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A small pretty town steeped in German heritage due to those who settled there in the mid 1800's to keep the local indians out. It is situated on the side of lake Lago Llanquihue, overlooked by two volcanoes named Orsono and Calbuco. They are still active and the latest spew was in 1972 (in fact they were at their most active at the turn of the 19th century). Let's hope they are enjoyng their sleep.
Erika, who runs the hostel we will be staying in, collects us from the airport. We speak in broken Spanish and English for the 40 minute drive and she stops off at the lake on the way back so we can take some early photos. We have been so careful with our belonginngs and realise that everything we own, apart from the camera, is still in the car. Luckily she doesn't skid out of the car park laughing like a maniac with the two bags that contain our life. Her hostel has a homely feel and we have a big spacious room to spread out in. As we are staying here for a week it is an ideal base. It feels good to totally unpack from the rucksacks.
We decide against a tour and take the local bus to Lake Petrohue. The trip is an hour and a half from the town, but feels longer as we are squashed into a small, overcrowded minibus that has many stops due to long stretches of roadworks along the route. On arrival we begin a walk that takes us close to the base of the Volcano Orsorno. It starts from the black sand beach that has been spewed out by the volcano in previous years. It is a beautifully sunny day and the walk works it's way gradually upwards through shrubs, bushes and forest. The walking is tiring due to the uneven and sometimes deep patches of ash deposits (like walking on a beach basically). We head off not realising that we have embarked on a 12km circular walk. There are only a handful of people on the track and we do a small detour from the circuit as the paths are not well marked. It is a beautiful sight to see the snow-capped volcano from all angles and we enjoy the fact that there are so few people. We find our way walking down a section that looks like it's been carved out from a lava flow, or maybe a river (but that sounds less dramatic). The last section is by the side of the blue crystal clear lake and to finish we have to climb over fallen trees and rocks to get back to the bus. Knackered and hot, we get the bus back to town.
We visit a small quirky museum called Museo Antonio Felmer that has been in the same local family for a couple of generations and is filled with all kinds of odds and sods - dolls, farm tools, kitchen equipment, VW camper vans, typewriters and various other household objects that have been salvaged since 1860. It's all randomly strewn around the small museum which is based in an old converted barn. The current curator (the son of the founder of the museum) runs the family dairy farm in conjunction with the museum. He is also an excellent artist and he has many paintings for sale hanging around the place. Clearly, an extrovert who gets pleasure in collecting and displaying everyday items in a funky way.
We book to go on a tour to the island of Chiloe through the town's Tourist Information Office. The evening before there is a phone call to say there aren't enough people to warrant the tour going ahead and it is therefore cancelled. The lovely Erika starts calling round to other tours until she finds us one that can take us at this late notice, however, it means getting a local bus into the next town and catching the tour bus from there. It also means an early morning start in the dark but, it does work out about a third of the price we paid. As she is on the telephone the news is on TV is showing footage of a town being evacuated due to an Earthquake. There are also possible tsunami warnings. Although the Spanish is coming along 'fairly' well, we couldn't make out where it is happening or how bad it might be. When Erika eventually gets off the phone she tells us it is about 2500 km away, so we don't have to worry. Phew! With the trip booked, we then realise that we won't be in town to collect our refund for the cancelled trip. Erika says she will do that for us. She really is a great host who is so friendly and can't do enough for us, including trying to fatten us up by serving up huge slabs of homemade cakes for breakfast (like we need it!)
We catch the local bus to Puerto Montt. It's still dark as the sun dosent make its appearance till around 7.30am, but the bus is packed with the locals going to work. We get to the bus terminal where we are due to pick up the tour bus and luckily it is all straight forward. Many of the passengers are older than us, but act like a load of excited kids out on a school trip. We dub one lady, who must be close to 70, as Minnie the Minx. She is singing and clapping to the tunes from the bus's radio. She can't sit down for more than 5 minutes and climbs over the seats like a troublesome toddler.
Chiloe is an island, close to the mainland, famous for it's many churches, 14 of which are Unesco World Heritage Sites, houses on stilts and a strange fixation with mythology.
Our first stop from the ferry is at a ugly tin church in a square, where there are many shops selling various hand-knitted items and ugly fridge magnets (with hardly any magnetism) and not a lot else. We then stop at a small 19C fort where Minnie is giggling at the phallic artefacts on sale at the tourists stall and tries to make Suzanne touch one. (he he.!) We then stop off at a site with a sign post saying Mithologie Jardin - Mythological Garden. Of course the guide, who is an old man, speaks only in Spanish. He takes us around his garden, firstly looking at various shrubs and plants and then as we get deeper in we witness the most blatant abuse of papier machee ever known to man. We were having a fit of giggles at the various puppets and dolls hidden in the bushes, apparently telling the story behind the beliefs of mythology in Chiloe, when an Italian guy approached us and kindly started translating the story for us. It was all very weird. There were stories of strange creatures fighting with each other and of the most ugly sex starved witches who would breathe a fiery spell on you if you didn't satisfy their needs. Finally, a gnome who thinks he is irresistable to females giving them erotic dreams and children out of wedlock (normal night out in Bromley then!)
Our next stop is for lunch and we order the local stew dish called Curanto that contains mussels, giant clams, sausage, pork, chicken, potato and two types of dough stuffed with meat and vegatables. Traditionally it was made by heating up stones in a hole in the ground and waiting until they crackled, then they would pile on the food, then cover that with a native Chilean plant called naica and then wet cloths and finally dirt until it was totally covered. This would be left for two hours when everything would be cooked through. Innocently, we order one each and when one humungous plate that arrives we assume its for two - until the other one arrives that is. Admittedly a lot of the bulk was from shells from the gigantic mussels and clams, however, it was still a challenge to even get through half of it despite it tasting very good.
After lunch we head to Castro which is the largest town in Chiloe and go out on a boat trip across the lake. There are colourful houses on the waterfront built on stilts which seems strange in such a seismicly active region, but we later understand from someone in the hostel that this is because the fisherman are too lazy to walk down to the lake to fish. Admittedly, it is a great big hill back up into the heart of the town, but they still appear to be precarious sitting over the lake.
The bus is a lot more subdued on its return to Puerto Montt and we finally get back to the hostal around 9.30pm
We go for sunday lunch at the town's German members club that is in an art deco style building and is furnished from the period. There is the large dining area and then lots of small private rooms where you can imagine the men used to sit smoking cigars and drinking schnapps (or the delicious pisco sours as they do in Chile). It's almost like you were transported back to Munich in 1933 - but perhaps with a more accomodating atmosphere...
There is also a bar by the lake called the Kunstmann which is named after the local brewery where we sit out the rain on a couple of occasions and discuss the fact that we really like Chile with the friendly people, laid back attitude, the feeling of safety and the non-stop playing of 80's music. There must have been a job lot of 'Now That's What I call Music 6', as all we hear is naff old eighties one hit wonders wherever we go!
- comments
miglet I'm so enjoying the descriptive blogs, seems like I am with you without the effort of all that hill walking and trekking! Love ya XX
Susie Ah, it's the people that make these trips isn't it. Loving Minnie & Erika!