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| Early morning in Chacabuco Harbour |
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| Bus Shelter for commuter bus to Aysen |
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| Window decoration in a house in Aysen |
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| The Germans were here first...invited immigrants to Chile |
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| Town Hall deccoration |
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| Aysen's Library |
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| Aysen's Gendarmerie |
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| Cafe, heated by wooden stove |
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| Line up of wood cooking stoves in local appliance store |
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| Aysen pet, drying up in a door way |
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| Welcome to Puerto Aysen at the entry to town |
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| The longest suspension bridge in Chile - right here in Aysen |
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| Wood fired cooking stove makes it into a wall mural |
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| Reserved for Chilean Army |
Consolation Prize Port: Chacabuco, in Northern Patagonia, Chile. For people outside this continent, probably hard to locate on any map...
Definitely protected from wind, which still rages unabated 'outside', Chacabucto is the region's busiest port and lays at the very end of Fjordo Aysen, almost touching the edge of the soaring Andes Mountain range. A number of spectacular National Reserves and Parks, draw visitors here during summer to explore glaciers, lakes, towering mountain ranges and - in short - incredibly impressive unspoilt scenery.
Aysen, a small town about 16 km up channel used to be the navigable port in this fjord, however, devastating forest fires in the Fifties ravished the town, nearby Volcano Hudson covered it with ash, and a powerful tsunami assaulted it in the Sixties. No one believed the monster waves would roll as deeply into the fjords they it did - but three giant waves hit within a four hour period putting an end to navigation to Aysen.
1995, Chacabuco came into being, and Aysen recovered sufficiently to be home to around 13,000 inhabitants.
The name Chacabucto commemorates a famous battle during the Chilean Independence war. In 1817, the Argentinean hero General San Martin together with Chilean patriot Bernardo O'Higgins had it out with Spanish Royalist forces under Brigadier Rafael Maroto. Maroto was trounced after a final fight over Chacabuco Ranch, were he had circled the wagons, so to speak' to defend the Spanish crown - he lost of course.
Chacabuco, under a low cloud and constant rain cover is less than inviting: a few bedraggled looking boats anchored in the harbour, a ferry unloading dozens of brightly painted rally cars on trailers, a few 'official boats' on various docks, and the shore lined with an expansive array of storage tanks.
It rained buckets, many adventurous visitors were already on their return to ship, a few minutes after their tender had delivered them ashore. One look at the muck - and that was enough. At least now, there was no trace of scenery to be seen.
I braved the cold, and headed for the Parada (bus stop) for the local bus. 1000 Chilean pesos (roughly 2 US dollars) bought me a return ticket to Aysen. Once there it was obvious that Chilean economic progress had somehow not quite made it here, despite it being a 'gateway for nature lovers and eco tourists'. The lower slopes of the mountains were lush with Chilco trees and bushes, and coigues, tepas, manio, ciruelillo, canelo and tepu thrive. Whatever these plants are, I would not recognize them. Local animals like pudu - miniature deer - and huemul, guina, bandurria, queltehue - native species make their home here. Pumas keep their population in check. I saw no animals, except scores of soggy dogs roaming the streets of Aysen or sheltering from the rain in any dry spot they could find.
The little bus, cracked windshield and all, rattled over the longest suspension bridge in Chile, a red miniature replica of the Golden Gate in San Francisco.
Cafes allegedly do not accept US dollars. The banks (two of them) did not exchange US cash into pesos, my ATM card rested in the ship's safety box. But - after sloshing along the towns main street all the way to the end and back again, I tracked down one cafe which did not mind greenbacks.
I ordered a coffee, and after a pleasantly Latin American wait of twenty minutes or so, out comes a jar of Nescafe (with clean spoon), a cup and a sweetener dispenser. A little bit later still, out comes the cafe owner with a thermos to add hot water to your do your own thing coffee. 2 dollars to warm up beside the cafe's wood fired stove.
These stoves, which look like the ones my grandmother used in the early 20th century, are still being sold in local appliances stores - probably more reliable than gas or electricity, if indeed they are available here.
Soaked to the knees, but otherwise reasonably dry thanks to my Argentinean umbrella, I caught the local commuter bus back to the tender dock.
Formal night on the ship: and potential future cruisers who detest dressing up note: formal seems to mean 'clothing to cover up your nakedness', as many turn up in leggins, tilley jackets, sweat shirts, sandals (conveniently kicked off to rest tired feet in bar easy chairs), pants and pullovers for women...hardly a sparkle in sight. Well, progress in the name of 'comfort' I suppose...
