Sheep's Head Stew, and Other Adventures in Massage

It turns out that anywhere in the world, people get really excited when they find out you're a massage therapist.  From Greek tavernas to Chilean asados, this revelation instantly brings out all sorts of aches and pains, comprehensible through any language barrier.  When Cristian's mom discovered my profession, her face lit up and she asked if I would be willing to work on her sister Rosa, who was suffering from some unknown but painful malady.  I readily agreed, and we decided that it would have to happen the next day, before Rosa left town.

That day also coincided with Mary, my usual translator, working a trip three hours away, leaving Cristian to act as my coordinator and liaison with my new client.  He speaks a little English and I speak even less Spanish; this was sure to be interesting.  We all put on our going out clothes, including little Benjamin, who was bundled along in his carrier.  It was a short walk over to the guest house where Rosa was staying on the other side of town.  There were several folks sitting around the kitchen table when we arrived; Rosa turned out to be the senora with the short hair, accompanied by her husband and a friend.

The two of us headed back to her room so I could work on her on the bed.  It was a far cry from the last massage I did, on the rooftop of a hotel in Crete overlooking the Aegean Sea.  I knew enough Spanish to make sure she was comfortable and to ask whether she felt better or worse.  During the half hour I worked on her, switching her from one side to the other, people kept popping their heads in to see how things were going, and Rosa would yell out to her husband to put the potatoes on or set the table.  It was hardly the zen-like experience that some people expect, but it seemed to help as she was able to climb off the bed a little easier and was soon puttering around the kitchen.

But my work apparently wasn't done.  "Come to the table!", they insisted, gesturing to a table all set for lunch.  Cristian had taken Benjamin into another room for his nap so I did as I was told.  There was the typical Chilean spread of bread and a couple salads, one of lettuce and one of rice with tomato.  After we were seated Rosa brought over the main course: sheep's head stew with whole potatoes.  And what a stew it was: there were multiple sheep skulls neatly cleaved in half, brains and eyeballs and all, along with chunks of vertebrae and other mystery joints and organs.

Being the guest, I got to serve myself first.  All those anatomy classes came in handy as I fished through the pot looking for something I could both identify and stomach.  I ended up with a large vertebrae while the others eagerly helped themselves to the skulls and jawbones, all the best parts.  I learned that spinal column is really chewy, when eyeballs are eaten you have to cut out the cornea and lense first, and after watching eyeballs be eaten my appetite disappears for a full 24 hours.  It was a very educational meal to say the least.  When someone asks for a massage, you never know what you'll learn.

Backcountry Bliss

Go that way!

Day 1: The day after Christmas we packed up our tent, put on our backpacks, and walked into the hills in Mary's backyard.  Mary and Cristian were kind enough to give us a ride to the trailhead 40 km up the hill and point us in the right direction - "just keep following the road, you'll be fine".  And so we did, clambering over a locked gate, wading through at least six river crossings (thank goodness for gaiters), and into the Reserva Nacional Cerro Castillo.  There was no one there at the entrance to collect our entrance fee of 5,000 pesos (about $10) so we continued on to our campsite on the banks of the Rio Turbio, setting up our tent in a grove of bonsai-esque lenga trees.  We were in bed by 8:00 and sound asleep soon after.

Rio Turbio

 Day 2: With such an early bedtime, Carl was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, by 6:00 that morning, and made sure that I was up as well to enjoy it.  We weren't the only ones - a Colorado fox stopped to give us a long glance before continuing purposefully down the trail.  Our itinerary followed the valley towards its head, then up and over the pass.  It's still the beginning of summer here so there was a sizeable snowfield covering the rocks and scree.  It made for easier hiking on the way up, and some exciting glissading and self-arrests on the way down.

At the pass, looking back the way we came

 The trail wound back into the forest and then turned uphill to follow a glacial stream.  As unnerving as it is to drink directly from the rivers here without treating the water, this is probably one of the last places on earth where you can do that.  After conquering the pass our legs and lungs were not excited about the stairs that greeted us, but the hanging glaciers and soaring peaks at the end were well worth the effort.  That night we were in bed by 7:30, about 3 hours before dark.

Our campsite for nights 2 and 3, underneath Cerro Castillo

 Day 3: Today was a well-justified rest day, with a leisurely morning followed by some local explorations.  A quick scramble up a scree field brought us to a hanging valley probably formed some hundreds of years ago by the glacier looming overhead.  We could hear the glacier creaking and grumbling, and kept looking over our shoulders for pieces to come tumbling down.  When they do break off, it sounds like thunder and echoes around the valley.  We spent a good two or three hours up there exploring the small lake that fed a massive waterfall, stone formations shaped like waves, and chunks of glacial ice in the debris field.

Up in the hanging valley

Day 4: The last day of the trip dawned just as mild and blue as the others; the weather itself was nothing short of miraculous, all the better to enjoy the scenery.  From our campsite it was a short hike up to the lake below Cerro Castillo, and then a longer climb over a tumbling boulder field to the ridge opposite.  We stopped every couple of steps to rest our weary legs and take in the incredible views of at least 4 separate hanging glaciers and twisting spires of rock.  It was breathtaking, in every sense of the word.

Cerro Castillo reflected in the lake below

 We crested the ridge only to have our minds blown once again.  The entire valley of the Rio Ibanez was splayed out beneath us, with glimpses of Lago General Carrera and Argentina to the east and a solid band of snow-capped peaks sweeping around to the valley's head to the west.  Down below, the village of Cerro Castillo lay nestled in a curve of the river, and we could even make out Mary's house, and track the course of the Carretera Austral on its way south.  The trail down was brutally steep, making the scenic breaks even more crucial.  At one point a condor floated silently by at eye level, looping back and forth on the rising thermals.

The town of Cerro Castillo and the Rio Ibanez, with Lago General Carrera and Argentina in the distance

 The last leg of the hike took us towards town via the horse trail we had traversed with Cristian.  We made sure to stop at the sandwich bus before arriving back on Mary's doorstep, foot sore and bearing victorious face-sized sandwiches.  Mary kept asking us how the hike compared to Alaska or Montana, and there's really no comparison.  It's in a class of its own.

Around Every Corner

Cerro Castillo, as seen from Mary and Cristian's front porch

The woodstove in Mary's kitchen that provides heat and dinner.

Huemules!  We saw these wild, endangered ungulates on the way over the pass to Coyhaique.

A house in Coyhaique

 We spent the day in Coyhaique getting well acquainted with the main street and square while Mary and Cristian ran errands.  At 4:00 Carl decided that it was time to try a pisco sour.  After walking around several blocks, we finally found a cafe that was open and serving alcohol.  They're really not too bad.

 Barbeque, Chilean style!  Sling a slew of steaks and some home-made longaniza sausage on a large metal disc, stoke the fire, and enjoy on a slice of chewy bread.  Make sure to cook enough for the marauding neighborhood children.

 Cristian's Mom's farm on the way over to the town of Ibanez

 Big men drink little coffees.  This is what you'll get when you order a cafe chico.

 Look, I can see Argentina from here!  It's Lago General Carrera on this side, although the Argentines call it Lago Buenos Aires.

 The Rio Ibanez just before it enters the lake.  We climbed out to the point between the two cascades and watched the water roar past on both sides.

 Vacan = awesome!

 Lupines on the roadside

Into the Mountains

Happy 12-12-12!  It's an auspicious day, and also marks one week since our arrival in Chile.  We've been taking advantage of Cristian and Mary's hospitality and reciprocating with baby sitting, dish washing, errand running, and cooking on the wood stove (I make a mean french toast).  Our base camp has undergone a couple adjustments, mainly due to high winds that blew over my MSR tent and snapped the support pole of our shelter in half.  They are now both securely pitched in a grove of trees that serves as both protection and support; to fix the shelter situation I sewed a loop of p-cord to the peak and suspended it from a tree.

On Monday Mary took us up into the national reserve that you can see from their window.  There was a trail she wanted to scope out for some clients, and we were all curious to see how our out-of-shape legs and lungs would handle the hike.  The trailhead was situated down a gravel track that was an adventure all on its own.  From there we walked through green cow pastures up to a glacial river, where we refilled our water bottles, and then continued climbing up the ridge where convenient signs informed us of photographic opportunities: Cerro Castillo was above us to the right, Cerro Viaja (spelling unknown), and pointy Cerro Palo which you can see in the photo below.

 We reached the first campsite in about two hours and continued through the lush woods of linga trees and wildflowers into the gathering clouds.  It got colder and wetter the higher we climbed, until we came out into an open meadow at the foot of the mountains, snowfields and hanging glaciers peaking out from the mist.  By that point we were wearing all our layers and realizing that we wouldn't get out of the woods until at least 9:30 (thankfully it doesn't get dark until 10:30).  After a quick snack we turned around and booked it down the mountain.  The map below shows the whole reserve of Cerro Castillo; we hiked the short section by Carl's elbow.

 The next day Carl and I were on our own to explore, so we packed some sandwiches and turned south on the Carretera Australe.  Chile's north-south highway turns to gravel right at Cristian and Mary's house, and this is where we began walking, over the Rio Ibanez a quarter mile until a left hand turn onto an even smaller gravel road.  This track took us parallel to the river and we kept glancing over our shoulders at the mountains playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.

 45 minutes later we reached the end of the road and a trail heading up the hill, with signs announcing the National Monument of Los Manos.  We passed various, awkwardly translated informational signs (one proclaiming the area had once been under a nile of ice) up to a large outcropping of igneous rock.  The draw, besides the scenery, is a series of pictographs thought to be 3,000 years old.  There are hand prints spread across the wall, big ones and little ones, prints and silhouettes.  I guess it's even in the book "1,001 Things To See Before You Die".  Check.

 Today Cristian was kind enough to let us tag along on his trip.  It was the first time on a horse in a very, very long time for both of us; needless to say we're both a little crippled right now.  This time we headed into the reserve by a different route, still starting out in cow pastures and trees.  Normally the route heads all the way up to a glacially fed lake at the base of Cerro Castillo, but with the thick clouds overhead we detoured to a bluff overlooking the valley instead.  There were some steep climbs up slippery trails, and even steeper descents. At one point my horse lost its footing on its hind legs, and Carl's steed got spooked by an aggressive cow, but we all returned in one piece, slightly damp and smiling from ear to ear.  We'll get to that lake on of these days.

Things I've Learned So Far

1. December is extremely windy in southern Chile.  Like sustained 30 to 40 mph extreme.  You will end up with dirt in every little crack and crevice no matter how hard you try to avoid it.

2. You can disconnect a car battery while the car is still running.  This is particularly useful when you have a dead battery because the lights were left on while our friend Mary was in the grocery store, and even a helpful taxi cab was unable to jump start it.  Simply swap in a functioning battery, start said car, change to old battery, and you are good to go.

3. They sell yogurt in bags.

4. Carl is very good at setting up camp sites.  This one is situated up above Mary's house, sheltered a bit by the trees.  The view looks out over the town of Cerro Castillo, and the exact spot where the Carretera Austral (the highway running north-south) turns to gravel.

5. Empanadas are delicious.  What's not to love about a fried hand pie full of beef stew?

It's Go Time

All packed up and ready to go!  The next time you hear from me, Carl and I will be in Villa Cerro Castillo, a small town in the Aysen region of northern Patagonia, Chile.  Keep checking back for frequent updates of gorgeous scenery, cultural faux pas, and culinary adventures.  Ciao!