We had a few days to recover both mentally and physically from the drama that was climbing a volcano before getting back on the road and heading further south, sad to be leaving Pucon behind.
A bus ride to Puerto Montt, where we saw a guy get mugged right next to us at the dark and dodgy bus station. Luckily he was ok but I was so happy we were only staying for one night in this unloved port town before flying to Punta Arenas, a town on the Straits of Magellan in Patagonia.
We stayed in an idyllic secluded log cabin complete with burning wood fires, the best home cooking we have had on this trip and walks in the woods getting over excited at seeing a woodpecker for the first time ever! As it was so remote the lovely hostel owner helped us get around by driving us into town whenever they had errands to run, the rest of the time was spent reading, drinking tea and editing my manuscript following excellent advice from my mentor Rosie Blake. It was heavenly.
I thought that travelling and having all this free time would mean I’d be able to give my novel some well-deserved love but with moving from one place to another in short bursts of time then wanting to get out and explore has pushed my writing to the side. It’s like my brain is taking everything in as soon as I step outside that I can’t concentrate on the words and characters in my head. But slowly slowly they are coming and it feels great.
I feel so lucky to be able to soak up the stories that are everywhere around me on this and my previous trips then sit down and let my creative juices flow. It has made me more determined to realise my dream of becoming a published writer especially if it could mean one that jets off to exotic countries, maybe find a quiet place to rent for a while and spend their days writing, eating and understanding the world around them. That my friends is the ultimate dream.
Anyhoo back to Patagonia, this raw area of the world where trees are bent by the strong winds, nature is the quiet but firm master and birds are forced to squawk loudly to be heard over the crashing waves and sudden swells. I have never been anywhere as windy as here. Like seriously gale force gusts that make you shrink into your coat, cover your ears and are forced to walk like the hunchback of Notre Dame to keep some sort of balance. I am not over-exaggerating they even have ropes between lamp posts on street corners, that can only be described as vortexes, so you can cling on and steady yourself. Apparently you can sometimes see cats flying past your head as the wind picks them off their paws! A five minute walk between snug cosy cafes become a hilarious comedy sketch of pushing yourself against the limits bent over as if you’ve got a bad case of the sh*ts.
It’s no wonder I was so happy to be indoors curled up on a squishy sofa in my llama wool hoody as venturing outside was so challenging! Plus with the glow of the fire and a glass of bloody fantastic Chilean red wine in my hand it is suddenly beginning to feel a lot like Christmas (just ignore the howling wind outside). Cheers!
Not Wed or Dead 