Of all the displays of nature's wrath, there is perhaps none more incredible than a volcano. To ancient peoples, they were gods and gateways to other worlds; to geologists they are a chance to glimpse the primordial forces that forged the earth; and, if you're a scientologist, they are the places where the galactic overlord Xenu stashed the souls of dead aliens that now cloud our minds and dampen our potential. In Italy, Mount Vesuvius acts as a time capsule with the ash from an eruption perfectly preserving the daily life of an ancient Roman city while in 1815 Indonesia's Mount Tambora erupted so violently that the ash blocked the rays of the sun, lowering global temperatures and causing famine all over the world. No matter your view of volcanos, it is impossible to deny their might, their beauty and their destructive power.
The entire length of Chile lies along the the Pacific rim's "Ring of Fire" (cue Johnny Cash) so volcanoes abound. The country is at once indebted to and held hostage by these smoking behemoths. Volcanic soil is some of the most fertile on earth helping to make Chile an agricultural powerhouse, filling shelves of grocery stores from Bangkok to Barcelona. Their natural beauty has for years been a beacon for thousands of tourists from all over the world, who bring millions of pesos to the local economy. But, of course, there is a darker side as well. Like the sword of Damocles dangling overhead, the volcanoes of Chile constantly threaten to wipe out the prosperity they have given. Thousands of lives and billions of dollars have been lost to eruptions over the years and every local has an escape plan in case the mountains rumble awake. With this in mind Molly and I decided to go out among these sleeping giants to see their awesome majesty for ourselves.
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| In case of eruption- run away! |
We traveled north from Chiloe to the town of Puerto Varas on the shores of Lago Llanquihue. During the 19th century German immigrants settled this region and left an indelible mark on the architecture, landscape and culture. The town looks like it was plucked right out of the Black forest. Peaked roof houses and neo-romantic churches line the broad streets that lead down to the lake.
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| Volcan Osorno is obscured by ash falling from another volcano a few hundred miles away |
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| This is what it SHOULD look like |
As luck would have it we arrived just at the beginning of one of the greatest festivals that German culture has given the world... Oktoberfest!
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| Two beer enthusiasts |
The entire downtown area was decked out in German flags. In the central square a huge tent had been erected to house the beerhall. Beneath the tent the air was filled with the smell of roasting sausages, oompah music and the laughter of revelers as they sampled the fare. The real star of any Oktoberfest though is the beer... and it flowed like water. Fifteen different breweries from around the region had stations set up giving out samples and selling huge steins of good, German-style beer. Being on a tight budget, Molly and I had been subsisting on box wine and cheap, watery cerveza for the past few weeks so this brew was like ambrosia. We drank deeply while eating our fill of bratwurst, knockwurst... basically any kind of wurst we could get our hands on.
A few days later we set out for Vincente Perez Rosales National Park. The park is Chile's second oldest, home to many volcanoes and surrounding the broken, lake/road/lake/road/lake trail between Puerto Montt and Bariloche, Argentina. This is where Che Guevara crossed over into Chile as seen in The Motorcycle Diaries. The western part of the park is dominated by the massive snow covered peak of Volcan Osorno. The volcano is an almost perfect cone shape and makes an imposing silhouette above the waters of Lago Todos Los Santos.
The lake itself is tranquility embodied. Crystal clear waters are surrounded by steep hills covered in fragrant pine forests. Snow-capped peaks rise dramatically in the distance everywhere you look. We hiked for a few hours along the lake shoreline seaching for a place to camp, and we found one.
At the edge of a long black sand beach, against a high cliff covered by a tree jutting out over the lake we found our spot. Sheltered from the wind with an eastern exposure for the morning sun, it was just perfect. We built a fire that evening and roasted potatoes and sausages while watching the mountains change color with the setting sun.
The next day we hiked along the Rio Petrohue. The river drains glacial water from the lake. Until I saw the Rio Petrohue I never thought rivers could be blue. This one is BLUE, like, Disney-World-Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-dyed-with-food-coloring blue. It is extremely beautiful. Hidden flyfishing spots abound, as do some world class rapids. We had lunch on the riverbank before heading back to camp.
The next morning we awoke to what we thought was a gentle rain tapping on the tent. We unzipped the the flaps to find a scene out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. Thick, dark clouds covered the sky as ash fell like gentle snow over the entire park. A volcano named Puyehue, a hundred miles to the north, had been erupting since March and this day the winds had shifted the dust cloud in our direction. The once crystal clear waters of the lake were now blackened and covered with an oil-like sheen. Our throats and eyes burned from the ash as we packed up our belongings. I even had to cover my face with a wet bandana to keep from choking. It was definitely time to go.
We jumped in a bus and after a quick stop in the city of Valdivia, we found ourselves in the mountain town of Pucon. If Puerto Varas is the Germany of southern Chile, then Pucon is definitely Switzerland. High mountain peaks cradle lush green valleys. The town itself is nestled beneath the active volcano Villarrica. A tiny plume of smoke perpetually rises from the crater at the top. It is the only active volcano in South America where you can actually hike to the summit. Dozens of other volcanoes dot the landscape around Pucon.
We settled into Pucon very quickly. Our hostel "Casa Mario" is run by some of the nicest people we've met on our trip. The owner Luis (I don't know were Mario ran off to, possibly down a sewer pipe or chasing a mushroom) and his wife were extremely helpful. They showed us local points of interest and did our laundry for cheap. They even gave us free bikes to ride around on for the day.
We rode those free bikes up to a beautiful set of waterfalls called the Ojos de Caburgua. Three rivers come together and fall into an azure pool. Like Rivendell, fabled home of the eleves, the Ojos de Caburgua has an other-worldly beauty that is hard to put into words. The waters begin in high glaciers on the peaks of volcanos, another gift of these geothermal giants. They then run into a huge lake called Lago Carburgua. They exit the lake through underground caves and where they emerge again miles away from springs deep in the earth. The sweet liquid is icy cold and actually bottled and sold by the locals as mineral water. It was all I could do to keep from diving in for a swim.
As we rode back to Pucon I was struck again by the astounding beauty of the countryside. Emerald green pastureland gave way to jagged mountains covered in trees. Small groups of glassy-eyed cows lazily chewed cud among yellow buttercups as placid alpine lakes reflected the blue skies like giant mirrors. High above the valley the snow-capped peaks, like silent guardians, watched over the peaceful scene. Only the gauze-like wisp of smoke rising from the crater of Villarrica hinted that all this beauty could be wiped out in an instant. 
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