Tom and I were able to challenge ourselves on the trail and on horseback. I got to spend 11 days with 6 fabulous men, including two chilenos who shared their day-to-day lives with me. Never before have I uttered "Wow" so many times in a week. Lucky girl, I am.
We didn't see anyone else on the hiking trails until the 5th day. When we came across another group, the men each took my hand and kissed me on the cheek. They did the same when they departed. I could get used to that. The pobladores (literally "settlers") work extremely hard and live a humble life. They don't have much, but they lack very little.
We passed only two cars as we drove the 5 1/2 hours back to the airport on February 27. The strikes were still in force, and gas was scarce. The washboard roads were jarring, and I stole the front seat and made Tom, Frank, and Pablo share the back. My stomach thanked me. Just a mile or two from the airport, we encountered a roadblock. "Tu problema es mi problema." It was 1:30, and the protesters informed us that they would let us through at 2:00. The demonstration was quiet, save for the pile of burning tires on the bridge. Unfortunately, I later found out that John had to endure two waits at roadblocks on his way back to Puerto Bertrand: one lasting three hours, the other four. He arrived back at his boat in the middle of the night and opted to just sleep there rather than venturing across the lake.
Chilean Patagonia is certainly a part of the world I look forward to visiting again. But forget about the dams, and finish paving the Carretera Austral instead.
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