Writings By Date| Driving in Chile's Lakes Region | 1 | 2 | 3 |
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| Up a Tree |
We hit the dirt road again, heading to the tumbleweed town of Puerto Octay. This town was so deserted, it looked like something out of a movie. I half-expected the few people I did see on the streets to be raving lunatics suffering from some kind of virulent plague. In the late 19th century, it was a primary northern port for steamships on the lake, but a huge earthquake and the demise of steam travel on the lake reduced it to a virtual ghost town. Now, the Plaza de Armas was completely empty, save for a radio blaring what sounded like the Chilean equivalent of Woody Guthrie, and a kiosk vendor selling wooden handicrafts, alone on a street filled with a dozen other kiosks, all empty. We walked around, finding only one restaurant, one hospedaje, and little evidence of any kind of excitement.
Our only reason for staying was to check out the Museo el Colono, which was touted as an excellent attraction in this otherwise barely-noticeable dot on the map. The museum was, indeed, filled with curious artifacts of the families of the German settlers of this town, including photos, gardening tools, kitchen items, and even a grammophone. The region's earlier history was completely overlooked here, but the German colonization of the area was well-detailed (as one might expect from Germans!) The curator was exceptionally friendly, too, telling us in great detail, and in very slow and clear Spanish that we could both understand, about the earthquake that took place earlier in the century, and the photos that documented its destruction.
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| Volcan Osorno |
Back on the road once more, we braved another 30 km of dirt road, as we headed toward the town of Entre Lagos. The ride consisted of nothing but farms, cow pastures, and more farms. Only the brief splashes of concrete bridges over tiny rivers, and a couple of strange building developments broke the monotony. The first of these was a grand Hacienda, which really appeared to be no more than a gas station at the intersection of two roads, and in the middle of a large farm estate. Later, we ran across a strange set of very new wooden buildings that were arranged in a way that led us to believe it might be a commune. Included among the buildings was a Lutheran church (every town around here has at least one), and — though you'd never know it — a supermarket. Finally, just outside of Entre Lagos, we hit a peculiar development, about a mile long, consisting of cookie-cutter homes right on top of one another. The houses were laid out in neatly arranged streets, but only a block or two deep: the right shape to form a town, but not enough depth to fit anything. What was most curious was that there were no restaurants or merchandise outlets: only houses, and possibly a mini-market or small hardware shop. It was like a military outpost, but without the military buildings.
