Day 9 –
Lago Cachorro to Coyhaique
February 8, 2008
Submitted by Pat
Up in the cold dark of pre-dawn for coffee and breakfast. The pace is frenetic as guides take down tents and clients pack their gear. We load our gear onto the kayaks and begin ferrying the slowest hikers across the lake to the trailhead. As soon as they load up, off they go on the hour trek back to the kayaks that we had left at the top of the cliff next to Lago Leon. I slept badly the night before and my body is stiff and sore from yesterday’s long hike. I reach the trailhead with the first light of dawn. Nancy, Don and I are in the middle of the pack for the trek back. We maintain a good pace and pass some folks. We are walking on a particularly gnarly rock field when I hear someone yell behind me. I turn in time to see Don (of Don and Ozella) tumbling down the hill, having stepped on a rock that rolled out from under him. Based of the severity of his fall, he might be badly injured and immediately I start hustling back over the rocks as Eduardo moves toward him from the other side. But he gets up, shakes himself off and says he is unhurt. That’s hard to believe – he is really lucky. We all are.
Back at the cliff where the boats are stored, we change into kayak clothes, repack our gear into dry bags, load them on the boats, lower the loaded boats down to the water, and start to paddle across to the first camp. Greg and I are the 3rd boat out. Just as we are retying some gear, it starts to rain and the wind picks up. It’s not an easy paddle to the camp because of the wind and I am very glad to step on shore and be rid of the boats. I help others land their boats, deflate them, and stow them in a pile, while the rain pelts down. When everyone has landed, I repack my gear from the dry bag to my backpack. Roberto tells us that the horses are running late and there is a good chance our backpacks will not arrive at the farm house in time to make the trip to Coyhaique with us so Don, Nancy and I decide not to take the chance and will carry our gear on our backs.
We are the first to hit the trail for home. It feels good to be out of the boat and walking out the stiffness in my muscles. The trail, at least to start, is clear, flat, open and easy to follow. Nancy and I keep our rain gear and river shoes on because it rains on and off the whole way. Don changes out of his rain pants and puts on hiking shoes. Unfortunately, he gets soaked. A lot of gear in my pack gets wet and the pack itself gets wet as well. My pack feels heavy and awkward, my legs tired and the walk goes on and on. Everyone except Mary Anne passes us. But they are walking without their backpacks and we are humping ours. My back is killing me.
We finally cross back through the glacial water of the river before arriving at the trailhead to meet the van and the truck. No van is there so we pack the truck and pull a trailer over to stow all the gear. Six folks are going to have to wait for a ride when a Jeep shows up and the last of us pile in. I ride in the back of the truck, gripping the roll bar like I did on the way out. Don sits inside and Nancy is with me. Back at the farm, we repack our gear, load the bus, and sit down for another traditional Chilean meal called cazuela, which consists of a potato, a chicken leg, and a quarter of an ear of corn on the cob sitting in a delicious broth. I eat with gusto.
The drive to Coyhaique goes without a break. We are well ahead of schedule and arrive at the hotel around 7:00 pm. I can’t find a comfortable position on the bus so sleep isn’t an option for me. Mostly I sit and look at the scenery. I’m pretty pissed when, during check in, I’m told there is no single room for me and that I will have to room with Kate again. I need some time by myself and I know Kate needs it too. But it isn’t to be, and I am at the end of my patience as I let the the situation really get under my skin. I wish it wouldn’t bother me so much because it ends up coloring my evening.
We walk downtown to a restaurant where we sit at a long skinny table in a room by ourselves. A terrible configuration, not conducive for group conversation. I am exhausted, angry, and I can feel myself closing up and withdrawing. It’s a relief to finally be able to say our good-byes and head back to the hotel. Despite our cramped, shared quarters it feels great to sleep in a bed again.