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Wednesday 14 January 2004
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With a long walk to follow two long bus rides we rose at 6.00 to catch the 7.15 bus to Castro on the Ilsa de Chiloe. Drove along a straight Route 5 with the driver waving acknowledgements to other bus drivers as we went. After an hour we reached Pargua for our crossing on a flat bottomed roll-on roll-off ferry, a journey of about 40 minutes. While standing on deck a flock of around 30 pelicans in 'V' formation flew over. Many other sea birds flitted about around the sides.
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Rolled off the other side to continue driving down through rolling wooded hills on a road flanked by yellow broom in full flower, with an occasional dark red fuchsia. Wooden houses with shingle or planked exteriors were dotted about. Reminiscent of England 50 years ago, aluminium milk churns stood at the ends of farm tracks waiting to be collected.
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Passed through the town of Ancud and then hit major road works with a couple of long sections of one way. Signs apologised for the delays but assured drivers that it was a contribution to a better future. 25 minutes late we pulled in to Castro, passed houses around the estuary, built on stilts, though those in town were of the usual design for the area. The bus out to Cucao, to the National Park, didn't leave from the same bus station, but from the municipal one two blocks further along the street. We quickly located it and with time on our hand popped into a baker for a snack for lunch. Bought what looked like an apple strudel but which turned out to be a heavy potato cake with a few bits of meat in it. The fruit slice with a crumble top was as we expected.
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Joined the locals on the 12.30 bus to sit on hard seats as we travelled out to Cucao After passing through Chonchi we left the metal road and continued on over gravel around the south side of Lago Huillinco to arrive just after 2pm.
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Paid our park entrance fee and set off along a path that turned out to be wrong and so returned to ask directions which turned out to be the gravel road rather than the broad sandy path described in the book.
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Passed a few scattered houses until we reached a wooden bridge over the Rio Puchanquin, a new metal bridge was in the process of being constructed to the side of it. The track became covered in compacted pebbles and then sand as it made its way alongside the dunes through plants that had the appearance of giant rhubarb but with dry course leaves.
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Rounded a headland to reach a lagoon which we skirted on the landward side. The book said that at that point we should climb up the hillside, but as we couldn't find a path we negotiated our way over onto the dunes and followed the coast until at 5pm we reached a bridge over the Deqal, as instructed. Continuing to follow a coastal path churned up by hooves we at last reached a small hamlet. From here on the instructions failed to make much sense as we followed a well trodden path over a small headland to return to the beach, failing to find a promised football field. So we continued along the shore only to meet a wide river, fortunately there was a small ferry which for 300 pasoes each a local lad took us across and directed us on the correct path to Rio Cole Cole. After passing a football field we started to climb up and over the headland on a steep deeply cut path to emerge at last onto a shelf above the beach at Caleta Quiutil. Located a path down to the beach and walked along looking for the well hidden refugio until at 7.30 we spotted the warden sitting on the beach in front of us. He directed us to beautiful level camping spot on grass at the edge of the sand. We settled ourselves in, ate a meal and watched sun go down over the sea.
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Awoke at 8.00 with the sun shining on the beach but still not high enough to reach our tent which was shaded by bushes. Ate breakfast standing in a patch of sun, with a strong but warm breeze blowing, trying to make up our minds as to whether the tide was coming in or going out. Along the beach a seagull had landed a fish only to have it taken away by two birds of pry who in their turn had it stolen by two larger birds of pry.
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At 9.50 we set off to walk the track to Rio Anay, first crossing a rickety bridge over the Cole Cole and entering into the dark woods on a narrow overgrown path. The way followed a stream which we regularly criss-crossed, first on bridges constructed of poles but as we progressed and the stream became narrower we would have to cross on fallen logs. Except for a short section the path only rose and fell gently with a few major obstacles, where we had to climb under, over, round and through trees. The going was quite easy with logs placed across the path to fill in some boggy sections, others we had to work around.
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At 11.15 the stream we had been following up hill disappeared and a new down hill stream took its place. Through the forest we could hear the calls of birds that we were not familiar with. At 11.50 we reached the Rio Anay but no amount of exploring allowed us to find a route through the undergrowth or beside the river to the refugio. To add to our difficulties the horse flies came out to greet us and so we turned around at midday and headed back into the forest. After 15 minutes we has out-run the flies and so stopped for lunch but within 5 minutes they found us again so we quickly finished and continued back to camp on the same route arriving at 2pm.
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Spent the next hour cleaning the mud off our boots where we had unfortunately stepped into mud deeper than we had thought and picking out grass seeds that had clung to our socks.
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We had thought that our bay was just our own private idyll, but during the course of the afternoon at least a dozen others joined us to share the view.
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When we had retired at 9.30 the previous night the sun was setting in a clear blue sky, but by 3am clouds had come over and a light drizzle was falling. This in turn had activated something on the ground in to producing a phosphorescent glow.
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When we got up at 8am it was still cloudy but the drizzle had stopped.
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Slowly we had breakfast, dried out the tent and packed away. At 10.25 we started our return journey along the same route as we came out on, but this time we had the hard work of a steady climb up to 180m, first off. Early on the sun broke through the clouds but later the sky became more threatening as time went on. When we reached the ferry we decided to explore the path up stream, rather than crossing, to see if it would bring us out at the village. But after 20 minutes of climbing, with the path going in the expected direction we came to a house and a dead end, so we had to turn back, though we were rewarded with the sight of a ringed kingfisher. Returned and crossed over the ferry and then followed the shore path to reach the bridge over the Deqal, just before which we stopped for lunch. On the way up we had noticed that a number of people were walking the shore line and an occasional vehicle would drive along the beach, and so we decided to stick with the coast as long as possible, walking on the hard compact sand just below the high tide mark. A strong cooling breeze blew into our back. We had expected to have to wade over the outlet of the lagoon to the sea, but we never found it, it didn't appear to have an outlet. And even when we reached the Rio Puchanquin it didn't reach the sea so we could have completed our walk back to the park entrance on the sea shore, if we had wished. However, at the Rio Puchanquin we turned inland to cross its bridge and followed the gravel road back, stopping off at a small cafi on the way for a drink and an empanada.
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At 3.45 we reached the park and after chatting as best we could in Spanish to the administrator, we booked in for a nights camping. Just in time, before it started to drizzle, we erected our tent and clambered inside. As it drizzled on and off, for the rest of the evening, except for creeping out between showers to cook our dinner, we stayed cooped up in the tent finishing off our books.
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During the night it had rained heavily, but had stopped by the time we got up at 6am, though it meant packing up a wet tent. A swift breakfast and packing before walking to the park entrance for the 7.30 local bus.
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By the time we had driven through Cucao, picking up people every 100m or so, we had around 3 dozen backpackers plus rucksacks, a couple of dozen locals, and a dog! Standing in the aisle was two abreast, side ways on, in places. On the roof was a bale of kelp. Even with the squeeze, the driver had to leave at least 4 people standing by the road. On the up hill stretches he had to get down into first gear and even then, at one point, he had to reverse up and take a second run at a slightly steeper hill. However, we still arrived only 10 minutes late at 9.40 and walked up the two blocks to the Cruz del Sur bus station and booked ourselves onto the 11am bus to Puerto Montt. While waiting we dropped into a cafi for a drink and something to eat. We also bought cheese and ham rolls at a pasteleria, for later. At 11am on the dot we pulled out for our return journey to Puerto Montt, arriving 4 hours later.
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