Seeing the World

We checked out and drove through the dark Patagonian morning to Temuco airport. As dawn’s light shone for the first time, I noticed that our hotel had got its decimal points wrong and charged us $1.95 for our stay. I assume my credit card will soon see an additional charge added.

With no specific car hire drop off point we parked in the main car park and dropped the key and car park ticket off at the unmanned Avis desk. Two stray dogs stared at us a we headed towards the Sky bag drop desk.

For the first time the slight damage on Chris’ bag that we already knew about was highlighted and a disclaimer signed. They insisted my walking stick was not allowed in the cabin and we packed it into the case. It’s a good job my mobility has improved slightly further overnight.

Excitement at security where everybody stopped at the top of the escalator meaning I went crashing into the back of Chris almost causing a domino rally effect on the queue in front.  Pretty poor design there airport planning peeps!

Excitement too as we discovered the lounge was open after all. Worthy of a little fist pump! Breakfast became a cheese and ham sandwich, chocolate cake and unlimited supplies of hot chocolate. Four cans of sugarless Coke (of the Cola variety) mysteriously found their way into our hand luggage.

A quick review of the departure board and we realised every plane leaving this airport today is heading to Santiago. I wondered briefly why I hadn’t selected a later flight. Still, no point worrying!  Doubtless £££s mattered when I made the decision.

We took off into the morning mist, fingers crossed that Tomas, our personal capital city taxi driver, would be there to collect us at the airport once we landed.

Chile Trip Nearly Over

It’s all coming to a quiet end. Our time in Patagonia is just about done and in a few hours we’ll be back in Santiago for two nights.

I’m almost regretting not going straight home. We enjoyed the capital first time around, but it’s fair to say it’s not exactly a beautiful city or a tourist magnet. Maybe another couple of days will give us a little more. I’ll certainly get the shoe shine man to polish my boots again!

Right now, I’m tired but happy. It’s been brilliant. The fifteen stone statue men on Easter Island my favourite moment. San Pedro de Atacama my favourite location, and the geysers were wonderful. Patagonia’s been chilled and relaxed. Chris is in awe of the country. I don’t think he ever expected to get here, let alone drive somewhere as remote.

The Chilean people come across as warm and friendly and keen to assist. The most rewarding conversations have been the ones with Spanish only speakers – some talk, blank looks, waving and finger pointing/counting, laughter and agreement on what’s needed. Chris has certainly improved his Spanish while we’ve been here. Me less so.

But when there’s been a lingual impasse google translate has kicked in and we’ve been able to understand what’s been said.

Just four flights left to go …

Without Setting Foot on a BA Plane We’ve Achieved Silver Status – With BA

When I did my sums for this trip, I worked out that we were a minescule number of points short of achieving BA Silver status with the trip.  Thanks to LATAM who flew us from Santiago to Easter Island and back changing their reward policy, it seems that, by the end of this trip, both of us will be prestigious holders of the aforementioned status until the end of next year.

The benefits are lounge access when travelling peasant class with one of fifteen airlines (importantly for me, that includes Qantas down under), additional Avios points on flights and other frills like free seat booking.  I’m quite excited.  Although most of my flying this year has been on budget airlines.

Thinking of my Australia trip it also means lounge access prior to my Finnair hops between Manchester and Helsinki.

It’s also helpful for Chris if he does any solo travel or heads off somewhere exotic with his Mum using BA, Iberia, American Airlines and a few others.

Definitely good news.  Completely unexpected.  And raises the question of cancelling my AMEX Platinum card which gives me free lounge access after paying a £450 fee.  Partial refunds are available.

The irony of it all is that I haven’t set foot on a British Airways plane this year.

Morning Starvation Prepared For

It translates as “The Biological Nature Reserve of the Southern Hemisphere”. Quite a big claim for a nation that gets upset by the term “American” being used to describe USA residents when it more accurately describes those from the multitude of nations in the Americas.

Nevertheless, we went exploring. We got wet. There were trees. And although not visible, there were birds too.

I presume this wasn’t quite the level of expedition of Dr Livingstone in Africa and we didn’t actually uncover anything not visible from our amazing room facing outwards into the trees. No apes and very limited deer stocks here.

In the end a mix of cold rain and irritable Stringy in pain syndrome did for us and we headed over the road to the Volcano Museum. Free, vaguely interesting and bloody freezing. Back to our room for a rest before I soothe my bones in the hot tub. If we can find the hot tub.

The wooden buildings that make up this in forest development are extraordinary. Fascinating. And difficult to move between as despite inter connecting tunnels and bridges signs are few and far between. Perhaps a character from Avatar would be happy though.

Never mind. My plan for the remainder of our short stay is hot tub, tea, sleep, breakfast, leave.

Hopefully more mobile and dryer tomorrow!

Drink and Drugs Fuel a Rock’n’Roll Meal

We’re in the heart of the Patagonian rainforest. This is a shock for me on two counts. Firstly, I didn’t know Patagonia had a rainforest. Secondly, I’m the one who booked us in here.

It’s been a challenging day for me. The pain that comes and goes in my right side, and is absent more often than not, has been exceptionally good until now, but this morning I awoke to quite severe aches that rendered walking more than three paces agonising.

I took my full cocktail of naproxen, paracetamol and tramadol but by arrival time the pain and stiffness was back and we recruited hotel staff to get us and our bags to our room.

I showered and napped until dinner, at which point Chris insisted I used my walking stick. I don’t like to, but I am a wreck. I needed it.

The pleasant buffet was interspersed with instrumental guitar supported by harp. Chilean radio has been a pleasing mix of 1970s/1980s British soft rock/pop. ELO, Queen, Supertramp etc pouring out over the airways.

Tonight’s guitarist gives us a thrilling blend of Amy MacDonald, Guns and Roses and Michael Jackson. Supported by a Pisco Sour, more tramadol and an over excited audience. It was fun. Entertaining. Well played too. But my drink and drugs fuelled evening meant much needed sleep was to follow soon.

Blending in With the Patagonian Rainforest

Our next two nights will be in the rainforest.  With volcano views.  But the design of the hotel appears to be almost as stunning as the setting.

And, being completely honest, I’ve booked it as an overpriced B&B without taking time to assess what else the place has to offer.

The video below tells a little more about the place and it looks wonderful.  We might not venture far from the place.  High hopes for a good rest.

The Simplicity of Money For Cancer Research

I love my football.  Despite being mediocre as a kid, I spent every possible hour kicking (or mis-kicking) a ball.  Commentating on my own game of Subbuteo.  Attending matches, typically at Stockport County and Manchester United.  I still dream of my own dominant defensive performance against the 1990s stars who were the last generation of players I was close to idolising.

Parenthood brought an opportunity to take Chris to the match.  His hometown team being Oldham Athletic made them the obvious choice of Saturday afternoon viewing.

And through the the years of disappointment wins over the likes of Everton and Liverpool make it all worthwhile.  Defeats can be forgotten.

But the obscenity of the gap between the top few teams and the “proper football” we watch rather irritate.

And this brings me to the Neymar question.  I’ve seen him play twice in the flesh.  Once as a Brazilian Olympian and once for Barcelona.  On both occasions he didn’t exactly star.  But that’s my judgement.  The top team in Paris has just decided he’s worth £200m.  Plus the same again in wages over the next five years.

I look at my afatinib tablets.  Smile at their success.  Worry at the knowledge of their future failure.  And I google the cost of a typical cancer researcher in the USA.

That £200m transfer fee would pay for over 2,000 researchers into cancer causes and developing new treatments for a year.  400 of them could be retained for the following five years if his wage was used to pay their salaries.  And there is still change left over for all these scientists’ research equipment.

I’m not saying Paris St Germain should be handing over their money for one part of medical scientific research.  But there is something mad about the extreme wealth at the top end of football that should hurt the senses of the most ardent free market economists.

And, for me anyway, a frustration that lung cancer research has been relatively underfunded over the years compared to “trendier” cancers and football clubs that are inevitably more popular than an evil death causing illness.

My impending demise might explain my frustration.  But I challenge anyone to agree that Neymar Jr is worth £400m over five years when … well insert your own cause to finish the sentence if you think it’s worthier than mine.

Lost as Darkness Falls – Then They Let the Dogs Out

We left our comfortable bargain cabin at 11am, anticipating a modest drive to a two night booking in similar comfort at Lago Ranco to the north east.

Mount Osorno dominates the sky.  It also blocks navigation services on the mobile phone for a time which frustrates.  As we drive away from lake one the scenery becomes less spectacular.

Like Tuscany without the yellows.  Or Switzerland without the Alps.  Dairy farm after dairy farm.  And a severe shortage of restaurants for lunch.

We find a lakeside resort that’s shut.  It’s winter.  The one cafe also closed.  The lake is pretty the beachside accommodation less so.  There’s a dead end so we turn back and rejoin the road to Lago Ranco.

The road is terrible.  Rocks and boulders strewn across a surface that often narrowed to a car width.  A workman in a CAT empties roadside sludge into a truck.  Ten minutes later the truck is full and we can recommence our journey on a still dreadful road surface.

Eventually Google Maps tells us we’ve reached our destination.  A lie.  A lady stares at us from behind a fence.  Chris completes a complex reversing manoeuvre.  Google refuses to change its mind.  But we are not at our cabana.  We drive away down more narrow stony roads.  Stop a local with a friendly “hola” and ask for directions.  He nods enthusiastically and tells us nothing.  Similar results at the petrol station.

Approaching panic I ring the contact number.  A Spanish out of office message plays and cuts off.  Very worried now!

Then, as the dusk falls, a sign appears on the road, hundreds of yards away from where Google said it should be.  We follow it and as if by magic we’re greeted at the gate.  A warm Spanish speaking welcome but we comfortably understand the instructions about the fire and wifi!  Irritatingly there’s a washer dryer and my smalls didn’t have to spend three days drip drying in our Easter Island bathroom.

Due to tiredness we decide not to eat out and down a home made cheese and ham toastie along with some cereal.  The fire fades.  A lack of wood inside the cabin so we open the door and in surge the manager’s two huge dogs.  Friendly, yes, but keen to stay.  When we eventually dragged them out they parked themselves at the door next to the firewood.  Chris injures a dog’s nose and his own head in failed efforts to retrieve the wood.  Distraction techniques fail too.

Then the genius idea of turning the lights out.  The dogs eventually wander off and we rescue six blocks of wood, hopefully more than enough for evening and morning, before slamming the door and locking it.  That should keep the over-friendly mutts at bay!

The location?  Oh, it’s fabulous.  And home for two nights.  The bits between the lakes haven’t excited.  The lakes themselves are wonderful.

The Log Cabin With a Volcano View