The main reason we crossed into Chile to travel northwards (as opposed to continuing on Argentina’s Ruta 40) is to travel on Chile’s famous Carretera Austral. It is a mostly unpaved road which runs over 1000 kilometers in Chile’s scenic and rugged southern regions. The oldest sections of it were only begun the mid-80s, a pet project of Pinochet to link southern Chile and guard against Argentinean invasion. The decision was pretty simple really: rugged route through the most beautiful parts of Chile or more long bus rides through Argentine Patagonian desert?

            From Chile Chico, we could have either taken a ferry across the lake and continued north or spend several days circumnavigating the lake. It would be longer more expensive, and we might have to hitchhike some sections, but going around the lake sounded like a much better option. So today, we departed Chile Chico in a share-van to Guadal, the next village of any size. The four-hour drive was as expected: spectacular. From Chile Chico, we immediately climbed up into the mountains. High on the cliffside road, we had amazing vistas across the lake and the mountains in every direction. The man downing beers in the row behind us provided some interesting and colorful (and loud) commentary. Among other things, he pointed out an open-cast mine which had turquoise water, a phallic-looking rock, and commented on the “bad” people on the other side of the mountains (the Argentines). At first, I thought he was pretty annoying, but just as I was starting to like him, we dropped him and his boxes of supplies off at an isolated little homestead next to the river. It was just a house and a barn on a rare flat piece of land wedged between the river and the base of the mountains. As we drove further, the van slowly emptied as we dropped passengers off at seeming random desolate places along the way. Half the passengers did not even live in villages, but just single homes/farms way out in the middle of nowhere. At least there was a road now, as I cannot imagine what life must have been like before the 80s; probably just a horse trail.

            We finally pulled into Guadal just before dusk. Like Chile Chico, it was on the south shore of the lake, with snowy mountains visible on the north shore. The last couple canoes were coming in for the day as we took a short stroll. Although we only had a little bit of time in the small village before the darkness set it, I was surprised by it beauty.