Magallanes y mis padres

For me, Patagonia was something I wore on a shirt from REI. Tierra del Fuego? A distant island/ iceburg somewhere just north of Antartica. I think I learned about the Straits of Magellan from Sister Janet, my 5th grade teacher, when studying the explorers. These were far-off lands, the end of the world where dragons be. I never thought I'd actually BE there myself. Patagonia, Tierra del Fuego, the Straits...they all briefly went from the mythical to the possible when I visited Chile in college with my friend Joe. His brother Miles was living there at the time and spoke of his travels south to places I thought only bold polar scientists dared. "You mean regular people go to Patagonia? You don't have to be a 16th century explorer to travel to such places?" My eyes widened.

Then last November I started living here, and my parents told me they were coming for a visit in February. "Have I got a trip for you," I excitedly blurted into the phone. On breaks between spreadsheets I toiled-away making plans, almost diverting for an easier trip to Puerto Montt before my good Chilean friend Pancho said absolutely not. You're going to Patagonia, and you'll stay on a sheep ranch. Fly-fishing? Absolutely. Sold. Reservations were made, confirmed, changed, and new adventures added. My parents arrived in terrific spirits and we almost immediately headed south. To describe the trip to the three of you still reading this blog, here's a long jumble of impressions:

Mom, Dad and Andrew off on another adventure together, Punta Arenas, driving, wind, driving wind, crossing the Straits by boat, Andrew pretending to himself he's Magellan, finally touching the mythical Tierra del Fuego in dreary Porvenir, talking world politics with a postcard salesman, driving, penguins, diving penguins, huddled penguins, huddled family, heading north into the deep Patagonian pampas, sheep ranch/B&B on Otway Sound, wow lunch, as usual everyone loves Mom (hugs all around), running against the wind/ with the wind, fly-fishing with the Aussies, Dad wading into rushing Rio Penitente (watch-out for that log!), putting a fly on smaller streams finally lures a fiesty brown, Mom and Dad stay at the ranch, Andrew catches a bus north, Puerto Natales, Argentinian lesson of Indian spirituality over midnight burgers, Paine, Paine, Torres del Paine by tourist bus then by catamaran, emerald green lakes, one rock-climbing German, warm lodge at the foot of Paine, hike, gracious clouds allow a view of the majestic Torres, early mornin' hike jog to Glacier Grey, an intense 5 min. alone with 1,000,000 year-old ice, rain, hike jog...is that my knee?, hot chocolate over glacier green Lake Pehoe, bus to bus to bus to hitchhike back to the beautiful Estancia, wow lunch, late night with Mom and Dad and our new Uruguayan family, bright moon, early morning back to Punta Arenas and eventually into the office by 3.

Phew. If you didn't quite follow, you're not alone. Over 6 days my parents and I took planes, taxis, buses, boats, vans, prop planes, and trucks up and down southern Chile. We saw and experienced too much to be blocked into such a short time. Mom and Dad caught a short breather at the isolated, working sheep ranch Estancia Rio Verde. But for the most part we were on the road, over the seas, in the air, or waist-deep in a river...and I was very proud of my parents. They'd been on trips with me before, and between last-minute coordination, my thirst for spontaneous experience, and trying to fit too much into too little, they always come back for more with smiles on their faces. I should come to expect it, but they always surprise me with their willingness to go with the flow. They're outstanding travel partners, and I miss them when they leave (though they might not believe me).

Back to the trip. With all the anticipation and activity, one thing I didn't expect from the south is independence. I thought I was headed to Patagonia, but in truth I fell in love with Magallanes. A few years ago Chile started naming their regions, and yes that crazy almost-circumnavigator got the nod. The flag shines the southern cross and jagged yellow mountains, everywhere braving strong winds in triumph. Separated by hundreds of miles of bays, lakes and fjords with no direct road linking Magallanes to the rest of Chile (except through Argentina), people feel forgotten and different from everything north. A strong independent thread weaves its way throughout the nature of those born in and migrated to Magallanes. While true political independence movements have long since faded, a general disdain for los federales nortenos seems almost expected, even from visitors. Comfortability with large expanses and rugged terrain was unmistakable with the few magallanicos I had the honor of sharing conversation. In one particularly memorable moment, our fly-fishing guide told me how he had moved his family down from Santiago 20 years ago and has returned only twice to see the rest of his family. "Why would you want to live anywhere else?" he sincerely concluded. Gazing over a valley full of wild horses, guanaco (lamas), sheep, condors and one large trout-filled river, I couldn't disagree.

In the end, my parents and I had to return to the reality of the north. Mom and Dad eventually caught a bus to a little coastal apartment we rented for a week, to which I promptly snuck-out for a weekend of exploring little beach towns. Not bad, and we enjoyed fabulous views and tastier seafood. But somewhere between the February crowds in Vina and the windless, sun-drenched beaches, my father turned to me and eyed, "I think we'll go fishing down there next year." I thought back to the still-somewhat-mythical Magallanes and, again, I couldn't disagree.

promises, promises

It's been over two months since my last posts, which I imagine is plenty of time to lose anyone who would have thought of following this blog. Perfect. Since I've got this all to myself, I can go ahead and break one of the first promises I set in the beginning: no lists.

So this blog is a list. I've been working more in the office then outside of it, thus the lack of wonderful blogs about tractors and coolers and blueberry ranches...though that's all in here. Without further ado, here's a broken promise wrapped in a list of my weekends, travels and goings on about this surprising country:


1) camping with good and new friends at Siete Tazas
Friends of friends have made my social network here in Chile. My Peace Corps friend's friend invited me to a hike up Santa Lucia in the middle of the city where I met her sister's friend Carey, and from there her fiance and their friends, Chilean and American. We took advantage of a three day weekend to rent a van and head to Siete Tazas, where we camped and cooked and leaped off rocks into freezing cold, crystal clear water. One waterfall falls into the next pool feeding the next waterfall. We fished and swam and ate and drank and laughed, and didn't catch any fish over 4 inches long.

2) self-created bike tours of Santiago and the outskirts
I'm a fortunate guy, which makes up the majority of my travels...following wherever luck leads me. But every once in a while I make the right call, which is the case with boxing up my bike and bringing it down south. One of my favorite ways to get to know the city (and the bus drivers, intimately) has been to strap on my helmet and get lost. I found a windy road that hugs the hills on the outskirts of the city, dropping me down the back ledge of forgotten towns and leading me, eventually, to the entrance of San Cristobal...the hill and metropolitan park in the middle of Santiago. I also like to explore new neighborhoods, and have become particularly a fan of letting the iPod create my own soundtrack as I race through the streets and discover new neighborhoods/parks. Can't say it's been particularly good for the lungs drafting they Chilean bus system, but I've survived so far, and become pretty familiar with some cool neighborhoods off the beaten track.

3) 30th b-day in Valpo with good friends and one cowbell
Jerry and Stacie came-out from Atlanta for Thanksgiving, made cornbread stuffing with sausage for my 8 Chilean/American guests, and then headed off the next day (Friday, my birthday) for Valparaiso on the coast. I caught the last bus after work and made it just in time for one of the most delicious meals I've tasted. They are wonderful hosts in a new land, Jerry and Stacie. We finally found a front row table at the salsa bar La Piedra Feliz, and I quickly realized that all I wanted for my birthday was to play that cowbell in the corner of the band. We danced and drank and danced, all with one eye on that cowbell. When I finally

4) Christmas dinner with the my friend's Chilean family
Cristian, my buddy from business school and half-Chilean, asked me to a family reunion of his way back in November. There I met many of his cousins and aunts and uncles. One in particular, Carlos, gave us a ride home. He's the chief editor for El Mercurio, the Times of Chile, but the nicest and low-key guy you'll meet. The family took pity on this American kid stranded south for the holidays and invited me to Christmas dinner with the family. Watching the little kids tear apart the presents and play with the new StormTrooper helmet could not have been more satisfying...even before the dinner that included four (4!) desserts. Yikes.

5) sawing wood with friends, Un Techo Para Chile
South America's version of Habitat for Humanity, I figured if I couldn't be home why not join a few Chilean friends and help build one for a family in need down here. Sounds altruistic, eh? It was also a great way to meet new people and practice my sawing, nailing, and diplomatic skills. Too many cooks in the kitchen on how to sink this post, how to hammer that nail, when to raise the walls, etc...but we all laughed and little by little all this wood created something new and wonderful. The mother ran around giving water and showing how excited she was to receive this new place. I admit I felt it too.

6) all-night New Years in Vina and Valpo w/ Pancho
Pancho's my good Chilean buddy who is an expert at the bbq asado. Bbq, fireworks, 100,000 kids in the Valpo streets and the above description about sums up my New Years.

7) biking the vineyards in the Mendoza countryside
Once every 90 days I have to step foot outside the country in order to renew my visa. After New Years I showed-up to the bus station and had forgotten my actual visa (not stamped into the passport, like every other country which is my excuse). So caught it the next weekend, crossed the border at 3am into Argentina and stayed at a B&B outside of Mendoza in the wine country. After a nap I stumbled upon a pamphlet for bike tours of local wineries. Fantastic! Before long I was riding to the first winery with two Argentinians, touring, sipping, asking snobby questions about Malbec crushes and the 1994 vintage, while swerving our way to the next winery. After I spent 5 hours at dinner with the owner of the tour company and his family, sampling without exaggeration the best steak, chorizo de befe, and Malbec I've ever experienced...while enthusiastically talking politics and philosophy, family and far-off lands with the family. Argentinians in the campo are a wonderful people.

8) the spontaneous road trip to South Chile ranches with the big boys
This was unexpected. Driscoll's CEO Miles, my bosses boss SVP Soren, two Board members, and our biggest client all came down (which I did thankfully know about), but then asked me to join them south to visit the ranches and coolers. Never ate so much, driven so long, been on the side of so many interesting conversations, and learned so much in 4 days. The blueberry ranches and coolers never looked better (granted, only seen them once before). Loved every minute of it (except for the early mornings after the long, late wine-laden dinners). We ended all the way down in Punta Varas and Lago Llanique, and I drove back the next day 11 hours to Santiago. Worth every mile.

9) discovering Isadora, asados on San Cristobal
More Santiago, my favorite street Isadora Goyenechea starts with the best church Nuestra Senora de Los Angeles, framed by a fountain and cobblestoned circle, then down Isadora to my favorite restaurant Nolita's (oysters and mussels with tabasco and vodka drippers). We all head to the metropolitan park above the city center to bbq (asado) and spoil away a Sunday afternoon overlooking the city.

10) hiking the Andes foothills, Cerro Provincia, observing the black cloud below
This was a little jaunt with some new friends up the foothills outside of the city (can be seen in the pictures). So can the perpetual smog cloud hanging over Santiago. Nice to breathe outside for an afternoon, and great hike.

11) "surfing" (some might call it falling) Pichilemu and Punta de Lobos
Pictures describe it all. Diverse group of kids from around Santiago, we all got together (from Germany, France, Oregon, New York, CA, Chile) to head 4 hours to the coast, learn how to stand on a surfboard outline in the sand, and get pummeled by the waves. Great time, actually, and very easy to see why the 400m rolling waves from the point makes Lobos South America-renowned.


...and that's that. Wasn't so terrible, was it? Overall I've enjoyed the last 3 months in Chile, even if I haven't written about it as I thought I might. What propelled me to break my promise and list it all out to the two of you still stumbling upon this blog? My parents. Together they have traveled and lived around the globe, from Indonesia to Saudi Arabia, Galicia, Spain to Irvine, CA. They are a big part of my inspiration to travel and they touch down on their first trip to South America Saturday. We're catching a flight south to Punta Arenas in Patagonia, just a Strait of Magellan away from Tierra del Fuego. Fly-fishing for trout, watching penguins mill about, staying on an old sheep ranch, and camping beneath the Paine peaks are all on the next list, so stay tuned. All two of you.