Exploring Patagonia

We have been in Chile for just a few days, and it seems like much longer. We flew this morning from Santiago to Balcameda, a tiny spot on the Argentinian border in the pampas. We then set out over windswept roads the entire width of this 104 km wide country to the port of Chacabuco, where ferries take cargo and passengers down the coast toward the tip. The sun was fearsome, we were told that this time of year the hole in the ozone makes the solar radiation even worse.

Our guide Luisa Ludwig told us that all of the trees that once dotted the hillsides had been cut down in the '30s and '40s by settlers, who wanted to plant. Sadly, this left about 7 million stumps, and the few rows of planted pines can't make up for the terrible loss. As we drove toward the sea, we passed sad towns full of shacks, where laborors for the salmon farms live, entertained by bars such as "the Scent of a Women," and the Zodiak club. The air smells like fish, it reminded Peter Heller of Alaska.

But the Patgonian landscape was strikingly beautiful and wide open, and far off we could see the white coated peaks of the Andes. We passed many rivers and tall waterfalls, and hiked in a 600-acre privately owned park. Our lunch was a big one. They brought us big plates with every kind of seafood including conger and hake and dessert of lemon pie and super sweet chestnuts. Walking it off felt good, our guide showed us trees with thorns that go only about five feet up--since predators can't reach much higher.