Chile Part 6: Isla Chiloe and Puerto Montt

Sweet Dreams. Excellent. We took a direct bus to Ancud on the north of Chiloe. It included a ferry crossing, which had awfully expensive and awfully awful food. It is a different sort of place. Very isolated and for want of a better word, quaint. I will have to shoot myself for using one of my most detested words in the English language, but everything has its place. We went to the fort, which is more a ruin and tweedle dum, and tweedle dee offered us a tour. A tour of what exactly. Bricks. We found a Brazilian who ran a protestant church and we were considering going there on the sunday, but never made it. We pitched the tent outside. We ate some local food that was hit and miss and then Marcela being a little drunk inspired us to some drunken running on the walls of the city. We met a couple of local girls, chatted a bit and then met some Germans back at the hostel before turfing in. There was some constant music all night. We had assumed it was a party, but in reality it was a fat drunken fool, asleep, catatonic and blaring music from his van, asleep with a half cocked glass of wine on the dashboard. In the hostel was a shotgun just lying on the side. Welcoming.

We ditched our bags at the hostel and set off for National Park Chiloe. We met the Germans again and its a cheaper route to go to Castro and then take a bus to the park, than going all the way to the next town. Save you around 800 pesos. At least it removed the doubt from my mind that we had chosen the right route. The park operator had maps for the wrong park. Well organised. We had left Pucon without paying for the last night in the tent, which I just remembered. Saved us 14 dollars. We had pitched our tent illegally next to the lake, so we had to move it later and the German guy helped. We went for a walk in the forests which was pretty cool. Like a Hobbit forest. Then we headed to the beach and met this Scottish guy the Germans had met everywhere. The beach was nice ish. Reed fields and dunes to get there, then the beach and ice cold water. Really ice cold. Fuck it. I am not going in that, but the others played around a fair bit. Then we came back to the camp site and I kept killing these stupid big flies. Eventually I killed enough of them to buy us some free time. Arsenal went out of the cup and Spurs had drawn 2-2 with Leeds. The cups big guns were all being spiked. We must be second or third favourite of those left in. We could not make fire. We sucked. We tried and failed horribly. In the end Marcela went and found us some Chileans to show us city boys how it works. That functioned much better. Then eventually we went to sleep and the tent door was left open so we got soaked. Was not a great wake up and we had another minor conflict.

We took the bus out of the park to Castro. Saw the church briefly and took a bus to Ancud to pick up our stuff. Marcela wanted to see the penguins, but I knew that I would have opportunities further south. I still keep postponing it. Probably in Puerto Madryn. I had a problem with the cash machines as I had forgotten a lot of them only work with mastercard and not with visa. We decided not to bother staying and push onto Puerto Montt and sort out transport for Barriloche that night. Back over on the ferry. Ok the buses only go to Bariloche in the day. Shit. We were stuck here. There was only one seat for the next day. I suggested I just go south to Punta Arenas and she take the city. I bought mine and while we were chatting someone else bought the last one to Bariloche. Typical luck. Ok we would stay here for 2 nights. It was NFC championship day though. She bought a ticket for Bariloche, but had no stamp in her passport and had thrown away the immigration paper. Shitty. Ok we would have to find the Brazilian consulate th next day. We got to the hostel and then ate hot dogs from a petrol station. Good value for money, though not quality food. Jets - Colts was on tv and the Colts won 30-17. Ok it would be the Colts if we made it. Bugger. It was not on tv. I had to go down and watch it online so Marcela went to sleep. We were up and winning, then it ended up 28-28. Vikings were within field goal range. Penalty. Twelve men on the field. Retards. Favre. Interception. Fuck you. Overtime. We advanced with luck. All the way. Field goal. Superbowl here we come. 31-28. Who dat indeed baby. We were off to the superbowl and the great luck American sides have when I adopt them continues. All my teams excel except for Spurs (the most important one). This sunday is superbowl sunday. Will be watching it in Ushaia and hoping my Saints can bring home the bowl.

In the morning we went hunting for the Argentina consulate as they did not have a Brazilian one in the city. They told us we had to go up the hill to some barrio to find the special police. They would sort it out. We had another mini clash after she had had to wait for 2 hours and I walked down the hill. We met up again and then saw some of the city. Not loads to see. They have a Mexican arts centre in the French cultural centre. We went there and looked around and then left to find a restaurant. Marcela had liked one of the Chilean photographers working there. I wanted to walk along the coast, but all of a sudden she exploded on me and I think this one was as much her fault as the one in Valdivia had clearly been mine. Anyway I did not fancy sitting round to get hammered, so I walked off back to the hostel. Its a shame. We have moments where we get on very well, but its like dry tinder. It only takes a little spark to set it off again. Strong personalities will do that too each other. She made it back to the hostel after me and was not feeling good. It cooled down again and we went for more excellent hot dogs and then to see the film in the French centre. It was typically French and slow, but reasonably interesting and most importantly free. Afterwards we walked to the pier and emt a group of three lesbians, a mentally handicapped guy and 6 young Chilean rappers. Odd bunch. We hung out and joked around with them for an hour or so. I was a little concerned after my nose was bust, but they reminded me a little of my group of friends when we were younger. Killing time doing not much and just hanging. Then we headed back and got some sleep. In the morning I helped Marcela carry her bag down to the bus station and saw her off to Bariloche. Then I came back and chilled a bit before taking a monster 32 hour trip by bus down to Punta Arenas.