Sunday the 27th we rolled into the town of Coyhaique (pop. 50,000), not sure whether we had a connection in the town. This past summer while eating at El Vaquero in Dublin my waiter turned out to be Cristian Caceres from Coyhaique. That evening he told me his father owned a hardware store in the town and that if we took a letter to him we could stay with him. During our travels down the Carretera Austral I had been emailing Cristian but I had yet to be in contact with anyone in Coyhaique. So, as I said, Sunday we came cruising into town through scenery that really reminded me of Wyoming or Idaho. This has been something that has really impressed me about Chile; it can quickly change its scenery and it almost always reminds me of some part of the U.S. that I have visited. Famished and tired we drove around the town looking for internet to get a hold of this “Hector Caceres Ossos” who was, according to his son, was going to make us barbeque lamb. We finally got the address of the hardware store and went to the hardware store to deliver the letter that had flown to Cuzco, Peru and ridden buses and the ‘ol Subaru down to Coyhaique. We knocked and dejectedly realized that since it was Sunday nobody was there. Unsure of where we could camp, we decided to spend the night at Hostel Patagonia. It was a great evening of relaxation and recharging.
The next morning we devoured whatever was brought out to us for the complementary breakfast and packed up expecting to leave Coyhaique. A friendly lady from Chicago at the hostel informed us that Argentina had just passed a law on January 7th that Americans needed to purchase a $160 visa prior to trying to cross the border. That meant that much of the day would be spent getting visas, purchasing car insurance of Argentina and getting final documents for the car at their equivalent of the DMV. Thankfully, their equivalent of the DMV had friendly men and women that really wanted to help us instead of elderly grumpy women who could grow a better mustache than I would ever be able to. Me heart did stop when the helpful man told me that final card of ownership couldn’t be picked up for 10 more days, which in my mind meant that we couldn’t cross the border for 10 more days. My heart started again when he quickly pulled out some paper that he assured me we could cross no problem. After this we decided to try again at the hardware store and see if Hector was actually there. We went into the tiny shop and the a man behind the counter (he looked about 60) immediately lit up. Few people are excited to see 5 scrubby gringos, but Hector sure was. He immediately took us to the back of the shop and tried to communicate with us about what I believed was a campground 20 km out of town. I thought he was saying he knew a place to camp that also had good fishing. I rode in his Jeep while the guys followed in the car and he first took us to the supermarcado. There we watched in amazement as he rampaged through the supermarket grabbing Coca Colas, huge slabs of beef, pork, bread, and potatoes. 20 km outside of town we pulled into what turned out to be Hector’s weekend house. It was a small cabin with a kitchen, another room for sleeping, and bathroom but it blew us away since we were expecting to leave the area. We all immediately knew that this place had to be thoroughly enjoyed for several days. That evening we watched in amazement as Hector cooked to perfection the giant slab of beef (basically a roast). We dominated the food that night more so than the Harlem Globetrotters to the Washington Generals. Pound after pound was cut off the hunk of meat and we downed it all. Suddenly Hector had to leave and we realized that there was still a pot full of baked potatoes in the stove. For dessert we each ate about 4 potatoes.
The next 2 days were spent in the leisurely fashion that one would expect young bachelors to spend their days: sleeping in, eating, fishing (still no luck), rough housing, carousing, hiking, talent shows, bedazzling, scrapbook parties, and the usual hopscotch tournaments. Seriously, all we would do was fail at fishing and eat the food either Hector or his papa would bring, whether it be sausage, pork, bread, coffee, or onions. One exciting thing we did was hike up a really steep mesa-like mountain that was just across the road. It didn’t look that hard from the base but as we went up we had to bull our way through bamboo and bushes since there was no path. It was quite an experience as we picked and smashed our way through the brush on a very steep slope. The view from the top sure was worth the climb and the cuts.
Thursday we decided it was time to leave the comfort of all that Hector provided for us. We headed into to town for our final meal with Hector. Of course he had pasta, tomatoes, and fruit to see us off. To repay all of his hospitality we gave him a watermelon and bought a belt buckle and a batman sticker for the car. Seemed fair to me. We headed south to cross the border into Argentina at Rt 65 and Rt 45. The internet said that it was a minor highway. I’m not sure that minor highway is the correct word. It should have been more aptly labeled “a rock quarry filled with filled with granite too large to for the Stonehenge”. After bumping and cracking along Rt 65 for a while a sign told us that we were coming to some sort of important area. I assumed that this was the border. We came up to 2 small buildings and a gate (somewhat like something you would see at a parking garage) that was clearly open. I got out and knocked on the doors to the buildings but they were clearly as vacant as anything in Detroit. Thinking that there must be something further down the road at what I was assuming would be the actual border. We bumped along for a while longer with nothing to be seen but the strangely desert landscape of the Argentinean Patagonia. We finally saw another car coming our way and I think we were both surprised there was another car we both stopped. They were Argentineans who spoke English. We asked them if they knew anything about the border and we realized we were in Argentina. We were ILLEGALS! What a thrill! Also, here is a hint to any smuggler in Argentina or Chile…USE THE RT. 65 RT. 45 BORDER AT 4:30 ON A THURSDAY BECAUSE APPARENTLY NO ONE IS AT THE BORDER CROSSING THEN! Not quite sure what to do, we headed on into the town of Perito Moreno to find a place to sleep and figure out what to do about our visas and passports. The thrill of being illegals was so high in the car we were contemplating doing some serious crimes because we technically didn’t exist in Argentina and it couldn’t be traced back to us. Alas, we didn’t do anything except maybe some minor traffic violations. We got into town and the tourist information office informed us that no hostels or cabins were vacant in the town. They also called the border and told us that if we went to the border town Los Antiugos. We drove there that night and found a cabin for the night. I was pretty concerned when at the edge of town there was a police checkpoint and the man asked for all of our passports. Thankfully all he wanted was our passport numbers and didn’t check to see if we had legally crossed the border.
Friday we headed to the border crossing hoping to get things figured out. Andrew and I told a confused young lady what happened in our broken Spanish and she immediately told her superior. I was happy to see that we caused a conference of 4 people in a back room to decide what should be done. Stuff like that just makes you feel important. Finally, they came back and told us that we needed to got the Chilean border to get our exit stamps and exit document for the car. So we crossed back into Chile unsure if 2 illegal border crossing cancel each other out or not. We explained what happened to a helpful Chilean and he seemed to really get a kick out of all of it. We got the documents and stamps for both countries with ease and started heading south to get to Chalten. Chalten is the town where we planned to start our Mt. Fitz Roy trek from. Unfortunately the road down there is half paved and half gravel (possibly another rock quarry). We drove the rest of the day in utter wilderness, seeing only the occasional car, guanacos (basically lamas), and large birds I believe to be emus. Running really low on gas we pulled into an estancia (ranch) that advertised camping. The man said he would also sell us some gas. It was fairly bare compared to the verdant valleys of the Carretera Austral but I was still very thankful for it.
Saturday we continued on the road south and finally got to Chalten. It’s a cool town that seems to be comprised completely of hikers. We’re staying in a hostel and Sunday we’re starting a 4 or 5 day hike to see the Mr. Fitz Roy and the surrounding land. There are a lot of glaciers and rugged peaks. I am incredibly excited for the adventure. I guess Thursday or so I’ll figure out who won the Super Bowl. Go 49ers!
P.S. Thank you for all your prayers. We have seen God work in every day and it has been an incredible blessing. Please also continue prayer for Pedro Sandoval as he continues to battle cancer.
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