22 - Trisha vs. The Volcano (Villarrica)

Villarrica, CHILE - 25 january 2003

This morning, the sky was still cloudy but everything cleared up by noon. I could see the bottom flattish cone shape of the volcano but the top bit was still immersed in clouds.

I spent this very beautiful summer day, walking around the town, sitting in parks and reading. Finally, ladies here were showing off their figures, whether they should or not, in skimpy, sexy summer tops. Like, NOW I own a scarf?

From the park, I kept an eye out for the top of the volcano and when it peered from the clouds, I headed to the beach to sit by there and enjoy the view. Volcán Villarrica is one of the active volcanoes in Chile. It last erupted in 1984. The crater was smoking away sinisterly. Tomorrow, I would try and climb it.

Well, to me, food in Chile was rather expensive. I could be Empanada Girl (empanada is meat, veggie or cheese pastry) or I could cook occasionally.

That evening as I prepared dinner, an inquisitive Argentinian middle-aged lady hovered around the kitchen, seemingly spying on me. Finally, she confessed to trying to learn the finer tips of Chinese cooking from me.

Who?? Me?? Er… before this trip, I DID NOT DO kitchen. I grabbed Coca-Cola from the fridge, I reached for a fruit but I DID NOT DO kitchen.

She then asked me the name of the dish. What?? This t-h-i-n-g?? It’s called go-to-supermercado-buy-some-veggies-n-sausage-stir-fry-n-pray. I had no soy sauce, no pepper, no sesame oil, no sweet and sour sauce, no chili paste, no corn-starch, no oyster sauce, no curry powder, no BBQ sauce, no salt even… NOTHING. This must be the most bastardized Chinese cooking in the entire world.

She pressed on, asking if I had added salt to my rice. No, rice is eaten plain. She started to frown slightly. Not even a LITTLE salt? I think she suspected that I was not being honest with her and that I was trying to keep the finer tips of Chinese cooking from her.


Villarrica, CHILE - 26 january 2003

Today, Volcán Villarrica. It was perfect weather this morning when my travel agency picked me up at 6:30am. The view of pink clouds and orange sky as the sun rose behind the volcano was gorgeous.

Our group was driven to Pucon, a more touristy town nearer to the volcano, and spent some time trying out the jackets and pants. We would be issued water-proof boots if we wanted.

My boots had sprung two leaks so far on this trip. The leather had long withered away. Please last another three months to the end of my trip and then, they would turn eight years old, which in HUMAN years would be… eight years old, and I would write them off. They were so not water-proof and hence, I changed into these chunky ones that the company issued. They were really tough and inflexible. They seriously wanted to protect our ankles. I could hardly walk in them when heading down steps.

At around 9am, we arrived at the base of the volcano. The sky still looked gorgeous. We had congratulated ourselves about our good fortune with the weather but the guides informed us the weather was going to turn bad soon. There was a forecast of rain and clouds. Gosh, we would never have guessed.

Juan, one of the guides, explained that we would take the chairlift higher up and then, take about 3 to 4 hours to climb up to the crater. As this was a tourist group, we would go slow and stop every 30 or 45 minutes to drink some water, eat energy bars, apply sun-screen, take photos.

However, the first guide leading the way, Claudio, was marching up at an incredible speed and very soon, the group was split into two. I was at the end of the first group. We zigzagged up the snow without rest. He explained to us that because of the coming foul weather, he would prefer to walk really fast. We would stop after 1 hour of hiking at a lava section, rest for 10 minutes and then, head off again. At this speed, he explained, we could summit in 2 hours. 2 hours??? Back in town, my hostel lady had said 5 hours. Then, Juan said 3 to 4 hours and now, Claudio expected us to get there in 2 hours. Those who were slow, he said, should drop back and join Juan’s group.

At the first stop after 1 hour of climbing, we paused for a while to enjoy the view of being above the clouds. The view was incredible. We could see a few lakes from up there and right opposite us, another volcano. Some tourists joked that we would climb the other one in the afternoon.

I barely had time for two squares of my chocolate bar before Claudio commanded, “¡Vamos! [Let’s go!]”. I waited for the rest of the ‘fast’ group to go ahead before walking behind them. Soon, the ‘fast’ group was also split into two. The rest were way up there but there were four stragglers. One German middle-aged guy, Uli, told me he would stay with me. He explained, “Rule #1 in Mountaineering: Never walk alone.”

Well, I could cope at Uli’s pace as he was very kind to walk moderately and stop occasionally to wait for me. I was not so much winded from the climb. I was just nervous about the snow, afraid of the wind and physically very tired. We pressed on.

Unlike glacier which was compacted snow, normal snow could give way under your weight. And with all the chunkiness on me, I sometimes could not get the momentum to climb up the next steeper step. A few times, I slipped.

I was very inexperienced with snow. I had seen snow, of course, a few times… and I had stepped on and off snow twice or so but seriously walking up a snowy slope - first time. Yeah, I had been really deprived, hadn’t I? Just my luck to be born and raised in a tropical, sun-drenched island paradise.

Soon, we overtook the other two stragglers - a Dutch guy and a Swiss girl. At least they were still walking together. See Rule #1 in Mountaineering. It got very cold and windy. The wind was not the sudden gusts of surprises like in Torres del Paine. It was consistent, relentless, and freezing cold.

I fought against the icy wind and coped with the slippery, unsteady snow as best as I could. We were soon surrounded by clouds. Everything was white. I looked up and we had totally lost sight of the ‘fast’ group. Many times, I was not even sure which was the trail. There was a sense of panic rising within me.

My hands had turned black. I had no idea what the first symptons of frostbite were and I did not wish to find out. It was only when we arrived at some exposed lava that I felt safe enough to stand on it (for, unlike snow, it would not give way easily), set my backpack down and frantically hunt for my gloves.

Another tour group was right behind us and the tour guide of that group told us it was 15 minutes to the crater. This was excellent news! But, down below, Uli saw the Dutch guy and Swiss girl turn back. The slower group with Juan had also U-turned. Another tour group which we had passed by earlier had long disappeared from sight. It was very unnerving to stand unsteadily on a snowy slope, being whipped around by the harsh wind, unsure if you could make it up to the top safely and yet, see little dots of people heading back. And when you looked up, you could see nothing ahead for everything WAS white.

We trailed behind the guide of this group for security and cleared the rest of the steep slope slowly until we detected the smell of sulphur. Officially, I was the LAST person of that day to arrive at the crater. Gosh, we departed from sea-level at around 8+am and reached 2800+m now!

A Scottish lady told us that yesterday’s group had reached the crater at 1:15pm. Our group arrived at 11:10am. It had been a very punishing hike for us all. But the weather yesterday had been great.

Surrounded by clouds, we could see nothing. The crater looked a little smokey but it could just be the moving clouds. I hugged Uli. He was my angel. Without him, I would not have made it. It was rather dangerous for the group to split up with no person officially taking on the ‘last man’ role. Uli, with his experience in mountaineering, had installed himself as so for my sake.

After ONE empanada, Claudio commanded, “¡Vamos!” again. If I did not eat, how was I to get energy? I guessed he had to hurry for fear of the safety of the group. The weather was really terrible now. He was now alone with us. Mónica, the third guide, had long turned back with Uli’s wife before the first hour of climbing. Juan was with the second group. He made an English guy the last man this time, and then he said the slowest one would go first. That sounded like me. I was making my way forward when he called out, “Singapore! Where are you? Come!”

I was a disaster at going down. Was it just me? Say, if you need to take a step down, the other leg would need to bend at the knee but in such a way that the shin is slightly forward, at an angle to the foot, right? But I could not get my shin forward at an angle because the chunky boots were tough. I also needed to slam with my heels down first. But, to me, the steps were too low for me to reach it with my heels down first without falling over. I just could not balance myself nor walk down. I was a complete disaster!

My left knee, busted in Torres del Paine, returned to haunt me. My right knee simply froze up. At one point, I slipped down the slope quite a distance. Ice-axe or not, I had no idea how to use it to stop the sliding. Claudio had to come rescue me.

We arrived at one point and Claudio said, “OK, everyone hold the ice-axe this way and slide down the slope! GO!!” We took turns and slid down. We alternated between sliding and walking. During the walking bit, I was literally dragged down the slope by Claudio.

Sliding down was really an incredible experience. Sometimes, it was steep, we flew down effortlessly but barely able to keep in line. The wall next to us at some sections were rather high. Other times, it was not very steep and with the accumulated snow in front of our butts, we could not slide further. Momentum, if my Physics did not fail me, required mass multiplied by speed or something. With a smallish mass, I did not have the momentum to slide down some slope and needed a boost from behind. At one point, the Scottish lady attached herself behind me and together, we flew down at an amazing speed. I had no idea which was the sky, which was the snow.

Claudio was standing at the distance and he yelled, “STOP!!”. The Scottish lady skewed to the left. I skidded to the right, only to land mere inches from a STEEP snow cliff! A Danish guy totally flew off the cliff and tumbled about 2 metres down!

My goodness… it was really scary. Finally, at long last, we made it to the chairlift. Another Danish guy, this one with Juan’s group, was being strapped up there. He had twisted his ankle while trying to slow down at one of the slopes. He had used his ankle against the wall of the snow. Nope, guess that was not the way.

We all lived to tell. I, barely. But all of us agreed, it was an extremely amazing experience, albeit a little dangerous too.


Villarrica, CHILE - 27 january 2003

My ninth month anniversary today. Battered, busted and bruised from nine months of travelling and especially from yesterday’s tortuous climb, what should I treat myself to today? A thermal, relaxing pool in this volcanic region of Chile sounded like a splendid idea.

The problem was the thermal pools were all out of the way, a huge distance from the main highways and hidden amidst the woods. One needed one’s own transportation. In the end, the only option open to me was to take a bus to Pucon, another bus towards Curarrehue, hop off at Catripulli and walk 2 km to Termas San Luis.

Normally, I would not really recommend Termas San Luis for it was a like a luxurious resort and the pools were those proper swimming pool-sort. I would have preferred to bathe in a natural pool. But I had no choice.

I got my money’s worth by submerging as long as possible in the warm mineral waters. They promised something about rejuvenation of muscles and eternal youth, didn’t they? Sulphates, chlorides, nitrates, magnesium… HEAL.

Soon, I got to chatting with two Chilean families, one from Viña del Mar and the other from Valdivia, who were very curious about me and were delighted that I spoke some Spanish. They made many inquiries… and no, I do not know kung fu.

The pool was rather small. At one point, I noticed that half the people at the swimming pool were chuckling and nodding away at the same time as these two families and realised nearly everyone was listening in. Sheesh…

The Viña del Mar family gave me their contact just in case I decided to hop by Viña del Mar. The Valdivia family offered to give me a lift back to Pucon. Even standing at the gate, waiting for the Valdivia family to be ready, a few fellow pool-sharers came up to me to wish me all the best for the rest of my trip! Chileans were really sweet.


Lican Ray, Villarrica to Santiago, CHILE - 28 january 2003

I decided to spend the day at a town south of Villarrica, Lican Ray. This town, although lacking a volcano view in front, had a great black sand beach, in front of Lago Calafquen.

I had just sat down for 2 minutes before spotting the Viña del Mar family amongst the hundreds of Chilean bathers at the beach. What a coincidence!

They were granny Adriana, daddy Enríque, wife Fabiola, daughter Katya, son Sebastian and sister of Enríque, Jessica. They were fantastic. Tremendously friendly and kind.

They struggled with my name ‘Trisha’, for in Spanish, except for ‘h’ behind ‘c’ which forms a separate alphabet ‘ch’, ‘h’ is always silent. They twisted and tripped their tongues over it. But they had no problems with my Chinese name ‘Wei Xin’, and they pronounced merrily with the right intonation too.

They kept encouraging me to go to Viña del Mar and that they would put me up at their house. OK, as I was going to Santiago tonight to settle some business, I would indeed make the detour to Viña del Mar for a visit. Gosh, everyone had been great to me.