Protein is free calories, right?

A passing comment before our steaks arrive at the table. It is our last night in Pucon, Chile and we find ourselves in a Uruguayan steak house. 

It has been an eventful week of fantastic skiing, long distance travel, mixed weather and a few setbacks.

Our week begins in sleepy Los Molles, where we arrive to blizzard conditions. 16, 10 and 27cm of snow has been forecast to fall over the next 3 days at Las Lenas resort which is further up the valley. In Los Molles, the poorer quarters for those who can't swallow the US300/night at the resort proper, the snow is already ankle deep. 

For two days we are cooped up in the lodge and the cabin fever sets in. On the third morning we are the first on the transfer bus to the ski field. Half a day in the cafeteria provides some new scenery and mild relief to the restlessness and after midday the snowfall has eased enough for us to venture out. The visibility is poor and makes learning a new field a challenge, but it's apparent that good things are in store for us if the weather clears.

In a past life these dogs did something awful

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The road travelled so far

Could have been Wellington, but it's the Andes

Hopeful signs for the next morning

And He delivers

The next two days are sunny and windless and unbelievably good skiing. Mintz, Inglis, Ormiston & Brett et al. I say no more.

Las Lenas resort, Argentina

Argentines prefer to ski the groomed slopes. For everyone else, there is this.

With our ski budget haemorrhaging, we say goodbye to Las Lenas and steel ourselves for the 16 hour overnight bus to Bariloche departing at midnight. When we wake up the view out the window is as below. Endless desert for a 500km stretch of road.

8 hours of this landscape wears thin

To curb the boredom, Carlos the bus conductor hands out number cards to all the passengers for a lively game of 'AndesMar Bingo', broadcast over the PA system in breakneck Spanish. A bottle of wine is on offer and we need sedation.

A Hollywood blockbuster will teach you to count in Spanish from 1 to 3. Two weeks in Chile and you're equipped to number your fingers, possibly even your toes. But from 21 onwards there's a murky quality to all the -s and -c sounds that makes everything that bit harder.

I take a conservative approach. I sacrifice every second number that Carlos calls to sound out the previous number. There is a flurry of assonance on a fuzzy overhead speaker. Sesenta y siete? or setente y seis?  Oh dear.

But there is little time to ponder this mystery and with just a few numbers on my card crossed off Nic is shouting bingo and scrambling past me to collect her prize.

The conductor was too kind to deny us the prize, despite our dubious numerical literacy 

At last we break out of the desert and into the beautiful lakes district around Bariloche

As we will have a week in Bariloche with my family in late September, we spent only two nights here this time around to check out the ash damage and sort out a few details for the return visit. The Puyehue volcano, which erupted in June this year, has blanketed most of the lake district in ash. This has had a big impact on the tourism industry as the local airports have been closed since the eruption and this is popular skiing hub in the winter. But while it feels like a dustbowl in town when the wind gets up, it doesn't detract much from the spectacular surrounds and busy town centre.

San Martin de Los Andes. Morning mist spoils the view back from the peninsula but well worth the hike.

We catch a bus from Bariloche to San Martin de los Andes (which is to Bariloche what Wanaka is to Queenstown) for two nights stopover en route to Pucon, Chile. This is another charming town and not as badly affected by the ash.

Passing back across the Andes into Chile the sight of Volcan Villarica (below) is bittersweet. The skies are clear for this photo, but the forecast for the following 5 days is for rain and high winds and none of the tour companies are trekking to the summit. This was something we'd really been looking forward to and we're disappointed by the news. 

The news gets worse when we get an email from the ferry operator in Patagonia telling us their ferry has broken down and our 4 day passage to the deep south has been cancelled.

Volcan Villarica from our lodge window. The Weather Gods deal us our first dud hand and we miss out on trekking to the summit.

We're forced to make a change to schedule and decide to cut our time in Pucon to only a few days. With considerable help from Hans (Travel agent in Pucon. German. Knew the timetable for every bus, boat and plane company in Patagonia by heart. Godsend) we now have an alternate route south. So with the stormy weather looming we make the most of the clear spell, rent mountain bikes for the day and head out towards Lake Carburgua.

Bombs over Carburgua. Standing several metres away, Nic also gets tarred by the same flying dinosaur. Biggest, loudest bird shit ever. A signal that our fortunes may be looking up. 

Los Pozones thermal pools provide much needed relief for bike bum

So to celebrate our triumph over adversity - it does't take much justification, to be fair - and our last night in Pucon, we splash out. Another huge and delicious, calorie-free meal. Thanks Chile.

A piece of meat with its own candlelit shadow. Note to the wedding tour party: get ready for steaks as big as your face.

El Autobus es Roja

Hola!

After our school sessions in Valparaiso we are now proficient Spanish readers, labouring speakers and confused listeners. 

Worryingly, in the three weeks since we retired, a four hour session of schooling each day has become a huge feat of mental stamina. What is a reflexive verb? Are prepositions and articles really necessary? Surely a simple verb-noun combo will suffice. And then I read this article which confirms my fears; holidays make you stupid. So now not only do we speak Spanish of a stilted 5 year old child, we can expect the rest of our faculties to gradually decline to match.

Valparaiso

Much admired apartment on our walk to school. Vina del Mar and the Andes in the haze behind.

Thankfully, our tutor Daniella was unimaginably patient and we have grasped quite a bit in a short period of time. We are definitely noticing improvements with every encounter.  Key learning: embarazado = pregnant, not embarrassed.

Dogs. Everywhere in this continent but handy for leading the way to Quintay.

Our afternoons after school were spent exploring Valparaiso and surrounding areas. On the advice of our hostel owner we made the short trip south to the fishing village of Quintay. The only other piece of advice he offered was a suggestion of a good lunch spot with the caveat that the meals were massive - one main to share, he said. 

We ignore this, of course, and when my plate of fish and chips arrive his words ring true. There is enough for a small South Auckland family on a Friday night. Nic's swordfish covers half the plate, drapes over the sides and if this isn't enough the chef, presumably mistaking us for Mr Creosote and co, has stacked an additional wedge on top. Rachel and Steve, who we met at the hostel and join us on our trip, make a similar blunder. 

We all take our seats on the bus home and fall into a glutton's slumber.

Quintay. A small fishing village South of Valparaiso.

Small fishing village, but giant fish

And she ate it all

Assimilation

The view from our hostel doorstep

The Chilean government is currently amidst a tense wrangle with university students all across the country. Every Thursday, students march up the main streets towards the government buildings of Santiago and Valparaiso. They are demanding more affordable and accessible tertiary education and for the last 3 months the government has refused to cave in. These protests have escalated to the point now that the police meet them armed with riot gear, armoured trucks and tear gas. 

All of which we were oblivious to. 

So after a particularly slothful and indulgent day (just one more) we decide to go for an evening run around the hills. We write off the initial sting in the eyes as dirty contacts and lingering smog. But quickly this becomes an eye-watering, nose burning, coughing attack. Tear gas has blown up the valley. The run ends before we've had a chance to burn off the calories of only the smallest mouthfuls of empanada. At the foot of the hill, students have lit a strip of fire across the road. Far too close for comfort, people are refilling their cars at the petrol station on a nearby corner. We decide that this must be the norm in developing countries and head home to the news that London is being torched.

While London burns, Chilean students stage their own riots. Banging pots and pans is a favourite.

A throwback from the 19th Century, ascensors are scattered across the hills in Valparaiso. A good investment for 100 pesos.  

 The pass across the Argentina/Chile border

And the Argentines are accused of trying to be Euro...

For everyone that said they wouldn't go the distance

An afternoon in the park. Mendoza winters are seemingly endless blue sky and warm temps.

Last Saturday we left Valparaiso and made our way across the border to Argentina for a brief stopover on the way to the ski fields of Las Lenas. With only two days to spend in Mendoza (rather than the week we had initially planned), we headed out to explore its famous vineyards by bike. The countryside is picturesque and cycling is the perfect way to hop between the vineyards. The weather played the part and we had a lovely afternoon eating, drinking and cycling. 

Mevi bodega, Mendoza 

An easy place to spend an afternoon

The return home. A new found confidence on the roads post-vineyard #4. 

That's all for the moment. Will report back from Las Lenas soon.

Thanks for all the emails and messages, it is great to hear news from home and abroad.

If anyone else would like to send grammar tips for the next episode please send to my email. My spam folder awaits.

La Primera Semana

From Valparaiso, Chile I sit writing this with a 2000 peso bottle of red wine, bread and cheese to help me along. 


We’ve had about a week in Chile now. Two days in Santiago, 4 nights in Farellones and now unexpectedly, the fourth night of what will be 8 days in Valparaiso. The snow that we happily watched fall on the ski fields, has also blocked our path to Mendoza where we were to start a Spanish course on Monday. Fortunately Valparaiso is a charming city and has a number of Spanish schools with spots available, so we have now settled here for the week. 

Santiago central plaza. Day 1, hour 1. A double amputee cleans shoes, while in the background crowds gather around a covered body (human).

Our short time in Santiago was very enjoyable. Having spent the flight from NZ reading each of the ‘dangers & annoyances’ chapters in 'South America on a Shoestring', my paranoia was eased by Gustavo, our local Santiago street guide. He extolled the virtues of the Carabineros - the Chilean Police Force - who he proudly described as only mildly corrupt. Mildly corrupt and moderately negligent (see above).

No locals nearby to assist with road crossing

Street art, Chilean style. A Llama rides unicycles replete in matching hat and jacket.

Nic in downton Santiago

When I feel despondent that my beard is patchy and sparse, I draw inspiration from this building

As we wandered the streets Gustavo paused briefly outside a cafe with blacked out windows and pink neon lights. He described how businessmen come to these coffee houses during the week for a ‘coffee with legs’. The waitresses, donned in miniskirts and bikinis, serve coffee while the Santiago suits close business deals. At an undisclosed time the manager rings a bell to indicate the ‘happy minute’ has begun. For 1 minute, the lucky patrons are then given a quick demo of what is presumably the waitress’ night job.

Snow cactus. Something to distract us from the appalling road and furious driving.

From Santiago, we caught a shuttle bus to the ski town of Farellones. The road to Farellones is best described as a neglected version of the Crown Range. Forty consecutive hairpin bends lift you 2000m above Santiago in the valley floor. And our driver, in the spirit of the Colin Sinclair school of driving, was not to be deterred by the condition of the road or the snow that had fallen overnight.

Refugio Los Andes, Farellones. Refuge from the bus.

Lodge Andes was our home for 4 days of skiing at lung-busting altitude in dry, soft snow. The preconditioning efforts in Australia, squandered by 2 weeks of eating and drinking in NZ, were sorely missed.

Arrival afternoon at Lodge Andes

We awake the next morning to this. It snows all day and we spend the day drinking and eating with Ingrid at the bar.

A foot of snow has fallen at El Colorado. Santiago stews in its juice below.

Nic swimming in snow. Behind, two perfectly formed snow boobs.

The lodge was inundated with Brazilians on their annual trip to the South American ski Mecca. In the evenings the Brazilian contingent would have animated conversations in quickfire Portuguese across the lounge. We would haplessly follow the theatrics to understand. On our last night, the discussion turned into an argument about which professions the world could do without. We listened up. Fisioterapeuta, dermatologista, analista de crédito - all were dismissed. I ask whether engineers were required in the New World. Sim, sim, essencial, necessario. And pharmacists? Daniel, the instigator of it all, pauses. In his best English he replies - I can think of only one or two I'd keep.

Hitch-hiking to Valle Nevado, in the valley next to Farellones. While Nic travels in the comfort of the cab nestled between two strapping Brazilian ski types,  I crouch awkwardly amongst skis, boots and poles in the tray. 

On our final afternoon at Valle Nevado I save my best for last on a watershed day of crashes for both of us. I eject from both skis into a forward somersault, half twist, face plant. With one ski located I search for its pair but other than a body sized crater, the snow is unbroken. Nic offers useful advice from further below. After excavating a small swimming pool sized area of snow, Nic arrives on the scene having skied to the base lift, rode it to the summit and traversed back to the boundary of the resort. She immediately stands on the missing ski. We leave as the shadows set in.

With all skis attached we head back to Farellones via El Colorado. Smiles, but we are exhausted! View from above the summit of El Colorado, roughly 3600m.

Alpine high-wire course

Sun sets behind the Andes

More to come soon from Valpo!