Talca
The town of Talca itself doesn't have much to offer, but it is the gateway to some fun stuff. We wound up staying in a fairly resort-y place way outside of town (this was accidental, and cost about twice as much as we thought it would – thanks again, lonely planet.) It was run by, and full to overflowing with, Germans, Austirans and Swiss. They offered a vegetarian dinner (a bowl of soup and a plate of noodles), so we signed up, and we were the only english speakers at the table – everyone else spoke German. They staff claimed that the week before, it had been all Dutch, but I'm not buying it.
Talca is a pretty dry place. Not as dry as Santiago/Valpo to the north, but still dry enough to require that everything be irrigated. It's perfect for grapes, and that's what they grow (more on this later).
Our first full day there, we took a trip to the foothills of the Andes to go on a hike. This was to a point/peak called El Enladrillado, about 2000m high, about 60 km south east of the town. One of the women at the dinner table wanted to go as well, and she speaks pretty good Spanish as well as English, so she was a great help to have along. To do this, you get a taxi from the hostel into town at 645. You catch the public bus running to Vilches at 715 AM. This also serves as the schoolbus, and we saw lots of students and teachers get on and off. 2 hours later, you get off at the entrance to the national reserve that this hike goes through. The bus leaves to go back at 515PM, so you don't want to miss it. We didn't actually make it all the way before we decided to turn around and not chance it. Good thing, as we only had about 10 minutes to spare when we got back.
The hike reminded me a lot of the eastern slope of the cascades, but with different vegetation. (It was probably a lot like the sierras, but I've never been there.) It was dry, with lots of trees and plants I've never seen before. Tons of lizards, colored bright green and blue. I saw a really big woodpecker, but he got away before I could take a decent picture (the little red dot is his head in the picture I took.)
When we got off the bus at the trailhead, after signing in, we got adopted by a local dog. At first, we thought he was a stray, but he was too well fed and well groomed. A beautiful medium sized dog with german shepherd markings (some other hikers later told us he was he belongs to the caretaker of the reserve we were in.) We figured he wanted food, and would go away after a little while. But, he stuck with us, through our strategies of ignoring him, yelling at him to go away, and even pretending to throw rocks at him (he wasn't fooled – somehow he knew we wouldn't really do that.) In fact, he trotted alongside the entire day, all the way to the turnaround point, and back to the bus at the end of the day. We couldn't think of a good name for him, so he remained "dog" all day. Every now and then, you'd realize that you hadn't seen him in awhile, and figure he had finally given up hope of a handout, and then you'd turn a corner, and he'd be standing there waiting for you. We figure that he probably does this trail every day, and just picks the first group of hikers each day, and adopts them. Near the end of the trail, every time we'd stop to take a picture, he'd stand 50 meters ahead of us and look back, as if to say, guys, what are you doing? We're almost there!
Near the end of the hike, we heard this strange sound, that kind of sounded like a person yelling way off in the distance. And a cow would moo in response. We finally rounded a bend and saw this cow, standing in the middle of the trail. I think it was her calf, lost, and they were trying to find each other. It was the last thing we expected to see – it surprised me more than a bear or a puma would have. We were miles from any pasture, in the woods. The mooing startled the dog, who acted like he'd never seen a cow before.
The next day was our last, as we'd decided to take the overnight bus down the coast to Chiloe, via Puerto Montt. It's a 12 hour bus ride, so we deliberately bought tickets leaving late, so we could save a night in a hotel, and not waste daylight on a bus. We checked out, stowed our stuff with the resort (their policy on the dorm rooms is to not have a lock, since there are so many people, so they didn't care if we left stuff there), and bought tickets and ordered a taxi to a few local wineries. The Chilean wine industry is now responsible for more export dollars than copper, I think, and the wineries are just starting to wake up to the idea of tourism, the way Napa valley did decades ago. The two closest wineries to the hostel are available for tours without a reservation, according to the staff of the resort. So, we bought tour tokens, for 10 bucks each, per tour (that kind of money will buy you many bottles of decent wine down here). Each tour lasts about an hour, including the tasting. And, we hired a taxi, who according to the staff had done this many time, and knew what he was doing. One of our roommates in the dorm wanted to tag along, so we got to split the taxi cost (and she spoke good Spanish, so again, a valuable friend.)
The taxi driver had clearly never been there before, and had no idea (and the map the resort gives out was kind of more a sketch than anything accurate.) We got to the first place, which is a really neat fourth generation family winery, that employs about 30 people, and has some 100 year old vines (interesting, our word "espalier" is related to a very similar sounding word in Spanish, which must mean to graft, as this was the word our guide used to describe the really ancient vines – I know it's fairly common to graft younger grapes onto old rootstock.)
Anyway, the hostel had never bothered to call, so the woman had no idea we were coming, but she had us wait a few minutes, put down what she was doing, and gave us a tour and tasting anyway. Really interesting, even in Spanish (our Australian friend translated some, but I was surprised by how much I felt I got.) Afterwards, she opened a bottle of her Chardonnay Reserva, and a bottle of her Cabernet Sauvingon Reserva. I figured each would be a 30 dollar bottle in the states. I don't like white wine, but the Chardonnay was really tasty. The cab was kind of bland, but had that expensive wine smoothness. Our tour-mate bought a bottle to take with.
The next place was a bigger industrial winery. They claimed it was all "by hand", but there were a lot of machines involved. They're owned by Kendall Jackson, the big American wine concern. They also had no idea we were coming, but gave us a quick tour. They weren't able to pour anything, but the tourguide (who spoke great English) felt bad about this, and gave us a few bottles to take with. We shared one with the Australian woman on the veranda when we got back, since we figured the glass wouldn't survive further travel, and we have no corkscrew anyway.
Then, our last big adventure of the day. We got a ride back to the local municipal bus terminal from the hostel staff, and got on the bus. Problem is, we had no idea what the stop in town looks like – we assumed it would be the same place we got on the bus three days ago, but it's not. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were way on the other side of town, and had to switch to another bus. We made it to the long distance bus terminal for our bus with two minutes to spare, instead of the planned hour. It would have only taken 30 seconds for the staff of the place dropping us off to explain what to look for, or mention to the bus driver, hey these white folks with the backpacks are going to the bus station, make them get off there, but they didn't bother. For a cheap hostel, I wouldn't expect that kind of thoroughness, but for resort prices (which we paid), I do. In ten minutes, I think we could easily make the place a lot more user friendly (we´d start by modifying their maps so that they were in Spanish as well as English and German, with distances, so that you could just hand them to a taxi-driver. We´d also put much better directions for getting there on their website.)
We've noticed that the cheap places tend to just charge one price. They may not offer a lot, but what they do offer is all included. The expensive places try to nickel and dime you for everything. Any finally, you just get tired of protesting that you just needed a few minutes on the computer to check a bus schedule, and you just pay the hourly charge. We like the cheap well-run places that don't offer much.
Talca is a pretty dry place. Not as dry as Santiago/Valpo to the north, but still dry enough to require that everything be irrigated. It's perfect for grapes, and that's what they grow (more on this later).
Our first full day there, we took a trip to the foothills of the Andes to go on a hike. This was to a point/peak called El Enladrillado, about 2000m high, about 60 km south east of the town. One of the women at the dinner table wanted to go as well, and she speaks pretty good Spanish as well as English, so she was a great help to have along. To do this, you get a taxi from the hostel into town at 645. You catch the public bus running to Vilches at 715 AM. This also serves as the schoolbus, and we saw lots of students and teachers get on and off. 2 hours later, you get off at the entrance to the national reserve that this hike goes through. The bus leaves to go back at 515PM, so you don't want to miss it. We didn't actually make it all the way before we decided to turn around and not chance it. Good thing, as we only had about 10 minutes to spare when we got back.
The hike reminded me a lot of the eastern slope of the cascades, but with different vegetation. (It was probably a lot like the sierras, but I've never been there.) It was dry, with lots of trees and plants I've never seen before. Tons of lizards, colored bright green and blue. I saw a really big woodpecker, but he got away before I could take a decent picture (the little red dot is his head in the picture I took.)
When we got off the bus at the trailhead, after signing in, we got adopted by a local dog. At first, we thought he was a stray, but he was too well fed and well groomed. A beautiful medium sized dog with german shepherd markings (some other hikers later told us he was he belongs to the caretaker of the reserve we were in.) We figured he wanted food, and would go away after a little while. But, he stuck with us, through our strategies of ignoring him, yelling at him to go away, and even pretending to throw rocks at him (he wasn't fooled – somehow he knew we wouldn't really do that.) In fact, he trotted alongside the entire day, all the way to the turnaround point, and back to the bus at the end of the day. We couldn't think of a good name for him, so he remained "dog" all day. Every now and then, you'd realize that you hadn't seen him in awhile, and figure he had finally given up hope of a handout, and then you'd turn a corner, and he'd be standing there waiting for you. We figure that he probably does this trail every day, and just picks the first group of hikers each day, and adopts them. Near the end of the trail, every time we'd stop to take a picture, he'd stand 50 meters ahead of us and look back, as if to say, guys, what are you doing? We're almost there!
Near the end of the hike, we heard this strange sound, that kind of sounded like a person yelling way off in the distance. And a cow would moo in response. We finally rounded a bend and saw this cow, standing in the middle of the trail. I think it was her calf, lost, and they were trying to find each other. It was the last thing we expected to see – it surprised me more than a bear or a puma would have. We were miles from any pasture, in the woods. The mooing startled the dog, who acted like he'd never seen a cow before.
The next day was our last, as we'd decided to take the overnight bus down the coast to Chiloe, via Puerto Montt. It's a 12 hour bus ride, so we deliberately bought tickets leaving late, so we could save a night in a hotel, and not waste daylight on a bus. We checked out, stowed our stuff with the resort (their policy on the dorm rooms is to not have a lock, since there are so many people, so they didn't care if we left stuff there), and bought tickets and ordered a taxi to a few local wineries. The Chilean wine industry is now responsible for more export dollars than copper, I think, and the wineries are just starting to wake up to the idea of tourism, the way Napa valley did decades ago. The two closest wineries to the hostel are available for tours without a reservation, according to the staff of the resort. So, we bought tour tokens, for 10 bucks each, per tour (that kind of money will buy you many bottles of decent wine down here). Each tour lasts about an hour, including the tasting. And, we hired a taxi, who according to the staff had done this many time, and knew what he was doing. One of our roommates in the dorm wanted to tag along, so we got to split the taxi cost (and she spoke good Spanish, so again, a valuable friend.)
The taxi driver had clearly never been there before, and had no idea (and the map the resort gives out was kind of more a sketch than anything accurate.) We got to the first place, which is a really neat fourth generation family winery, that employs about 30 people, and has some 100 year old vines (interesting, our word "espalier" is related to a very similar sounding word in Spanish, which must mean to graft, as this was the word our guide used to describe the really ancient vines – I know it's fairly common to graft younger grapes onto old rootstock.)
Anyway, the hostel had never bothered to call, so the woman had no idea we were coming, but she had us wait a few minutes, put down what she was doing, and gave us a tour and tasting anyway. Really interesting, even in Spanish (our Australian friend translated some, but I was surprised by how much I felt I got.) Afterwards, she opened a bottle of her Chardonnay Reserva, and a bottle of her Cabernet Sauvingon Reserva. I figured each would be a 30 dollar bottle in the states. I don't like white wine, but the Chardonnay was really tasty. The cab was kind of bland, but had that expensive wine smoothness. Our tour-mate bought a bottle to take with.
The next place was a bigger industrial winery. They claimed it was all "by hand", but there were a lot of machines involved. They're owned by Kendall Jackson, the big American wine concern. They also had no idea we were coming, but gave us a quick tour. They weren't able to pour anything, but the tourguide (who spoke great English) felt bad about this, and gave us a few bottles to take with. We shared one with the Australian woman on the veranda when we got back, since we figured the glass wouldn't survive further travel, and we have no corkscrew anyway.
Then, our last big adventure of the day. We got a ride back to the local municipal bus terminal from the hostel staff, and got on the bus. Problem is, we had no idea what the stop in town looks like – we assumed it would be the same place we got on the bus three days ago, but it's not. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were way on the other side of town, and had to switch to another bus. We made it to the long distance bus terminal for our bus with two minutes to spare, instead of the planned hour. It would have only taken 30 seconds for the staff of the place dropping us off to explain what to look for, or mention to the bus driver, hey these white folks with the backpacks are going to the bus station, make them get off there, but they didn't bother. For a cheap hostel, I wouldn't expect that kind of thoroughness, but for resort prices (which we paid), I do. In ten minutes, I think we could easily make the place a lot more user friendly (we´d start by modifying their maps so that they were in Spanish as well as English and German, with distances, so that you could just hand them to a taxi-driver. We´d also put much better directions for getting there on their website.)
We've noticed that the cheap places tend to just charge one price. They may not offer a lot, but what they do offer is all included. The expensive places try to nickel and dime you for everything. Any finally, you just get tired of protesting that you just needed a few minutes on the computer to check a bus schedule, and you just pay the hourly charge. We like the cheap well-run places that don't offer much.
posted by Kenneth at 4:59 PM
3 Comments:
I do hope you're able to keep your sense of humour with one another while traversing the inevitable transportation Snafus. For some reason I've never been able to smoothly transition from buses to trains to lodging to taxis to planes. I travel mostly alone because I find these little abrupt changes of plan to be part of the fun that has often been lost on my several companions (as in "What do you mean we have to walk 50 miles because you misread the bus schedule and this village has no cars? - recounted in an early post).
I trust you will also not bring a "March or Die" attitude to any of your remote tramping about (Mr. I-go-running-every-day).
I like your little sidetrip to some vineyards. Something I'd bet you'd never do while driving through Cali. I've never been able to develop a taste for wine much as you've never appreciated good coffee. I've always assumed my lack of sophistication in taste is an adaptive mechanism that also allows me to consume a wider variety of food in various states of advancing spoilage.
Take care of each other.
p.
You managed to get Evelyn up for a 6:45 am taxi? Did she stay up all night? Cassie
Evelyn is the one who stays up late, after I'm useless, and packs everything, so that we can grab and go in the morning. All I have to do is drag her upright, and we're ready to go. Then she falls asleep on the bus.
We've been able to keep our senses of humor in various ways. I get out my dictionary and learn a few new words (I can now ask "can you make change for a 10,000?".) Evelyn finds a knit hat to buy. I think the running total is at 6 so far. Hats are one of Ev's little hobbies, and these things cost 25 or 30 bucks at home (this hasn't stopped her from collecting at least 30.) Here, nice knit hats are 2 or 3 bucks.
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