Across the Andes to Chile

At the border post at Lake Frias, Eduardo took over as our Chilean guide even though technically speaking, we were now neither in Argentina nor yet in Chile. We would be ¨stateless¨ until we had crossed the pass to the Chilean border post on the other side of the Andes range. Eduardo was a very effusive young man who made us all feel most welcome. We clambered on board a 4WD bus that was exceedingly noisy and definitely not dust-proof. It ground its way up and round and over the rough road - well, in truth, that road at times was not much more than a track!  Eduardo shouted above the noise and flowed fluently between Spanish and English on his non-stop, informative commentary. He provided all the statistics and history and president's names etc, information which guides inevitably give and which always sounds so knowledgable but which, for the most part, travellers instantly forget. For example… Chile is 'slightly smaller than twice the size of Montana". That may be meaningful to an American but it meant nothing to us. What meant more was that Chile is a very long thin country with 6,435 kilometers of coastline. This coast borders low coastal mountains which shelter a fertile central valley. The rugged Andes Mountains rise further to the east making a natural border to Chile's three neighbours, Argentina, Bolivia and Peru. We were about to cross the Vicente Perez Rosales Pass through those mountains.

Eduardo's fluent commentary was halted at one point when we all but had a head-on collision with a road-works truck coming up and around a sharp bend. Both drivers saw the whites of each other's eyes as they slammed on the brakes! Eduardo, mid-sentence, went flying towards the windscreen, his seat on top of him. Truck and bus stopped nose to nose. Eduardo pushed his seat back, picked himself up, congratulated the driver on his skill, sat down and went on with his commentary as if nought had happened. He was so cool, it was unbelievable!

Far below us, on the valley floor, we glimpsed a braided river meandering quietly in silver ribbons between banks of small stones.

I enjoyed the view from the window, spotting the changes in vegetation as we drove over the pass through dense forest. Gone were the golden broom and purple lupins. In their place, the mainly conifer forest was interspersed with the beautiful salmon coloured bark of the small tree, Myrtus luma. We have one of those at home in our garden, as yet, little more than a large shrub. I was amazed to see how much larger it grows in its natural environment here in a wet temperate forest. A real beauty. The forest was softened by many small plants: native fish-bone ferns with new bronzed leathery fronds; tall slim-stemmed bamboo with delicate feathery green leaves; yellow flowers of native berberis and the yellow bladder-like flowers of calceolaria. Dainty red bells hung from native fuchsias - the tiny fuschias that my grandma used to grow. There were several large patches of bright yellow alstroemeria making quite a statement. And amongst these natives, there were also some introduced species - very attractive but, in this park environment, they are weeds: tall pink spikes of foxgloves, white and yellow daisies and deep blue flowers of vinca.

As we drove down the Chilean side of the range, the forest was slashed occasionally by rocky gorges with waterfalls splashing their way over the rocks and down through the forest. Far below us, on the valley floor, we glimpsed, every now and then, a braided river meandering quietly in silver ribbons between banks of small stones. That's the way it looks in the summer. But, in the wet season, during the spring thaw, waterfalls become raging torrents and the river rises at least 2-3 metres, covering parts of the road that follows the valley out to the farmlands. Above our heads soared snow-covered mountain peaks. It was majestic. Yes. It was indeed stunning.

The winding mountain road finally brought us down to the valley floor, right beside the braided river. We stopped for a rest and a photo opportunity in a park with a wonderful view back along the river towards Mount Tronador (3,554m).

Further on, the valley floor widened and the road ran through the first of the farms where the paddocks were awash with white daisies and the cattle stood belly-deep in the flowers. The road went right through farms with llamas, ostriches, pigs, horses and cattle all on view. Many excursions are possible from here - horse riding, fishing, hiking, and climbing and it all seems to be done very well - very professionally.

Before going right into the settlement of Puerto Puella we had to clear Chilean customs. Three or four buses had arrived at the same time - some going and some coming through the border post. We were told to stay in the bus and wait patiently until summoned - after all, we were not yet officially in Chile. It was so very, very hot in that bus after the cool hills and we were really in need of a leg stretch after the bumpy crossing, not to mention a 'loo' - but wait we must. That's what border crossings are all about.

Our luggage was not with us on our bus. It had been taken ahead on a truck which awaited us at this check point. Here, custom's officers had randomly taken bags out of the containers for closer inspection. I looked through the window at the inspection table. My bag had been chosen. "Good grief," I thought. "My dirty clothes are on the top in my bag. Oh! The embarrassment!"

But luck was on my side. Before I even got inside the door of the check-point, I had a certain "meeting" with the customs man. Hot, bothered and headachy, I had been leaning against the door jamb when he came from behind and wanted to get through. After a lot of "permissio... pardon... sorry... scusi... gracios... and a look (on his part) of "for goodness sake, get out of my way", we managed to change places! In the crush of people in such a small space it was a tight squeeze. But, when it came to my turn for the bag inspection, he just smiled and waved me through. He obviously didn't want to tangle with me again! Of course, I had nothing to hide but it was good not to have to unpack my dirty undies etc and display them for all and sundry to see. So my earlier encounter paid good dividends and I was free to sit in the hot bus again. It was somewhat of a relief this time.

The settlement of Puella is situated at the shallow, reedy end of a lake that is edged with weeping willows and statuesque poplars. It would be a very good place to break the journey. There is one older hotel, 'Puella' built around 1890, and a new, larger one, the 4* 'Natura' just completed - built especially for the purpose of "stop-overs".  From this quiet village it would be possible to enjoy many excursions: 4 wheel drive up to the slopes of Osorno volcano; visit a ranch; ride a horse; fish for the enormous trout that appeared in all the brochures and which presumably also appeared on dinner plates in hotel dining rooms; or just go for quiet walks, looking out for wildflowers, butterflies and birds. We were somewhat frustrated at having to transit straight through such an inviting place beside a tranquil lake, amongst these picturesque mountains. Many improvements have been made to open up this area of natural beauty to tourists since the trip across the mountains and lakes began back in 1915. Then, it took seven days to cross from Bariloche to Puerto Varas - I'd like it to take seven days now! It would be so good to absorb all that this trip has to offer.

But that was not to be for us; well, not this time around anyway. We had to move on to the next jetty and the next boat on our itinerary. The "Lagos Andinos" catamaran waited to take us from Puerto Puella across the beautiful Todos Los Santos Lake to Puerto Petrohuè. This lake crossing was a real highlight of the day.  Along the way we were treated to the spectacular sight of Mt Puntiaguda piercing the bright blue sky with its sharp-pointed witches hat peak. Then we were treated to clear views of the most beautiful of volcanoes, Osorno - a perfect cone complete with marshmallow topping glowing velvety in the sunlight.  How lucky we were.  A sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky - and such majestic scenery.

Petrohuè is a delightful small fishing hamlet. Unfortunately there are only very basic lodgings here but, if you like fishing, it would be a great place to take a day trip from Puerto Varas, about an hour's drive away. At Petrohuè, the lake feeds a volcanic, rock-strewn river. Icy-blue water tumbles in great haste down the valley - white-water rafting heaven but much too cold for me. As I looked at these wild, boiling rapids, memories of frozen feet while rafting in Alaska come to the fore! These Chilean rapids come to a tumultuous finale at Petrohuè Falls - a place where the water funnels furiously through deep crevices in lava rock. We viewed these from a series of metal bridges that span some of the crevasses and marvelled at the raw beauty of these falls, especially with the perfect snow-covered cone of Osorno as a backdrop. It was spectacular. Yes, I'll grant the brochure writers the use of the word stunning …again! And all that for a mere $1.20 entry fee! I would love to see those falls in full spate in spring.

It was not only the big picture that fascinated us at the falls. Amongst the rocks we found white native orchids and a pretty bush with a simply awful name - Ugni molinas. Its common name, Murta, is somewhat better for a plant that produces delightful, tiny, white bell-like flowers and red berries. Wonder if it would grow at home? Maybe!

Somewhat reluctantly, we left the beauty of the falls. The sun was getting low in the sky as we passed in the shadow of yet another volcano, Calbuco, which erupted in 1961 spewing a river of black ash and rock down the mountainside, the ash falling as far away as Bariloche. A little further on we came to the last of the lakes noted in the brochure for the 'Cruces de Lagos", the largest lake in Chile - Lake Llanquihue. This time we did not make a boat crossing because the waters of this lake are inhospitable and quite unpredictable. These waters are broad, dark, flat and shallow - turning into rough, choppy waves very quickly when strong winds blow, as they often do in this area. The shoreline 'beaches' of black ash and pebbles did not look very inviting, either. We drove along the shores of this lake through rolling countryside dotted with farms and houses that showed quite clearly the influence of the German migration to this area in the early 1900's.

The small town of Puerto Varas at the lake's end was our destination. The view from the town, across the lake to five snow-capped sleeping volcanic giants, rising up into clear skies, gave promise of a good place to spend the next day or two. We had time to take in this expansive view as the bus drove along the town's waterfront. Then, as the bus turned into a very steep street, I saw the sign I wanted so much to see - Cabanos de Lagos Hotel. Up the hill passed large houses with large, neat gardens all with lots of large, brightly coloured graffiti on their garden walls until, finally, at last, we pulled up at the front door of our hotel. I sighed with deep relief! Very tired, after a long but extremely fascinating day, a hot shower and dinner looked like good options before my head hit the pillow for a much needed sleep.