The ATMs in this one bank are not part of my cards' (plural here) network, so 7h55 found me lining up outside the bank, waiting for it to open (everyone said it was about to, and by 8h15 there were about 20 of us lined up, but it turns out it only opens at 9h; I sometimes hate the local habit of not giving you a precise time but only saying, in just a little bit, not long now, etc) and it was freezing in the mist. When I finally got in, they couldn't do anything about withdrawing with my card (I'd had this problem before, and the bank back then had resolved it by filling out some forms and getting me money that way), so I thought, fine, I'll change some Argentine pesos into Chilean ones. They didn't take Argentine pesos. I could barely believe that, considering their neighbours were less than 100km away. Only Euros and Dollars. Dollars? Not Canadian though? No, not Canadian. Well, I hadn't really thought they would. But now I found myself in a bad position. How was I going to get around?
Someone thought of pointing out another ATM that was in a grocery store, and my problem was instantly solved. I rushed back to Malalcahuello, where my things were packed and waiting, said good-bye to everyone, and Omar drove me toward the park.
I'd decided that the easiest thing to do was leave my big bag at the lodge 15km into the park. If they let me, I'd camp, if not, I'd rent a bed. So, this we did, I left my bag with a delightful girl called Pia, and then Omar dropped me off at Crater Navidad, which I intended to hike up to and around, and then get back to the lodge through a high level route. I thought all of this together could be done easily in 7 hours, I only had a day bag and could move more quickly. This using the park's own estimates, published in their map.
Volcan Lonquimay with Crater Navidad at its feet.
Crater Navidad is also a young crater, growing off the side of Volcan Lonquimay, the top of which was blocked off by another earlier irruption, so it is common in this area for volcanoes to have many craters. It was created on Christmas day (hence the name Navidad) in 1988, and had made necessary the evacuation of neighbouring towns. The entire landscape is barren, covered in volcanic ash, and looks like a desert. It is starkly impressive.
From the road where Omar dropped me off and waved good-bye, a 45 minute, tiresome walk through deep volcanic ash gets you to the rim, which you can entirely circumnavigate. Looking into the crater itself, which you can partly walk down, is very impressive! I've been told that on some days, you can see it smoke. I didn't.
I stayed there a good bit, marveling at the views, coughing my head off at the dust.
An Argentine family made the climb up too, and took a couple of pictures of me (it was a bit too windy to use the timer). I felt like staying there a good bit, but I also wanted to do that other trail before heading back, so I climbed back down.
The road would have taken me back to the lodge in about 2 (very boring) hours. But I chose a high level route over the hills. The map said it took 3 hours but that it was very difficult. I studied the said hills. They didn't look difficult, by which I mean technically challenging. Physically demanding, sure, but any steep hill is that. I couldn't see a trail, but the ridge should be easy to stick to.
I started up. As I went up, the wind got a bit cooler, and a great deal stronger. By the time I made it to the beginning of the ridge, I knew that I had dust and sand and ash in every possible body surface and orifice I possessed, and was sneezing repeatedly. The wind picked up great flutes of sand and twirled it around like in the movies, like little mini tornadoes that enveloped you. The phenomenon was amazing, and was repeating everywhere I looked. Once the awe was gone though, it only left the slight aggravation of hardly being able to see.
Like a multi-humped camel, the ridge went up higher and higher. The stakes had obviously been placed to be seen coming the other way, and I managed to miss most of them, noticing them when I looked back. At the second to last hill, thoroughly tired of sneezing, I hooked left and took the ridge from the other side.
What blessed relief! The wind died down instantly, I was now protected from it. So was the hillside, and where the other side had been barren, this side was full of little colourful flowers that grew close to the ground, and out came my camera.
The walking was also a bit more delicate here, with the hillside a great deal steeper. As I went around, I also realised that if I kept on to this side, I would end up in a completely different part of the park, and very far from my bag and tent. I regretfully said goodbye to the flowers, and crossed over to the other side into the head on wind.
From this high up, the views were fantastic on the many surrounding volcanoes, but unable to enjoy it properly because of the dust and wind, I decided to leave the high level route and follow the loose hillside down back to the road. I could already see the lodge close ahead, and if I timed it well, I would barely have to be on the road itself at all.
It was, if such a thing is even possible, even dustier than the hill. I slid down easily and quickly, the loose volcanic ash wonderfully soft, but then I started sinking in further and more abruptly than is usual, and I remembered reading that an underground animal (which I have not seen but from its description sounds a great deal like a ground squirrel or prairie dog and is called a torundo or something) was problematic here and that horses often broke a leg falling into the holes created by their many long tunnels. I slowed down and was glad I did. Despite being careful, I must have sunk in about 40 times. If you're not careful, you can really snap a knee or twist an ankle.
I got to the road and a further 20 minutes took me to the lodge which, I found out, is actually closed except for the kitchen (the high season being winter skiing) but I could camp and use the bathroom, which is exactly what I wanted anyway. I washed in cold water, and left a tremendous amount of dirt in the bottom of the bathtub. My face had been nearly black with the mixture of sunscreen, volcanic ash and sweat. What a sight! It was ludicrous, and I now wish I had taken a picture, but I was in such a hurry to get it out of my eyes I never thought of it. My bandana had kept the worse of it out of my hair.
I set up my tent in the middle of the Araucaria forest, with a view on the volcanoe. I felt deeply satisfied.
The evening was quiet and fun.
Pia, a tourism student from Santiago, lives here for the summer with two other colleagues, and loves companionship. We chatted the evening away while the sun went down. When she had to attend to others (many come just to take pictures, stay 5 minutes and leave), I studied the volcanoe, which I wanted to climb the next day. I was trying to see the route but couldn't quite figure it out. Pia told me a guide came by most mornings to see whether anyone wanted to go up. I resolved to go with him if he came, but to try it on my own if he didn't.
That night, knowing a mountain was watching over me, I slept like a baby.
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