| Submitted by: Ehud ReiterUnited States |
| Submission Date: 15 February 2005 |
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In any event, I must have a nose for altiplano navigation, or something, because I made it back in about half the time it had taken us to walk out. I didn't even have to walk to the road (I will admit that I tried to reach it once, but had to give up when I hit an uncrossable mudbank!).
Back in Parinacota, I packed my bag and waited to see if a tour bus would show up (the tours are not regular, but only run when there is sufficient demand). I must have used up all my luck on finding my way back to the village, because the only bus that showed up was full. Oh, well ...
Mark, Sven, and Olga came back about 4PM (they had also started feeling the altitude, and hadn't gone much further than I), and assured me that my lack of food was no problem, they'd be happy to share what they had. The evening passed much like the one before, as we cooked a common meal (with a bit smaller portions this time ...) and sat around and talked. We also went out to watch the sunset, which was truly amazing at this altitude.
Monday, morning: - After another sleepless night, I was pretty determined to get back to Arica, and decided to try to hitch. Mark and Sven also decided it was time to go, so the three of us said goodbye to Olga and headed off to the main road.
Mark was incredibly lucky - he was going to Bolivia, and he got a lift 30 seconds (literally) after we reached the road. Sven was also going to Arica, so we waved goodbye and started walking to the police checkpoint near Chucuyo, 5km down the road. All cars and trucks had to stop at the checkpoint, so we figured this was the best place to wait.
Well, Mark only had to wait 30 seconds, but Sven and I had to wait 4 hours (from 9:30AM to 1:30PM) for a lift - there was absolutely no traffic to the coast. One of the policemen at the checkpoint explained to us that Arica bound trucks generally only came through in the afternoon, due to the timing of the LaPaz-Arica route. I guess he must have known what he was talking about, because at 1:30, three groups of trucks pulled into the checkpoint, with more visible in the distance. The friendly policeman `encouraged' two Bolivian drivers to take Sven, myself and a German couple who were also waiting for a lift, and we were off!
The ride down was a lot more memorable than the ride up. On the way up, I had been in a bus full of other tourists which pretty much zipped right along. Now I was sitting in the cab of a slow moving truck (the driver didn't have complete confidence in his brakes, and drove very slowly), which furthermore had to occasionally stop so the driver could help his friend in the other truck (which was in even worse shape). I really enjoyed the trip, though - the descent from the altiplano to the coastal desert is a spectacular one, as the scrub-like high plateau gives way to a landscape of mountain peaks, waterless deserts, and fertile river valleys. Our slow speed and my front-seat view made the scenery much more vivid than it had been during my ascent in the tour bus.
Unfortunately, at around 7PM, while we were still 50km from Arica, the two drivers stopped their trucks and declared they were going no further, and were going to spend the night here, sleeping in their trucks! They had told us when we got on that they weren't going all the way to Arica, but would be going `quite close', which we interpreted to mean 5-10km from the city - and while getting into town from 5km out was no problem (at worst an hour's walk), getting into town from 50km out was a whole different story.
It looked pretty grim for a while. Traffic was sparse and mostly moving too fast to pick up hitchhikers, and in any case we had less than an hour of daylight left before sunset. There was nothing in the area except a dirt lot where the trucks had stopped and a small roadside cafe, and while the Germans had a tent, it wouldn't hold four people. The two Bolivian drivers absolutely refused to take us any farther, apparently because there was a police checkpoint 10km down the road and they didn't have permission to cross it before tomorrow. Fortunately, a kind-hearted Chilean driver picked us up just as the sun was beginning to set, and we got into Arica at about 9PM. It had taken me 12 hours to hitchhike from Lauca to Arica, as opposed to the 4 hours the tour bus had taken on the way up. Hitching is not for the impatient!
Postscript: I think Lauca was the single most beautiful and spectacular place I visited in my three months in South America. Even now I can still easily remember the spectacular beauty of the altiplano, with herds of llamas grazing beneath snow-capped mountains and an incredibly blue sky. I highly recommend spending time there if you're anywhere near that part of Chile - but come prepared with a good supply of food, a warm sleeping bag, and perhaps a tent (especially if you intend to hitchhike!). If I had been properly equipped, I could easily have spent a week in Lauca - and if I had somehow been able to lay my hands on a 4WD vehicle to explore areas off the main road, I might still be there now ...
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Part II: Aysen: A Visit to the Frontier
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Geographical Context: The Southern third of Chile is a Norway-like region of fjords and islands. There is no road that traverses the whole length of this region - sooner or later the southbound traveller must cross into the flat pampas region of Argentinian Patagonia, where the road network is much better. Most travellers bound for Tierra del Fuego and the Straits of Magellan cross the border at Bariloche and drive for 30 hours across the pampas, almost completely missing the fjords and islands of Chilean Patagonia. If one has time, however, it is possible to travel by boat and (dirt) road for almost 1000km through the fjord region, before the Patagonian icecap makes further progress impossible and forces the southbound traveller to cross into Argentina. This region of Chile is called Aysen, and it is Chile's frontier, a sparsely populated region of forests and fjords which the government is trying to convince people to settle in.
Saturday: I had arrived in Puerto Montt, the southernmost city of the Chilean heartland, about 10 days after leaving Lauca and Arica. The heartland is a beautiful area, especially its justly-famed lake region, where snow-capped volcanoes tower over pristine lakes and forests, but I have always had a desire to go to `the ends of the Earth', and had decided to head down to Chile's far south.
Puerto Montt marks the end of the railroad, and the end of the paved highway. A few dirt roads extend part of the way into Aysen, but most traffic goes by boat. A variety of coasting vessels leave Puerto Montt every week to visit the towns and villages of Aysen, with the easiest places to get to being Chaiten, about 200km south of Puerto Montt, and Chacabuco, about 500km south of Puerto Montt and the port for Aysen's capital and biggest town, Coyhaique. Since Chacabuco was more remote, I decided to head there, and bought a ticket on the MV Evangelistas, a rollon-rolloff ferry. I was later, incidentally, to regret not going to Chaiten, as everyone I met who had gone there said that it was one of the most beautiful regions in Chile.
The office had told me to be at the ferry terminal by 9AM, and I was there right on time. There were about 50 people waiting for the Evangelistas, and more kept trickling in all the time. I started talking to some of the others, and discovered that the office had given out different sailing times to different people - e.g., while I had been told to show up 2 hours before a sailing time of 11AM; others had been told to show up 1 hour before a sailing time of 1PM, and still others had been told to show up `a reasonable amount of time before' a sailing time of 3PM! Pretty amazing - in any event the boat left at 2:30PM, and I wondered, although I never found out, whether some poor souls had been given a sailing time of 5PM and therefore missed the boat completely ...
The Evangelistas could take 400 passengers, in 2 huge rooms of 200 seats each, plus a small number in cabins and berths. It was about half-full on this trip, with the 90% of the passengers being Chileans. In addition to the seating rooms, there was a (stand-up) snack bar, a couple of tables in a sheltered outside area, and lots of space on deck. If the boat had been full and travelling in bad weather (which makes the deck space unusable), it would have felt cramped; but since it was only half full and the weather was just about perfect, there was plenty of room to move around in.
The day was really nice, with lots of sun, not many clouds, and no rain. The scenery leaving Puerto Montt is pleasant (not really spectacular, though) and I lounged around on deck for most of the day, idly chatting to people and enjoying the sun and views. Among the people I met were Pam, an English girl who was working as a journalist in Chile, and Martha, an older American women who was now a Peace Corps volunteer in Paraguay. Pam and Martha had both travelled around quite a bit in their respective countries, and had some interesting stories about what was `really' happening in Chile and Paraguay, and the day passed pleasantly enough as I talked to them and others.
Sunday: The scenery was much more striking today, as the boat entered the maze of islands and narrow channels that surround Chacabuco. The weather was, if anything, even better then before, and I spent the morning sitting on deck, watching the scenery, chatting, and reading a book.
The boat arrived in Chacabuco harbor at around noon, and I headed down to pack my stuff and get ready to disembark. On my way down, I passed by Pam, who advised me not to be too rushed about things - she had taken this boat before, and thought it might be several hours yet before we were able to get off. This seemed unbelievable to me - I mean, we were in the harbor, and any US or European ferry in such a position would be unloading passengers within half an hour - but I should have listened to an old hand's wisdom, as it was in fact 4PM before we got off the boat. Some of the Chilean passengers were even more annoyed than I was at the delay, and for a while I thought we might have the beginnings of a small riot on the boat ... I should mention that Navimag, the company which ran both the Evangelistas and the Tierra del Fuego (see part III), was probably the most inefficient organization I dealt with in my 6 weeks in Chile. They did run some beautiful boat trips, though!
Once we got off, there was more hassle collecting luggage (a veritable mob scene, as 200 people crowded around the small desk for picking up checked baggage), and then more hassle when I finally arrived in Coyhaique, as most of the cheaper hotels seemed closed, full, or completely unacceptable. I finally just shrugged my shoulders and checked into one of the town's fancier hotels - not something I normally do, but I was fed up with this annoying ending to a beautiful day, and in any case managed to negotiate a 50% reduction on the hotel's normal price. A little luxury once in a while isn't really a sin ...
Monday: I spent the morning wandering around Coyhaique. It's quite a nice little place (population of about 30,000), although in a rather odd location, on the side of a mountain (apparently because there is less wind there!). It was Christmas Eve, and there was a festive air about the town, as people did their last minute holiday shopping and otherwise got ready for the big day. I had originally intended to spend most of the day in the nearby countryside, but ended up just hanging around Coyhaique.
I had decided to cross into Argentina at Chile Chico, the southernmost border crossing with regular public transport. |
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