Our first morning after a brutal wake up at 6am (6;45 if your alarm is stupidly set to pm instead of am) we found out that the weather was not good enough to climb the mountain so we put it off for another day. Instead, we went back to sleep for another few hours and then headed off to the hot springs.
Naturally made jacuzzis ranging from slightly warmer than a pool to scalding hot temperature alongside a freeezing cold river. Beautiful. Absolute bliss. On our ride back we had a beautiful clear view of the volcano we were supposed to be climbing the next day. More than a little dubious. In fact, terrified of the steep mountain before us.
The next day we woke up to clear sunny skies and headed off to Volcan Villarrica. Minor delay when our van skidded out on the snow covered roads and had to put on chain links to our tires. Minor problem fixed we continued on our way. At the base, with gear all strapped on, clingons in bag, ice picks strapped outside, lots of layers on, this is the moment our guide Carlos and Jason decided to inform us that the ski lift was not working today. Major let down. Full panic mode now. I know how unfit I am, flashbacks of biking up the "hill" are coming back to me. After an hour or so of walking we reach the end of the ski lift. I am practically crying....I am not made for physical exercise like this! It is boiling up there, despite the fact that we are walking in snow, the sun is roasting us, and worst of all, I know we are not even half way, for goodness sake we havent even STARTED!!
After being downgraded to the "slow" group, I like to call it the "normal" group, we continued on four of us with our guide Jason. Every once in a while we would take a break for breath or some water or chocolate and be astounded at the view around us. Between gasps and whimpers I would occasionally mention that I would have more spirit if someone would just lie to me and tell me that we were half way. This would always be followed by someone telling me that we were and me cussing them off because I knew it wasnt the truth. Not until Jason our guide finally told me that we were a little more than half way through did I think there was an actual chance that I would make it. Fast forward 5 more hours, lots of chocolate and sugar, and a 60 degree steep gradient (in places) and we made it. We reached the top of the volcano/mountain and was greeted by a lungful of sulfuric smoke (healthy right?). Out of the cloud of smoke the view was amazing. 2,830m high up, no clouds in the sky. Just the scene of Pucon and Patagonia before us.
The ride down, despite my inital fear of the height and steepness, was the best part. With only our ice picks to slow us down (while trying not to stab ourselves, which I managed to do once) we slid down the side of the mountain one after another on our behinds. 7 hours up, 1 hour down. Incredible.
Every muscle in my body hurt that night, but it was completely worth it. The next day we left at 10am and moved to Bariloche, Argentina, sadly leaving two of the group behind.
Bariloche is known for a few things. Chocolate for one, which we have had a bit of. As well as its amazing location in the mountains and lake. We decided to go white water rafting the day after arriving. Out of a 5 class system (5 being the highest) we went on rapids graded 3 and 4 down Manso river (Manso ironically means ´calm´). First rapid and all but 2 of us went in the water. Freezing water. I was definitely more afraid of getting wet and cold than I was on the rapids....ok perhaps I was equally scared. With your guide saying things like "guys, we need to pay attention on the right when we go over the big wave we dont want to go right, avoid the whirlpool on the right, and the rocks on the left" or "DONT fall out here guys!" Like we can help it! On the whole the guides were amazing, full of jokes (all of which I fell for), very attentive, and they knew that river like the back of their hand...or better.
Perhaps some zip lining in the canopy tomorrow and then off to Mendoza.
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