Facing Fears, Cutting Loose

Right after I last wrote, I marched myself out onto the streets of Santiago, found a salon on the way back to my hostel, and chopped all of my hair off! I have been sort of itching to do this for the last few months but was terrified of it, and now it is done! It looks just about like it did during my IU years, if that helps with a visual. If that doesn't help, I will try to get some pictures posted soon. Liberation! But, if chopping your hair off isn't terrifying enough, try trying to explain to your Spanish speaking hair stylist what you want. Short, but not too short! Easy on the bangs! Nothing dramatic! We got through it, thankfully, and I got, more or less, exactly what I wanted.

Then, about two hours later, me and my new head of hair and my travel buddy, Bjorn, boarded the night bus for Pucon. I sat down into my assigned seat, assessed my surroundings, and found: in front of me, a crying baby; behind me, a crying baby; across the aisle from me, a crying baby. It was only endured for maybe 45 minutes - once those rumbling engines started up and we got some rhythm of the road under us, they all shushed. But it was a little terrifying to start a 9 hour bus ride like that. Open the wine! Quick!


Tuesday was spent doing very little. Catching up on sleep from the bus ride and feeling a little under the weather from a sinus infection.

Wednesday, we rented bicycles. I had a little accident the last time I rode, I told the guy at the shop. So I am a little scared, but I need to try. Did a 50 km ride through the farmland around Pucon, and it was just lovely. Farm after farm after farm. Cows, sheep, pigs, roosters, horses - roaming around, making their farm noises, running into the road.

I was generally confident on the bike, but those gravel backroads make me NERVOUS! Especially when you have to go straight down hill on a gravel road - I do not trust those brakes whatsoever. So I just trinkled down the hill, brake, brake, brake, brake. By the end of the day, my right hand was killing me from the brakes. The flat road was fine, though, even the downhill.


Pucon is situated right at the bottom of Volcan Villarrica, a 2,847 meter active beast that looms over the city, poofing grey smoke into the air. There's an "alert" system in the town center here that basically looks like a stoplight. Green means safe. Yellow means maybe not so safe. Red means run! I am sure it's a bit more technical than that, but I am a bit curious as to how that works. Like what if you don't happen to be passing by the stoplight when they switch it to red? Then what? (Randomly enough, this really LOUD siren just went off outside. I heard it the other day, and thought, uh oh. What does that mean? But the guy next to me just told me it means it's noon. That's kind of unnecessarily scary for noon, don't you think?)


Anyway, of course there are organized ventures to the top of the volcano. And of course, I wanted to go UP THERE! So 7 AM Thursday found me getting geared up for the trek, sitting outside of the trek agency in the dark (sunrise isn't til 8 or so), trying on my boots and my waterproof pants and whatnot. They arrange an entire backpack of things for you - they don't want you to bring anything of your own. I think it's basically so that everyone is properly outfitted, and no one is trying to trek up there in their tennis shoes.


Around 8:45, I was at the bottom of the volcano, boarding a ski lift that would take me to 1,800 meters. They said you could walk that portion of it, and it would take you about an hour, but they highly advised you not to, as it would unnecessarily wear you out for the rest of the trek. At the time, I thought maybe it was a little silly to take the ski lift when my walking legs work just fine, thank you very much, but as soon as I got going on those walking legs, I was very thankful for the ski lift.


We had about 1 hour up regular terrain. It was pretty steep, but not terribly difficult, and we were trekking in a line of about 10 people - 8 trekkers and two guides on both ends. Then we got to the edge of the glacier that covers the top quarter of the volcano, sat down, and put our crampons on our boots. I have never ever used crampons before, and if you don't know what they are, here's a visual. Remember when you were little, and there were two types of roller skates? The ones that were whole boots that laced up the top, and then the ones that just strapped onto your shoes? The crampons are basically like the latter, only they have sharp little fangs instead of rollers. Definitely want those if you're climbing up a very steep and slippery glacier.

It was STEEP. I was nervous. Quite nervous, in fact. Our little group took a few steps on the ice, and the guide began explaining to us how to walk with your crampons, when and how to use your ice axe (which we had to carry in one hand or the other, at all times), and... Ahhhhhhh! A huge cry went up from the glacier. I looked over, and a member of a group ahead of us, who had started up the glacier, was sliding about 50 very steep meters down the glacier, and there was nothing to stop him below but ROCKS. Miraculously, he fell the "right" way, and managed to emerge with only a few scratches, but geez. It was dramatic. I was certain I was witnessing someone's end. And then our guide started back up - So if THAT happens, here's what you do. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. I am supposed to follow in that guy's footsteps? Accident prone me? I was CERTAIN I was going to fall off the side of the volcano. Certain.


The guide put me right behind him, first in line. At first I was a bit pissed, because I know that's where they put the weakest link, so to speak, and well, I like to think I am quite fit and capable. But after a few steps on the ice, I was glad to have that guide right there with me, step here, step here, you're doing great. And after a while, I relaxed, got into a bit of a rhythm - breath, step, axe down, breath, crunch, crunch. But it was really hard work. Really hard. We were on the ice maybe 1.5 hours, and then it was crampons off to climb up the volcanic rock the remaining hour to the top.


That volcanic rock also did not make me very happy. It was really steep as well, and the rocks are so light and crumbly, and it's impossible to tell which ones are going to move when you step on them, and which are not. But I made it. I did it.


And wow. You could just see everything from up there. The whole world, I saw. I'm certain of it. The range of the Andes below was spectacular, the huge lakes surrounding Pucon, I could even see Mount Tronador (where I hiked a few weeks back)!


And the volcano! It was smoking. Literally. We walked right up to the edge of it, and it was emitting little puffs of gas that stank and burned my throat and eyes. It was pretty neat, though. And, from up there, you could see where the last eruption of lava had run down the mountain. In the middle of the green forest, there were dry "rivers" of brown where the last big one had scalded the earth. Crazy!

The way down was almost scarier. I did NOT like walking down that volcanic rock, and the guides were rushing us in a way that made me want to say something very rude. We need to move, they'd say. What is the hurry? Do you want me to die up here? I need to step carefully!


And then we had to get back on that ice with the crampons again. I was really nervous getting back on the ice - having the momentum of the downhill against me did not make me feel very safe. Once I got going, though, it seemed pretty safe. It's practically impossible to fall out here, Bjorn said. So I started to relax, fell into a conversation with him, and then, SMACK! Ellen down. Face on the ice. I only slid down maybe two feet, but I was in tears immediately. It was so awful to be on the top of the world and find yourself about to fall off of it.

Guides were helping me up immediately, and everything was fine, but I was shaken. Just get me down! We only had maybe 20 more minute on the ice, thankfully, and the rest of the way down was pretty easy, so I did make it. Up the volcano and back down, with just a big bruise on my wrist. What a day.

Yesterday was a great day, as well, though less frightening than both the bicycling and the volcano climbing. Horseback riding! I don't think I'd been on a horse since summer camp when I was 10 or so, and I was dying to go in Bariloche and never got the chance.

We got to ride for a good four hours yesterday, through the Chilean farmland, a Mapuche Indian village, beside blue rivers, through green forests full of blackberries ripe for eating! It was a fantastic day. So relaxing. We did a little bit of faster stuff on the horses, but I took it pretty easy when the others went galloping off. Let's you and me just take it slow, little horsey. Let's enjoy the ride.

The folks at the hostel had an asado last night, so that was good fun, and I have now checked out of my hostel and bought a bus ticket for tonight to Valparaiso, a little beach town north of Santiago where Pablo Neruda lived (El Postino, anyone?) I imagine I will stay there for two nights and then head to Mendoza for a few days before my plane leaves for Easter Island. Yipee!!

I really am going to try to be more regular with the writing. I am just having such a blast out here - internet time seems to be falling behind on the priorities. Bueno!

Much love to you all. Have a great weekend.