Date: Sun, 15 Mar 1998 11:14:06 -0600
Subject: The End of the World!


Hello and greetings from the end of the world!

It is sooooo nice to be back in e-mail contact with the rest of the world.
It has been nearly a month since our last pick-up and we had little time
to compose any responses since then.  We are in Ushuaia, Argentina - the
most southern city in the world.  It is the end of summer here, although
you wouldn't know it by the current weather/temperatures - it is around
60 during the day when the sun is shining.  Occasionally a strong wind
blows, sometimes accompanied by a scattered rain shower.  Seems more like
mid-October in Champaign.

Among the more interesting things we have done lately, I'll reflect back
to southern Chile.  South of Curico (where we visited some wineries and
sampled local wines and tasted grapes about to be harvested), the scenery
in Chile changes significantly, with the Andes looming in the distance and
snow-capped peaks visible.  The countryside is dotted with lakes and hence
the area is called the Lake District.  This is a popular area for foreign
and Chilean tourists.  Lakesides are dense with vacation homes, cabanas
for rent, and camping...none of which is cheap.  We had to pay $20 per
night to camp at one lake! - But it WAS equipped with an electricity
pole and a lightbulb for all the Chileans who had brought their
televisions with them.  The locals sat under their canopy sun screen in
large groups watching sports and soap operas, while the beautiful lake
and distant volcano went unnoticed.  A bit sad, but maybe they had seen it
all before?

Finally, we arrived at Puerto Montt - and on a Sunday, as planned.  A big
accomplishment, since the ferry leaves once a week on Mondays only.  We
had made a reservation for ourselves and were told we could buy a ticket
for the motorcycles on arrival.  We loaded up on snack foods at the huge
supermarket...the ride was 4 days/3 nights and we had heard that the
quality of the food could vary alot.  The next day, we drove down to the
port and saw a beautiful cruise ship docked there.  We were a bit
disappointed to see it was the Norweigen Crown Cruiseline ship and that
our boat was on the next dock over.  It wasn't a garbage scow, but in
comparision the the cruise ship..... Anyway, we loaded the motorcycles,
which rode up a deck on a large open freight elevator.  Passengers were
loaded in the same manner.  We checked into our cabin, which contained
4 bunks, a sink, and 4 lockers.  We had a private bathroom down the
hallway.  Our roommates, a British college-aged couple, checked in later.
The room was quite nice, but a bit small with 4 people and their luggage.
That evening, we got underway, as penguins swam about the boat fishing
for tidbits.  The next 4 days were wonderfully relaxing.  We had perfect
sunny weather and no problems with the open sea stretch where many people
normally succumb to the motion of the boat and give up their meals to the
fishes of the sea.  We had beautiful scenery of glaciers, mountains,
islands, islets, and fiords.  Wildlife everywhere - a whale, dolphins,
tons of seals, some sea lions, and toninas (smaller than a dolphin, but
similar in shape).  We were glad for our snack food as 1 dinner was
completely unedible and other people stared longingly at our cheese,
crackers, and wine.

We arrived in Puerto Natales, met 2 other couples traveling by motorcycles
- 1 Swiss and 1 Dutch.  We exchanged travel stories and discussed road
conditions.  The next day, we rented backpacks and bought a big supply of
camping food, then headed north to spend a week backpacking in Torres del
Paine National Park.  A bit of a rough ride, especially the last half,
as the road was pure washboard...not difficult, just bone-jarring.  The
next 12 days were to become one of the biggest adventures of our trip.
All the travelers heading out of the park reported perfect summer weather.
This we experienced for our first 3 days, which afforded us great
views of the 3 Torres (towers), which are huge granite slabs that rise
out of an ice field.  The ice field is slowing melting, creating numerous
waterfalls, which drain into a lake at the bottom.  A very impressive view
and well worth the long hike (last hour is crawling up a boulder field).
After this, we trekked to the Valles de Frances,to see the Cuernos(horns)
and other glaciers.  Incredible winds attacked us in strong gusts.  The
air would be calm, then we could hear the trees rustling ahead, then wind,
the overwhelming gails that blew us over a few times.  I really didn't
like being forcibly seated in a picker bush, but Dave fetched me out
quickly.  The hike was reported to be 6 hours, but after 8
hours, we stilled hadn't arrived at the camping area.  Giving up, we found
an unmarked camping area, pitched our tent, made dinner, cleaned up just
as it was too dark to see without a flashlight.  The next morning, just
after breakfast, our Swiss motorcycle friends we had met in Puerto
Natales came hiking up the trail in the direction we were heading.  We
exchanged stories and they said we had over an hour's hike to the
campground.  We were glad we had not pursued this on the previous evening.
We hiked off, bought chocolate at the campground, and continued to the
next campground, since this first one was only a breakpoint.

The winds from the previous day continued and could be seeing raising
clumps of whitecaps on the huge blue lake to our left.  After lunch, a
light rain started and continued until our arrival at the Campamento
Italiano about 2 hours later.  The campground was set next to a small
river that flowed through the Valle de Frances, originating from some of
the glaciers above.  It was a mighty stream, but all maps and people
indicated a large sturdy suspension bridge, rather than needing to rock
hop or log hop or wade as with other streams we had crossed.

We made camp and dinner, visiting with 3 Canadians who had been on our
boat from Puerto Montt.  They were camped directly next to the river,
but we set up our tent back near the woods to avoid the cold winds that
swept off the water and to avoid possible flooding.  The rain continued
through the night, creating tiny rivers around our tent.  Dave built some
mini trenches, fortified with rocks to divert the water.  This was very
effective, but after another whole day and night of rain, our tent was
beginning to seep some water as the ground was saturated.  My sleeping
bag was wet from mid-thigh down.  The Canadians were depressed, wet and
cold and packed up.  Other hikers reported that the strong bridge was
swept away and they were planning to return in the other direction (the
way we had taken).  We could see the changes in the river as the water
changed from white to churning with sand and other dirt from above.  Every
now and then we could here boulders tumbling and crashing down the river.
It had become extremely dangerous.  We decided to wait out the rain, since
we had plenty of food, then hike up the valley, and return in our original
direction.   We moved our tent to drier looking ground, cooked a big lunch
during a lull in the rain, zipped our sleeping bags together to share the
dry foot area of Dave's bag.  We were snug, warm, and dry, reading "Call
of the Wild" outloud to each other off the computer, when a man in a red
thermal jumpsuit poked his head into our tent window.  His greeting was
abrupt, then he said "Diez minutos, veinte minutos caminar, barco".  Not
understanding his urgency, we asked him to slow down, we got out our map
and asked questions.  It seems he was part of a rescue crew, and we had
to go with him.  We had 10 minutes to pack our gear and tent, a 20 minute
walk to the lake, where a boat was waiting for us.  We jumped our of our
warm, dry cave and stuffed everything in the backpacks while he stood
watching us impatiently.  No sooner were we attempting to lift our packs
and he and the others (2 hikers and 2 other rangers) were running down the
path.  Normally, a walk to the lake would take 30 or even more minutes,
and we were pushed to do it in 20.  We collected 3 other hikers at another
part of the campsite.  We sloshed through streams and fields of mud.  It
was common to see hikers with telescoping hiking poles or ski poles to
help slog through mud or provide balance during stream crossings.  One of
the other hikers (who happened to be a park guide on vacation) lent me
his poles for some stability.  At times our rescuers were traveling so
quickly that they were out of sight.  It is much easier to run when you
are only carrying a walkie-talkie as opposed to a 20 kilo backpack!  We
arrived at the lake just as the large rubber raft was approaching the
banks.  Having no boat dock, we stood in knee deep freezinf water as our
backpacks were loaded and we were helped over the side of the boat.
When all was secure, we were riding across the lake, the sun slowly
disappearing, but the clouds had lifted and we were treated to a glorious
view of the entire valley and all the mountain ridges we had hiked along
on the previous 5 days.

We arrived on the other side of the lake after about 30 minutes.  We
walked up a path to the park road where a minivan was waiting for us.  We
loaded in the nicely warmed van and escorted to the park administration's
refugio.  This is a crude building with an oil-drum stove for heat and
cooking, several large tables downstairs, along with bathrooms, and a
large dormitory upstairs with 20 mattresses laying side-by-side on a
wooden platform.  The rooms were crowded with cold people, wet clothes
were hanging everywhere, and people were scrambling for beds (Dave and I
procured the last 2 beds by luck).  About 10 people slept on the floor
downstairs.  The lights were put out and everyone slept, although I was
often awakened by a trio of men snoring out a chorus in harmony.

The next day, everyone was setting up their tents and laying out the wet
items to dry, since the rain had ended and the sun was warming the day.
The winds were ever present and took several tents for a ride.  Our tent
was blown rolling up a small hill where it was caught by a by-stander,
but the prize goes to the Spaniard whose tent lofted into the air, bounced
off the second story roof of the refugio and rolled over the building
into a field on the opposite side.  The poor little guy ran around after
it with his mouth yelling and arms waving.  Fortunately, no damage was
done.  We also were informed by the rangers that there was flooding all
over the park.  The river we had crossed with our motorcycles was really
bad.  Although the 2 bridges were still present, the water had covered the
road between and hikers were being transported by rubber raft.

We stayed a second night at the refugio, only 5 others with us, since the
rest of the lot had evacuated on a bus that came by while we were having
lunch.  It didn't matter to us, since our bikes were hopelessly stuck on
the wrong side of the bridge and only waiting was possible.  On the
following morning, the rangers gave all of us a lift.  Everyone except
for us got on the bus back to Puerto Natales.  We returned to the park
entrance, rode the rubber raft across, then hitchhiked back to our
motorcycles.  The R100 had blown over with the wind, resting comfortably
on a corner of the side pannier.  The cover was missing.  The R80 was
fine.  One of the guides at the Hosteria (fancy hotel where non-campers
can sleep) told us that they had found the cover and saved it for us.
We set up camp and made a 2 course dinner - leek potato soup with cheese
and croutons, and a rice-veggie-tuna one pot meal.

The guy who collected camping fees said that the next day it might be
possible to leave with the bikes on a boat of wood.  The Hosteria had
hired some local fishermen with a boat to carry a tour group across the
river.  The guys were supposed to come to the Hosteria that night.  We
stopped by, they cmae to see the bikes and asked how much we would pay.
Not knowing a fair price, we shrugged.  Negotiation was done by the
manager of the Hosteria.  I think we would have down better on our own.
We were "forced" into paying $100 for both motorcycles and us.  Tourists
were paying $3 each!  Annoyed, but with our hands tied, we showed up the
next morning.  After witnessing the crossings, I think these guys earned
their money.  6 guys worked for over 2 hours (delaying their lunch, which
is a BIG deal in Latin America).  The bikes went over in a rickety
rowboat!  The unuseable bridge was serving as a boat dock.  Part of the
bridge railing and support was removed for the bikes to be rolled onto
planks laying across the seat of the boat.  The bike was then lowered onto
its side, resting on some old tires.  The boat dipped and swayed as the
weight shifted, but the deed was accomplished....one bike at a time, with
all luggage and aluminum boxes removed!  Two men and the bike went to the
other side, Dave rode in the rubber raft to help unload.  At the end, both
of us and all the luggage went over.  It took us over an hour to reattach
and repack the bikes.....but.....we were free to leave!

We returned to Puerto Natales, returned the rented backpacks, returned
the rented fuel bottle (no charge at all), and returned to the hotel
where we had left some baggage.  The owners were glad to see us, but had
heard about the problems at the park - closed for 4 days, 100 tourists
rescued, park evacuated!  Then we returned to a wonderful seafood
restaurant where our waiter remembered us, gave exceptional service, and
presented us with 10 or so boxes of matches with a picture of the park's
mountain range on them.

Please excuse my lengthy descriptions...I guess it is feast or famine
with email for us....We will be in Buenos Aires around the 27th of this
month and hope to maintain email contact from there and perhaps once in
between.

Please feel free to pass this along to anyone who may be interested, as
my distribution list is short due to a software limitation.

Sharon