Waiting for the sun in Pucon

The road to Pucon is well worn with little backpacker footprints. I however, would recommend catching a bus. The view is much better.

Way back in Mendoza, over pitchers of wine at Mr Hugo's we'd starting hearing about Pucon and it's volcano – Volcan Villarrica. A little further in our travels, every casual conversation that started with 'So, where have you been and where are you going next?' would lead straight to gushing over Villarrica.

In fact by the time we arrived in Pucon we had recommendations for where to stay, who to hike with, how many days to allow for weather and what to wear.

So what's all the fuss about? Well Pucon is a tourist village located 12km or so from the base of an active volcano – Volcan Villarrica – whose smokin' top you can see right from town on a good day, like the one we arrived on. But more excitingly, on a fine day like the one we arrived on you can climb Volcan Villarrica, peer inside its smokin' crater before bum sliding all the way back down to the bottom. Need I say more?

As it's an active volcano, climbing is only permitted as part of a guided group, so that very afternoon we set off to find ourselves a guide and a group. Pucon is fundamentally a tourist town, so every second shop on it's main street advertises guides for climbing, rafting, horse riding and everything in between. So finding a guide proved to be the easy bit, the weather on the other hand was intending to be less cooperative.

We'd been forewarned to allow enough time to wait out the weather. In fact some people had hung out at their hostel for 5 days straight waiting for the sun to come out. So we studied the weather forecast on 'mountain weather' with batted breathed and scuttled over to the guide's office each time it looked like the sun might possibly, maybe show itself. In other words we were down there daily.

So with the following day out for climbing we needed a plan B. It's a good thing then, that volcanic regions have something other than active volcanoes: thermal springs which happen to be one of my favourite things.

We'd often been disappointed with thermal springs that were either ugly or overcrowded or both. But Termas Los Pozones, despite being one of the most popular in the area was perfect. Set right next to an icy river, we could hear the rushing water from all of the 9 rock pools.

Between them, the neat gardens were bursting with colour and the scent of roses was in the air.

The mountains surrounding the valley were delicately enveloped by mist on what had turned out to be a rainy day.

While contemplating the fact that life wasn't so bad even though we weren't able to climb Villaricca that day, we were surprised by a chirpy 'hello' and looking up to see two familiar faces. The two German girls had drank pisco sours with us in Puerto Natales before setting off on the 'W' the day we had left for El Calafate. We figured we'd probably never see them again and yet here they were more than 2000km north of we're we'd last seen them.

Yes, the road to Pucon is well worn.

Twenty four hours in Valdivia

You know a town has a bit of a tourist retention problem when upon checking into an overpriced hostel you're offered a hefty tome outlining all the 'exciting' things to do around town. Valdivia was exactly such a place.

Punta Arenas had had it's enthusiastic tour guide who rattled off museum after museum to a newly arrived backpacker who had made the mistake of asking what there was to do around town. Granted it was me who thought it was a mistake as I tried to keep my opinions to myself and focus on putting my thoughts down in digital format.

What most of the towns of Argentina and Chile had shown us was that no matter how glowingly the guidebook describes a town, chances are we'd be disappointed. You see a 'European' feel just isn't the same as a real European town.

And yet here we were strolling around Valdivia which allegedly “just may be Chile's most attractive and enjoyable city.”

Set one at the confluence of three rivers and surrounded by wetlands the city is actually very pretty. On top of the river cruise there's forts at strategic points towards the ocean which together are the largest Spanish fortification in South America. So in our 24 hour stay we probably didn't give the town enough of a chance. But then again, that's not why we came.

Every day the city is host to the Feria Fluvial, the fish, meat and produce markets set on the bank of the river. And each day fat sea lions come out of the river and grunt begging for food. Competing with them are a stack of birds who try to grab any of the scraps the vendors throw towards them.

Arriving in the afternoon, we thought we'd have to wait until the following morning to catch the action. But as we wandered along the bank of the river we found a group of sea lions resting in the sun, probably after a long day of 'fishing'. 

Is that not the cutest face you've seen in a while?

 Of course, this is what 'fishing' looks like!

Chilling on Chiloe

"You know it rains on Chiloe 8 out of 10 days," said Sebastian, glancing up from his Chile travel guide. Busily studying my own copy which had mentioned that very same fact, although slightly more subtly, I looked up and shrugged in response. The island of Chiloe with it's myths and seafood was most definitely on the itinerary, rain or not.

It was a beautiful sunny day, the morning we crossed the channel to the island. Either the weather had missed the memo or we'd struck lucky and arrived on one of the two sunny days. From the pedestrian deck of the car ferry we watched a seal with a fish in it's mouth swimming along, while four birds hovered above it, diving for the seal's catch each time it surfaced.

On the bus from Argentina into Chile we'd already noticed how the Andes and their rain shadow drastically affect the landscape. In this area at least, Chile was bright green and fertile and Chiloe with its emerald rolling countryside was no different. Certainly there was plenty of evidence that the 8 out of 10 day statistic was pretty accurate.

Ancud
But on that sunny and dare I say warm day, it seemed like a shame to stay in doors for the night so we found a camp site with million dollar views across the bay. No wait, I'll admit it. Accommodation on the island was really expensive so we camped. Then again, with that view camping seemed like the only worthwhile option.

In the afternoon we wandered back into Ancud to check out Fuerto San Antonio – the last Spanish outpost on Chilean soil during the wars of independence.

Then we wandered the streets looking at all the pretty colourful wooden houses and the harbour.

But we were perplexed why there were fire trucks constantly whizzing past with sirens on and a gaggle of children in the front of each one.

Finally we found where all the action was happening that day. In front of the wooden cathedral the square was packed with food, markets and a stage for a national fund raiser. Together with a bunch of motorbikes, the fire trucks were taking the kids for a ride to raise money for the national Teleton. It was here that we had our first opportunity to try the local speciality curanto. We asked about the contents of the massive steaming pot, but turned down the offering when a plastic mesh bag full of shellfish was pulled out. As a result that evening our dinner comprised of freshly baked bread, locally made cheese, two sweet slices and cherries washed down with Chilean wine while watching the sun set across the bay.

Castro

The following day we moved on to one of the other large towns on the island Castro. Again the weather was perfect for our afternoon exploration of the town's wooden buildings and colourful palafitos.

At the feria artesenal, the waterfront markets there were some beautiful knitted woollen dresses and jumpers that I was aching to buy. Afterwards we stopped off at the stunning timber cathedral.

Back at our hostel, the land lady was cooking up fresh pots of marmalade and the scent was wafting through the entire building. I think I dreamt about breakfast the whole night!

Dalcahue

The joke goes: What day is it after two days of rain? Monday. Perhaps it's just an Australian joke because on Monday morning after two days of sunshine we woke to...drizzle. Eight out of ten days remember. But that didn't stop our planned day trip to Dalcahue and the nearby Isla Quinchao.

Chiloe's big draw card are the World Heritage Listed wooden churches, some of which we'd already seen in the two bigger towns. But to get a better idea of island life, we wanted to visit some of the smaller villages.

The first was Dalcahue, which after a peek inside it's church and a wander through the empty streets we were ready to move on.

Across the bay on the car ferry and a short drive through rolling pasture land we were at Achao. Nestled in between the hills, the little fishing village looked beautifully dramatic.

The only activity in town was centred on the jetty. There boats would launch off into the mist and rain which at times obscured the little islands where they were headed. Other boats sat quietly on the long stretch of grey beach.

After a trip to the church and a wander down the beach there was little else to do but find a place for lunch.

We decided this was going to be our big opportunity to try curanto which hopefully wouldn't be served in a plastic mesh bag.

We first tried a local place that had reasonable patronage and a good looking specials menu, but they didn't do curanto. They recommended trying the place across the street, which was also suggested by the guidebook. Upstairs and overlooking the jetty, the restaurant with nice white table clothes was empty. Perhaps that had something to do with the prices which were 4 times that of the local place.

So we found another restaurant - El Penguino – which was bustling with cheerful locals. Curanto wasn't on their menu either and the amused waitress recommended we try another waterfront place. Similarly catering to the tourist market with it's white table clothes and high prices, that place also offered curanto served in silence. So we went back to El Penguino and ordered the other choice of the two daily options, without any clue of what said choice actually was. Well apart from the fact that it wouldn't be beef which was option A.

The restaurant, in a old crumbly building with an unmentionable toilet, was decorated in a style that in an Australian cafe would be achingly trendy. It was obviously vintage, but probably not by choice although this just added to it's charm. We'd managed to nab a window seat and enjoyed looking at the rainy bay while waiting for our mysterious meal.

When our meal arrived it was abundantly clear we'd chosen the fish option which for an area renowned for it's seafood was perfect. And I'm pleased to say it was delicious, although I'm still not sure what the purple creatures were. We liked it so much we asked the waitress to write down the name of the meal which she happily did while accepting our compliments.

Finally the last town on the itinerary was Curaco de Velez which promised an open-air restaurant serving oysters. But in true island style, everything in town including the church was shut.