Patagonia, the 7 lakes and the little town of stories
By Viviana Benfenati.
Vicente Pérez Rosales National Park, Chile
“Windows of the Lake Hostel: Walker Martínez 409, Puerto Varas." Never before had I depended more on the autocorrect, I thought, as my shaking hands danced all over the cell phone screen, which had nothing to do with the staggering of my dad's car, where I was sitting on my way to the airport.
I was writing to Sandra, my best friend. Throughout 20 years of friendship, I had met her many times in different places, but never like this one. This time we were going to meet in the Chilean Patagonia.
I live in Lima, Peru, and my only adventures abroad until then had only been family trips. Sure, I had gone to Europe, but how easy it is when you are a kid, and your greatest concern in life is to make that corn last for all the pigeons. Other than that, my boldest and most independent adventure, as someone who was beginning to embark upon her first years of adulthood, was a four-day trip to Cusco with another friend from school.
Having said that, it was clear to me that travelling alone to Santiago de Chile, flying to Puerto Montt and then riding a bus to Puerto Varas, was definitely an adventure fit for challenging Bilbo’s diary in The Hobbit.
So, there I was, sitting on the plane, reinventing the concept of nervousness, staring at the other planes parked at the Jorge Chávez Airport. I tried to count stars, to identify unknown airlines, and to do anything that would free my anxious mind from the fear of this first timer. "The steepest roller coaster of all" I thought, and that's exactly how I felt.
I am sure you understand what this is like: that contained emotion, that blend between fear and adrenaline that overflows your chest once you reach the top of the roller coaster… that moment of absolute silence when the cart stops ... and you know what is coming.
The plane taking off.
There was no going back, you can't get off anymore, I thought, as I watched how my city began to resemble Legoland. Countless questions began to pour out of my mind like popcorn. What happens if Sandra doesn't show up? If her flight gets cancelled? if she can no longer make it? If she gets sick? Am I going alone the rest of the trip? Do I go back? Suddenly, amidst an avalanche of despair, healing words reached out to my rescue.
-Miss, how about a glass of wine?
The healing elixir came to my hands thanks to a nice flight attendant, whose service vocation must have triggered an alert upon seeing my face, correctly detecting the need for alcohol.
After 3 hours and a few more drinks, I arrived at the Santiago airport. If you are a chocolate buff, there is no better way to sweeten 6 hours of layover than by chowing down a nice plate of pancakes with Nutella, always miraculous against nervousness.
Upon arriving in Puerto Montt, I felt like I was dreaming. I couldn't believe how spectacular the landscapes were in that part of the world called Patagonia. But the best was yet to come.
Puerto Montt is a place where you will not only breathe air but also a soothing peace. Where the countryside-wooden little houses are painted with a layer of melancholy and homely warmth that will reach to the most recondite corners of your heart and make you feel as if you knew every secret behind their walls. I promised myself that sometime in the future I was going to spend a part of my life in a place like this.
"Sir, to Puerto Varas?" The affirmative response from the bus driver and his kind smile made me feel like a local returning home.
Puerto Varas received me under a gray sky. I got off the bus and found myself enveloped in a setting that is cherished in mind as a jewel of a memory. Pure countryside town atmosphere: a small gas station, a rustic hotel, wooden buildings, people opening their umbrellas, almost no vehicles, and all the energy of a distant and vast place, surrounded by wonderful nature, thousands of kilometers from everything that was familiar to me.
"It's going to rain!" a man who was crossing the track told me. I had no wifi, so I asked him about the hotel. I still had to find it, but by that time I had forgotten fear somewhere back at the Santiago airport.
I arrived at the hotel and the first thing I did upon entering my room was look out the window. I made it, I made it, I made it!!! I felt like the queen of the world. This is the longest distance you've ever traveled alone, I thought. At that moment, I discovered something new about myself: that I had, indeed, the ability to travel the world. That I was able to find my way in those infinite possibilities that are waiting out there to be discovered.
The clock hands turned, rain poured all afternoon, and the darkness of the night reached the hotel together with the arrival of a blonde hippie who was carrying a backpack bigger than she was. It was then that I knew the journey had officially begun.
Saltos del Petrohué, Chile
The next day, our adventure began amidst the trees of the Vicente Pérez Rosales National Park and continued along the falls of the Petrohué River. In these spectacular streams, water flows in energetic currents made of wet silk, which mingle around a world crafted under the whims of trees, through their intertwined branches. Walk slowly, for this place holds landscapes like you have never imagined, birds of species that you didn’t know existed, and shades of green that you won’t believe are real.
Then we crossed the Todos los Santos Lake (All the Saints Lake) by catamaran and arrived in Peulla, a valley as immense as it is indescribable. Brace yourself to get as close to a Game of Thrones horseback ride as you can get in South America, by embarking on a breathtaking tour along the valley. The welcoming environment in Peulla will make you feel like a part of it from the moment you arrive; and leave you convinced to have grown up in the countryside in a past life.
Peulla, Chile
Then we continued our adventure by bus and bade goodbye to Chile, crossing the Pérez Rosales pass, through the border to Argentina. We switched back to the last catamaran of the journey, through Lake Nahuel Huapi to Puerto Pañuelo, where we travelled the final stretch by bus to Bariloche. There, I fell in love with the Argentine energy, the accent of the people on the street and the sweaters people crocheted for the trunks of the trees.
Bariloche, Circuito Chico, Argentina
We rented a car, and, at the pace of Mumford & Sons, we drove along the route of the 7 lakes. From there, the landscapes will become yours with each photo, because, trust me, you will want to stop every half a mile to collect and immortalize those places in both, your camera, and your heart. Make a quick stop for a coffee at Villa La Angostura, and you will never want to leave.
The route of the 7 lakes, Argentina
However, the end of the road held for us a place that stole a part of my soul: that part is still there, in San Martín de los Andes. Hidden between the mountains, the little town of stories silently waited for us: there is a story in every cup of hot chocolate, in the rain-soaked wooden houses, in Lake Lácar, in the color of the leaves that hang from the trees and in the people, who leave their windows open and greet you as they have breakfast.
San Martín de los Andes, Argentina
Rent a bike and get lost around the streets, and later, go for a walk. We walked aimlessly, without checking any signs, allowing our intuition to be our only guide. We got lost in the neighborhoods and found our way back to the hotel without the help of technology. We arrived around two in the morning, feeling like two locals.
San Martín de los Andes, Argentina
The trip ended right where it began, in Puerto Varas. And, in a blink of an eye, we were already hugging each other goodbye.
My life changed after that trip. Today, 7 years later, I am still grateful to that scared girl who dared to leave her comfort zone. I carry that journey in my heart, together with the person I became thanks to it.
Quila Quina, San Martín de los Andes, Argentina
To travel is to discover aspects of ourselves that we didn’t know about. It is becoming your best companion, losing fear of the world, and realizing that the anxiety you once felt while traveling alone was lost forever somewhere along the journey. From there, there is nothing left to do but to return with a smile, knowing that, from now on, every wine you have on the plane will be solely for the pleasure of enjoying it.
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