I never heard of Isla de Chiloé, did you?
No you didn't, stop lying to me. I just happened to cross the border from Argentina to Chile and looked at the map to discover an island. Islands are always good. A local told me the ferry trip would cost about 15,000 pesos ($22)… which is expensive for my travel style. I’m glad I went anyway, as it was in fact only 600 pesos to cross ($0,90) which I didn’t even pay as I was getting a ride from my Couchsurf-host from Osorno… and… it… was… sensational. Like the best that could ever happen to you in Chile. Sliding over the water, seeing the spectacular landscapes approaching, I immediately knew I was going to overstay the time I had in mind.
When you think of an island, you probably have some bounty commercials popping up in your head: White little havens with waving palmtrees, surrounded by crystal clear blue water. Well, except of the water you have to adjust your thoughts a bit: This very developed peninsula is enriched with endless fertile landscapes in the brightest green your eyes can process, sharp humid winds waking up your senses. Also, it’s massive. I know I’m Dutch, so a football field is already big to me, but Isla de Chiloé is 9181 square kilometers, which is not your standard Caribbean atoll. So my initial idea to walk from Ancud to Castro because it looks so close on the map didn’t seem ideal as we’re talking about 82,5km. So what do you do then? Hitch-hike in a firetruck, like a boss.
Castro & Muelle de las Almas
Once arrived in Castro I immediately exploited every wave of free Wi-Fi I could lay my digital hands on (like a cheap-ass backpacker should) to contact my new friend I didn’t meet yet: Couchsurfer Gino. The gentleman that ran, no frolicked, to me like some untenable whirlwind of energy and almost lifted me off the ground in his ecstatic hug. A happy boy in a man’s body… like two lunatics finally finding each other, great vibes. Together we spent so much time on finding something vegan in this meat ‘n milkparadise that I basically had to cram my lunch in my face in a mere 3 minutes in order to not miss the Muelle de las Almas family-outing.
While Gino’s friends and family were eating, smoking and eating & smoking a bit more we kept on climbing, hopping from hill to hill, exhilarated with the views getting more beautiful from every angle.
Satisfied and not the least tired I joined the group walking back, holding the hand of little Santiago, a 5-year-old-boy joining the trip. In a high Spanish voice he uttered:
- “Estephy, why you speak a little bit funny?”
- “It’s an accent, mi amor, I am not from Chile.”
- “WHY NOT?? It’s such a delight living in Chile!!!”
What can I say, the boy is right.
On day #2 I decided to do my traditional museum round, with the side-note that all museums were closed that day. So instead I bought everything I couldn’t afford in Argentina (yes, in the meantime Chile is about 300% cheaper, even though that’s a mathematically impossible percentage) and walked past the colorful stilt houses…
… and the yellow church that’s apparently part of UNESCO heritage. I wondered why, as I found basically everything beautiful in Chiloé, except of that pathetic construction erected out of corrugated iron (but hey, at least no abundant wealth displayed under the flag of religion, that’s a relief).
Dalcahue
I suddenly noticed my hands had some thumbs, so I put them up to see if I could reach Dalcahue with those. The first car promptly stopped, almost causing a disastrous pile-up accident. The chauffeur, a chatty man called Carlos, was like a driving tourist information point providing me with 1kg maps and endless advices. First of all, the highlight of Dalcahue is apparently the Sunday Artesania Market.
In theory that’s cool, but in reality it’s one big leather and wool celebration… cows and sheep never did me any wrong, so I won’t go after their dead skin and fur either. So I walked to the harbor instead. It looked like I just walked into an antique toyshop portrayed in a Disney Christmas-picture. Colorful boats with cute little chimneys rocked peacefully on the waves. People greeted each other, including me, like they hadn’t seen each other for a lifetime (which in my case is true). Man, even the seagulls seemed to smile! The whole scene was almost tooth-breaking sweet, but just like eating a whole box of chocolates during an acute munchies-attack wandering around this scene triggers a staggering satisfaction. From here I could have taken a ferry to another island, Achao, but I recently ordered a glass of wine and felt fine just where I was (later on I learned I missed out big time, but hey, that’s life).
Chonchi
So the idea was to get up really early the next day in order to visit the Chiloe National Park for an early refreshing hike. However, as the night preceded this idea transformed into ‘drinking 3 bottles of Chilean wine with 2 people, followed up with some rounds of Pisco Sour at 5AM’. All in the name of a ‘cultural exchange’, of course. Sometimes it’s risky to meet a like-minded person. However, when I woke up at 12:30PM and watched the rain slamming against the window, I learned that life agreed with me. As I feel I can´t be traveling and waste a day with doing nothing, I headed to a place called Chonchi. Hung-over to the bone and in the pouring rain. My behavior isn’t always a logical result of reason. Chonchi is a really pretty corner of the island, but I guess with this depressing weather I didn’t get the full experience. However, I did get to taste splendid coffee (just 7 cups) and… *TARATATAAAA* the Accordion Museum. A museum full of, you guessed it, accordions. Well, if that’s not a reason to visit Chonchi, I don’t know what is.
Huillinco, Chiloé National Park & Chanquin
New day, new chances: the weather cleared up and so did my hangover. So up went the thumbs. The first ride was with a roaring pick-up truck full of short-tempered landworkers with hands full of scars, one of them once running out of the vehicle to kick another car after a traffic disagreement. From the crossing where they dropped me off I walked 4 kilometers along the Ruta 5 highway to find the exit to Huillinco, a place yesterday’s coffee lady recommended me. A happy chubby fries-fryer gave me a lift, even though he didn’t need to be there himself (I hear an imaginary voice saying “That only happens to women”, which might be true). To sum it up: Huillinco has a lake and that lake is beautiful…. but you don’t need more than 5 minutes to come to that conclusion.
So I continued my tour to Chiloe National Park, this time for real. At the entrance I saw an arrow saying “buy tickets here”, so I ninja’d the other way, creeping under the window like some oversized insect. If anyone wonders how you can continuously travel for 2 years, that’s how [later on I found out you can also sneak in for free via the campsite entrance, *wink wink*]. It’s a good thing I went, this place is absolutely breath-taking.
The short enjoyable walks guide you past the best that nature has in store for us. From pure bush-bush experiences on mushy ground with lianas slamming you in the face to clean wooden boardwalks leading you in and over the greenery like little stairways to heaven. Keep in mind that sea climate hits hard in Chiloe, intense bursts of rain turning every terrain into an extensive mud-minefield. As my worn-out 15-year old sneakers weren’t exactly water-proofed, I tightened some plastic bags around my socks which made me look like a walking Unimarc-commercial. Yeah… I got myself some Gore-Tex after I saw the photos.
Subsequently I marched to Cucao, which was supposedly just a few kilometers away. Really long kilometers, I thought after 1,5 hours… when I realized I was in fact walking to Chanquin. I love getting lost, you end up in places that surpass your wildest imagination.
OK LET’S STOP RIGHT HERE, BOOM!
Did I make your head spin from all the reading? Sorry, I get all crazy once you get me talking about my travels. Relax your brain for a bit… tomorrow I’ll present to you the *drumsolo* SEQUEL! (yup, incl. the how-I-ended-up-in-jail-part)