days before I could take the monthly supply ship to Punta Arenas. The ship, "Tierra del Fuego" plied its trade through the Magellan Strait and was the only connection for the people living in this cold and desolate region. Periodically the ship could be delayed due to severe storms, etc. making the wait a longer one. For those nine days I chose to find a place out of town at a beach overlooking some mountains. During the day many locals would ride their horses and carts out to the seawater's edge to gather by hand the seaweed that collected on the beaches. They returned at sunset having worked all day to load one small cart. While on the beach an educated local came up to my van and enquired in a friendly manner as to my reason for being there at this particular beach. I replied that I was waiting to take the monthly ship to Tierra del Fuego. He immediately started recounting the history of the area and promised to return the following day to give me a book called "Tierra del Fuego, Fatal Lodestone" by Eric Shipton, which describes some of the experiences of previous explorers and sailors who came to this area of the world. I found it fascinating and interesting reading which prepared me well for the next segment of my journey

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