My Worst Days of Travel

Before I even get into these last three days, I should first mention the original plan. The original plan was to fly to Santiago, get a rental car, ride at Portillo for 7 or so days, then head to Chillan by way of bus then finish the travel to Las Trancas where I would be staying for major duration of the 2 months.


7/15/13 "Travel Day"
Nervous and barely ready to travel 11.5 hours to a country I honestly barely know anything about. I flew out at night so I could get into Chile and get settled in before night fell. This airport is weird in Atlanta. There are no english speaking people waiting for this plane. Lovely, I'm sure this isn't a foreshadowing of things to come or anything.

7/16/13 "Def Con 5"
I landed in Santiago around 9:30am, go to check my rental car to find out that the company that I booked through DOESN'T EXIST. Well it exists but is at least 15 minutes from the airport. No big deal right? Get a taxi and go get it. Not the case when you are vulnerably by yourself and there is a tunnel like the "gauntlet", for anyone who has played football before, of Chilean-swindlers who are telling you "No way bro this is waaay cheaper!" (add accent for entertainment purposes)

Like a typical city, there are big buildings in Santiago.

After deliberating and deliberating it, while in a freak out state of mind, I just say whatever I need a taxi. I'll head to, ummm what would have Wifi? Oh sweet a Sheraton, let's go there. Completely disregarding the fact that I have a rental car waiting for me that in hindsight I'm glad that I didn't get. Santiago is freakin' insane! Why is that street going that way? Why is there a train there? And why is my only Spanish speaking driver even talking to me like it's a tour. Dude, no hable espanol.

Graffiti covers the city walls everywhere you look in Santiago.

25000 pesos later ($50) I travel about 15 minutes where I need to be. Swindlers! AH! The good news is, I got away from the airport and the weirdness.

Oh wait, I can't access the Wifi at Sheraton unless you are staying there. I talk to the concierge (who speaks English!) and find out that there is a bus called Tur Bus that goes to Chillan and takes about 7 hours. Change of plans, I'm going there where I know some people.

I arrive at the bus station, go to the teller, and tell her in the crappiest Spanish, go to Las Trancas. "No, no bus goes there." Shit.

Freak out. Find an internet cafe where a guy is sitting playing Farmville? What year is this? Jump on Gmail, oh good Gina is on. Find me someone down here, you know a bunch of people. Sweet, thanks for Nachos phone number. Go to the store across the way to talk to the owner, while Nacho is my translator.

What ends up happening is she walks me, by hand, to the teller, buys my ticket (I paid take it easy) and walks me to my terminal. Gives me a kiss on the cheek and a "good luck." I kiss her hand because...isn't that what Spanish people do.

(Why I said Las Trancas instead of Chillan, I don't remember. Just a stupid move. And for the record I will end up in Las Trancas and it's about an hour from Chillan.)

Ok I think I'm heading in the right direction...maybe.

Jump on the bus and 7 hours later I'm in a bus station, at night, and no idea how to get to Las Trancas. Oh good a taxi driver, I don't care what it costs just get me to Las Trancas.

100,000 pesos later ($200) I am driving around with this taxi driver trying to find a cheap Cabanaro to stay at. I actually appreciated him, because at one point he turned his meter off. I know he could of got more if he wanted but for some reason he did this. Also, he helped me talk a guy down at one of the Cabanaros from 100,000 pesos to 40,000 pesos (about $75) because I was by myself. So recap real quick, my translator, doesn't speak english at all. We communicated through pictures. Now, stoked to be in a room even if I had to pay for it. Good night world. Glad this day is over!

7/17/13 "Finally, to Las Trancas & Termes de Chillan...by foot"
So it's me, my 50 lbs pack and my board bag that weighs about 50 lbs. With no way of getting to the resort, I decide to start hiking on the road and trying to hitch hike my way up only to get blank stares and Spanish teasing from kids yelling out the windows of passing cars.


I feel pretty good though, nice to be outside, and hey a sign "56 km". Well 18 km & 6 hours later and I'm ready to hug the sign that says Termes de Chillan. Oh another sign, "8 km to Termes de Chillan". WHY?!

...not cool.

Three quarters of the way through the last 8 km a Chilean picks me up. Thank god too, those last 2 km were straight up hill and on a curvy road with barely enough room for two cars. Plus my back, legs, and shoulders feel like their about to explode.

Notice the road conditions and lack of any "curb".

He drops me off and I go to sneak around to find a primitive camp spot outside of the resort to set up my tent to get out of the rain. Well this tent is, cozy and freezing.

All through the night it rained and I could hear stray dogs messing with my gear or maybe birds. I didn't look so I don't know. I slept terrible, so cold, shivering the entire time with very little food in my system, and then things went numb. There was one point when I thought sarcastically, "Yeah today's my day to go, for sure." When will things go right for once?

7/18/13 "Now what?"
Somehow, suriving the night I wake up to a tent that is an ice cube. Not figuratively speaking, but a tent that had held it's shape perfectly because it froze. I am wet, cold, and depressed. I don't know what I'm doing here. This is too much to handle. Should I leave? I've never felt so alone in my life.

I finally get all of my stuff together into packs and my board bag, and ditch it under a tree. I couldn't careless if someone took everything. I still have my passport and wallet on me just in case though.

I find some accessable Wifi at the "Club House" and text people via Talkatone that I'm miserable and I'm not overexaggerating. Then I get a text from my friend that is down here saying he is working today, I quickly tell my story, which looked like "Dude this place sucks, I'm out of here!" He answers back with just a "The hard part is over. We'll figure it out".

View of Nevados de Chillan from access road.

I find where he is, the Otto, about half a mile from the base. Tried hitch hiking again, but got shut down, so I'm hiking up in my snowboard boots that are soaking wet and have compressed onto my feet making my toes curl inside my boot.

Just realizing that I haven't eaten anything in a day and a half I stop for a bite. The Hambuegeras Italiano. I could barely finish it, even though it was really good. I think my body is rejecting food since all I've eaten is peanut butter, oatmeal, and a little water. A taste explosion is not what it had for it's agenda. I nearly throw it back up but force it down because it's the only meat, tomato, lettuce, etc I've gotten in 3 days.

Met up with Mark and his girlfriend George at the rental shop they work at to find out that they're offering their place up for the night. It's down the canyon, so hitch hiking is a must but I don't care. I just want to sit somewhere that's not freezing or wet. And for the record , I had success hitching as a Chilean family in a pickup picked me up after only a few kilometers. Now this is the way to travel.

So now, I sit here on this leather couch typing this blog post from a fairly primitive house with only a wood burning stove for heat, I have blisters on my heels and the bottoms of my feet, a toenail came off, my back is in pain, my legs are pulsing but i don't care. I just feel lucky I'm in good, warm, and dry company.

Las Trancas, home. For now anyway.