I hiked up to Refugio Chileno on Nov. 5 with a dozen eggs in the top of my backpack and down on the 6th with an apricot cake to share. My roommate Alejandra radioed the folks at Chileno the day of my hike to let them know it was my 27th birthday, and I must say, the folks at Chileno did me right. A 'Happy Birthday' sign, printed in box letters on sheets of graph paper, greeted me above the hiker hostel's entrance. Pato, the gregarious hostel jefe, led the dining room of guests in a 'Happy Birthday' song after dinner. And after the dishes were clean and the guests tucked into their bunk beds, Freddy combined those eggs with flour, sugar and fruit, and we all ate the result. Mmm, mmm, good!
There's no 'I' in team
Here’s my itinerary on a recent morning:1. Pack a gourd with yerba mate, a traditional Chilean tea that, in a very ritualistic manner, is infused with hot water and passed among a group of people who take turns sipping it through a metal straw, or bombilla 2. Saddle a horse. 3. Help a compañero run from one point to another holding a shrieking piglet by the forearms 4. Split firewood and light a fire 5. Clean a bathroom 6. Pitch a tent, taking into account the wind that’s blowing in from the northwest Ok, I’ll admit. That’s not a typical morning for me here. It was actually a teambuilding exercise for some of Fantastico Sur’s employees. I learned a lot about the jobs other people — the gauchos (cowboys) and the maintenance staff — have around the hostería property, how to pack a gourd of matte, oh, and how to work as a team.
My team:
Quick, before it melts!
I almost touched a glacier yesterday, but I couldn’t reach it because it’s rained a lot recently, and the river in front of it was too wide to cross without getting swept away and possibly drowning in ice-cold runoff. But I got really close — and by that, I mean 25 meters close. To a glacier.
The glaciers in Torres del Paine National Park are among the most accessible in the world. You can strap on crampons and hike across the top of Glaciar Grey, a 26 kilometer long finger of South Patagonian ice field. Or you can settle into a kayak and paddle up to the ice mass’ base. In a world of rapidly receding glaciers, that’s pretty rare.
Here’s a brief history of the park’s ice: The Earth’s plates shifted in this area about 12,000 years ago, thrusting the once horizontal layers of sedimentary rock out of the ground and into the air. Then it snowed and it snowed, and rather than melting like it’s known to do, the snow compacted into glaciers. The glaciers advanced, mostly during the Pleistocene era, eroding away at the uplifted rock, carving the dramatic formations this park is known for. Several of those same glaciers still remain, but are receding at between four and 10 meters each year. That means I’d better touch, walk on or otherwise experience the glaciers here quickly, before they're gone.
Check out pictures, like the one below of Los Cuernos, from my hike up Valle Frances.
I need broccoli
After two weeks straight of eating red meat and potatoes in the staff mess hall, I had three free days in a row, which meant … VEGETABLES! I took a bus to Puerto Natales and camped out for about two hours at Concepto Indigo, this chic restaurant/hotel overlooking Seno Ultima Esperanza, or Last Hope Sound. Unlike a lot of Puerto Natales, which is pretty utilitarian, the restaurant is very sleek and modern: Hardwood floors and white walls, cylindrical lamps hanging over the tables, rows of low brown couches accented with bright-colored pillows. It's the perfect haven for someone who wants a bit of pampering. I arrived early and just kept eating. To start: A shot-glass-sized cup of coffee, accompanied by four slivers of cake (They don’t really ‘do’ coffee in Chile. The instant stuffis about all you can find anywhere.)
Then, to warm up for real: A salad topped with smoked salmon, carrot and apple slivers, fried cheese squares and dressing
Third, and mainly: Polenta, topped with skewers of grilled mushrooms, peppers, onions and tomatoes. A wine-flavored paste on the side. And to finish, with a bang: Two brownie domes filled with liquid chocolate and accompanied by berry ice cream. I accidentally spent $27 on the meal (it’s amazing how those Chilean pesos get away from you when there’s good food involved). But you know what? It was worth it, because tonight, it’s back to meat and potatoes.
A night out
The trail to Refugio Chileno climbs the side of the snow-capped Almirante Nieto and enters Valle Ascencio at Paso de los Vientos, or the Windy Pass. As soon as you round the corner into the valley, you have to brace yourself against the powerful gusts that, if blowing in the right (or wrong) direction, could knock you off the exposed mountainside and into the thundering river below. After a long day of work, I started the hike with John, an American in the park to help with trail maintenance, as the sun was setting on Saturday. I was eager to get out of the office and into the park, if even for a few hours.
The climb up the side of Almirante Nieto was tough on my calves, especially since John is 6’8’’ and takes half the mountain in a stride. But once we entered the river valley, we saw the Torres del Paine, the trio of towers that gave the park its name, in the V formed in the distance by the valley walls. They served as an excellent reason to keep walking forward.
We reached Refugio Chileno around 9 p.m., about an hour and a half after we started. The hiker hostel sits on the opposite side of the river from the trail approaching it. It’s a wooden building with a windowed dining room, bathrooms with showers and about six bedrooms packed with 2- to 3-story bunk beds.
We took off our boots on the stone front porch and padded inside to meet Christian Morales, who was already there, two visitors from Germany and the refugio staff.
After a dinner of garlic rice, lamb and fried potato wedges, Pato, the refugio’s manager, taught us some Chilean slang. Patagonia has more regionalisms than I’ve ever heard before and the slang changes fast, which might explain why people can be so tough to understand. Rest assured, I can now say “Que rica cola” (“What a nice ass!”) and “Ella es como quieres” (“She’s hot!!!”) like a pro.
Refugio Chileno has a good feel to it. I think it might be my favorite of Fantástico Sur’s hiker hostels because it seems the most comfortable and laid back. At night, gas lamps mounted on the walls cast a warm glow about the dining room and a wood-burning stove heats it against the wind howling outside. The staff usually plays music over an old CD player and is quick to share bits of their culture or invite you to a game of chess (which, by the way, I lost tragically. To quote my opponent, Freddy, as he points to the pieces he’s taken: “I have a cemetery over here!”)
I slept a few hours in one of the bunks and arose for toast and eggs the next morning. Then, I hiked out of the valley and into the office for another day of work.
Day at the office
I did not break out in hives today, as was expected. I survived a 2.5-hour horseback ride without any symptoms that would tempt me to shove an Epinepherine pin into my thigh. My throat didn’t itch, my eyes didn’t run. I didn’t even sneeze more than the normal amount. I joined Christian on a journey from home base to Refugio Cuernos, the hiker hostel 12 km east of here. His purpose was to entertain a business consultant; my purpose was to see the refugio in order to write about it later; and the purpose of the pair who shuttled us there and back was to re-supply the refugio with two cases of Cabernet Sauvignon, six cases of juice mix and two cases of hot chocolate.
To get there, we took a Zodiac boat across Lake Nordenskjold, whose water is the color of the weathered, translucent Coke bottle pieces you find on the beach sometimes. The rocky hills on the opposite shore, muted gray figures, stood out starkly against the white, raining sky. It was a cold trip, and I couldn’t effectively tighten the drawstring to my raincoat hood with my glove shells on, but that didn’t matter. The scenery was beautiful.
We took our boots off in the front entryway of Refugio Cuernos and padded inside to dry off by the wood-burning stove. The refugio employees served us a hot lunch — bread, a bowl of bean, pasta and sausage stew and tea to finish — and we — rather, they — talked business. I listened in and out and nodded some.
Afterward, one of our shuttlers decided the water was too choppy for a safe return via Zodiac. While a few hombres returned to Las Torres for horses, I learned how to play the Chilean card game Quince with Ricardo, a refugio employee on his day off, and another refugio guest. (Should I blame the language barrier on my inability to add to 15?) Though I was never clear on how to score the game, I think I ended up winning.
I was pretty happy to get the horse named Gata (Cat) and not the one named Sin Corazón (Without Heart). As you might guess, I am no expert at riding on horseback, but during our ride home, I gained a great appreciation for horse judgment. ‘You think your hoof will hold on this wet rock? ... Okaaaaay....’ We were always fine.
After I grew accustomed to the feel of the horse body below me, I began to enjoy the ride, which took us over rolling, rocky terrain through Nothofagus forests (I think it’s basically deciduous beech). It snowed some, it rained. We forded a couple of rivers of glacial runoff. I rode a cantering horse without screaming. The view of Lake Nordenskold to our right, the gray hills on its opposite shore and the snow-capped Andes Mountains in the distance, basking in the only sunlight anywhere, was absolutely stunning. While I imagine most of my working days won’t be as spectacular and will probably consist of sitting in an office in front of a computer, I can only hope for exceptions like today.
Hold onto your lugnuts
The wind blew so hard today that I walked to work at a 45-degree angle, with tears blowing out of my eyes and spit blowing out my mouth. Cyclones of dust rose from the ground and hit me in the face at periodic intervals, and I got blown off of my path and into incoming traffic more than once. I learned later the wind velocities reached around 80 miles per hour — and as I sit on my bed ten hours after that walk to work, I can still hear them rushing against the sides of my house. The people here are not nearly as alarmed as I am about this situation. As a matter of course, buildings are constructed to withstand 200 km winds and in towns like Punta Arenas, the central plaza contains rope fences for people to grab onto during especially gusty weather. On days like today, when walking to work sends me into helpless hysterics, Patagons simply zip up their windbreakers and say, “Es normal.”
If only my luggage had knees...
As an employee of the Las Torres Hotel single-handedly carried my two 40-lb bags from the bus to the room where I’ll be staying, I noted in Spanish, “This would really be much easier if my luggage had kneecaps.”I don’t think that’s the sort of statement you can agree with, even just to be nice. The bag carrier, who could speak some English as it turned out, kindly corrected me.
“Rodillas means kneecaps,” he said. “Ruedas is wheels.”
All that’s to say, I have arrived at the Torres del Paine National Park, where I’ll be living and working for the next eight months. And I can’t stop looking at Almirante Nieto, which rises 8,760 feet over my new home. Every time I walk outside or glance out a northwest-facing window, I have to stare. The mountain is tremendous, and right in my backyard. There’s so much going on up top, what with the patches of snow, the glaciers and occasional avalanches, the clouds that move in and out throughout the day. As an added perk, the three towers that gave the park its name peek out from behind Almirante. I need to go on a long hike.
The day I arrived, my boss Christian Morales drove me around the property in his gray pickup truck. He showed me around the pricey Hosteria Las Torres, which anchors the property, as well as the pump sheds and stables that keep in running.
Then, my assignment was to “get to know” the refugio where I’ll be working — the people, the business. I started by heading to the kitchen, where I was first offered a cup of coffee, then to share a plate of fries, hard boiled egg and sautéed meat with a group of employees. I accepted. The experience of eating everything I was offered, I’d say, really taught me a lot about the company.
Really, it did. Fantastico Sur is a Chilean company that runs four refugios, or hiker hostels, in various locations in the park. The refugios, named Chileno, Cuernos, Torre Norte and Torre Central (where my office will be located), house between 32 and 54 beds each, bunk-house style, plus a restaurant and bathrooms with showers. In Torre Central, where I’ve spent my time these last two days, there’s also a sitting room heated by a wood stove that has bean bags and a huge hammock — for hanging out, you know.
In two weeks, Christian said Torre Central will add two sunken Jacuzzis to its front lawn, so guests can soak in the water and sip wine as they stare at Almirante. Renting a bed for a night costs around $33. Breakfast sets you back $8, lunch $12 and dinner $14. Camping in the sites near each refugio is another option, one that costs around $6.50 a night.
You might think that’s all, but it isn’t; Fantastico Sur also organizes guided treks, birding excursions, etc. for its guests, AND it publishes nature guides about birds, plants and albatrosses. The idea is to help educate tourists about the environment and how to safely interact with it. That is the message I will be in charge of getting out.
I’ll be living in a wooden cabin crammed in a mini-valley with about five others that belong to park guides, maintenance people, cowboys, etc. My place is one of the three still under construction, and the builders can’t exactly find the keys to the locked bedrooms, one of which I will share with a roommate. But they expect to finish building in a week or two — and find the keys. My living situation looks like it will be much cozier and spacious than I expected.
To protect myself from pumas, the main predator here, Christian has advised me to run wherever I go and “baaaah” like a sheep. I have nothing to worry about, he said, if I follow those directions. Pumas can leap over 21 feet, I learned from a documentary video I watched Thursday morning. I think that means I need to run extra fast and “baah” extra hard.
A lively afternoon in the cemetery
Is it smart to spend your second day alone in a new country in a cemetery? Maybe not, but that’s what I did. I strolled the manicured aisles of the Cemetario Municipal, where the tombs decorated with rosaries, photographs and flowers and the plots lie shoulder to shoulder as far as you can see.
And, after shuffling back and forth between offices, I have almost secured a work Visa. My employers were right in telling me not to stress; it's been a fairly easy process. Just fill out a few forms, present a passport, immigration card, letter from my employer and a work contract, get four pictures taken at the corner Kodak store and voila! — permission to work in Chile. (I must report though, the man drawing up my work contract tried to slip in a salary lower than what he knew I was promised. Lesson: Read the fine print, especially if those writing the fine print are doing so in Spanish — or are otherwise in positions to take advantage.)
Question: If a man visiting on a senior citizen's tour from Santiago tells you you're dressed like a ranger, does that mean your outfit's too drab?
Adios Chattanooga, hola Chile!
After more than two years of writing for the Chattanooga Times Free Press, I quit my job. No longer will I write about what the children of Hamilton County are learning in their classrooms and whether the school board thinks seatbelts on buses improve safety. I am moving to Chile, to the Torres del Paine National Park way down at the Southern tip of the country. Someone I met there two years ago when helping repair the park’s most damaged trails offered me a job — actually, two — last month. I start on Monday.
I will be marketing for Fantástico Sur, a Chilean company that arranges treks for hikers and naturalists. As part of it, they have asked me to start a bi-lingual magazine, which I have happily agreed to. I’ll also be guiding for AMA, a company that educates visitors about the park’s environment and helps them complete projects that conserve it.
In addition, I hope to publish some travel articles on my own… and soak up the language and lifestyle.
Deciding to leave Chattanooga was incredibly tough, and I went back and forth with it for weeks. I loved my full-time writing job at the paper, which allowed me to interview, for example, the governor and a first-grade teacher in the same day. I enjoyed hiking, cycling and paddling in and around Chattanooga, and I knew I’d miss lounging around my sunny apartment on Saturday mornings and listening to my friend’s bluegrass band practice on her porch. Plus, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my friends and boyfriend. But I decided to take the leap, to find out what I don’t know and to let the experience take me where it will.
I found this passage in the 2001 Best American Travel Writing, which I picked up at McKay’s Used Books in Chattanooga the other night:
We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring ourselves what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again — to slow time down and get taken in, and to fall in love once more.
Pico Iyer, from “Why We Travel” in Salon Travel
I may encounter frustration and loneliness in the far Southern reaches of the world, but I may also have experiences that change how I see the world and live my life. I just don’t know, and that’s the fun part.
And now, for some fun facts about my destination, for my sake as much as anyone’s: * Chile is tall and slender, stretching along the southwestern coast of South America. It’s as long as San Francisco is from New York, but only 150 miles wide at its widest point. * The northern part of the country is desert, the mid-section is a fertile river valley, and the southern landscape is made up of a string of rivers and volcanoes that dissolve into a labyrinth of fjords, inlets, canals, peninsulas and islands. The Andes Mountains border the country to the east. * Chile is a republic. Michelle Bachelet is Chile’s first woman president, elected in 2006. * About 85 percent of Chile's population lives in urban areas. About 40 percent live in greater Santiago. Most have Spanish ancestry. * The local currency is the Chilean peso. * About 89 percent of the population is Roman Catholic, about 11 percent is Protestant. * The average Chilean expects to live about 76 years. * Chileans are required to attend 12 years of school, and 96 percent of adults can read.
I have three short days before my plane departs for Santiago. Time for the business of shuffling boxes and realizing exactly how much stuff I have accumulated.