We wake
up to a direct view of Lago Llanquihue. I hardly have to lift my
head from the soft pillows to enjoy the view. The lake is enormous,
more like a small sea than a lake according to the books. The only
boat I can see is the anchored two-mast oddity slightly over to the
left of our hotel. It has a fake construction on the stern to make
it appear like a galleon, but it looks silly. It is completely
covered up, from which I take it that a lake-trip is out of the
question. It is low season here too. Breakfast is in a room
overlooking the lake. Earlier I had gone downstairs to pick up our
new grey-white “bash-mobile” delivered by Hertz. The plan is to
follow one of the tours/circuits described in our new, Spanish,
guidebook covering the southern part of Chile. The tour will take us
along the southern shore of the lake to Ensenada, then north-east to
Lago Todos los Santos, to a small place called Petrohue, in the
Vicente Perez-Rosales national park.
Ness drives as I still have sore bum from the horse-riding, and new
Basher seems to have less leg-room. The drive is scenic without
being spectacular, with grand views over the lake to our left,
passing wooden buildings in German styles, churches, farms, more
recent houses and cabañas. It’s a long drive, which gives us a
better appreciation for the scale of the lake. There doesn’t seem to
be anything at Ensenada, just a few houses and a school. The road to
Petrohue becomes ripio after a while, black rocky sand, following
the river on our right. The Rio Petrohue is fast-flowing, with white
water sections here and there, running towards us, i.e. emptying
into Lago Llanquihue behind us.
At Petrohue itself there is a small collection of buildings, a café,
tour operator, artesianales, shop (which does not sell the local
trekking map), navy. Navy? Yes, there is a small building operated
by the Chilean Armada. It is even identified as the Petrohue
Section. It is hard to take seriously but I have just realised that
this is in fact a border post with Argentina. Petrohue is the place
people cross to from Puerto Blest, where we were last year! Peulla
is the “port” at the other end of the lake, and I check with a local
boatman – he wants to charge us US$110 to get across!
After a few false starts we start to walk towards Paso Desolación.
We have now changed into trekking gear and have taken our own
rucksacks. I discover later that Ness has chocolate and biscuits and
water in hers. My contribution is the flask of pisco sour, and
various assorted essential items for a picnic – unfortunately food
had not figured on my list of essentials so I’m pleased that Ness
has brought some snacks along! The walk starts by following the
flattened path left by a massive flow of melt-water. It has buried
the trees in black volcanic rocks and sand. We follow this flow,
gradually climbing, with woods on either side, until the plain
widens. We’re hit by a short by heavy bout of rain, but after this
the sunshine lights up Volcano Osorno, except for its crater which
remains hidden in the clouds.
The slopes are beautiful, covered in all sorts of green, black rock
higher up, and the top third is covered in snow. Our walk takes us
in the general direction. We pick up a path on the right of the
flow. It takes us through beautiful green scenery, mostly small
shrubs, including the colourful yellow one (name?) and occasional
splashes of [what I took for] red coïgue, Chile’s national flower.
The path crosses a few more melt-water flows and some forested
sections. From the path we get views of the lake below us. We have
gradually been climbing (good, makes the way back easier!) To our
left is Osorno, to our right more mountains, and the Andes are
ahead, towards the Argentinean border. We walk slowly, stopping a
few times for agua y chocolate and to admire the view, but still
cover a good distance. After about an hour and a half, at another
melt-water flow with a small stream running through it (where I
“make my mark” in customary fashion), we turn round and head back.
It’s not all downhill though. The weather is constantly changing
from rainy to sunny spells and back, making for a pleasant walk. The
air is fresh and we hum “bring me sunshine”. It’s great to be
outdoors and walking. I would like to go faster and can feel that my
legs want to stretch out but Ness is a bit slower. We’re both
feeling good thanks to the clean fresh air. We follow the wrong path
on our way back down the large melt-water flow, taking the “scenic”
route, but it soon rejoins the main flow.
Now we feel like finding a pleasant spot for kaffee und kuchen to
spend time catching up on our diaries, but agree that the café at
Petrohue does not feel like the best spot. Instead we get in the car
and start driving towards Puerto Varas. From the guidebook I
identify Puerto Octay, on the north shore of the lake, as a good
place to aim for. The book says it is a small Germany village
typical of the 19th/20th German immigration era. The drive is a lot
farther than I thought. After driving on ruta 5, the motorway, up
the western side of the lake, we turn off on the road to Puerto
Octay. The countryside here is very European, with rolling green
hills dotted with houses and farms, which are starting to look more
“typically German” the closer we get to Puerto Octay. Puerto Octay
is tiny, with not an awful lot to be seen, but we do get another
Bernie! Our only options for coffee are the hotel Centila and the
Case de Té “Tante Valy”. We go for the hotel. This is devoid of
guests. We have “coffee” (hot chocolate and tea) and kuchen in the
restaurant, with background music reminiscent of the Love Boat theme
tune, and then head off again. So far this holiday we have been
friends and have been avoiding getting on each others nerves other
than the odd disagreement. Here too we soon patch up after sulking
for a few minutes. I can’t remember the argument though.
It’s good to be travelling together, keeping each others spirits up.
Ness is feeling pain in her right leg, a combination of horse-riding
yesterday and today’s walk. I still have a sore bum and blisters
which make driving uncomfortable. What a pair! Oh, and I’m still
doing peeling bits of skin everywhere (sunburnt), lovely.
Back at the hotel we order “room service”, aah!, and have time
catching up on diaries and reading, accompanied by a fine Undurraga
Cabernet Pinot, £3.30/bottle in the bar!, and picadas with ají.
Eventually we manage to stop and go for dinner in town before it
gets too late. We pick up a friend on our way out of the hotel, a
very thing stray dog who follows us all around town, poor thing. The
Club Aleman looks hopeful, with a restaurant on the first floor.
Outside it is dark and raining, inside it is gemütlich. The German
influence is only superficial/historic. Ness has longaniza a lo pobre, wurst mit spiegeleier und zwiebeln, and I have Kassler again,
with ají and mustard. The music consists of French chansons. After
dinner we’re both too tired for coffee and head back to the hotel.
On our way back to the hotel we pass the casino. Most of the town
seems to be here, playing the slot-machines. It prompts a thought
about the loss of community life and its substitution with modern
entertainment which robs people of their few pesos. It’s a full
moon, appearing from the north. We leave the lights off in our room
and have a grandstand view of the moonlit lake. A few clouds pass
but then it’s clear again. I have a go at taking a picture but my
photography skills are limited to random fiddling with the settings,
I doubt the pictures will come out.
