Chile and the Carretera Austral

Smoked Sea Lion is Much Better Than Smoked Salmon

– Roberto, discussing culinary tastes

Learning the Ropes

To many people road tripping is synonymous with driving. In fact, everybody thinks this because it defines the term road trip. This intro is meaningless therefore, but such is life. Each day slipping by like the sands in an hourglass, how is one to define and acknowledge their purpose within this existence. Anyhow, due to the nature of road trips me and Andy required a car. We had rented a choice micro-mini-compact (the cheapest available) and were all smiles. The only drawback was that in a bid to save further dinero, we had rented a standard transmission vehicle. We looked at each other and stated that neither of us had ever driven one before, in unison. Didn’t matter, we had all the confidence of Bernardo O’higgins, certain that he would liberate Chile, and figured we would drive it off the airport lot and learn trial-by-fire on the mean, wild, and tumultuous streets of Puerto Montt.

Reid drew the short straw of the first rip. By a miracle he got our upgraded Duster (all the micro-mini-compacts were out) out of the parking space no problem. At the exit our rental dude was waiting to see us off. Reid stalled twice right in front of him whist saying goodbye, offering a “I don’t drive stick very often.” The joke is really on him though because Reid had never driven one before. Hehe. Hoho.

Puerto Montt is a city built on volcanoes that have exploded upwards from the sea. It is very hilly, full of multi-lane roundabouts and the most savage taxi drivers (a south american standard). Without doubt it is the best place to learn standard. Shockingly the first days drive did not go well, and our confidence deflated down to that of a yodeller with strep throat. We found a hostel (which ended up just being Ingrid’s house (don’t feel bad if you don’t know Ingrid (I have literally never mentioned her until now))), and devoured YouTube tutorials (turns out I had been letting out the clutch way too fast, giving way too much gas, and Andy’s advice of giving gas before shifting hadn’t helped the situation). We practiced the next day, but still got nervous when we strayed too far into the meanest streets. After two days, we left for Chile’s Southern Highway – The Carretera Austral.

Puerto Montt -> Hornopiren

Like a flash of lightening we were on the open road, hair in the wind blowing as though Reid and I were a couple Fabios from a romance novel cover. Except we stalled a bunch of times and the road was extremely bumpy and rugged.

Nevertheless the feeling of freedom rode through our hearts much like Fabio on horse back. Speaking of horseback we took a ferry following a meagre one and a half hours on the highway. This offered the perfect picturesque moment for Reid to get his computer readied for a selfie. Photobooth takes the BEST photos!

Our first stop on this journey over sea and land was Hornopiren, a port city that connects the Carretera Austral by ferry to Caleta Gonzalo in the south. We stumbled upon an eco campground on the iOverlander app and decided to take a look. On maps the road comes to an end but there was a very rustic trail leading along the coast with what looked to be a homemade bridge. So like any reasonable first time rental car users and manual drivers we ploughed through.

Sure enough there was a campsite, one with a very cool path through the rainforest leading to a cafe on stilts onlooking the ocean. A sign was hung reading “Regreso En 30 Minutos” so we sat and waited (we later learned the sign is a permanent fixture). Eventually we were greeted by a man called Roberto, little did we know he was about to be our adventure guide. He showed us around his slice of paradise hand built and onlooking the fjord. There were paths leading to organic gardens, a hand-built waterwheel, and various structures all fitted with living roofs. We even helped him hand drill holes in the 12″ thick supports for a new hostel addition.

A very brief sampling of the work Roberto has done:

• Hand cut a trail through brush up a mountain from his home
• Hand built his home with manual tools
• Dredged sand to build a beach
• Chiselled through a boulder blocking his trail to his house (a supposed 4 month endeavour)
• Diverted a stream to his handmade waterwheel, providing his site with electricity

When asked if Roberto would like to build a wooden boat (Hornopiren is littered with them), he declared the task to be too much work. We found this odd given the four months spent chiselling a rock in two. That night we slept in the old generator room off from the waterwheel.

Roberto filled our heads with the many adventures possible in the area. The following day he showed us exactly what he meant. After napping and relaxing by the fire in his cafe during a rainy morning, Roberto dragged us out to drive through private properties to where the road ended. Like a deranged serial killer he pulled out his machete and made the thick brush his victim. We followed behind while he worked to carve a path. The end result was a beautiful and completly closed in waterfall gushing out of the earth.

He talked about how he planned to build rope swings across while we stood by in amazement. He then pivoted from being a jungle explorer to an alpine mountaineer and took us for a hike up a rockslide to see the Hornopiren fjord from above. Unfortunately we had to leave for our long ferry crossing at midnight, but without fail we again turned to one another in unison and said, “We will be making a return to this region, of this I am certain.” More time hanging out with the legend named Roberto was going to be necessary.

Hornopiren -> Futaleufu

We awoke from our extremely deep slumbers in our car aboard the ferry feeling completely refreshed and rejuvenated. “A better sleep I have never had” declared Andrew with authority. We drove off the ferry directly onto a road that seemed to be built only from rumble strip sections. The jungle was close on all sides, and dust was kicked up from our tires. We pumped the tunes and set off, intending to raft at Futaleufu. The Carretera Austral is sectioned off into road that is beautifully smooth, and road that has seemingly been bombed into oblivion. There is no rhyme or reason to where the gravel starts or ends, it is always a surprise. When the road did open up we were shocked by the beauty of the area. It really did make us feel like we were home in Canada. We stopped in by Lago Yelcho to cook up some breakfast.

A major difference between Canada and Chile is the presence of stray dogs, and this lake was patrolled by a dog thief that was going to every effort to heist our food. This dog was no Stormy, nor Gerhard, and annoyed us to the point of breaking. We dishonoured this dog with the name Trash-boi-swol.

Futaleufu is 77km off of the main road towards Argentina. The path is all gravel and shakes you like those miracle work out platforms that allows you to shed pounds just by standing. This would explain how we arrived in Futa completely shredded. The Futaleufu river is a world renowned competition river for kayaking and rafting. It is one of the places where tours take novices down Class V rapids. Turning to each other, we uttered in perfect unison “This river represents a unique opportunity, one that we should not pass up. We will have plenty of fun, and might even form life long memories. Let us register post haste!” We registered for the next day, and drove into the local nature reserve for the remainder of the present day. The nature reserve afforded us the opportunity to swerve around cattle, sheep and road graters. Majestic. That night we camped in someones backyard.

The next morning we left for the rapids full of hype. It was the companies birthday, and they were offering the full day tour at a reduced rate. This was Andrews first time rafting, but he showed no fear, wetting his pants only once. He took the first shift up front, and it was not long before he was disappearing completely into the water.

We did a total of 22 rapid sets, with 5 of them being Class V. Our first Class V was named The Terminator, and was a long set with huge volume requiring some rock navigation. Clearly it was the perfect time to take a swim, so that is precisely what I did. They did not have a “slippery when wet” stamp on the raft, so how was I supposed to know I might slip in?

A fellow passenger (Carlos) leapt into action and rescued me. I have now promised to name my first child Carlos, and got a massive back tattoo of his face in his honour.

Futaleufu -> Nowhere in Particular

Following the epic rescue and Reid’s 14 hour full back tattoo session we took off, driving nowhere in particular. Our plan was only to head south and to see how far we could get this evening. We pulled over to the side of the road after research on the iOverlander app pointed us to “free camping”. As noted by the app’s reviews it was quaint, while only being passed by vehicles every 10 minutes. However the other occupant (Reid) was blasting music late into the night. 1.5/5 stars.

The next day Reid’s full back tattoo had almost completely healed. Very Cool!!! So our next move was to find the famed trail to Queulat National Park’s hangin’ glacier. Had we checked the rear-view mirror we would have seen it within 20 minutes of our drive, however we pushed forward squinting at every sign, assuming one would be the trailhead. The road ended up taking us up a mountain, weaving hairpin turns while we alternated exclaiming, “not bad.” At one point a semi truck offered for us to pass as they maxed out at 1km/hour, only to be almost wiped out by another oncoming semi. One Kilometre per hour it is!

After the very interesting trip up and down this mountain we came to a fork in the road, a classic dice roll for the two of us. We decided to stay right, as once again upon reflection it has never failed us. The chosen path lead to Puerto Cisnes, next to the ocean, which meant we surely missed the hanging glacier. Finally we set our pride aside and asked for directions. This was a tough moment for us both. After a meal we drove back the way we came exploring various view points of waterfalls and mountainscapes until seeing the glacier on the horizon not 15km from where we slept. The park had long closed so tomorrow it is! Slept in someone’s garage this night. For one night. Please. https://youtu.be/TzpAYv0AP68?t=685

Queulat -> Chaiten

That morning, Chilean Patagonia was gifted a new and spectacular volcano. The fish from Puerto Cisnes had not sat well, and mount Reid was in the midst of a violent eruption. This had to be pushed aside, as this was our one opportunity to hit Queulat. So off we drove. The hike up to the main viewpoint is not long, nor is it too hard, but progress was slow due to mount Reid really doggin’ it like a complete turd. Andrew offered a tablespoon of empathy, and tried to bring enough energy for the both of us.

The park was worth it, but not enormous, so after completing this hike we took off towards Chaiten. In and around Chaiten is Parque Nacional Pumalin, recently created by the Douglas Tompkins Foundation, the owner of the North Face. We stayed at Hospedaje Rita, a womans home that never quite felt like home, but had a super cute litter of cats.

Chaiten – > Hornopiren

The next morning we said Ciao to Rita after asking, “Hey Rita, did you wear magma to the dome from Volcán Chaiten, which had erupted in 2008.” Anyhow, we went to hike said Volcano. The hike up is at a 75 degree angle, and quite tiring, but felt much easier than the day before (for Reid). The mountain has had new growth, but all the old trees still stand like sentinels over it all. The pyroclastic flow blew off all branches, leaving just grey trunks. When we got to the top, fog filled the caldera making it appear as though we were at the end of the world.

We took a literal dirt nap to see if the fog would clear, and it did partially. Couldn’t see the full cylinder cone, but could see the ash filled lake, and hear the steam coming from the mountain.

We moved further north to take a walk passed some ancient Alerce trees, some as old as 3,000 years. These trees grow many meters in diameter, but have very small canopies. Andrew was in his own personal heaven. Big tree guy, total freak. The trail took us to some more falling water. We camped outside this trail, close to the ferry for the morning.

Hornopiren Part II Baby, not bad

The next day was dominated by ferrying into Hornopiren. We got great looks at the bay and the volcano. We wasted no time in getting back to Roberto. He greated us with a smile and immediately started to outline plans for kayaking to sea lions, camping on islands and etc. He said if we went tomorrow he would come with us, and that we would be free to go to some thermal hot springs that night with his friend Espon from Norway, among others. We decided this sounded great, even after he said this would be “muy clandestina” because to enter the hot springs is illegal. These hot springs were open to the public for ages, until a set of Germans bought and privatized them. Roberto plans to go to court on behalf of the town, to try to have nights be available free for residents. We hopped over fencing and followed Roberto to the springs, under cover of darkness.

It was great, Espon told us of his life driving a Combi from South Africa to Norway. We had hot water, drinks and stars; a perfect life. Eventually the police showed up and kicked us out, but it was great while it lasted. We retuned to the campsite to pitch our tent while we heard the dolphins spouting out in the fjord around 2am.

Initially Roberto had explained we needed to be up for 5am to be out on the water for 6am. However this did not happen. Lucky for us our late wakeup was appreciated, as he was late also. By the time we actually launched the kayaks the conditions couldn’t have been more perfect. It was surreal as the ocean water was completely still; Roberto explained it as, “a mug of milk.” Not how we’d describe it but whatever man.

We paddled across the bay to an island that fits almost as a puzzle piece into the bay Roberto called home and followed along the coast. After a few hours it was obvious we had arrived to the famed sea lion colony by the presence of sea lions.  “We have arrived. You can tell by the sea lions positioned along the shoreline”, announced Roberto. These critters were fascinating to witness up close, as the closer we got hoards launched their bodies into the water and bobbed their heads up and down with curiosity.

However we seemed to steal the show as a boat transporting people to a nearby island had passengers on deck just filming us in kayaks as though we were Fabio on horseback. “AIR DROP ME THOSE VIDS” Reid screamed, however the boat sped away and the people aboard scrambling to airdrop left connection range.

After a quick lunch break in a neighbouring bay where we sat on a rock, eating cookies and laughing in a very deep and slow tone like a couple of bosses, we took off to the equally famed penguin island. The weather was not as pleasant as before as we shot a strait to reach the coastline. As we approached we could already see a small group of penguins interested in our intentions.

We wrapped around and pulled the kayaks ashore to get a closer look. First we saw the pack out at sea, hunting for the finest fishes, and later saw a pair near by cautiously still in a stalemate with Reid as he took their photograph.

The penguins were especially unique, and as we ventured into the forest (better described as penguin city) we watched as they came back in from their hunt in the ocean. It was a super amazing experience interacting and being so close to these creatures. We took off back to the café at Roberto’s place after sharing a beer and all taking a nap on the driftwood.

It was a brilliant day shared with the best tour guide. We finished off enjoying dinner and drinks in the café with Espon and Roberto among friends. Andrew and Reid stood upright in robotic fashion and said, “That nine hours of kayaking has my energy stores depleted. We are best served to rest and become refreshed for the next day. I am pleased with todays events.”

Return to Puerto Montt

We said our Ciao’s and headed back to Puerto Montt. The drive to the city was uneventful and smooth. The plan was to find Ingrid’s house and sit outside to steal some wifi in order to make reservations for the steps ahead. By some complete miracle we navigated without maps back to her home nearly flawlessly. Reid’s confidence was at a whole new level from his first Puerto Montt experience, and was slashing savagely in front of people rather than being the slashed. We gassed up and moved on towards the airport. This Puerto Montt session had by far been Reid’s greatest driving accomplishment so far, but for good measure and to come full circle he stalled immediately after getting a ticket for the airport parking lot. With the gate barrier threatening to swing down and smash our roof we threw the Duster in neutral and slowly shifted to safety. Our guardian angels had kept the Duster safe from damage, and by proxy us safe from extra fees.

Conclusions:

Everyone should travel to Hornopiren and visit Roberto. Hitchhikers are really nice and should be picked up. Sleeping in a car is less great than sleeping in a tent. Never trust iOverlander reviews. You can do anything you put your mind to, except apparently finding a South American wife.

Reid and Andrew,

Currently on a train, hoping to not plummet into an Andean valley.