The After-Hours Border Crossing

Chilean Border Crossing (After Hours) 1 - Vamos a Ver (Praying & waiting to see if Chile will let us in).jpg
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Finishing up at the “Southernmost Winery in South America”, with plenty of daylight still illuminating the northern Patagonian sky…Cathy and I decided we would simply push further south past Esquel and Trevelin (rather than spend the night there), cross the border into Chile and sleep in Futaleufu.

We didn’t consider the fact that possibly the border crossing may not be open 24 hours per day…you can easily, almost telegraphically, see where this is going (sorry to let the cat out of the bag so early in the story…but I’m trying to suck you into reading further).

I couldn’t tell if the guard was irritated or just indifferent as he said back to us, “Vamos a ver” (which means “we’ll see”…which also means I have no idea what the hell he means or whether we’ll actually get across tonight), before closing the door, sitting back down and continuing to eat dinner with his comrades.

Chilean Border Crossing (After Hours) 2 - Closed Gate.jpg
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After stopping in Esquel to pick up a camera battery charger and converter for Cathy and small camera tripod for me, we drove south in the fading Argentine daylight…eventually coming to a dirt road without street lights in the pitch black of the night. Continuing on with the hi-beams of the Gol at full power, we made our way some 35km on the rutted camino toward the Futaleufu border post.

Arriving at the Argentine checkpoint at 9:02pm, the place looked closed. Well, that’s because it was closed. I walked up and inquired whether it was closed. Yes, indeed, the guard told me it was closed. I asked what time they closed…9pm he said. Damn!

Chilean Border Crossing (After Hours) 3 - Cathy Opening Back Up The Border.jpg
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We had come so far (well, an hour from Trevelin anyways) only to be turned back now. I asked if they could make an exception, and he said no…I asked again, and finally his boss came out and told us to hurry up.  It took Cathy an eternity (probably only 5 minutes) to find her passport after rifling thru every pocket in every piece of luggage she had…which only raised my already high stress levels. They “processed” us quickly, lifted the gate, told us to hurry once again, and we sped 400 meters or so down the dirt road to the Chilean border post.

Arriving at 9:13pm (I was watching the clock like a hawk), the gate was closed and we turned off engine on the grey Gol and walked another 50 meters or so to the border post…also apparently closed for the evening.

Peering thru the curtain-covered window, we saw 8 Chilean government employees sitting down around a big table to enjoy a hot meal together after a long day at work. Damn, again!!!

We sheepishly knocked on the door, almost embarrassed at interrupting their dinner (and wondering slightly if they could throw us in jail for this…we are in the middle of nowhere), and explained that we were trying to cross the border…and that the Argentine side had let us through.

I couldn’t tell if the guard was irritated or just indifferent as he said back to us, “Vamos a ver” (which means “we’ll see”…which also means I have no idea what the hell he means or whether we’ll actually get across tonight), before closing the door, sitting back down and continuing to eat dinner with his comrades.

Confused, Cathy and I sat down on the curb to wait this out. The minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity…and we began to wonder if they were deliberately ignoring the stupid, gringo Americans who would (in our bloated sense of cultural arrogance and entitlement) try to pull off a stunt like this…and interrupt their dinner.

Finally (it was only 20 minutes but seemed more like 2 hours), a team of border guards emerged from their dining room and ushered us across the road to be “processed” on the other side.

Whew! That was close!  We’re gonna make it after all. Oh wait, did I tell you that Chile doesn’t allow any meat, animal, fruit or vegetable products to be transported across their borders? We hadn’t eaten all the raspberries! Damn, a third time!  We’re really gonna get thrown in jail now…we just keep pushing our luck. The border patrol officer was more than a little irritated, and gave us a stern lecturing and threatened to fine us before simply disposing of the remainder of our sweet, juicy raspberries in the trash.

Well, that’s it for the drama…all things considered, this little stunt worked much better than it might otherwise have…and we drove out of the checkpoint and into Chile cautiously, just waiting for flashing blue lights in the rearview (which thankfully never came).

The town of Futaleufu was only another 10 minutes down the road (just across the border) and we snagged a third floor room at the completely empty, but wonderfully homey Antigua Casona, a cozy hotel just off the main Plaza de Armas and complete with wifi (yippie!).

The hotel restaurant was closed (for the season, not the night) so we grabbed some empanadas, fruit and a bottle of wine at the only take-out still open after 10pm in this pueblito of only 1,800 people.

Back in the room, we crashed out from a perfect, wonderful, adventure-filled, “I-feel-like-we-got-away-with-murder” day…