We heard of the possibility of continuing north from Fitz Roy on a
foot trail and crossing the Argentina / Chile border through
wilderness. The concept, filled with romanticized adventure, drew us
in.
The way had three stages: a van could take us north 37 km on a farm
road that dead-ends at the southern end of Lago Desierto. We'd hike
45 km up the length of the lake and through a mountain valley to
Candelaria Mancillo, where a once-a-week boat stopped at its port
before cruising three more hours to Villa O'Higgins, the southernmost
point of Chile's incredible Carretera Asustral (Southern Highway).
The trick was getting to that boat on time, because it waits for no
one, but we'd have to wait a week for it if we missed it. Everything
had to go according to schedule to make it work, because the boat
would pass in two days, and we had a solid two days walking ahead to
get there.
So, after a good night's sleep in El Chalten we hop in the van that
would drive us as far as the road went. Raoul, our driver kept
staring out at the side view mirror. Several times along the way, he
stopped, walked to the rear wheel, examined it before hopping back in
and driving on, saying nothing. Until one time when on his return
from his mysterious stops, he announced that the van was broken and we
could not continue.
He said that at a farm ahead, he thought that there was a radio where
he could call back to town for help. But even the most optimistic
rescue schedule wouldn't give us enough daylight hours to hike the
required day's distance to catch the boat the next day. Our optimism
sank as we realized we'd have to turn around and forsake this route.
Then, as if sensing the importance to us, he and his front-seat
mate-sipping cohort Andre crawled under the van and seemingly futilely
started banging a rock against the wheel. We overheard one say to the
other: "un más grande!", before such a bigger rock was produced, and
the hitting transitioned to heavy duty smashing. Then, quiet. As he
slid back out, he said ok, let's go! Apparently a rock had lodged
itself in the brakes and the friction had heated the wheel to the
point he thought it would explode. He knocked it out and all was
well.
A rush of hope and expectations filled us as we started off again.
Maybe this would be our way after all!
The hike was generally as magnificent as others, but with its own
special flavor. At one point, the deep, hum-free silence was broken
by an attention-snapping thunderous slap followed by a earth shaking
deep rumble as our eyes scanned for what we knew was a huge chunk of
ice breaking off the mountaintop. Across the valley and high up, we
saw it smashing to pieces as it crashed down the mountain, instigating
the spectacular sight of the slow creep of an advancing avalanche.
For several minutes we stood in awe of the immense spectacle we knew
we were the only human witnesses to.
After the first four and a quarter hours we'd covered the fourteen
kilometers of tough terrain that was sometimes more like climbing a
cliff, pulling ourselves upwards in grunting motions one foothold at a
time, arriving at the northern point of the lake. There, an
Argentinian military outpost, whose young soldiers serve isolated
one-month rotations before swapping with fresh-smelling replacements,
we had our passports stamped for the country exit.
The actual border lay another two hour hike on foot and horse trail
north, where we set camp. The border, where the trail widens
momentarily to host a sign "Bienvenido a Argentina" sitting a few
meters before another "Bienvenido a Chile". Nothing more. Nobody and
nothing but trails leading in both directions from the signs.
Standing there, the absurdity of borders was underscored: imaginary
lines drawn on maps across unbroken, undifferentiated land. I hope
for the day when the concept is taught in the history classes of
people who think of themselves as citizens of the world.
Why do we try so hard to find the few differences that one human
community has from another and cling to these, instead of recognizing
the overwhelming similarities? Dreaming of exotic far-away places, I
always expected to find these to be utterly different than life I've
known. But the more of the world I've seen, the more I see that while
we tend to notice the differences, they are few compared with the
similarities.
Over the two days of hiking, we saw nobody else other than the
military post the first afternoon until we arrived at Candelaria
Mancillo. You'd likely think, as we did, that the point this point on
the map was a town. Well, when we got there, all there was were two
little houses with a fence around them. A fence! We'd walked for two
days and saw absolutely nobody. Why the need for a fence here?
Hesitatingly, I open the gate, unsure of whether we'd be welcomed or
shot. There, we find a rugged-looking older man and woman, all
smiles. Surprised by our presence and curious about how we got there,
we are warmly welcomed.
We ask if we could lunch with them. Of course! They were just about
to sit down, instead they added a little more water to the casuelo
vacuno (ossobuco soup) with noodles and drew a couple more stools
around their rustic kitchen table.
It turns out that Candelario Mancillo is their grandfather's name, the
first and only to settle here. His decedents, all 3 of them now make
up the "town". They run cattle on the land and get all of their money
and most of their food from them. The boat that passes once a week
supplies them with what they can't, namely sugar, oil, matches and
flour...
While they have no telephone, a turbine spun by the nearby stream
supplies enough electricity to charge a battery to operate their
two-way radio and a few light bulbs at night. That radio is their
lifeline to civilization.
Twice a day, the nearby town of Villa O'Higgins has someone who radios
all the estancias in the region to see if they're ok. If there's no
answer for three days, they send someone to get the body. There's no
road to here. Just the boat once a week. They are completely off the
map. Except they're on it!
We exchange stories, and I try to understand what would motivate
people to live this far away from everything. The answer? The view
across the lake is beautiful. There you have it.
The boat arrived precisely on time and took us to Villa O'Higgins,
uneventfully. The small town of 300 just got electricity and phone
service a few years ago when the road was extended here.
We stayed in some enterprising guy's house, in bedrooms converted by
bunk beds into dorms, and took him up on his offer to drive us six
hours north to Cochrane. We hadn't planned this too well... We were
out of pesos, and there wasn't a bank for hundreds of kilometers.
Cochrane, a town of 3000 was rumored to have a bank.
We drove north on the Carretera Austral, Chile's major highway. As
the hours of scenery passed, we kept expecting to find signs of
development. A roadside restaurant, a gas station, a hut, something.
But, as we learned, this far south, major highway means a dirt road,
precarious looking wooden bridges and road that sometimes dead-ends at
a dock served by a twice a day ferry. There are no buildings of any
kind.
In Cochrane, we were let off in front of the bank. Closed Sunday, we
try the ATM. It doesn't produce cash. Our driver has just driven
off, and we now stand peso-less in a new town. We think of running
after him and seeing if he can take us another eight hours north to
the next town, Coyhaique. With 20,000 people, surely cash would be
available.
Thankfully, a second bank card operating on the MasterCard / Maestro
network (our usual bank is Visa / Cirrus) that we carry for just such
an occasion extracts the magic from the machine.
We look at a hospedaje, a small family hotel, but it's gross. Really.
The toilet had a floating poop in it. So we find a willing homeowner
and set up our tent in their back yard. It's amazing how our own tent
is more luxurious than the available accommodations here.
Like most of our experiences in Patagonia, these ones underscore the
remoteness of the land. Beautifully raw. Just how we like it. Thank
you.
The photos from this post are also
on flickr in case you want to
see it as a slideshow
