Wɔatintim: 20.03.2020
We leave our lonely, remote spot by the river in drizzling rain and drive around the southwest tip of Lago General Carrera to Puerto Guadal. The lake, shared with Argentina, is the largest freshwater source in Chile and the second largest lake in all of South America, with a maximum depth of 580 meters. There is not much to see in the small town, so we continue eastward with two students from Santiago in tow. The adventurous road winds along the sometimes steep coast for hours with great views. Just before the border with Argentina, we reach the sweet town of Chile Chico, where we spend the sunny afternoon cooking by the lakeshore.
Later, we drive two hours south on a gravel road to the Jeinimeni National Park. Ten minutes after the park closes, we arrive at the entrance. Thankfully, the ranger comes out of his private house to let us in and collect the park and camping fees. The camping area has only seven widely spaced spots scattered in the forest and is right next to the beautiful Lago Jeinimeni.
We leisurely hike along Lago Jeinimeni to Laguna Esmeralda and Lago Verde, two stunning turquoise-blue lakes. The backdrop consists of multi-colored mountains and fresh green forests, and we are almost alone. We hike back and drive on the gravel road back to Chile Chico in the evening light, with a great view of the hilly steppe with deep ravines where a rushing river snakes through. Ben and I have many discussions about possible business and lifestyle models for our future, combining our love for nature and outdoor living with a good standard of living. In Chile Chico, we stay at a campground with (at least lukewarm) showers and do laundry. In the sheltered area, we cook our vegetables again and make a small fire with some branches from the promenade to keep warm in the evening.
After the immigration procedures, we drive through the Argentine steppe for a while. We have a secluded lunch break in a deep gorge with a dry riverbed. The sandy, red-brown canyon is windy, but in a slightly sheltered spot, I can even sunbathe a bit. The rest of the day, we sit in the car and continue our relaxed journey south. Our time together is slowly coming to an end. Or is it? Due to the current situation (Corona pandemic), Ben's flight from Santiago to Munich (via Madrid) was canceled yesterday. We sleep on it for now.
We stop in the town of Gobernador Gregores, in the middle of Argentine nowhere. Despite its small size, there is a hospital, a nursing home, and a cinema, which we unfortunately discover shortly before leaving the next morning. There is not much going on, but we like the place. The municipal campground is cute and well-equipped, and we feel comfortable here.
We spontaneously decide to drive to the Argentine coast and cross the vast expanse of nothingness. In Puerto Santa Cruz, by the sea, we originally planned to have a lunch break but somehow get stuck in the deserted ghost town. The temperatures are surprisingly summery, and we stroll along the empty beach promenade in the sunset.
There are exactly three open restaurants in town. We have already been to one in the afternoon, the second one rejected us due to quarantine reasons, and in the third one, we finally eat well and affordably, but completely alone. We spend a lot of time on the internet, trying not to be driven crazy by the circulating confusing news. Border closures, curfews, uncertainty - it is difficult to assess the seriousness of the situation, especially here in seclusion. But there's no use worrying, the Earth is still spinning, and for now, we continue our journey according to plan, back to Punta Arenas. If Chile lets us back in... And until then, we try to enjoy the time as much as possible, treat ourselves to an evening at the cute local cinema with two other guests, and then go to bed with a slight buzz from beer and wine with Fanta.
For once, we get up before sunrise and crawl out of the warm sleeping bag. We are greeted by a few old, rusty boat wrecks that lie on the beach and slowly decay. Since it is cold and wet, we spend the morning in the car, continuing to inform ourselves about the current situation and our options.
In the afternoon, the weather clears up a bit, and we go on our hike, which will be our last for now. The trail leads us along the rough, rugged stone beach to an abandoned lighthouse - Faro San Isidro. It is not far, but we sink into the stones like in snow, and every step is twice as exhausting as usual. We walk on the southernmost mainland road in the world, and the mood fits well with the end-of-the-world feeling.
In the evening, we drive back to Punta Arenas and try to find a place to nest in the dry and warm. However, we are a little late, tired, and it is dark, so we struggle a bit in the search for accommodation. We are almost despairing when we finally find a small family hostel. There, we get an affordable double room with a private bathroom and a small gas heater, and we are incredibly relieved. We love life in the camper, but after 25 nights outside in Patagonian weather and a too short mattress, we want to enjoy a bit more luxury during our last few days together. After a hot shower, we quickly go to bed.
We finally managed to reach Iberia and were able to change Ben's flight to a different one. Instead of tomorrow, he will now fly home on Tuesday - hopefully. What I will do next is still uncertain, as the situation is difficult to assess. I don't think there is a right or wrong decision.
In the morning, we take a walk through the relatively empty city and talk to other travelers. All the Germans in Chile we have spoken to are taking the next flight back to Germany, nobody wants to get 'stuck' here. They are afraid of flights never flying again, of poor medical care, of being alone. I can't fully relate to any of these fears, but I understand them.
During the day, I contact some Chilean acquaintances to get better information about the situation in the country and my options. I also have a few phone calls and considerations at home. Actually, I don't want to go home yet, I don't feel ready for it. But I also don't want to behave unreasonably, or as Ben says, recklessly. No one can give me a clear recommendation for action, staying or flying back both have advantages and disadvantages, beautiful aspects, and unknown risks. I am least worried about myself, but more about the people around me. Because if I stay here in Chile, I put the people who take me into their homes at risk.
In the afternoon, we go out again in the drizzly weather to clear our heads. In the evening, we cook leftovers, open a bottle of wine, watch a movie - the most relaxed evening in a long time.
At some point during the day, I made my temporary decision (almost all decisions are temporary, and fortunately, you can change your mind at any time) - I will stay here for now. In Chillán, I can stay with Juan's mom Ursula for a while and will impose a self-quarantine there. The biggest risk is infecting Ursula if I catch the virus on the way to Chillán. I will try to prevent this with all the means, precautions, and safety measures available. Otherwise, I am quite content with this decision and am actually looking forward to the time when I can focus on myself and not constantly have to travel further.
We empty the campervan, take it to the car wash, and return it to the rental company. The streets in the city are quite empty, and approximately 80% of the stores, except supermarkets and pharmacies, are already closed. Access to some stores is regulated for a few people, and some require wearing a mask upon entry. Unfortunately, there are no longer any masks available for purchase, just like any disinfectants. We have water and soap left. I'm actually fine with it because of the additional environmental pollution, but if I have to be around people, like when flying or taking the bus, I would like to have some protection. Most people here in southern Chile are already taking the situation very seriously, even though there is only one or two known cases of the coronavirus in the whole region.
The rest of the day is spent relaxing and enjoying our time together. Tomorrow, I will continue my journey.