fruitier

Frutillar (or more specifically Baja Frutillar) looks like a transplanted Bavarian town. In the same way that Mae Hong Son in Thailand is known as little Switzerland or Aspen has chalets. Except Frutillar was settled by German immigrants in the 19th century.

Its name means Strawberry in Chilean Spanish ("fresa" means strawberry in Mexican Spanish).

Frutillar is a well-heeled tourist town. Its famous landmark is the Muelle Fruitillar, a wooden pier that juts out into Lago Llanquihue (Yankee Lake! I belong.), Chile's largest.

 It was a rainy day, but people were out playing beach volleyball and traipsing through town in search of artisanal chocolate.

From the pier, you get a first glimpse of the Teatro del Lago, a new musical performance space.

It wasn't open but I went over to admire the woodwork.

The town draws a cultured crowd, like a Chilean Ashland or Chautauqua.

Lots of elves too, for Christmas.

Doesn't it make you miss the alps?

For good measure, Frutillar has currant bushes too. And delicious kuchen. But as far as I could tell, no strawberries.

Hamilton!

No one in Chile or France has heard of "Hamilton, the Musical" yet, at least not the people I had breakfast with. Here at Hamilton's Place, Hamilton is a friendly boy who loves his trampoline and playing soccer with the dog.

I set off for nearby Saltos de Petrohue. The waterfalls and Osorno volcano are part of a gorgeous national park.

Turquoise water rushing through lava rocks. Pretty impressive.

They've constructed a series of bridges so you don't fall in. 

(They're full of tour groups taking selfies.)

Afterward I walked over to the dancing trees in the Area of Contemplation. Shhh!

The trail extended down the river, with lush greenery. Back in New Zealand?

The road continues south east toward the Argentine border. This are the flood plains of the estero.

Waterfalls everywhere.

And the view, and a delicious fish lunch at La Ollita in Cochamó, at the end of a long, winding gravel road. 

Always take the unpaved road. It makes all the difference.


***
At breakfast, Hamilton showed me terrifying photos of the eruption of Calbuco volcano nearly 2 years ago while his dad described grabbing the family and jumping in the car. Hard to imagine on such a placid day.

under the volcano

What a difference a day makes!

Yesterday I bid goodbye to the best hotel room in the world, including the goofy waiter who confessed on the first night that he was falling in love with someone and later asked me to make him a list of my favorite films because he wants to be a filmmaker. He had never heard of ex-pat Chilean Patricio Guzman, director of Battle for Chile about Allende and Pinochet, and of my beloved Nostalgia for the Light about research astronomers and mothers of the disappeared who meet in the Atacama desert.

Today I flew north to 42º to the northern part of Patagonia, the Lake District.

The weather is warm and sunny here. The plants are subtropical. You can tell summer is right around the corner.

The architecture in Puerto Varas is like a Bavarian village. No, really. Germans have been settling here for over 100 years. As you drive along the lakeshore, there are signs for strudel and kuchen.

I ate dinner in this lovely restaurant housed in a giant chalet with the unlikely name of Bonbon Oriental. I was expecting Chinese seafood. A boy of about 8 opened the gate and seated me, handing me a menu. To my surprise, I had a delicious salmon with tender locos (abalone) and the sweetest, juiciest tomatoes. I was the only guest.

 It seemed like every family was out at the lake tonight.

I'm staying in Ensenada, a name that evokes my first road trip to Baja with Missy and Joyce and Cousin Laurel in my tiny red car. Or Aunt Ruthie's condo at Aventura where she lived at Ensenada 2.
The valley is full of volcanoes, some active quite recently. There are scary warning signs everywhere, though not as scary as the tsunami signs.

Volcanoes are everywhere. This makes me happy.

And here's the view from my room: a perfect snow-capped Osorno volcano. Eat your heart out, Fuji-yama.

I was sad to leave behind new friends from Poland and Argentine and Australia and Los Angeles (Chile), drinking Carmeniere and eating tender marinated pulpo (sorry, Susan). But they promised me that drinking a Calafate sour means I'll be back.

lady of the lake

The only disadvantage of my prime location in Lago Pehoe is the lack of public shuttles. Most of the people who stop here are either with a tour or have their own rental car. 

So I set out for a walk on the road, with vague ideas of making it back to Pudeto and catching the catamaran to Glacier Grey.

It quickly started to rain, but not before I saw this lovely shrine to Lourdes. Should I drink a cup and see if I'm cured?

 
The granite is awesome too. This is the kind of place that makes you want to study geology. Last night, one of the guides explained the layers of rock to me in Spanish. The towers are only 12,000 years old—the tall mountains nearby are 50 or 60,000. And they're unusual because the black sedimentary rock ended up on top of a thick gray layer of granite.

I headed back, dampened, and did a few hours of client work on the shaky wifi. Then I set out again as the rain let up, more determined.

 You can see how much cloudier it is than yesterday.

But eventually I spotted the falls.

They aren't tall, but they are powerful, and freezing, coming down from the glacial melt. 

It started to rain again, and I turned back, glad to have a warm hotel room and dry clothes and a bottle of organic Carmenere to look forward to. Even better, a tour bus stopped to offer me a ride—a school trip from Santiago, also staying at my hotel. They're from Colegio Los Angeles (Chile).

Here's the view from last night around 11 pm from my room. Watching the rain, listening to Astrid Gilberto, dry and contento.

rest stop

“I pictured a low timber house with a shingled roof, caulked against storms, with blazing log fires inside and the walls lined with all the best books, somewhere to live when the rest of the world blew up.” ―Bruce Chatwin, In Patagonia

Torres del Paine is extraordinary.

This is the view from my room. Really,

The park is filled with wildlife. Elusive pumas. Adorable herds of guanaco. And most startlingly, a flock of Patagonian flamingoes. I didn't get a picture of them so you'll have to settle for ducklings.

 The lagoons are turquoise from rich minerals flowing down from the glaciers.

Rugged peaks. Nearly everyone on the bus was planning on hiking the W, one of two loops around the park, from Refugio to Refugio.

Unfortunately the internet at my hosteria runs at 1990s speeds. But that's allowed me to watch the clouds clearing and talk to the Spanish tour guides who've just finished 10 days of hardcore hiking in the backcountry.

Yeah.

la ultima esperanza

aka "The last hope"

In a cave not far from Puerto Natales, discoverers found the bones of a creature they called the Milodón.

Milodons captured the public imagination. Were they as big as dinosaurs?

They are the local mascot, on all the street signs, and at first I thought they polar bears, dancing joyfully.

In fact they lived 10,000 years ago, and are related to sloths. More on Cueva del Miladon.

But enough of mythical creatures. How about some glacier?

You can take a container ship north through the fjords. The alternative is days of driving on the other side of the Andes in Argentine. One of these days I'll take the NaviMag ferry (4 nights).

Lots of colorful fishing boats in the fjords. And swans!

Dry dock

I was also intrigued by local architecture. At 51º latitude, it's very dark in the winter. Houses are squat and built of readily available materials. It reminds a little of Iceland, or of Southland, New Zealand.

This one is made of leftover wood and brick.

Some are made of old containers. This is the end of the world, as the road signs to Ruta Fin del Mundo remind you.

This is a restaurant! Probably a little chilly inside.

Here's the garden at the lovely guesthouse where I'm staying. Pamela named Guanaco Blanco after the rarely seen white guanaco, which is considered good luck. She assured me they do exist–she's seen them.

Tomorrow, off to the park.