22 - Trisha vs. The Volcano (Chiloe Island)

Castro (Chiloé Island), CHILE - 21 january 2003

Chiloé is an island off Puerto Montt, 50 km by 200 km, with a distinct culture compared to the rest of Chile. It has undulating green hills, peppered with sheep and cattle and it rains and rains.

The unique thing about Chiloé are the many churches made of wood. In fact, the entire island is dotted with colourful wooden houses. The walls of the houses have what I called ‘fish-scales’ designs as pieces of wood are laid side by side across the wall and then, another section on top would overlap the bottom section a little… like ‘fish-scales’. The traditional industry on this island is, naturally, fishing.

Very charming are the palofitos, which are wooden houses on stilts built along the banks of rivers.

And the locals here are superbly friendly. Just a few steps from the hospedaje (some locals offer accommodations in their houses) where I was staying, I was already bouncing ‘holas’ [hello] with nearly everyone I passed. I seemed a somewhat curious sight for many did double-takes when they spotted me and then, huge smiles emerged.

One comes to Chiloé Island to relax, soak in the charm, admire the wooden churches and houses, walk around doing nothing, enjoy the seafood. I call this place a hibernating spot.

I bought a scarf. Why did she buy a scarf now that she had left Patagonia and was heading to the northern desert? Well, it WAS a very pretty scarf.


Parque Nacional Chiloé (Chiloé Island), CHILE - 22 january 2003

Castro is on the east side of the island, facing the sheltered channels. I crossed to the west side of Chiloé to Cucao to visit the Parque Nacional Chiloé. There was a path that led one to the beach.

I made my way there, climbed up a sand-dune and my pulse quickened as I anticipated the sight I would see. Yes, my first proper sighting of the Pacific Ocean on this trip. It looked magnificent. It had seven or eight layers of foamy waves crashing towards the empty beach. In the distance on one side, the rocky headlands looked misty and mysterious. On the other side of the beach, I could barely make out what it was for the beach seemed to stretch forever.

Well, I had indeed hauled myself across the world to see this side of the Pacific Ocean. In a way, the Pacific Ocean, although still a third of the world away, seriously meant I was on my way home. This was the last hurdle to cross to get home and complete my year of travelling. Frankly, I did not want to cross it.

I sat on a log at the beach, ate my lunch, observed the oyster-catchers, seagulls and other birds and pondered for a long time.

The next path took me to the interesting forest of the national park - the Tepaul. Because of the humidity here, the forest was absolutely impenetrable. Tree trunks were covered in ferns. Fallen trees criss-crossed the entire forest. The soil was entirely grown with moss. Gosh, all national parks are different.

One really could not say, “Oh, I have been to this one. There is no need to go to the other one.” No, they are all different. Of course, one could not visit ALL the national parks. I just appreciated each and every of them for its own characteristics.


Dalcahue (Chiloe Island), CHILE - 23 january 2003

I made my way to another charming little town nearby, Dalcahue. It was a smaller town than Castro and had more of the colourful wooden houses and fishing boats. Facing the town on an island off Dalcahue was another town, Achao, which I was recommended to visit.

I took a bus out there but apparently got off at the wrong town for later, when I returned, I saw a sign that read ‘Dalcahue’ with an arrow to the left and ‘Achao’ with an arrow to the right. Ooops.

Still, Achao or not, it was fine by me. It also had a simple, tranquil charm. And it was smelly too, for it had a fishing industry as well. I saw bales and bales of fishing nets laid out by the beach. There were scores of black-necked swans bobbing on the sea too. What a pleasant surprise. I last saw them in the ecological reserve in Buenos Aires. They looked really regal.

Then, I spotted a sign ‘OSTRAS’ (Oysters). Back home, oysters are so-called ‘luxury’ food items and here, they were rather cheap. Each was the size of half my palm. I happily gobbled up two.


Castro (Chiloé Island) to Villarrica, CHILE - 24 january 2003

The Chile-Argentina Spanish guide-book I bought had been terrible. I only used it now and then to improve my vocabulary. I was told restaurants that had been closed for SIX years still appeared in the guide-book.

So, without consulting it anymore (it would not have advised me anyway), I was under the misguided notion that Villarrica which I was heading next was merely 2 hours or so from Puerto Montt which was 4 hours from Castro. Nononono… It was a whooping 12 hours away from Castro. If I had known, I would have taken the night bus.

Hence, I spent the entire day on the bus to Temuco, 10 hours away, before changing to another bus to Villarrica. I also now learnt that Chilean buses did not stop for lunch.

Upon arrival, although still unfed since morning, I was excited to see Volcán Villarrica. I headed out to Lago Villarrica. The entire sky was cloudy. I asked a local where the volcano was and he pointed to the clouds. Right.