Home II: A juxtaposition

Everything changes very quickly here. Two days ago I found myself at the end of my three day hiking trip up to the Volcan Descabezado (headless volcano) at 3830m(that’s the exact measurement). A friend remarked to me recently that he found my peace with my own solitude admirable. – that is that I just got up and went. However I would not want anyone to think that this was easy for me either emotionally or physically. Firstly, it was meant to be a 4 to 5 day hike – I did it in 3 long days, but I will come to that later. Even in the silence of other people´s company I have always found that the human energy drowns out some of our (or my) deeper thoughts from surfacing. I am not trying to be profound or to say that this experience has been life changing for me but as I sat there in my tent on a windy rock at the base of a volcano; thermal springs and some oddly green pasture below and the soaring white peaks jutting out all around me, I found I was only really enclosed physically – mentally and emotionally I was absolutely without defense but also without boundaries.
 I often found myself, in the three long days, pinching myself as I crossed the Rio Claro that wends its way in a deep valley forested up to 2000m and that continues up, effortlessly into the emerald sky. Am I here? All by myself? Is this real? Am I alive?These questions are I admit, decidedly unprofound but they return to a more primordial understanding (or should I say questioning) of self and existence. As a side note, apart from the volcano, this could easily have been the Rocky mountains.
 Anyway I had some trying and frustrating moments. My feet blistered the first 11hour day of steep ascent and descent and not knowing how many times I would have to cross the clear snowfed rivers I would sit down for 10 minutes to change my footwear, sandals to wool socks and hiking boots, only to find that another hundred meters down the way I had to cross again. I also learned my lesson to tie my boots to my bag as I crossed in between towering and crumbling cliffs the Rio Blanquillo, as I dropped my boot into the water and had to walk the last 1.5hours in very wet footwear – I swore but the mountains did not reply. 
The hike went as so: first day was entrance of the Reserva Nacional to the base of the volcano, second day was up the volcano and back and the third was back to my hostel Biota Maule. The last 4 hours of the first day were a steep ascent along a river, in between a ridge of mountains on one side and crumbling cliffs on the other. I emerged from this claustrophobic journey into an open field at probably 2500m(that’s a guess). This is unfriendly – vast, majestic but cold. But there in the middle of the white snow, and the white volcanic ash that covers almost everything, there is green pasture. I say pasture, because there are goats, sheep, cows and horses here, yes. Indeed one of the reasons the trail is so well marked is because the cowboys take their lifestock up here to feed, as, of course, it is free. You only have a painful 10-12hour journey to get there. I think that I have had the rare opportunity of stepping back in time as I think that the cowboys of the Midwestern united states probably had a similar practice – this is not a tourist attraction, this is their life. 
Why the pasture? The pasture is fed by the thermal springs that are warmed in the bowels of the volcano. The second day I decided that this was not for me. After a very cold night I arose and began my ascent. In the cold morning, the snow is hard, packed, and slippery but it all but covered the “trail” so I made my way up by memory – a route the park ranger had given me. Ash of off white, pure white snow, blue sky, screaming wind. I felt like the mountain was telling me to go away, and I felt very uneasy.
Some of my close family members might be oddly happy to hear that I chickened out. I did not reach the summit of the volcano to pear into the icefilled crater that was, some time in geological history, blown off in an explosion. Indeed the last 250m of ascent were probably at 45-60%. The snow had softened a bit but not enough to feel very comfortable. All I had were hiking poles and boots – no crampons. So made it up to a ridge about 150m from the summit where the major rocks started and I made the executive decision that an accident here was not worth it – alone, high up, indeed, stray like the dogs of Santiago. Those dogs survive because they don´t jump out into moving traffic which may or may not stop for them. So I turned back, happy with my decision and left the mountain behind me to return to my valley with the cows.
The way back beautiful again, and this time I knew where to cross the river, and I didn´t get lost but I was in excruciating pain, and indeed these last few days I have bandaged my feet up and am hobbling around like an old man. 
I left the peace and quite, I left the solitude and the birds, the loose scree and the mountain trails, to descend into a human reality. And now I arrive at something that is surprisingly un home-like.

I came with much difficulty out into the country to a hostal called Casa Chueca, run by a German-Austrian couple. I say with difficulty because the staff are german-speaking and were confused by my Spanish. We have managed to communicate in English… This place looks idyllic. Stucco/adobe houses, whitewash, with clay tile roofs and dark timber frames make up this estancia. Breakfast is hearty and swiss (!)and there is a swimming pool, trekking guides, bikes to rent…etc. Roses and palm trees are everywhere as well as the necessary herbs that the chef uses to cook dinner. This sounds idyllic, like home. But it is amazing how a feeling is everything. I feel far from home, unwelcome in a foreign language (English is the second language, Spanish is not spoken at all). But above all the owners seem more interested in themselves and their own stories, than anything or anyone else – indeed they have not even spoken to me or anyone else other than their employees, and there are photos them on their escapades as well as detailed information on how they started this hostal. They seem proud to have bought up some other established hostals in Chile – to me this is merely another indicator that money and ego are the important things here. Everything, down to the internet, camping supplies, bikes(whose quality leaves much to be desired) are of added, as well as inflated cost! 
I will quit my complaining, the people here are great, I have met some great people, and relaxation and recuperation are always good, if costly. But what sprung to mind here was the juxtaposition between a natural place that is so raw that it is difficult to exist there, yet you feel at home and a place that to the eye, is homey beautiful, welcoming and wholesome yet moves you away from an understanding of spiritual, emotional and mental comfort.
These past few days have been wonderful and I am resting up before my first farm date on Dec 8. That’s it that’s all from this hemisphere.
Ciao for now