This is a 2 pipe tale so if you don't smoke a pipe, maybe make a cup of tea!
Chaiten was a town of over 4,000 people and a central hub for all transport: ferries from the west and all buses north, south and east. But, in May 2008, the volcano that attracted so many tourists erupted. The lava burnt a scar through the mountainside but never reached the town of Chaiten, 40 - 50 km away. However, the subsequent ash fell all over and clogged the river, turning it to mud and overflowing the banks as it looked for a way down hill, which took it through Chaiten, sweeping away thousands of homes with it. Thankfully, no-one was killed. In February 2011 electricity was restored to a town of just over 800 people as the rest had started life anew, elsewhere. It is no longer a transport hub.
We arrived full of expectation from The Book but were soon to be disillusioned. The bus that brought us from Puerto Montt returned there the next day, but that seemed pointless. Were there any other buses out of Chaiten? Yes, well, in a way, yes. There was a bus to Futaleufu, some days - Futaleufu being on the Argentinian border, some 80km away. It went some days between 11a.m. and 1.p.m. depending. Depending on what? Different things. What different things? Shrug. Right, you get the idea. What about the ferry, did that go regularly? Yes, to Puerto Montt. Ah. All roads lead to back to Puerto Montt. (The song "Hotel California" was now going round and round in my head.) The ferry was going at 10.a.m. according to the ferry office, 12.00 according to the locals! As it happens, 5.pm. was the latest prediction when we last looked!
So, Nicholas suggested he may know a man who would be taking a sailor from the ferry to Puyahuapi. Nicholas? Ah, now, there's another whole different story. Before arriving in Chaiten we had emailed the "guru" of all things transport related, according to The Book, who could also organise "all sorts of trips". He failed to mention in his emails that he already had commitments on both the days after we arrived; he found us after we arrived in the town - with only 2 hostals the odds were stacked in his favour - and so we ended up on a trip to see a waterfall, some alerce trees and the remains of the volcano at 6a.m. so he could be back in time for his pre-arranged trip - ironically, a group of people from a boat; I never did get to hear where this boat came from or possibly more importantly, where it went. By the time we did his trip he had also roped in Mami from Japan, who was also looking a little trapped and hungry for escape as we travelled back to town. The situation became a little tense when Nicholas declared that the bus we wanted, the one to Futaleufu, was the one pulling away from the other end of the airstrip towards town, as we were blocked on the this side of the airstrip. He could not see if the barrier was up to pass and when he called the 'watch tower' he discovered he was out of credit on his phone. ('Welcome to the Hotel California') We hit town and headed straight for our bags, not really wanting to linger to teach Nicholas the welsh and japanese words for 'hello' and 'how are you'.
The bus was full.' Maniana' said the laughing bus driver. We discussed the welsh and japanese words for f***.
That evening, hungry for dinner, we set out to one of the 2 places in town that serve food, but only after 7.30p.m. As we walked along the street we saw Mami with Nicholas. 'So', he says, 'I'm surprised to see you still here.'
Me: I share your surprise
N: Hey, but this is interesting.
Me: In what way exactly?
N: well, there are lots of ways to a solution.
Me: such as?
N: We just need to work those out.
Me: Actually, we are hungry and are heading for dinner.
N: Would you guys like to visit my place?
Me: Your office you mean?
N: No, I have a new place. No-one has visited yet, it would be great if you would like to visit.
Richito: We would love to Nicholas but we are quite hungry actually
N: We can hang out and chat, come on, follow me.
Mami looked slightly abused, I glared at Richito - always transfer blame elsewhere. We looked as Nicholas stepped over a low metal fence into the empty garden area we had been standing next to. He laughed, 'Welcome to my place'. Like hypnotised victims we stepped over and stood around in the garden area, which he had mown with a traditional scythe. 'Really?' 'Yes, I enjoyed it actually'
N: Oh, hang on a minute.
We all exchanged worried glances; Nicholas returned with a guitar he just happened to have in his minibus. As he launched into a country and music song about lost love I noted Mami had sunk into the wet grass, all cares and hopes gone, staring forlornly at the ground. Richito avoided all eye contact. Nicholas stood closer as he sung. Maximum self control was now called for. The song ended and I clapped appreciatively but did not step away fast enough. Tune 2 began, Bob Marley's 'Be Happy' - I wondered if this was Nicholas's idea of a joke? Happy? Verse 1 in English, verse 2 in Spanish; how many bloody verses were in the damn song? When that one finished I was away out of the field faster than a whippet on the starter's gun: 'see you later, thanks, ... hungry!' Richito made it to the restaurant 10 minutes later - something about boats was said after I left. Poor Mami came in 30 minutes later - that girl has to toughen up.
Day 3 - Chaiten - still. ('You can check out any time...') I emerged from the hostal straight into the waiting Nicholas. 'I've been thinking about your situation and I know a man who may be taking a sailor to Puyahuapi'.
Me: really? Ok, but how does this help us?
N: well, he could take you too if its still on, I'd have to speak to him. I've called and left messages but no-one's got back to me.
Richito: well, that's really kind, and it would be great, but when do you think you'd know for definite, as we are thinking of getting the ferry back up north and need to buy the ticket soon.
N: I thought you wanted to go south?
Me: Well, that's proven a little difficult all in all.
N: Yes, the bus drivers are ( word mumbled into Richito's ear). Now, how do you say 'hello' in welsh again?
Our way out was just a 3 minute walk away; we could see the office; the cars around it making us stress about a full ferry so we started ambling towards the ferry office and Nicholas followed, with his bicycle, suggesting he could take us on a special trip, but maybe he would go to the ferry boarding dock to see if there was demand. Mami was at the office, pale, keen, hungry for a ticket. I considered it significant that the queue was so long.
As we waited at the ferry office Nicholas cycled around town approaching people and chatting and that's how he actually found our solution. He spoke with 2 men who had been at our hostal and at the same restaurant the night before; 2 engineers heading south to work for 3 days who would be more than happy to help out a few stuck tourists and so we ended up in their truck for a 9 hour ride south. The last I saw of Nicholas, he was speaking to one of our 2 new friends at the truck window, teaching him the welsh for' hello' and 'how are you'!
