Check out Isla de Chiloe, Part I!! (oh and look at that, you can still upvote)

So where were we? Hitchhiking in a firetruck, drinking 3 bottles of wine with 2 people, stilthouses, illegally creeping into Chiloe National Park, and oh right: Getting lost and accidentally ending up in Chanquin. 

I love getting lost, you end up in places that surpass your wildest imagination.  

I met 1 person along the way, who asked me where the hell I thought I was going as there was nothing there. I answered that’s exactly where I was looking for: endless landscapes of nothing, nothing at all, ahhhh amazing!

Where I ended up must be what the end of the world looks like. Uninterrupted sceneries full of better sights than any civilization could produce. An infinite deserted beach, untouched countryside and so much, so much nothing.

Who wants to come and live here with me?

Isla Lemuy

As the day gave me a bit more time I decided to go to Isla Lemuy, an island reached with a ferry 10km from Chonchi (close to Queilén, Vilupulli and Quiao… yeah, I want to have a word with the guy who made up all those place names here). I hitch-hiked back in a loading ramp of a pick-up truck from an indigenous family bringing a few buckets of flowers to the cemetery. Subsequently a German household picked me up and from the point where they left me a local speeddevil took over and let me out at the ferry, which is actually free for pedestrians.

It was already getting a bit dark, so I just had the opportunity to quickly visit Puqueldon and from there walk back down the hills admiring the lovely sunset turning the island into a natural fairytale. True, it’s not really different from the rest of Isla de Chiloé, but I can’t see why that’s a bad thing. However, if you check Google Images and immediately decide to settle down here forever and ever, can you do me just one favor? Start a bicycle rental. For god’s sake, the place is asking for it: first-class scenery and sublime asphalt roads, mmmmm-m!

I scored another 2 rides back with some friendly farmers of whom I didn’t understand one single word they were saying (just say “si siiiii” with changing intervals) and with a sweet man called Giancarlo who was obsessed with… potatoes. Fair enough. Enough hitch-hiking for the day.

Ancud

It was time to leave Castro and the lovely Gino living in it, but I wasn’t done with the island yet. I had some penguin-business to attend. So I moved north to Ancud, obviously, hitch-hiking… this time with trucker Samuel talking faster than I could wink. As I was too lazy to log into Couchsurfing this time I rang about 20 bells of different hospedajes until someone opened a door for me. I negotiated down the price to 6000 peso’s (like $9) for a private room and went out to explore the majesty of Ancud. Well, no reason to do that: it’s the lamest city from Chiloé so far. But that doesn’t matter, that wasn’t the reason I was there: a day later I woke up to lovely weather which was perfect for the penguin-tour I had in mind. Well, you know me, I would never waste money on a tour forcing me into an embarrassing tourist bus with those typical holidaymakers I’m probably annoyed with… I fetched 3 immediate hitch-hikes bringing me straight to the penguin beach, Bahia Puñihuil.

There a little boat-safari was just about to start… so I walked to the men in the office, put on the strongest Dutch-Spanish accent I could produce (not sure why, but in Latin America they find it cute) and said I had only 5000 to spend, instead of the 7000 it officially costs. They laughed and handed me a life-jacket, preparing me for an absolutely amazing experience.

I once saw 1 penguin in Melbourne (Australia) ‘in the wild’ (I boycott zoos), but here whole families hopped from rock to rock. While they shuffled around a bit and just minded their own business this crazy human in the boat (me) made like a million photos, most of them shit.

I had the time of my life, I was literally slamming the sides of the boat with my hands out of pure excitement. As a bonus we got treated on some sea lions and gigantic pelicans too, as Mother Earth was in a generous mood. Upon my return an actual tourbus was waiting for me, as the guys who gave me the discount also arranged a free island tour and ride back to Ancud for me. Ok, I’ll make an exception this time.

I quickly hurried back to grab my backpack and rushed to the intersection leading to the harbor. A truck picked me up and for the first time ever I felt slightly uncomfortable, as this man couldn’t stop talking about my eyes and even almost drove off the bridge in an attempt to look at them. So even though it was raining I put on my sunglasses and said he could drop me off right at the harbor. I continued with a trucker who was honestly very likable, but also eager to inform me about all the ins and outs of his prostitution-hobby (all fine with me, just pay for it instead of laying your hands on unwilling girls). We arrived at Osorno at 5PM and as apparently the border closed at 6PM I could never make it back to Argentina that day. Well, shit. Or not: It’s not a real punishment to stay one more day in Chile.

I was about to walk to the center to get some cash-out to pay for a hotelroom when an idea randomly popped up in my head: “Maybe I could spend the night in jail”.

Sure, I could pay for accommodation, but wouldn’t this make a way better story? I couldn’t get rid of the thought, I wanted to know what would happen, so before I knew it I was already standing at the comisaria talking to the cops.

 - “So I didn’t commit any crime (yet), but can I just sleep here tonight?” 

- “Ehhhh…………. well, ehh…….. let’s see, I think…. maybe…… yes, porque no.”

So I dropped down my hefty backpack, joined my new police-friends for chats and gossip and shared food. Warm, cosy and safe I fell asleep in the sheriff’s office.

Around midnight the police officers woke me up, they made some calls and they had something more comfy for me. In a police car they gave me a ride to an Albergue Transitorio, a free hostel…. well, a homeless shelter really. But am I not homeless, in theory? I had a BLAST. These people have such more interesting stories to tell than the average shallow party backpacker. They lived life. Here I had my own bed, a shower and even coffee in the morning. I treated some people I met here on breakfast and thanked no one in particular for having this experience.

I spend the night with people most people hate (the police) or look down on (homeless) and it was wonderful. Because in the end we’re all just people, no matter how we speak, what we believe or what clothes we wear. Embrace.

Until we meet.

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