Monday 3rd December
Early breakfast ready for an early pick up for our day of sea kayaking on the Reloncavi Fijord. The mood at breakfast was serious and silent - but perhaps that is normal for the German guests? We chewed our way through the usual cakes and ham washed down with weak coffee, (no cuevos today...) and busied ourselves getting ready for our day, whilst smiling encouragingly at our fellow guests (maybe they actually were all here for a family funeral?.... )
On our way in the minibus we met Adrian, a 46 yr old personal trainer from Brighton, who now lives in Vienna, who was also kayaking, and a few white water rafters.
We drove the now very familiar road along the lakeshore for 40 mins to Ko’kayak basecamp where we were sized up for, and given, wetsuits, boots, spray decks and life jackets. Looking and feeling ridiculous, the three of us toddled back into the bus with a trailer on the back loaded with 2 double sea kayaks. Our guide for the day was Freddy a wild haired and tanned Spaniard from Madrid who clearly lived for kayaking! He spoke just enough English that, in combination with our Spanglish, we could just about understand each other.
I tried not to mind when everyone we met assumed that the three of us were a family (ie that 46 year old Adrian was our son...!)
With our driver Georgio at the wheel we roared out of the base camp and along the main road with the kayak trailer bouncing and rattling along behind and Freddy yelling cheerful advice to us over the racket!
When the tarmac road turned into a gravel track Freddy jumped out and checked the kayaks were riding ok on the trailer. The bus roared on, bumping over the potholes, kayak rudders flapping back and forth, barely visible in the pursuing cloud of dust.
When we reached the next stretch of tarmac road, however, a quick check out of the back window revealed no kayaks, no trailer, and on closer inspection, no ball hitch!
Some situations do not require language - Fred and George’s initial dismay, horror and disbelief was rapidly replaced with a fit of the giggles which left us all speechless!
Georgio made a U turn and we went back down the hill - and there were the kayaks were resting on the crash barrier at the roadside, apparently undamaged.
Freddy leapt out to investigate and discovered that the tow bar had detached itself from the back of the minibus! A rapid conversation in excited Spanish followed and Fred was left to guard the trailer whilst George took us gringos on to the launch point. Here, we stood about in our wetsuits admiring the spectacular scenery but feeling rather foolish standing in the hot sunshine in our wetsuits and Tilley hats. Meanwhile a rather sheepish Georgio persuaded the uniformed harbour master to drive his pick up truck full of logs (complete with intact ball hitch!) back along the track to collect Freddy and the kayaks. They reappeared shortly - an odd combination of hairy kayak dudes, the smartly uniformed harbour master with his crisp white shirt and epaulettes, the truck, the logs and the dust covered kayaks...
Reunited, we kitted up and launched the two double kayaks out onto the beautiful expanse of water, and paddled away.
Almost immediately we spotted two dolphins breaking surface only 50m away, a beautiful sight. They were shortly followed by a sea lion rolling and splashing in the water as he came over to investigate us. And handful of black headed gulls took off and landed nearby.
The scenery was spectacular, we were surrounded by heavily wooded steep green slopes - with bright blue skies above and glacial emerald / turquoise waters below. To our right, the steep side of the fiord was lined with buoys supporting mussel ropes. Freddy told us that they are seeded here and are then transported by lorry to Chiloe Island to continue growing.
We paddled in amongst the buoys and were greeted merrily by a group of fishermen replacing old nets - this looked hard and heavy work, perhaps as testified by their weather beaten faces and the fact that two of the men were missing an arm... despite this these they seemed pleased to see us and greeted Freddie with some friendly banter. It was hard to imagine a similarly jocular exchange occurring on a Scottish fish farm....
The wind and waves were behind us as we paddled in synchrony across the lake to Jolanda and Juan-Carlo’s house for lunch.
We pulled our kayaks high up onto the beach above the rocky shore and climbed up a winding path to a small rural idyll.
The house was a small shingled dwelling set on the hillside of green pasture, with bullocks grazing under the apple trees, a variety of chickens scratching about in the sun, two very playful dogs, one a black Labrador, the other a mischievous mongrel with a definite King Charles Spaniel appearance. We removed our wet boots and were ushered into a little time warp. We entered the kitchen that contained a central log burning range and were introduced to our host Juan-Carlos. We were seated on benches at a dining table in the other downstairs room where the walls were discoloured with years of exposure to woodsmoke and bedecked with memorabilia - an old photo of our host as a boy, a painting of the Last Supper, a coloured illustration of Little Bo-peep and her sheep, and a tourist certificate.
Lunch consisted of fresh lettuce from his polytunnel, delicious flaked hot smoked salmon, rice and potatoes. Pudding was a marshmallow bar, all washed form with some tap water, and followed by a cafetière of coffee.
After dining we were taken on a tour of the farm. The barn was filled with ancient wooden equipment for scratting apples and pressing juice for cider. A lot of his ‘antique’ tools closely resembled items still in current use on a certain small holding in Worcestershire!..
Our host Juan Carlos showed us his wife’s colourful woollen crafts. She was away on her monthly visit to the town!
The small farm was surrounded by ancient fences covered in lichen (known locally as old mans beard), used to make dyes for the wool. The garden was full of roses and there were peas, onions and pumpkins growing in the veg garden.
It did feel rather surreal to be wandering around this pastoral scene chatting in Spanglish to a Chilean farmer, whilst dressed in a damp wet suit, but he seemed fairly used to the whole thing!!
We returned to the beach admiring our beautiful surroundings.
There followed a further one hour’s paddling - this time against the current in the lake created by the inflow of the Petrohue river. This created a series of unusual eddies and some wavelets which made the paddling quite challenging! On the gravel beach that we passed, we spotted a flock of whimbrel. A young cormorant and a great grebe floated past on the choppy water. When we reached land the minibus had been swapped for a rather more battered version with a roof rack. We sat in the sun while the kayaks were loaded onto the roof, and then returned to basecamp.
During our onward journey back to the hotel we chatted with Adrian, whilst dreaming of a craft beer! This turned into a cup of tea by the fire on the hotel sofa - excellent!
After showering we strolled downtown to Mesa Tropera - a craft brewery and Pizzeria. This was recommended to us by Juan Pablo at Austral bikes, and it was a great choice.
It was packed with Chileans and after a brief wait at the bar we sat and watched the shoreline silhouette as the sun set. The craft beers brewed on the premises were individual and much appreciated after our day’s exertions! The good was equally good - artichoke hearts in a creamy sauce served in a huge iron skillet made us doubt whether we needed the pizza with the shrimp and peanut fresh green salad! We rolled back to the hotel and enjoyed mint tea beside the log burner before bed.