From Lovebirds to Forest Fairy Tales.
Day 46 – Beer, Volcanoes and Searching for Meaning.
Three more weeks left on this epic journey! Today we said goodbye to our lovely hideaway on Chiloé Island and headed back to the mainland. Of course, we chose the “scenic route,” which in Chilean terms means: more dirt roads, more wrong turns, and more jaw-dropping views that made every bump worthwhile.
The day was gorgeous, actually hot, the kind of heat that makes you philosophical. As we drove, I found myself wondering: Why do people still travel? In the old days,
it was to discover new lands. Now, you can “discover” everything online without even leaving your couch (and Google Earth never has bedbugs).
Some say we travel to experience new things… but can you truly experience a culture when you don’t speak the language or understand the jokes?
Yoni suggested it’s to break the routine, but, honestly, you could just rearrange your furniture for that.
So there I was, deep in conversation with myself, trying to figure out the real reason people travel. As usual, I came to no profound conclusion, but hey, it kept me entertained for 100 kilometres.
Our destination was Frutillar, a postcard-perfect town with a strong German heritage. Back in the mid-1800s, Chile was a vast, underpopulated country
(bigger than the UK and Italy combined!) and decided to “import” some hardworking settlers. Enter the Germans, farmers and artisans who came with discipline,
beer recipes, and probably an early version of the efficiency manual.
After 4.5 hours on the road, we finally arrived. Yoni was done for the day, so I let him rest while I explored Frutillar Bajo, a lakeside fairy tale of rose gardens,
wooden chalets, and a backdrop so stunning it deserves its own soundtrack: Osorno Volcano shimmering across the water.
I started at the impressive Teatro del Lago, then strolled the promenade lined with charming old houses, most of which have been turned into cafés, souvenir shops, or restaurants. It’s a little sad when heritage turns commercial, but I decided to ignore the “Instagramification” and just enjoy the beauty.
And then, because Patagonia never misses a chance for drama, the weather changed its mind.
It went from blazing sunshine to rolling thunder in under an hour. As I dashed back to the car, fat raindrops turned into a torrential downpour…
which stopped exactly eight minutes later, as if the sky just needed a good cry. Back to blue skies… back to the Flow.
We found a cosy restaurant for a late German-style lunch (and beer, of course), and after that, there was only one logical destination: bed.
Tonight, we’re staying at Casa Werner, a 110-year-old lakeside inn with creaky floors, swooping seagulls, and a lily-covered pond that looks straight out of
a Monet painting.
Tomorrow, we’re off to explore Puyehue National Park… so stay tuned for more misadventures, dirt roads, and possibly enlightenment (though probably not).
Day 47 – Lovebirds, Coffee, and Three Waterfalls Later.
Sleeping next to a colony of mating Black-headed Gulls is… an experience. Imagine thousands of birds all passionately proclaiming their love. All. Night. Long.
Apparently, each couple can recognise their partner’s call in the chaos, which is sweet, I suppose, unless you’re trying to sleep under their honeymoon suite.
After that romantic symphony, caffeine was a matter of survival. Luckily, our hotel’s German heritage came through with a real, strong, glorious coffee, the kind that could wake the dead or, in this case, Yoni. Fueled by caffeine and mountain views, we hit the road for a 2.5-hour drive to Puyehue National Park.
The road was stunning: rolling green, snow-capped peaks, mirror lakes, and somehow, this time, Yoni didn’t even need his usual snack bribe. A miracle.
When we arrived, we found ourselves the only car in the tiny parking lot. A friendly ranger popped out, explained the three local trails, and waved us in…
no entrance fee required. Did we ask why? Of course not. When the universe gifts you free entry, you just say, “Gracias!” and move along.
We tackled the first trail, another waterfall (yes, another, I’ve lost count by now). But who can ever get tired of waterfalls? Watching all that water carve through
stone makes me feel like nature’s cheering for persistence.
Next up: Salto del Pudú. A trail named after the tiniest deer in the world, think Bambi meets housecat. Sadly, no deer sightings, but the forest itself was pure magic.
Ancient trees, moss-draped trunks, filtered sunlight, it felt like walking through a fairy tale. I touched almost every tree like a weirdo in gratitude.
The third trail, Sendero de Chile, was less inspiring. Pretty, yes, but the vibes were off. I left Yoni to finish it (he loves a good “mission accomplished” moment)
and headed back to prep lunch.
While waiting, I noticed another map showing three trails across the road, including one we hadn’t heard of. The new ranger told me it was on private land with cabins
and a restaurant, and technically, there was an entrance fee. “Technically” being the key word. When we went, no one was there to charge us.
Off-season blessings strike again.
The trail turned out to be the best of the day, sunlight filtering through emerald leaves, air thick with forest perfume, the sound of distant water teasing us forward.
When we reached the final waterfall, the third of the day, it was perfection. A quiet gorge, glistening rocks, and that deep, steady roar that feels like nature’s
meditation music. I stretched out on a sun-warmed stone, half-dozed off, and thought, this might be heaven.
Just as we left, a noisy group of school kids arrived, perfect timing, as always. We were in flow.
By late afternoon, blissed out and exhausted, we headed to our new cabin for the night.
Tomorrow: a new section of this magical park. If it’s half as enchanting as today, I might just start believing the forest is flirting with us.
