While we were kayaking in Parque Pumalin (blog post 3/4/07) one of our guides, Ludwig, frequently spoke fast and furious in his excellent English—all very comprehensible: however at one point he used the word deeter-mined several times before we understood that he was saying determined. His original pronunciation has since become our code for bull-headed nothing-stands-in-my-way determination.When we learned of our Chile destination in February 2006 we immediately purchased several guide books and started planning our travels. Many of the places we planned to go were remote yet seemed fully accessible according to the books. We began fantasizing early on about visiting Chile’s natural wonders. Once we arrived and started exploring we found that it wasn’t nearly as easy as the travel books implied. Sure, we read about fabulous hikes, but once here we wondered: Where can we get maps? Do we need a 4X4 to get to the National Reserves? Where are the camp sites, huts, or refugios? Oftentimes even the basics, such as where to find the trailhead, escaped us.
The hard truth is that one is expected to hire a guide for nearly every excursion into the wilderness, so we forked out an average of 30 dollars each per day for a guided hike for the first month or two. Certainly we visited some stunning places and some of our guides truly earned their title with extensive explanations of the flora and flana, punctuated with juicy myths or better yet, stories about the indigenous Mapuche connections to a site and its sacred significance. There came a time, though, when we were ready to go solo. While we support the tourist industry and acknowledge that guides need to make a living, too, we are residents of Chile this year. For all the backcountry exploring we planned to do, we knew that paying an escort each time would strain our pocketbook. Enladrillado (blog post 1-26-07) was a monumental step forward—the purest expression of deeter-mined to date. Not only were we strongly advised to do this trek with a guide, we were also told that it was not do-able as a one day hike.
Fast forward to the last weekend of March. My dear friend and colleague, Elena, was visiting during her spring break and we had to make the most of her short stay, so we did the Andes, the beach, and on this particular weekend, Parque Conguillío in the Lakes District. This was our second excursion to Conguillío. The first was in February with Shay and Stephen who are like family to us. Then it was the peak of the summer travel season with limited accommodations and a freak snow storm thrown into the mix. We hiked in the park but were stymied by too much snow on the trail! A menacing cloud cover obscured the peak of Volcano Llaima—nonetheless, even with its decapitated top it commanded awe. Still, we were disappointed about the less than ideal weather conditions and not being able to find a place to stay within the confines of the park.
True confessions: I wanted to return to Conguillío to see Llaima and the surrounding mountains naked and fully exposed. A spectacular autumn and a desire to showcase Chile’s splendors for Elena provided the perfect occasion for another adventure there. On our first day Elena, Dan, and I trekked about 14 miles along the Sierra Nevada Trail and were regaled with unforgettable vistas of the Llaima lava flows in the foreground, Volcano Villarrica in the background, all framed by the abundant araucarias (monkey puzzle trees). By the time we returned to the trailhead late in the day we were content and spent. Nonetheless, we thought we’d hike another trail to see the madre araucaria which is estimated to be 1500 years old. The park was deserted, along with the CONAF office, so the only reference we had was the off-scale map posted on a visitor notice board, which indicated that the mother tree was a scant 10 minute walk. The 3 of us forged ahead and eventually, after a half an hour, Elena and Dan began lagging behind. We were out of water and food. Despite total exhaustion I marched on. Others had sung the praises of this magnificent tree and there was no way I was going to miss it my second and last time in Conguillío this year. With fading light and deepening shadows the trees in this old growth forest appeared to be looking down and mocking me. Deeter-mined to a fault they seemed to murmur. All of a sudden I encountered a father and son pair coming in the opposite direction and asked how much further to the mother tree. They said 45 minutes more. They also said it was not to be missed.
At this point we turned back, led by our growling stomachs and aching muscles. Fortunately this time we had a comfortable cabaña in the park and we knew we could easily return the next day, which we did.Being deeter-mined has proven to be a vital survival skill this year in myriad ways. We’ve frequently wandered off the beaten path to discover new portals into magical places in the wilderness and we always seem to find our way back home. On a more practical front, it has also helped us to stay afloat on the stormy seas of teaching here. The ribbon of time seems to be unfurling even faster as our departure in mid-July looms on the horizon. We hope to share more stories about what it’s like to be a teacher in Chile where scoring high on the deeter-mined aptitude test is a must!
