Here to there and back again: more adventures and two parting of ways

He starts his day walking 4 blocks to his office at 9am. He works there on his cases or heads down to the courthouse for trials. At 1pm he is off for lunch and by two, he is sailing his little yacht on the Atlantic. If it is too ugly or rainy y goes to his house, with its french doors and its vines and he sleeps the siesta or gardens until 6pm. Then he goes back to work for two hours and calls it a day.

I don´t know his name. An argentinian man in his early sixties perhaps, with whom I chatted only a bit, about the tragedy of native populations here and in Argentina, at the hostel in Ancud. When Camila and I decided to leave the hostal to go the a small little village in the sunken river valley he offered to drive us part way, then the full way. He said he loved to hang out with younger people because its good for one´s soul. When we arrived at Chepu Adventures (a small outfit at the confluence of three large rivers that empty into the pacific) he greeted the proprietor and after hugging and kissing us both he told the man to "take good care of them". This is a whole new experience for him. As a lawyer he has always stayed in hotels when he travelled and was confused and enchanted by the comunal cooking and the social atmosphere of the hostal!

After spending 5 nights in Puerto Varas, walking about the base of Volcan Osorno (another aparently perfect white cone) and along a turquoise mountain river from a glacial lake in the mountains; after hitchhiking with a german guy I met in a rented car driven by a Polish couple with whom we chatted for hours sitting on the shore of Lake Llanquihue eating german inspired Kuchen; after meeting two delightful Canadian biologists and a french man passionate about Montreal - after all of this I headed to Chiloé, the home of both the potato and of a massive salmon-farming industry, home to humbolt and magellan penguins as well as a mythology that could easily pass for a Grims brothers tale. Here in Ancud, the first day I met Jonathan and Camila (and bizarrly about 5 additional solo travellers). The three of us spent time roaming about the streets, cooking meals and chatting about the morality ideology and spiritual benefits of travelling. We went to a local festival (we were 3 of only 5 tourists there) called the Muestra Costumbrista (literally "demonstration of customs or traditions") They sang and danced a traditional dance, and Jonathan and Camila ate the traditional Curanto (a barbecue of seafood, meat and a sort of potato patter - much like gnocchi batter - made in the ground on a fire and then covered) The three of us seemed to click right away, it was beautiful so it was sad to see Jonathan go only two days later.
The next day Camila and I rented some sketchy bikes and biked the thirty kilometeres on windy, hilly dirt roads to a vast beach where we took the touristy option of hiring a boat to take us out to see the penguins and sea lions! Even without the life, the Pacific ocean and the rocks are, as the guide said, only pacific in name! but breathtaking! We were too tired to bike back so after about 5 kilometers along the rolling bluff we caught a lift in the back of a pickup truck. When it started to rain they invited us to cram into the cab with them and we took a detour to Ingrid (the driver´s) favourite beach.
stones, violent waves
misty grass and the a salty fog blowing in wisps
toward the lonely cows that march
in the mud and the pale green, between
rocks of black and the blinding white
Yesterday, after three days in Ancud, Camila and I decided to head to a more rustic destination, we thought. In 1960 a massive earthquake destroyed much of Chiloe and its distinctive architecture, something that we always think of when we think of earthquakes. What we rarely think of is the damage, or better, the change to ecosystems. Chepu is located close (I had hoped right on, or closer but alas) to the pacific ocean, where three rivers combine. Here there was a massive old-growth forest that populated with trees the deep green valley. The quake shook the earth, dropping the level of the land by 2m thus sinking a huge part of the forest to a level reachable by the tides. Now, instead of looming forests, all that remains is the skeletal remnants, the blanched and algaed stumps of what once was a living organism. We took a kayak (rather crappy kayaks, but its the scenery that counts) tour on the river this morning and all sorts of birds and even a river otter, navigated the spooky still of the branches and the pale colours, the glassy reflections. I have seen vast tracts of sunken forest in a canoe before all over Ontario, but the scale of this is unbelievable - three rivers, bjillions of trees, a bunch of salt water that burns away the life and leaves bones, roots and opens the door to a new sort of ecosystem.

After a meal with some Germans and a Croatian in a truckstop I bid my travel buddy (Camila) of 5 days goodbye (its amazing how empty you can feel when one or two or x number of people fill a space so rapidly that is normally filled by deep relationships of family and close friends) and I returned to Ancud to pick up my stuff that I had left here. Tomorrow is another day and I don´t know what it brings because im leaving Ancud and I don´t know where I am going. Certainly more adventures, more people, more experiences. Hopefully I will soon be working at Refugio Mawenko another hippie farm sort of deal on the island, which im really excited about.

This has been long, and for that I apologize, but its been a while and some times I´m just bursting at the seams so there you have it!!!