We set an alpine tone early in the trip, leaving Santiago at 930pm. It was the Friday of the weekend of Chile's independence day, the country's highway (not plural) was clogged with holiday traffic until the wee hours. We arrived at a friends house at 5am and bivied. The next day we moved on to Curacautín, a beautiful small town which accesses multiple national parks and volcanoes and lakes and hotsprings. A quick asado and early to bed, up at 3am and on to the first peak, Volcán Llaima. Four camels to the summit where we napped in the glorious warmth of the summit steam vents. Down to the jeep, packed it up, and hit the road for Pucón.
Llaima
But the day wasn't over as it was Sunday, THE dieciocho, THE independence day. BBQs, drinks, and onto the town fonda, the national tradition of a central fair full of dancing, live music, food and drink that takes place in every neighborhood and town in the country. I left the party early at 4am and nabbed some rest. Took it slow the next day as our plan was an evening ski of Volcán Villarica.
The jeep in the parking lot for Villarica.
We started to camel upwards around 330pm and summited just as the sunset was getting real. The volcano ain't sleepy at all, and from its gaping crater clouds of gasses, the red glow of just-out-of-sight lava, and the accompanying sounds of groaning and popping add an overpowering ambience. Combine with a sunset and... Lord have mercy. The surreal twilight ski descent is permanently burned into my memory, and we reached the car just as it was dark enough to be imprudent to be a camello sin linterna.
Villarica crater rim.
Lanín, the next day's objective.
Almighty.
Gearing up to head down, Llaima in the background.
Food! Yes! Rest! No? We drove towards the base of Volcán Lanín, finally hitting the hay around 130am. We hit snooze many times and overslept, getting up around 5am the next day. In this army, you ski until after the sun sets and start again before it rises. The climb of Lanín was less aesthetic than the others, but existentially interesting in its bulk and dominance of the surroundings as it rises some 2,600m from its base, neatly separating the verdant hills, volcanoes, and lowlands of Chile from the arid pampas of Argentina stretching into the east.
Camel.
Scenery. Llaima out the back.
2,600m cliff dive.
An epiphany: Volcanoes are but toilets upside down. It really doesn't matter where you go - all paths lead spiraling to the same spot. Summited after many an hour on the go to find four other friends who we had been gradually catching up to all day. We exchanged compliments regarding our eminent ski touring prowess before beginning the loooooooong descent back to the car. Sastruggi and frozen baby-doll heads up high gave way to miles of gently rolling corn slopes.
¡Gozalo!
AHhhh.
Roll 'em up, soldier.
Back at the jeep. What better pleasure, Jah, is there than lying with friends on a mat in the grass beneath a giant tree with a beer and some chocolate, boots off, gear strewn about, looking back up at the alpine monstrosity which was just survived? All together now, the whole group on to one more asado at a friend's house a couple hours from Lanín. Wrapped it up around 11pm and hit the road for Santiago as two of the team had obligations in the city the next morning. Drove all night and arrived to a positively spring-like morning, sore hooves, but high stoke.
And with that I think I'm hanging up my boots. One week left in Chile and I shall head to the coast for shellfish and surf style. Bless.
