I woke up very early, and stayed in my bivi bag while i stoked the fire and prepared our last breakfast. Meanwhile the first rays of sun playing through the valleys and mountains were spectacular - and I felt like I had earnt them.
We finished the porridge, quince jam and coffee, leaving our total food at a spoonful of milk powder and some condiments. We got on the trail, and it was relatively easy-going, we could make good time which was a huge relief.
Soon enough we came across the campground marked on the map, which is a climbers destination due to the epic cliff faces surrounding it. I couldn't get over how many people there were. It was unreal, tents kept sprawling behind bushes and trees in every direction. It could have been a small festival.
The track became flooded and boggy, but had been boarded over so our pace stayed up as we hopped between the split logs towards the real world.
At some point we passed three friendly Chilenos who took an interest in Kev's camera. We stopped and chatted to them about our trip and asked what we could expect to find when we got to civilisation. They were a father and son called Enrique and Daniel, with a local guide (whose name I've forgotten) and are from the capital, Santiago.
In a few hours more it was the early afternoon and we came to the end of the trail. Nature had served us well, and i promised to be gentler on her in the future as a thank you.
It was over, but we were still around ten kilometres from the town Cochamo, there was a single track dirt road the rest of the way. We came across a bustling campsite though, and more importantly Kev cannily spotted a small sign on the farmhouse door reading:
"hay pizza"
Result. After a long and funny conversation with the campsite owner I'd managed to procure two beers and a pizza using Argentine Pesos, here in Chile. Deep down I knew both were terrible, but in that moment there was nothing to stop them tasting so very right.
We started down the dirt track to Cochamo, and it was scorching hot. There wasn't a spot of shade and for the first time my legs couldn't move as fast as I wanted them to. Kevin was ahead, even though he was carrying a much greater load than me, and I could only just keep up.
In an ironic twist the only building of any consequence we passed for all the kilometres we walked down that track was a huge bee farm.As a few stragglers buzzed over to innocently investigate us my fists clenched and I breathed deep and drew on a newfound sense of inner calm to restrain myself from flipping and killing them.
We eventually found a small piece of shade with a stream and stopped to rest and drink. After one minute Daniel and Enrique pulled up in their four-wheel-drive and asked if we needed a lift. There was no shame in taking it - we were just on a road to a town. We'd crossed the Andes and even if we walked the last eight kilometres to Cochamo wouldn't have walked to the Pacific proper, as it has it's own large inlet.
When we got to Cochamo they asked us where we were going. We had no idea.
We knew nothing about this new country we'd walked into. We didn't even know where we could go, let alone where we wanted to go. And we didn't have any money.
They took us ninety kilometres north, to Ensenada, where we would apparently be a bit closer to civilisation. The drive was beautiful, and we passed huge salmon farms in Pacific inlets, giant volcanoes and massive lakes. There was a small drama when a downed tree blocked most of the road, so approaching Ensenada we stopped to tell the carabineros.
As Daniel came out of the station a bus was passing and he instinctively flagged it, knowing it went to Puerto Varas, a real town with cash machines and everything. He stuffed a few thousand Chilean pesos in our hands and wished us luck. Thanks Daniel.
We'd hitch-hiked over one hundred kilometres without putting our thumbs out, and the fist Chilean currency I touched was gifted to me. I had a good feeling about this country.
We finished the porridge, quince jam and coffee, leaving our total food at a spoonful of milk powder and some condiments. We got on the trail, and it was relatively easy-going, we could make good time which was a huge relief.
Soon enough we came across the campground marked on the map, which is a climbers destination due to the epic cliff faces surrounding it. I couldn't get over how many people there were. It was unreal, tents kept sprawling behind bushes and trees in every direction. It could have been a small festival.
The track became flooded and boggy, but had been boarded over so our pace stayed up as we hopped between the split logs towards the real world.
At some point we passed three friendly Chilenos who took an interest in Kev's camera. We stopped and chatted to them about our trip and asked what we could expect to find when we got to civilisation. They were a father and son called Enrique and Daniel, with a local guide (whose name I've forgotten) and are from the capital, Santiago.
In a few hours more it was the early afternoon and we came to the end of the trail. Nature had served us well, and i promised to be gentler on her in the future as a thank you.
It was over, but we were still around ten kilometres from the town Cochamo, there was a single track dirt road the rest of the way. We came across a bustling campsite though, and more importantly Kev cannily spotted a small sign on the farmhouse door reading:
"hay pizza"
Result. After a long and funny conversation with the campsite owner I'd managed to procure two beers and a pizza using Argentine Pesos, here in Chile. Deep down I knew both were terrible, but in that moment there was nothing to stop them tasting so very right.
We started down the dirt track to Cochamo, and it was scorching hot. There wasn't a spot of shade and for the first time my legs couldn't move as fast as I wanted them to. Kevin was ahead, even though he was carrying a much greater load than me, and I could only just keep up.
In an ironic twist the only building of any consequence we passed for all the kilometres we walked down that track was a huge bee farm.As a few stragglers buzzed over to innocently investigate us my fists clenched and I breathed deep and drew on a newfound sense of inner calm to restrain myself from flipping and killing them.
We eventually found a small piece of shade with a stream and stopped to rest and drink. After one minute Daniel and Enrique pulled up in their four-wheel-drive and asked if we needed a lift. There was no shame in taking it - we were just on a road to a town. We'd crossed the Andes and even if we walked the last eight kilometres to Cochamo wouldn't have walked to the Pacific proper, as it has it's own large inlet.
When we got to Cochamo they asked us where we were going. We had no idea.
We knew nothing about this new country we'd walked into. We didn't even know where we could go, let alone where we wanted to go. And we didn't have any money.
They took us ninety kilometres north, to Ensenada, where we would apparently be a bit closer to civilisation. The drive was beautiful, and we passed huge salmon farms in Pacific inlets, giant volcanoes and massive lakes. There was a small drama when a downed tree blocked most of the road, so approaching Ensenada we stopped to tell the carabineros.
As Daniel came out of the station a bus was passing and he instinctively flagged it, knowing it went to Puerto Varas, a real town with cash machines and everything. He stuffed a few thousand Chilean pesos in our hands and wished us luck. Thanks Daniel.
We'd hitch-hiked over one hundred kilometres without putting our thumbs out, and the fist Chilean currency I touched was gifted to me. I had a good feeling about this country.
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