Back Over the Border: Villarica and the Chilean Lake District 24th - 27th March

We finally made it over the border once again, but not without the usual extremely thorough and painstaking search of luggage for fruit and veg. While we had to chuck out the best part of our lunch (ham, pizza and bread are not allowed either), one poor woman was fined for having ’smuggled’ some wooden candles.

Our arrival in Villarica was marked by ghastly grey weather, but we had a very warm welcome at Torre Suiza, owned by a Swiss couple who had travelled the world on bicycles and all of a sudden decided they’d had enough on arrival in Villarica. We’d planned to do a 3-4 day cycling tour of the Chilean side of the lake district, but N’s cold hadn’t shifted so we kitted Paul out with one of Torre Suiza’s rental bikes and a pair of panniers. While P set off along the long straight and easy road for the lakes, N followed on the bus.

It was an easy day from Villarica to Panguipulli, almost beating the bus and interrupted only by the odd passing car stopping to offer accommodation in the next town and a few toothless locals telling P it was all downhill (as usual, utterly inaccurate). Chilean maps, and, as P was to learn, Chilean signposts often convey contradictory information regarding distances. Looking at the map the next morning over breakfast, the estimated distance to Coñaripe was somewhere between 80 and 120km. 80 sounded good, 120 sounded bad, but P set off anyway and after an hour or so came across a road sign that muddied waters. It indicated it was 70km to what P estimated was the half way point. Not a good sign but no choice but to continue, so P headed down the side of Lago Panguipulli. And then the road ended. Or the paved part anyway. The next couple of hours was spent cycling over corrugated gravel. Most of which felt uphill. Feeling rather disheartened and shaken, and after a short lunch stop P headed off for more boneshaking ripio. As is almost always the way when cycling though, things are never as bad as they seem. A roadside shop appeared, as did a road sign which suddenly knocked 30km off the distance indicated on the last signpost. The road became less corrugated (though no less steep) and, after a long, long series of switchbacks up a whopping mountain, Volcán Villarica suddenly appeared smoking in the late afternoon sun with Coñaripe below, where the usual hot water, food and beer awaited P, not to mention a very sympathetic and welcoming N.

However, the Chilean transport infrastructure was not going to make this an easy day for N either, who was quite eager to get to Coñaripe as the place was surrounded by termas (volcanic spas). So she happily jumped on a bus, arrived in good time, settled into agreed hotel and set off to see about visiting a rustic volcanic spa. However, despite the very minimal distances, finding organising transport to these places was very complicated indeed. The tourist office, albeit covered in inviting photos of various spas, was not very helpful: the woman was glued to her computer and needed some prying before N could get any info out of her. Finally she directed N to a restaurant around the corner. On enquiring at this place, the ghastly man said he couldn’t possibly take her up to any of the termas for less than US$70 (35GBP), and would need a minimum of two people anyway. It was 17km away. N was quite disappointed and disgusted. All was not lost however, as there were other minivans offering transport, but nothing was ever simple - one had to find a group of people to go with, some included entry fees into the transport costs, nobody could offer a flat straightforward fee, and no one offered anything less than US$44 (22GBP) and of course there was not one bicycle to be rented in town. Having wasted half the day trying to find some sort of transport, by 4pm it was too late anyway to make it worth anyone’s while to go anywhere. In the end, the following day, N followed the advice of the hotel receptionist who recommended getting the local bus over the hill to the Coñaripe Termas for $1, and paying an entry fee of $12. They were a bit more resorty than one expected (was hoping for something more rustic) but nonetheless a very relaxing place to spend a few hours soaking in volcanic waters, while Paul cycled his way back to Villarica. After the previous challenging day, everything seemed pretty easy for him, especially as there was no more ghastly gravel to cycle over.

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