Chile day 23 – meltdown!

Thank goodness I’d squirreled away a spare pack of tryptans! I’d had a mild panic when I thought that I’d run out, and didn’t much fancy my chances of trying to persuade a pharmacist in Santiago to sell me some. Being an over-organised, let’s get sorted sort of person I had of course packed an emergency supply, but then immediately forgotten about them. Re-discovering them last night meant that I could stop worrying about the blooming migraines and not being able to drive or function etc, and just lay my head on the pillow and let us both get some sleep.

We didn’t breakfast until 9.30am but at least by then the dining room is quiet (the rude German tour party are outside getting ready for a bike ride) and we’re able to enjoy a conversation with the mum of one of the hotel owners. She and her husband used to spend several months of each year in Chile, but she feels that they’re getting too old to do that now, so instead the children are changing the way that they run the hotel so that they can spend the Chilean winter in Germany. We’d quite like to do that – spend our winter in Chile, but then again, I do love the snow, and wrapping up snuggly warm against the elements.

We didn’t have to check out until noon and so spend the rest of the morning leisurely exploring the grounds. They really are quite special. There’s a little jogging track which is also used for go karts and teaching school children about road safety; and there are llamas, a donkey, goats, rabbits and chickens. The gardens back on to the Rio Lircay, with several viewpoints to take in the magnificent scenery. It’s time to set off though so after persuading the stubborn llama to come closer for a picture (he didn’t) we head for the motorway.

What a drive! About two hours in all traffic is diverted onto a side road as there’s been a nasty accident involving two juggernauts. I don’t know how the drivers fared but one truck looked pretty mashed up. For about an hour after we get back on to the motorway the lorry drivers all drive sensibly, but after that it’s back to them pretending to be in some sort of weird video game, playing with other drivers, and freaking them (me) out. Dervla is on form and takes us off our planned route and instead into Puente Alto, a suburb of Santiago. By this point I’m terrified! The traffic is 3-4 cars abreast in a road designed for two lanes, it’s rush hour, I’ve been driving for almost 6 hours, it’s 33 degrees C outside, and not much cooler inside, we haven’t drunk enough water, we’re both hot and tired, Dervla doesn’t have a clue where she’s going, and I find myself yelling “where, the f*** are we?!” much to the amusement of the driver in the car next to us. This of course doesn’t help Rich much as he frantically scans the map, and because he can’t hear what I’m saying, aware only that I’m obviously about to lose the plot completely. But he yells back for me to pull over in the next side street and turn the engine off, and then makes me drink water. But not before I’ve told him that I’m never going on holiday with him again, I’ll go with his mum instead, to which he responds that he’d rather go on holiday with his dad than me anyhow. By some small miracle, Dervla (wisely) chooses this enforced break to re-calibrate, and lo and behold, finds that she did know the way after all. Rich and I look at each other, mouth the words “I love you” and I start the engine. We will get there.

We did. And it’s like a theme park. For people who like the sound of being outdoors, but can’t do it without luxury or being told what to do and where to go. A little bit like Center Parcs back in the UK. And we had such high hopes. Cascada de Animas was originally a horse ranch and has been here in the Maipo Valley since 1840. The wooden cabins are all hand crafted and the restaurant overhangs the Rio Maipo. It all looks very pretty, but it’s worlds apart from the remote cabins we’ve been staying in, and I especially am feeling the culture shock. So I start crying again once we’re in our cabin. Fortunately it’s at the very end of the complex, detached from the others, and next door to the caretaker who happens to have some very cute dogs, cats and kittens, so my meltdown isn’t witnessed by anyone other than long suffering hubby. When I’ve calmed down, we decide that we both need to eat as soon as possible. Unexpectedly, the restaurant is quiet, the salmon beautifully cooked, and the environment seems a little less contrived as we sip on pisco sours, listening to the roar of the river below, whilst staring into the fire pit. By the time we get back to our cabin at 10pm, we’re able to appreciate how quiet, light, big and airy it is. It sleeps 4 and the ceiling in the living area is almost cathedral like. Here’s to a well earned sleep.

Four nights in the Black Mountains – Day 4

We slept like babies following yesterdays exertions and after a compulsory lie in drove to Llanthony Priory for an 8 mile walk over Hatterrall Hill, round Cwmyoy and back along the Vale of Ewyas. The priory is only about 25 mins from the cottage but despite it being the Easter holidays the roads are very quiet. The weather must have deterred quite a few since even though the snowline is steadily rising, there are still large drifts alongside some of the roads. Having said that, we had to snag the last space in the priory cark park and the ruins are heaving with the most determined tourists who’d obviously seen the priory on Country File a few weeks back so we decide to look around once we’ve finished the walk, and get up onto the hill quickly.

No sooner have we reached the moorland than we come across lots of horse poo, closely followed by a small herd of Welsh mountain ponies. They’re short, fat and quite timid, but are quite happy to pose for a few pics. I resist the urge to try and get a cheeky snuggle as the way is quite icy and slippy underfoot, and they’re better equipped for leaping around snow covered hillsides than I am. We meet the Offa’s Dyke Path on the ridge and see only a handful of walkers in the distance. The ground is white and crisp, the view clear and magnificent. The sort of Winter’s walking holiday you dream of. The path down to Cwmyoy is less well trodden and we miss the gateway leading down to Blaenyoy. Instead we end up taking a much more exciting (sheep track) route back up on the slopes of the hill, and contour round to Ty-hwnt-y-bwlch and over the River Honddu. The path however, is in a very poor state. We appear to be wading through a combination of sheep, horse and cow shit, mixed with a little bit of mud, and the odd dead sheep carcass thrown in for good measure. Fair enough the weather hasn’t been good, which could explain some of the mess, but from experience we know that some landowners let footpaths fall into a state of disrepair in an attempt to discourage walkers, because in their minds we’re the vandals of the countryside. I don’t see it myself, but each to their own. We wouldn’t walk that stretch again though as a result, which is a shame, and we’re very glad that we’ve faced it on the home run rather than at the start of the day.

We reach Llanthony Priory just after 6pm as the light starts to fades, and all fellow tourists have gone home for tea. Bliss. The ruins really are spectacular. We’re home by 7pm and I quickly assemble a lamb (not Welsh, sadly) stew and pop it in the oven for a late supper whilst I have a long soak in my secret supply of Eucalyptus bath salts. I have to keep them secret as Rich often comes downstairs asking if his elbows smell nice, because he’s used my favourite face cream on them. As he himself says though, I’ll never be short of things to write with him in my life! He’s very special. Sometimes special special when he tries to persuade others that I’m his carer, and that he needs a seat on the tube, but mostly he’s just extra special.

Four nights in the Black Mountains – Day 3

Slept less well last night. Was too excited about seeing one of my sister’s and her hubby for the first time in too long! Since we got married in fact. After a lovely hot shower we breakfast on gluten free pancakes with maple syrup, have the usual pancake conversation about how much we want to go back to Quebec, and then set to tidying the cottage in preparation for our visitors. Amanda and Steve arrive just after 10am and after a quick tour and cuppa we drive to White Castle for a scenic 3 mile walk. They assure me that I’m not as s*** a driver as they thought I’d be, and Amanda even states that she’d get in the car with me again, praise indeed!

There’s still snow in the high fields, and it’s yet another perfect, crisp winter’s day. The walk is short but hilly, and the views into and from the Trothy valley are breathtaking. White Castle is the best preserved of the three castles, and even though we didn’t go into the site on this occasion, the views from the footpath are themselves impressive and it’s easy to see just how imposing the structure would have been in its heyday. We return to the cottage for a late lunch of gluten free sausage rolls, and leave Amanda to enjoy a very well earned hot bath in the gorgeous tub whilst the three of us explore the hill behind the house. Edmund’s Tump and Graig Syfyrddin make up part of the Three Castles Walk, and what a beautiful stretch it is. The pull up from the road is steep but this means that almost immediately you catch magnificent views of the beacons opposite. We walk through the woods to the Grosmont road, circling back up to the tump from Birches Wood. The return path is obviously not well used and we have to follow our noses but it’s one of those short walks where I wonder why on earth it’s not in the guide books, and then realise that I don’t want it to be because it’ll become popular and lose some of its magic. We’re not big on walking in crowds or with crowds. We walk for the serenity, peace, a chance to be mindful.

We’re home just after 6pm for a spanish chicken supper, a la Nigella, and a celebratory Easter Egg for pudding, which Rich again insists on smashing into little pieces, rather than letting me try and make a tidy job of it using a corkscrew. The conversation turns to quirks, and Amanda confesses to blowing a gasket if the washing up bottle top isn’t flicked down after use, and the kettle not aligned with the counter top. I confess to getting narked if cutlery isn’t put back in the right section in the cutlery draw. Rich and Steve come to the consensus that women are strange.

Four nights in the Black Mountains – Day 2

This. Bed. Is. Lovely. Firm, spacious, thick curtains to block out the light, and we’ve slept like bugs in a rug. And I’m up at 7.20am. On holiday. I don’t even get up that early when I’m working. Sitting in the lounge with a cuppa looking at what would be a contender for the best view in South Wales though, without any disturbances (aka, hubby) is blissful. It really is a room with a view and a perfect spot for a few hours of pre-breakfast reading and writing whilst Rich has a well earned lie-in. I’m loving working for myself and largely from home, but it does take a concerted effort to wind down at the end of the day properly, and this is just the ticket. The windows aren’t double glazed and so you can clearly hear the birds pecking away at the frozen ground. The snow is slowly starting to melt but the Brecon Beacons are still very much wearing their winter coat, and I’m grateful for the dressing gown which Kathy has very considerately provided.

After the compulsory fry-up for breakfast, including eggs from a nearby farm, again courtesy of Kathy, we set off in Jet (our car) for a walk up to Crug Mawr from the Grwyne Fawr Valley. Snow drifts have built up alongside the narrow roads but the roads themselves are clear. The small car park at the start of the walk however would involve driving up and down an iced up hill, so we take a chance and park at the beginning of the forest track instead. We’d planned on taking a circular route and descending to Partrishow from the summit, but the snow is knee deep in places, and the cold wind has compacted the snow into ice sheets on the slopes. Fortunately we’d packed our yaktrax pro’s and needed them to get up to the trig point, but as Rich’s eyes are starting to freeze open in the wind, and we’re both having difficulty staying upright, we decide to re-trace our steps, and get back to the shelter of Mynydd Du Forest for a late lunch at the first crossroad of tracks. We are soooooo buying snow-shoes next Winter!

I’d reserved the first bath of the evening, pleading driver’s rights, and wile away the time reading a waterproof Kathy Lette book about a woman who takes almost thirty years to realise that her husband is a philandering eejit. She also likes baths. Which I guess is why it’s been made into a waterproof book. By 6pm the sun is streaming through the lounge window, our boots and trousers are in the usual place – drying in front of the fire, and there are jacket spuds in the oven for dinner. I do love baked potatoes. Especially with baked beans and cheese. Proper comfort food. Just what we need after a long walk in the snow.

Chile day 22 – Police!

Rather than face an 8 hour drive we had to unfortunately cut our stay at Curalemu short by one night so that we could spend a night midway at Casa Chueca. Leonel, as ever, showed such kindness in helping us make and pay for the reservation, a kindness which I’m sad to say would be hard to find back here in the UK, and which makes us miss Curalemu and Chile that much more. We left the remains of our Christmas Day steak for the gorgeous daft doggies (I don’t remember their names, sorry!) and departed with heavy hearts.

Having not been well enough to eat dinner last night, I finally got to eat chicken and chips for lunch at a Copec Pronto. I never ever thought I’d look forward to a service station meal, but it’s done differently over here, actually tastes pleasant, and doesn’t break the bank. Their toilets are also cleaner than those in the UK. With a full belly and the sun in the sky we continue on our way. And then we come to a police checkpoint. I start bricking myself as one of the policeman signals for us to pull over. I stop, wind down my window, say hello and ask if he speaks English, in Spanish, and the cheeky bugger starts laughing. Apparently drug traffickers use big 4 wheel drives to transport their produce between Chile and Argentina and this is why Cielo got picked out. It seems that I don’t look or sound like a drug trafficker, so he waves us quickly on, still laughing. I don’t know whether to be relieved, or offended.

The scenery for the remainder of the drive is out of this world. We’ve less than a week left in Chile, and it’s going to be hard saying goodbye, even if  we did have to swerve quickly to avoid a tarpaulin which fell of a lorry in front, and Dervla again tred to take us off the motorway at an entrance point. I’m wise to her ways now, and ignore her. She’s also wise to mine, and doesn’t keep screeching “turn around now, turn around now!” Having said that, we’re now very much back in touristy territory. Casa Chueca is very pleasing to the eye, but it’s missing that little something, that friendliness and open-ness that we’ve experienced elsewhere. I’m well aware that we’re now comparing everything to Curalemu, but it feels like we’ve come back down to earth with a bump. The bedroom is cool, as is the pool, and the surroundings are beautiful what with stunning, large gardens complete with palm trees, but we feel like tourists rather than friends, and this is going to take some getting used to again. We’re refused use of the self catering kitchen because we’re booked into a room rather than a dorm, even though we’re paying more than we would in the dorm, so we then have to throw out quite a bit of food as we’ve nowhere to keep it cool in temperatures of 26 degrees C. Still at least we’ll get a night off from cooking.

The hotel owners are German and there’s a Germanic feel to the architecture and set-up, but enough of Chile to not feel as if we’re back in Europe. We spend a lazy few hours swimming, reading, writing and lounging in the poolside hammocks, before enjoying a much appreciated veggie dinner. It’s a shame that the German tour party sitting at the same table couldn’t even bring themselves to acknowledge us, let alone say hello or anything else, but at least that meant that we could enjoy our conversation with a lovely man from Santiago who stays here every week whilst his company re-builds homes for those damaged in the 2010 earthquake. He used to date a girl from Bristol (!), and remembers visiting Bath as a toddler, so is familiar with our part of the world. He’s recently married and the day before had found out that they’re expecting their first child, so we celebrated with pisco sours It feels good to be sitting outside on an evening wearing shorts again. Apparently the climate here is the same as that in California. Nice Santiago man retires for the evening to phone his wife, and as the German group and recently arrived Australian couple don’t seem up for talking, we make a beeline for the hammock outside our room, and sit reading until the light fades, drinking home made pisco sours from the bathroom toothbrush mug.

Four nights in the Black Mountains – Day 1

Amazingly The Headmaster’s Retreat, our base for the next few days is only just over an hour from home, and yet feels worlds apart. After trying not to get worked up by an aggressive lorry driver on the M50 who didn’t seem to want to comply with the 40 mph roadworks zone, we stopped off at Skenfrith Castle for a picnic lunch and a 4.5 mile stroll up to Garway and back. The walk was beautiful and yet we didn’t see another walker despite it being the Easter holidays, so we’ll definitely be coming back over this way. The castle is majestic and atmospheric, and better still free of charge! Hopefully we’ll get to see the other two castles which make up the Three Castles Walk whilst we’re here.

The cottage is attached to The Old School House and has what I would describe as some of the best views in Wales. The snow covered Brecon Beacons look magnificent, as does the Graig Mountain which rises up behind the house. The owners live in the top part of the Old School House which is attached to the retreat, but they leave guests to their own devices and privacy is guaranteed. Our welcome pack contained not only eggs, milk and jams, but gluten free bara brith and welsh cakes – a very pleasant surprise. Alas the welsh cakes didn’t last the evening as they were so delicious, and very unexpected. Definitely a first time for me so I’ll have to suggest that they market them – I’d certainly buy them! We feel very civilized sitting down to high tea in the elegant dining room.

As for the bathroom – well I now want an armchair in ours. The ceilings in all of the upstairs rooms are very, very high, the bath is deep, and the views of the mountain breathtaking. I’ve been saving my bath salts for this trip, and Rich is banned from using them, despite his threats. The living room has two double sofas, a big tv and wifi; and a smaller seating area off the kitchen looks onto a little courtyard. The two bedrooms both have king sized beds with lovely firm mattresses, there are plenty of books and games to keep children and adults of all ages entertained, and the kitchen is extremely well equipped – more so than ours back home in fact. Cathy used to trade in antiques and so the decor throughout the cottage is quirky and intriguing. It’s a perfect escape and I’d seriously consider coming here to ‘free range’ if ever I feed need to escape the home office.

By the time we’ve had one of Rich’s fabulous bolognese dinners, complete with gluten free chili bread and rice, we’re both starting to wind down from what’s been a tough few months. It’s a very cold night and even with the heating on full blast we’re having to wear thermals, but that’s to be expected when there’s still a lot of snow on the ground. We’re not complaining. We’re here now and wouldn’t mind if we get snowed in. Wouldn’t mind at all.

Day 21 – Reflections

We woke early to find that the sun had finally come out to play, making it a perfect one to day go back into Parque Nacional Laguna del Laja. We’d first noticed the shrines along the road that leads to Argentina yesterday. Back at Curalemu Leonel told us that they commemorate the lives of the young army soldiers who died during a horrific snow storm here in 2005. Apparently the weather was so severe that it took days to dig them out. Some of the seniors who’d ordered the conscripts out in the snow without proper clothing were eventually prosecuted and regulations were changed as a result of the tragedy, but what a way to go. The full story can be read here.

There’s even less traffic on the road than there was yesterday, although we did pass a farmer walking his goat. Cielo’s thermometer reads 12 degrees Celsius but the sun is now blazing and I strip down to shorts when we park up. We plan to walk up into the hills to a lake where we may see woodpeckers. Unfortunately as we ascend we both convince ourselves that we’ve left Cielo’s lights on as the sunlight is reflecting on the rear, and rather than risk getting stranded in the middle of the park should the battery die, we decide to turn back before we reach the lake. The views however are still absolutely breathtaking, and we get a good uphill workout whilst Volcan Antuco towers over us all the way. We even sight our first Andean condor! I have to take a tryptan as a migraine has decided to rear its ugly head and we hope that it works its magic so that we can walk some of the Sendero de Chile when we’ve sorted the car out. By the time we get back and realise that the car lights are not on though the migraine decides to up a level and bring on the nausea stage, so we forego more walking and picture taking so that I can drive us back as quickly as possible, and at least be sick in the comfort of the cabin. Still, yet another excuse to go back to Curalemu and the park in the not too distant future.

We’re home by 4pm and I have to go straight to bed, which is a great shame as the weather is perfect for a swim. Leonel indicates that the local schoolchildren have been peeing in the pool lots today though, so Rich decides to potter around with the daft doggies instead, and talk to Leonel about his and Curalemu’s story. For me the rest of the day and night passes in a migraine fog so Rich cooks leftovers for dinner and catches up on his reading. Between vomiting bouts I remind myself that I have to pace myself and should be drinking more water etc etc etc, but when you have health issues it’s so easy to overdo it when trying to make the most of feeling fit days, something which we’re both guilty of. Life is short, and we’re determined to live it to the full.