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| Alamos trees in the Rio Maule Valley |
One
of the main reasons we were interested in driving around Chile was because we
felt it would be a wonderful experience dipping into the many different spas
and hot-springs that we have read about.
Chile is, of course, sitting on a major fault line – a subduction zone
where the Chile Ridge is being subducted under the South American Plate. (It;s actually more complicated because there is a third plate around here which makes for a perfect trifecta of shit).This, as you will know, causes a lot of
large-scale activity which manifests itself as volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis
and the like. Our friend Luis suggests that all this destruction and disruption
gives Chileans a resourceful and obdurate character. A positive consequence of all this tectonic
activity is hot-springs which result from subterranean water being heated by
geothermal pockets of ultra-hot stone which expands it – the force brings it up
to the surface where we humans greedily partake of its benevolent properties.
The usually well-behaved Mount Colbuco erupted last week just south of where we were
travelling and, in fact, right where we intended to be a couple of days hence. So we adjusted our plans, not thinking it
wise to end up looking like a half-finished piece of pottery in Herculaneum.
After a few days south of Santiago we decided to pursue the Termales further
north.
I’ll
confess, the pursuit of the perfect hot-springs has been a very frustrating one
so far. Our travels have taken us to a
few sites – I should state up front that we are doing the beer-budget tour of
spas and hotsprings – we are not going to 4-star hotels or thermals. In fact the first one we went to was about as
far from a 4 –star experience as you could probably imagine. After several hours of hiking in a nearby
National Park we lit out for some ‘natural’ springs near the Argentinian
border. A couple of hours along Highway
115 takes you just east of a wee pueblo called La Mina. It’s about as close as you can get to
Argentina without being gonged with a bolo.
You park in a gravel lot just off the highway – drive your car through
that gap in the barbwire fence and pull up to the edge; not too far or your car
will plummet about 200 feet to that picturesque canyon floor. Don’t forget to put some rocks under your
wheels just in case your car decides to roll. Climb down a few hundred steps
along the crumbly cliff face, cross the gap-toothed suspension bridge over the
swiftly-running mountain river and voila, you are almost there. All you have to do is negotiate the use of
the ‘thermals’ with David – an entrepreneur with a whiff of gypsy about him who
endeavours to remove all excess cash you might be carrying.
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| Elizabet's Termales - the hot pool is a tiny birdbath at the extreme right of the big pool |
Fortunately
we were saved by Elisabet who shooed him away. She led us a few hundred meters
to the ‘Vapors’ which is, essentially a steam room. There are three rooms in fact, each one a
ramshackle closet of rusted, corrugated metal, poles, plastic sheeting, moist
dirt and rocks -not in any way comfortable but somehow kind of quaint and
wonderful. Intense puffs of steam were
exhaled from a mouth-shaped funnel in the side of the cliff as if Satan himself
was huffing. If you huddled just so you were bathed in a delicious cloud of
earthy steam – barely sulphurous. In
fact someone had placed a clump of eucalyptus leaves on the hole where the
steam issued forth and the closet was filled with a yummy, menthol/rosemary
scent that lifted our spirits enormously.
We were simultaneously cramped - being pressed against dirt, metal and
rock - and anointed with a fantastic sensual mist that shrouded us in a healing
embrace. It felt like a timeless ritual – close your eyes and you might have
had the same experience hundreds of years ago minus the rusty metal.
From
the tin vapour shack we walked back a couple of hundred yards to a small hot
pool. Or perhaps a tepid pool would be
more accurate. It was late afternoon and a distinctly cool wind was picking up
– pushing down through from the mountains to the east. A deliciously hot pool would have been most
welcome but that was not available.
Still it was lovely to luxuriate, lie back in a dead-man’s float in the
shallow, pebble-bottomed depression and look up at the perfect, grey-blue sky
with sheer cliffs on all sides. It was
too late to get back on the road so we negotiated a stay in one of Elizabet’s
cabanas. It kind of defies
description. Maybe rustic if you think
1849 rustic. It was...standing. The floor was a porous to the outside –the
planks had substantial gaps between them.
There was no hot water but there was water. Electricity appeared just before dark – at
about 7.15. We gobbled down some sandwiches made from supplies we had bought
for lunch and darted under the linens. I
had a most wonderful night, replete with rich and delicious dreams. I kept waking up thinking that perhaps all
those mountain winds were bringing marvelous and magical ideas and images to
me. Sophie was just cold, cold,
cold. I woke up in the middle of the
night and opened the door to look at the stars.
Not a 4-star hotel but a billion star sky. Wow!
We
left early, heading back to nearby Talca.
The valley all along the Maule River was stupendous. Towering Alamo trees appeared at every turn
like frozen Roman Candles. They glowed
in the morning light; cadmium with touches of yellow oxide and sometimes sap
green – their autumn costume. They look
like Lombardy poplars - stand about 20 or 25 meters tall. They form a perfect graphic counterpoint to
the undulating grey, purple and vermillion of the valley walls and their
verdant, stouter arboreal cousins. So,
in all it was a sensual feast but with some fairly substantial creature comfort
costs. Perhaps that is the right formula – it’s just not what we were
anticipating or hoping for.
The
next Termale we visited was purported to be more luxurious. It is adjacent to one of Chile’s most popular
ski resorts near the small city of Chillan (avoid). The drive up was, again,
spectacular. I love the journeys up into the mountains. Both times we traveled up into
increasingly verdant, forested hills and sierra. This time the road was up to the summit of
the mountain so the road was winding and heavily forested. The trees are very different what we are familiar
with in Canadian forests. Some trees are huge,
broad pines – having the silhouettes of deciduous trees. There is a tree here called El Roble that
provides beautiful red wood – almost as deep as mahogany. It’s reputedly as strong as oak.
When
we neared the summit – there were some crazy hairpin turns along the way which
challenged the power of our meagre Chevrolet sedan and also my neglected skills
with a stick shift – we drove into the Complejo Hermoso – Beautiful Complex. This Termale consisted of three piscina, only
two of which were operating. They were
quite crowded even at that relatively early hour. Large-ish Chileans formed a ring around the
edge like a limn of salt on a pisco sour.
The water was an opaque oyster grey and, unfortunately again, not very
hot. Drat! We were both looking forward to a good cooking like we had
experienced in Japan. This time the
setting was a bit more commercial, with concessions selling dulces and bebidas but
the sun was yummy warm and the sky was a perfect azure. We simmered for an hour or so in the charcoal
soup and then headed back down the hill.
We were planning to get close to Santiago – about a 6 hour drive. On the way down the hill we picked up a
couple of young ladies who were hitchhiking to get down to Chillan - on our
route. Their English was only a bit
better than my egregious Spanish but we made good conversation and their
stories lightened our spirits. They are
both avid climbers and they had spent a few days climbing in and around the
area. I might have scared the crap out
of them with my distracted driving. Ah
well, we all lived.
So
in terms of performance of the spas, maybe a C.
But both trips were memorable for other reasons. And that is sort of the story of Chile so
far. The experience of the natural
beauty of the country and the warmth and friendliness of the people outweighs
the teeth-grinding frustration of the traffic, town layouts, signage, MALE
CHILEAN DRIVERS and general lack of sanitation almost everywhere. I long for the wonderful bidets of Argentina.
____________
We
are now in the north. We are resuming
our quest for delicious, healing, scalding Termales. I’ll give you marks from the second semester
in a later posting. Stay well and warm
my friends. We are entering the home
stretch. After a few days up here in
Chico Norte we will head back down to Santiago via Valparaiso, drop off the
Chevy and spend a day or two with our friends before flying back to GOOD OLD
CANADA.
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