Volcanoes, Parades and Pisco Sours.
Seismic Yellow Alert
Today I climbed a mountain. Not just any old mountain but Quetrupillan, a wild and rugged, mostly dormant volcano in Chile near the Argentinian border in the Andes Ranges. Roisin and Paul join me but David is a little under the weather from a mystery stomach ailment that has afflicted several of us. We had originally planned to climb Villarica but it has been a little restless lately so we are told we would only be allowed to go half way up. We decide that would be like having half of a root (Aussie slang for sex). At least Quetrupillan offers the lure of a climax.
I kiss Sally goodbye and climb into a mini van at 6.00am to be delivered to the base of the mountain about an hour later. Ahead lies a 16km round trip trek with over 1040m metres altitude gain. The first 5km is an easy stroll through a beautiful forest when suddenly were emerge from the tree line to be greeted by a magnificent and daunting edifice. It towers over us and dares us to continue.
About this time Sally is waking from a peaceful slumber and making her way to the hotel dining room for a hearty breakfast where she and Gabby make their plans for a gruelling day of retail therapy. I truly don’t know where they find the strength.
Meanwhile the ascent proper begins. We puff, sweat, stumble and generally haul our sorry arses up that mountain. We crest one ridge in time to turn around and witness Villarica shoot a cloud of smoke, steam and ash hundreds of metres into the sky.
Villarica threatens!
Some quick thinking by Paul and I prevents a major eruption and the town is saved!
Disaster averted
Having averted catastrophe we turn back to the impossible challenge of conquering the mountain. The surface is soft volcanic ash mixed with rocks of all sizes and it’s often a case of two steps forward and one back. Our guide, Jorge bounds about the mountain side like a goat running up and down between us giving gentle encouragement. We eventually crest the rim of the crater and if I had any breath left it was certainly taken away by the view that greeted us. Mere words cannot possibly describe the drama before us so take a moment and soak up the view in the drone footage below.
Meantime in the hurly burly world of shopping Sally and Gabby stumble upon a parade to commemorate 150 years of Pucon being a town.
The Street Parade to celebrate 150yrs of Pucon
Speeches are made and presentations are given to noteworthy citizens but it’s all in Spanish of course so not much is truly understood. While this is happening the seismic yellow alert semaphore in the town centre begins to flash a little more urgently.
On top of the mountain we rest for a while and eat our lunch while condors soar overhead.
Majestic!
I drink a double shot espresso that I had purchased for the occasion and spring into action. I leap off the mountain half running half skiing down the volcanic ash scree. It is a serious mistake of course and by the time we are back to the tree line I am broken. My legs alternate between rigid cramps and jelly. Jorge lends me his hiking poles, an accessory I have never seen a need for until now and I am grateful.
Sally’s legs coincidentally go out in sympathy with mine but hers are a result of her sampling a pisco sour (a potent South American drink made from fire water and something else). She later tells me it was delicious but one glass and her boots went all wobbly.
Eventually we are reunited at our hotel in Pucon. We go to sleep tired but elated for totally different but no less valid reasons. We do not rouse for 9 hours.
Tomorrow we head for the border and La Ruta Los 7 Lagos. Stay tuned.
