Blog 20: The Llama that Spat

6th December 2023

My final day tour in Chile was to the Incan Lake at Portillo, high up in the Andes behind Santiago, on the border with Argentina. The Andes actually reach their peak (like what I did there) right behind Santiago, with Aconcaghua, the highest mountain in the entire Americas, North and South, visible from the Chilean coast; not so much from Santiago, but certainly from Valpraiso. And it's actually in Argentina, that's how big it is.

The itinerary took 12 hours and involved visiting a vineyard, driving up to a ski lodge, panoramic views of the Andes and wine-tasting with empenadas. It was also to involve a tetchy llama; more about that in a moment.

The Peck-up

I was due to be picked up at 8.00am. I woke way too early, as usual, breakfasted and waited in the foyer. At about 8.10, a lady walked in calling out 'Jonattan Peck', and it turns out she and the driver had been waiting outside for 20 minutes. Their names were Malu and Benjamin. I apologised to them and they both said no, its fine we were bitching about someone we don't like and didn't notice the time. They also said the first stop would be in 15 minutes to get coffee, 'if that was ok with me'. I instantly warmed to these people.

We picked up the other guests: two Korean girls, a Mexican couple about my age, another Mexican lady, a Chilean in his 40s from the south, and two young, heavily tattooed Costa Rican girls. We stopped at a Servo for provisions - water and chocolate to help cope with the altitude to come later, blisteringly hot coffee from a vending machine for immediate needs.

We drove out of Santiago, past army bases and an airport for light aircraft. We were surrounded by trucks, as the road we'd be on most of the day was the main route between Santiago and Mendoza in Argentina. It struck me how barren and dry the foothills here were. In fact the entire trip today would be through very barren country; the Andes themselves harbour pockets of vegetation and the occasional waterfall, and in the valleys, of course there were the vineyards, but for the most part the mountains here were vast outcrops of basalt with no vegetation on them at all, reaching for the sky and capped with endless drifts of snow. Santiago might straddle the fertile and arid zones of Chile, but the arid northern outskirts are very arid.

The big one

We came to a stop in the middle of nowhere, just off the highway, and Malu got us all to get out. She pointed to the mountain in the distance and said that's Aconcaghua, explaining that it was the only opportunity to see it; we wouldn't see it again once we were in the deep valleys that were coming up. Some workmen were mowing dead grass further along the road. Malu explained that it was to minimise the risk of fires later in Summer.

Aconcaghua was more impressive from the air, see Blog 17

The In Situ winery, San Esteban

First stop was a vineyard in the foothills, at a little town called San Esteban. We were given the usual wine-tasting talk about soils, grape varieties, and the speciality of this region which is a Carmenere, a variety which originated in France but rarely found there now. It's a deep red grape, although the name ('crimson' in English) refers to its bright red autumn leaves, not the grape skins. The variety has taken off in Chile, where conditions are perfect for it, and central Chile is now the producer of most of the world's Carmenere wines.

I bought a half bottle of Carmenere to try later and wandered around the vines, noting the rose bushes planted at the end of many rows. I've forgotten why vineyards do this, I think there is a reason.

Harry and his wife Sarah, the two Mexicans were wandering around too. Despite his fairly basic English and my non-exstent e-Spaniol, Harry seemed keen for a chat. He asked where I was from in Australia. I said Melbourne and he wanted population statistics, he'd come to the right person for that. He wanted to know what Victoria was like, so I showed him some of my Dandenongs pics. He said it looks beautiful, and said You are lucky to live in Australia. He said he was from near Can Cun, so I said well that must be pretty amazing too. He said yes, but you have to understand Mexico is a mess. All of Latin America and most of South America is a mess. In Australia you have a stable government a stable currency and a stable society. In Mexico it is all about drugs. Then he added: And you know what? The country buying all the drugs is the USA.

The Leap for Independence, 1818

We piled back into the bus and took off for the hills. Pretty soon we were climbing and came to a pass which has enormous significance to Chileans. It's where they won their independence from Spain in 1818 in a battle that involved ambushes, deception, a Snowy River-style leap over the chasm (see the picture below) by a horse-rider that signalled to the Chileans hiding in the hills to descend and attack. All that kind of Wild West stuff. Our guide Malu recounted the story with great drama and pride.

The rocky chasm in the middle of the pic leads down to the river and is the site of the legendary leap

Bit of an inclination

We rattled along the valley floor, climbing gradually in altitude while the peaks of the Andes around us grew taller and taller. Eventually we were under the really tall ones covered in snow. I saw a condor soaring above one of the peaks and drew everyone's attention to it. Malu explained that we were lucky to see one at this time of year. She also said their wingspan is 3 metres.

After an hour or so we reached a pass that would take us from the valley floor to the snowline. The incline is steep, and it is made navigatable for vehicles by a famous stretch of 40 hairpin turns. We stopped at 20 turns to take photos of the immense panorama developing as we rose.

This is the major highway to Argentina from Santiago. Mendoza is 3 hours from here, Santiago 4 hours.

A few more twists and turns and we reached the top. Malu pointed to the border, just a few hundred metres away.

The black building in the distance is the border

The Incan lake

We were at a ski resort known as Portillo,and below us was a blue lake that had once been glacial, and is referred to as the Incan Lake. Malu explained that because the deserts of northern Chile are so inhospitable, the Incans created a trail in the Andes that took them right down to the southern tip of the continent. There was more vegetation, and animals and plants that they could eat, in the Andes. The lake was an important source of water for them in this part of the trail. It was spectacular.

The Incan Lake

It was windy and sunny and I wasn't keen to be in either with my cold and my sunburnt face, so instead of hiking down to the lake I went into the ski lodge. There was a restaurant there, overlooking the lake, along with a sign explaining that you could only use the Banos (toilets) if you ate at the restaurant. I was happy to order a soup and just sit and watch the view. The two Koreans came in and I gestured for them to join me if they liked, which they did. They were lovely women. They started by saying how much Koreans admire Australia, and how they have visited many times. They were wearing white cheek patches to protect them from the sun and I said I wished I'd had them before my face got burnt.

It turns out they were interpreters, they were in Santiago for a conference and this was their day off, so they'd decided to do a day tour. They were Jackie and K. Their interpreting work took them across the globe, K had been to Sydney and Canberra; Jackie to the 'Sun Coast' or 'Gold Beach', she wasn't sure (she meant Gold Coast), but their travel around the world had been extensive. I said it must be intense work, and they both said yes, it's very intense, you have to be on the ball every second and it's exahusting but they love it. We shared photos of our families and I shouted them their coffees. They were funny, bubbly and good natured. It was a really nice hour.

The llama spits a dummy

So after sneaking in a pre-lunch, we headed down the valley to lunch-proper. As part of the tour we were to have empanadas and wine-tasting at a restaurant on the way back. The restaurant turned out to have a kind of park attached, where a number of resident llamas were lolling about llama-ing in the shade. We were all told to go take photos of them while our meal was prepared, so we did:

Unfortunately, K, one of the Korean girls thought the llama in the pics above was nudging up to give her a kiss, she got too close, and the llama spat grey stinking mucus into her mouth and face. It was gross. People scrambled to find antibacterial wipes and water to help her flush it out of her mouth. It's a bit dumb to get so close said Harry, less than tactfully. There was a line there about llamas spitting the dummy, but I let it go (until writing this blog). Besides, K was no dummy.

We assembled at a table set up for us under the vines and ate our empenadas and drank our wines (a red and a white). It was a great time, we all relaxed and talked. The Costa Ricans told me about their tatts and about the volcanoes in Costa Rica. Harry and Sarah showed us all photos of their children. It was relaxing and interesting talking with people from so many different places.

I was still very sunburnt from Mt Osorno, btw

Pinochet. There, I said it

When we got back on the bus for the long drive back to Santiago, I found Miguel, the Chilean guy, sitting opposite me. Emboldened by my earlier chat with Harry, I asked Miguel if it was ok to talk about Pinochet and 'The Punch', the colloquial name Chileans use for the 1973 coup. He looked at me kind of shocked and it felt like the bus fell silent; as if the P word is still taboo. He finally said Yes that's ok, but you have to understand that opinions are still very polarised about him here, it's very hard to talk neutrally or historically about him without eliciting extreme responses or hurting someone's feelings. The pain of The Punch runs deep, he said, and its still an open wound. He sat silent for a moment. Then he said the following:

You see my dad was a policeman during the Pinochet years. My uncles were in the army. I wasnt born in 1973, but my dad told me yes, he definitely killed people. How can I have shame for something I never witnessed, and yet I inherited the shame. Every family here has secrets like that; people don't talk about it because everyone has a relative in the previous generation who was either complicit or a victim. Also there are so many Americans visiting here who have no idea that America did this to us. It was their CIA that identified communists and named them, it was their FBI that to this day holds records of the people who were disappeared. It is their agencies that have placed an 80 year embargo on those records, so that the generation that wants to know what happened to their fathers, mothers, sons, daughters and families will never know - it's a deliberate thing - they say they will only release the documents once that generation is dead. They say they do it because the truth could still be explosive socially and politically in Chile; it would 'open old wounds'. But we know that's not the reason; they should let Chileans decide that. They don't want the world to know that they, the USA, the champion of 'freedom', orchestrated the equivalent of a brutal Stalinist purge in a foreign country. What hurts us is that the control over 'when Chile is ready for the truth' rests with a foreign power. With tears in his eyes he said - you know the condor that you saw earlier? In Chile the Operational name for the squads that raided your house at night and took away your loved ones was 'Operation Condor'. A condor swoops and snatches its prey using surprise as its tactic. The squads were Chileans but they were coordinated by the FBI. He looked away and shook his head silently.

I had nothing to say. The rest of the bus had gone momentarily silent. I'd seen the museum under the Moneda Palace, I had heard colloquial conversations about The Punch. I thought maybe things had moved on more than they actually have. I felt sorry for raising the topic

But he didn't stop there.

So yes, he said, Chile has moved on, but the issue of Pinochet is still polarising. Our economy is now the strongest in South America, but it came at a massive cost, and other countries resent us for it, which is ironic, because for all those Pinochet years we were the pariah of the whole world. Our economy stalled while Argentina under its generals did better. Argentinians have always looked down on us, they call us 'little Chileans'. They consider themselves the sophisticated society, the cultural centre of South America, so now that the economic tables have turned, they resent us. Meanwhile our social stability is threatened by our prosperity, nothing to do with our past, but because we have become a magnet for Latin Americans looking for a better life. The main threat is from Venezuelans; they are coming here in droves, and their society is riven with gangland violence and drug cartels, and they bring all that with them. Our borders are porous, there's a lot of people-smuggling through the Atacama Desert, and most of the Venezuelans come to Santiago where they are instantly homeless, living off the street. The centre of Santiago is now a very dangerous place; 15 years ago it wasn't. They bring their drugs with them and they create havoc in our streets.

Adios Andes

We finally reached Santiago around 6.00pm, and the traffic was diabolical. While stationary for almost 30 minutes, Malu explained that she is a single mother and these tour days can take up to 12 hours. She works all days except Mondays and hasn't had a holiday in years. In Winter, she goes south to do tours in the snow regions. She said she sees a lot of Aussies, a lot of Canadians, and she loves Koreans. She said she loves their movies, their animations and their general sweetness. She said Australians are great because they are no-fuss and easy going. When we passed through the city she said the closer to the centre you are, the more likely you are to get mugged by Venezuelans, especially at night. I said how I'd felt intimidated by the Plaza de Armas (the square in the heart of the old city) and she said never go there, it is just prostitutes and drug dealers, except on Sundays, when the square is hosed down and people go to mass in the Cathedral.

It was just after 8.00pm when we reached my hotel, the Hotel Icon. It had been exactly 12 hours since Malu had come into the foyer looking for me. I ordered Room Service and went to bed. My last day in the Andes had been a whopper.