Musings and mutterings about a String Bean Shaped Country...

"What a long strange trip it's been." Grateful Dead

Remember way back when? From my original blog about Chile: 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.cl/2015/12/chile-today_16.html

Hell! I wasn't even supposed to be here! 

Well, I was here for six plus weeks. I think about this journey in two distinct segments. The W L time (with Lisa) and the WO L time (without Lisa). 

During the W L time I had an intelligent English speaking companion to share my many thoughts and rants with. She'd laugh at my vocalized frustrations concerning this foreign land we found ourselves in. "How hard would it be to put up a freaking sign pointing to a National Park?" 

When I dropped her off a few weeks ago, I experienced loneliness. Now I'm the kind of guy who prides himself on being comfortable in his own skin. In the States, I can go weeks without a real conversation and it won't bother me. Here it bothered me. The difference? I know what's going on around me in my own country. I understand the language.

In Chile, I felt like I was always walking through the famous Star Wars I bar scene. The one featuring Hans Solo with lots of aliens jabbering away around him. In Chile, that was my life minus the English subtitles. I was in a communication void. Chileans don't Habla Ingles a lot. In the course of the WO L period, I had two real talks with two couples from Europe. That's it. The rest of the time I smiled a lot and pantomimed if my limited Espanol wasn't working. It hardly ever did. 

Even the mundane act of going into a restaurant was challenging. I would sit down at an empty table in an empty restaurant. (I ate at Gringo plus hours, about 7:30 to 8:00). Eventually a waitperson would saunter over. I would ask to see a menu in Spanish. Blank look. I would then pantomime eating. Blank look II. Then I would switch to English and start to quietly rant. "Oh this must be the business where I can purchase a block heater for my Ford Van or maybe refill my blood pressure medicine prescription?" For some reason, this worked. I scored a menu. 

Don't get me wrong. You would be hard pressed to discover a kinder, gentler and more easy going people than the Chileans. They are obviously generous, family oriented and friendly. They just don't speak a lot of North American and I don't speak a lot of South American. It's my problemo not theirs. 

My social scene and Happy Hour consisted of a few mediocre brews and my Kindle app. I've read four books in two weeks. 

Enough about me. What about Chile?

First off, this Skinny Country is beautiful, complete with 18 million pretty nice people. (See above). It's almost twice the size of Montana. 

Most folks live along the Central Valley corridor and the Pan American Highway. This stretches north and south of Santiago. There's 5.1 million people in the capital city. On December 12th, we arrived in Santiago and quickly departed. I returned today and will leave in the early morning. My neighbor is the airport.  

Chile's economy is based upon what comes from below the earth (mining) and what grows on top of the earth, (forest products and foodstuffs). The fisheries industry is big too.Tourism is not a main driving force here. It's pretty much a Blue Collar Country. 

Most foreigners are like me and search out the protected areas of National Parks and National Reserves. If you are used to U.S National Parks along with its infrastructure, you might be disappointed like I was on occasion. Many of the parks are in name only. Access to them is extremely limited. Even the most famous ones have crappy roads and a limited  trail system. Getting a map when you pay your entry fee is problematic. I discovered if I made a real sorrowful look when they said "No mapa," one would materialize out of a drawer. 

Chile is now a politically stable country. It wasn't always like this. It was sort of a pick up the morning newspaper to see who's in charge country. The U.S backed a few less than stellar leaders-like Pinochet. I'm not proud of this. 

Maybe this is why there's so many low skilled menial workers seen everywhere. It keeps the populace from rebelling I suppose. It's not uncommon to see seven dudes milling around four gas pumps to pour product into your thirsty vehicle. The national average income is half what Americans take home. 

Chileans smoke a lot more than Americans too. 37% compared to 24%. The irony is they live longer than us. Go figure. 

I'll end this long post with a few questions to my readers. I'm all ears if anyone knows the answers. 

Why do Chileans believe their modern plumbing systems won't handle TP? I refused to participate in a possible local cholera outbreak by placing wads into nearby wastebaskets. OK, call me an Ugly American for this. 

Why do the Carabineros (National Police Force) drive around 24/7 with their emergency lights flashing? How was I supposed to know if I was getting pulled over or if they received an urgent call about fresh donuts? They have wooden handled pistols attached to their belts by a string too. Barney Fife would love them. 

Why do Chileans consider Nescafé Instant Coffee to be the bomb? Juan Valdez and his mule are flopping in their graves. Come on Chile! Trade copper for real coffee in South America! 

Lastly, why did it take so long for summer to show its wonderful side in Chilly Chile? Oftentimes the difference between comfort and cold was merely a passing cloud or a shade tree. 

Chile is not a Third World country, just once in awhile it seems to be. I can say the same thing for parts of the USA too. Like the time I was bicycle touring along the Ohio River in Southern Illinois. I could swear I heard the unmistakable strains of "Dueling Banjos." I pedaled harder then. 

I'm off to Cusco, Peru manana. I'll start trekking the Inca Trail soon thereafter. 

This will likely be the last time I travel alone to a predominantly non-English speaking country. It makes me write long blogs. 

Goodnight from the airport,

Jeff

Day Four: It's a jungle out...

There.

After our bonus one hour of extra sleep, we woke feeling a tad human for a change. The pace seemed to be more relaxed too. Our guides didn't push us with that "Vamonos!" (Let's go!) Attitude which was so prevalent the previous days. In fact, our walk through the cloud forest would be just that - a mosey along to the next campsite. Rumor had it, our "being on the move" chores would be completed before lunch. We were scoring time off for good behavior! 

We heard positive descriptors about this stretch from our guides. It didn't take long before I realized they were spot on. Heaps of the original Inca Trail was what we trod upon. The route maneuvered through dense undergrowth and overgrowth. The choking foliage would have required a machete to plow through. I had a notion that if I stood still too long, the vegetation would steamroll right over me. It being the rainy season everything was slick, dewy and glossy. 

The Inca steps were scary though. A few descents were at a ladder setting angle (about 70%). What made it even more fearful though was the "rungs/stairs."  They were only 6"-8" wide. You descended by side stepping each one. A normal walk would have had you imitating the "Flying Wallendas" sans safety net. Imagine a head over bum free fall. A no Bueno moment for sure. It was quite apparent to me, there were no personal injury lawyers in the Inca Empire. Now that's an advanced civilization. 

En route we came across a terraced ruin overlooking the Urabamba River way down below. The scene was simply amazing for want of other adjectives. Nearby a male llama was hoping to "get lucky" with a female llama of his dreams. He gave chase, while she played hard to get. A South American "Animal Planet" moment for all us Peeping Toms to enjoy. 

After another group photo, we were all pleasantly seated at our campsite with lunch in front of us. The time? About 1:30 pm. Gasp! Free time! This was a concept I could handle.

Cheers from Florida, 

I hear an IPA calling my name.

Jeff 

Day Three: Out comes the whoopin'

stick.

There wasn't a read a newspaper amount of light when Damas (a guide) and two porters shook my tent. They chirped out a friendly "Buenos Dias!" before dropping off warm wash water and soap. I pleaded and received  a cup of hot water for one of my Starbucks instant coffee shots. 

Later on I tried coca leaves, but I nearly got sick when I accidentally swallowed a soggy wad. 

Sleep had avoided me like a too-busy bartender. It's not easy to nod at over 11,000 feet. Any attempts at taking a deep breath caused me to jolt awake. I might have scored three hours of dream time-maybe.  Thank god for Starbucks and adrenaline. 

After breakfast and packing we started our assault of 13,828' Dead Woman Pass. (The outline of the pass looks like a supine woman, complete with a nipple)  Alex reassured the females in our tribe that "it's just a name! Don't worry!  I shouldered my load and headed uphill to the group's first break area. 

When I got there, locals had already set up a 7-11 convenience store. They were selling  water, candy, sodas and beers. Alex informed us down below this would be our last call for alcohol until the town of Aguas Calientes. I chose to give my liver a break for a few days. Besides, I didn't want to carry the added weight. 

I pulled off to the side and looked around. Ahh! From that point I was able to make out a distant glacier. On the rare moments when the clouds parted, one could see how wild and jagged the high Andes mountains are. They seemed to leap Michael Jordan like from the valleys below. There were very few similarities to the Colorado peaks I was used to. 

One by one our group coalesced at the rest stop. Everyone seemed to be in pretty good spirits. Some looked up expectantly at the prominent saddle that marked the summit of the pass. When everyone was somewhat rested, Alex gave us the green light to proceed upward. 

I inhaled a Cliff Bar for those precious 250 extra calories, and started up. After a kilometer or two I caught up with a peloton of porters. When they saw me they kicked it into that extra gear they possessed. That was the last I saw off them until the top. The ascent never seemed to want to end. Luckily it finally did. 

I smiled grandly while panting like an overheated hound. I settled back on a soft rock and took in the surroundings. Wow!  

One by one my teammates appeared. High fives and hugs were distributed in equal doses. Sincere grins was the prominent look. We couldn't get too cocky though, we still had another pass to climb. But first a descent and a much needed lunch break. 

I knew the crew was beat when Damas announced three times that lunch was ready. Eventually he began to gently herd his flock into the dining room tent. It was a quiet meal with muted conversations. Everyone seemed to be in lost in their own thoughts. 

After a short digestion period we psyched ourselves for the second major climb. Pass number two is a few stacked basketball players short of 13,000.' Damas assured us the hike would be "easy". Well, maybe for his 26 year old body. 

We passed a few small ruins en route as we made our way into a fog bank. It all felt sort of surreal. At the top of the pass, there were no "ooh-ahh" views. Kind of disappointing for all the sweat labor that went into our hike. Oh well, it was all downhill to our campsite. Yay!

The only instructions we were given was to stop at a fork on the trail before proceeding on. At least our guide Niko didn't quote Yogi Berra by saying "when you come to a fork in the road, take it." 

 

At the junction there was a good sized ruin to the left. Of course, it was uphill about 100 steps. On the right and at a lower altitude was our camp. We could see the familiar blue tents signifying "home." 

When Niko arrived he asked me, "want to see the ruin? I'll tell you it's history when we gather there." My answer was as short as I am, "NO! I'm Done!" I turned right and skidaddled down to camp. A porter led me to a choice of tents. I pitched my pack inside one. Yes! After over a half of day of motion, I was finally in "west and wewazation" mode "at wast." 

My companions drifted into camp to rounds of applause and back slaps. After a monumental effort we had put the toughest segment of the Inca Trail behind us. As a reward, we would get to sleep in before the next day's stroll through the cloud forest. Alex told us to chill until 6 am. Heavens! 

At dinner the conversations were animated and back in full swing. I could feel a general sense of relief. We were 17 happy campers. 

Cheers!

Jeff