CoyhaiqueCoyhaique

Published on October 17, 2019 ⋅ 8min read

Crystal-clear water lapped against the white-grey marble of the cliffs. A multitude of caves, clustered along the base, receded from the water's edge into darkness. The layers of exposed strata on the walls were evidence of thousands of years of erosion. Beneath the lake's surface, trout swam lazily about, with no fear of a fisherman's rod here. The lake stretched out for miles, the opposite shore a thin line in the hazy distance. Were it a not for the rumble of the boat's motor, it wouldn't be hard to imagine the place untouched by man...

Landing in Balmaceda, we arrived to the middle of nowhere. The airport was tiny, just one gate, and apart from a small clump of houses, there was nothing else around. We were surrounded by a bleak and desolate landscape, stretching out as far as we could see in all directions.

I've never felt so rushed when disembarking from an airplane. Despite being the only plane in the entire airport, the terminal was a bustle of activity as people rushed to pick up their bags -- they were already there waiting for us the moment we got off! -- and jump on one of the few shuttle buses waiting to take passengers to Coyhaique. I desperately needed to go to the toilet, and after a quick pitstop, we left the arrival area and head outside to the shuttle parking area. The air was brisk and dry, foreshadowing many cold mornings to come. We did not want to miss the shuttle, as the alternative would have been a very expensive taxi ride to the city. And there were not that many minivans waiting!

It took about an hour and a half to reach Coyhaique, providing us ample time to gaze out at the landscape we'd soon become familiar with. We were in a land of white-capped mountains and lush green valleys.

The shuttle dropped us right at the entrance to the campsite, which is a common practice here, it seems. We were welcomed by the owner, a very friendly man who didn't speak any English, but was extremely quick with Google translate. We "conversed" and he regretfully informed us that the Cerro Castillo track was closed due to too much snow.

It would be several weeks until it would open.

Bugger.

Well, there went our plan! He said that we should double check with the tourist information office, as they would have accurate details of whether it would be possible to do some of it or not, such as a day hike to the laguna, instead of the full four day trek. So, we pitched our tents and walked up the road to the town.

Unfortunately, the track was fully closed, including the day hike alternative. It was time to figure out another plan...

While walking around town, we saw some advertisements for day tours to other "nearby" national parks. Most of these we hadn't considered because we'd been focused on doing Cerro Castillo, and we hadn't allowed the time to visit them. But now we had time! We met one such tour guide, Diego, who spoke English and enthusiastically told us all about some of his trips that he offered. He had spent some time in NZ on a working holiday visa, so he was overjoyed to meet some Kiwis in Coyhaique and tell them all about his NZ experience.

We looked around a bit, but many of the day tours were a similar price. We decided to take Diego's tour, which while slightly more expensive, was offset by the fact that he spoke some English. We booked a tour to Queulat National Park to see the Hanging Glacier and another the next day to Lago General Carrera, to visit Capilla de Mármol, the marble caves.

The next day began with drizzle, and an early pick up at 7:30am. We had a long drive north ahead of us, approximately four hours, and we were hoping that we would outrun the rain. Spoiler: we did not. We immediately appreciated having Diego as a guide, as he was able to tell us a lot of interesting information during the car ride. Although, with his limited English he did tend to repeat himself often.

Did you know that the Aysén region of Patagonia is at the same latitude as the South Island of New Zealand? We didn't, but we do now after being told it at least 20 times!

Along the way, we stopped at a café for breakfast, where we tried a cake made with Calafate, a type of berry from the region, very similar to a blueberry. After breakfast, there were several opportunities for photos as we stopped at various miradores (scenic viewpoints). The rain didn't ease up. If anything, it got worse the closer we drove to the National Park. Still, it wasn't all bad, since the low hanging cloud provided great atmosphere for photography and Dad snapped many misterious photos. Yes, another bad pun!

When we finally arrived, we walked through the bush in the rain, visiting a waterfall and the lake's edge. Unfortunately, due to the rain, the glacier was concealed behind clouds and all we could see in the distance were two waterfalls emerging from the cloud, as the glacier melted and water cascaded into the lake.

Walking through the bush was an odd experience. The undergrowth was overflowing with ferns, the scraggly trees were covered with moss and lichen, and with the rain, the ground was muddy and squelchy underfoot. In short, it was uncanny how similar it was to walking through the bush in New Zealand! It even smelled the same as I remembered. But of course, don't forget that this region is at the same latitude! Hah. It's no wonder they're so similar.

We returned to the car to drive to a nearby house for lunch, which consisted of deep fried salmon (freshly caught from the nearby river) and chips. I really don't enjoy fish or seafood, but I was so hungry that I managed to get through the salmon. I ate it fast, in the hope I'd taste it less. Fortunately the greasy batter coating covered up some of the fishy taste. After lunch, the rain clouds were starting to clear and it was remarkable how dramatically the landscape changed as we drove back to Coyhaique. At dad's request, we stopped again at one of the viewpoints we'd stopped at earlier and based on the photos we took in the morning compared to the afternoon, you wouldn't realise it was the same place!

We were dropped back to the campsite around 8pm and we cooked a quick dinner on the camping stove before tucking into bed. We had another early start the next day.

Friday began much the same as Thursday: an early pickup, a long drive -- this time south! -- and several opportunities for photos along the way. The weather was in stark contrast to the previous day; where we had a bleak, misty sky, the heavens were now a brilliant blue, devoid of any cloud. This was nice for us in that we weren't getting wet, but we not so great for photos, as clouds are often a vital point of interest in landscape photography.

There are only so many photos of mountains and valleys with an empty sky that you can take before they all start to look the same!

We arrived in Puerto Rio Tranquilo around lunch time. It was a tiny town with absolutely nothing going for it, except for the tourism generated by the caves. We stopped first at a local restaurant (one of about three!) for some food before embarking on a boat trip to see the marble caves. Donning a rather flimsy life jacket (the zip was broken and I was more confident in my swimming ability than the likelihood of the buckles holding together), we boarded a small motor boat with about 10 other people. The boat eased across the smooth water, away from dock. After half an hour of racing along the lake's edge, we came to the first set of caves.

Small pockets of circular recesses marred the grey marble stone surface. The boat pulled in close, driving into one, under the stone overhang. We were so close to the walls you could reach out and touch the smooth marble, feel the effect of years of erosion. Waves lapped gently against the hull, rocking the boat slightly as the click, click, click of cameras sounded as everyone snapped their photos.

A condor circled high above us, it's outstretched wings carrying it effortlessly through the clear skies. Somewhere above, nestled on the cliff face, would be its nest. Apparently, their wingspan can reach over 3m in length!

Then we were off to the next section. A "cathedral", a large marble block suspended by small stacks of marble, the base long eroded away leaving small tunnels you could kayak through, from one side to the other. I wondered how long before it collapsed under its own weight. It looked precarious.

As we pulled into the small bay, circling the cathedral in the boat, I marveled at the water around us. Stunningly clear, you could see the sandy bottom of the lake, filled with old, dead trees and a myriad of fish. Apparently, at its deepest, the lake was 586m, and except for some minerals, the water was apparently extremely pure; too cold to support algae or similar life. I dipped my hand in the water and, shuddering, quickly withdrew it. Yeah, I could believe that.

By the time we were ready to head back, the wind had picked up dramatically. What had been a pleasant journey across still waters earlier was now more akin to the bus ride in the morning on the bumpy gravel roads! The boat plunged over every wave, jolting us in the hard seats. It wasn't long before my butt became sore.

While I enjoyed seeing the caves, I was glad to be back ashore. A long drive back to Coyhaique brought the day to a close.

Unbeknownst to us, Saturday marked the 90th anniversary of Coyhaique. There was a big parade around the town square, in which it seemed like almost every resident was participating! There were Gauchos (Chilean cowboys), the firebrigade, various cultural clubs in their colourful outfits, school kids in their uniforms, a marching band, and even an outfit of soldiers from the local military camp playing their trumpets and snare drums, while others were armed with rifles and looked ready for a 21 gun salute, or something of the sort.

Unfortunately, this public holiday meant the buses to Puerto Aysén weren't running, which had been our intention for the day. Another hitch in our plan! Instead, we decided to hike to the Coyhaique National Reserve, some 4km outside of town, and walk the circuit track there, visiting half a dozen lagoons.

They seem to like their lagoons in Chile. Every sendero (walking track) has at least one!

We spent the afternoon hiking in the park, which was mostly through native forest. I saw my first woodpecker, hammering away at the trees, tat-tat-tat-tat, but unfortunately it was too far away to get a decent photo with my phone's camera and by the time we'd pulled out the DSLR, it had flown further into the trees and was too obscured by branches. But it was pretty cool, nonetheless. It had a magnificent red crown with a white feathered chest and black wings.

In total, we ended up walking about 26km, with about 520m of altitude gain, which made up for the previous couple of days where we'd been in the car so much. It was an enjoyable stretch of our legs.

When we returned to the campsite, we were joined by a couple of German girls who were travelling around by car. We ended up having dinner with them, sharing stories of our adventures thus far and discovered that they'll be heading from Puerto Natales to Ushuaia on the bus the same day as we're planning to, November 11th! So we might just bump into each other again.

For our final day, the German girls left around lunch time (but not before dad taught them how to use their unused gas stove!), and with the whole campsite to ourselves, we decided to have a lazy day and relax. We spent the whole day working on our tan, reading, writing, and editing some photos on our phone. It was the first day in about 2 weeks where we weren't on the go. With the campsite just outside of town, down in a valley and surrounded by trees, it was very peaceful.