Señor Vánchez is gone. We were both shattered when we signed over the papers for him last week. None of this would have been possible without him. You could not have asked for any more out of that little white van than what we put him through and to say he got the job done is a massive understatement. The best car either of us have ever owned without a shadow of a doubt. I wish we could have shipped him home for the next journey.

          

Early days, adding the finishing touches with Adam and dealing with the fuel situation in far Southern Chile.

          

Southern Chile in Señor Vánchez. Dirt roads with endless potential.

Southbound to the end of the world. Ruta 40, Patagonia.

          

Beth stretching her legs on a beautiful Patagonian morning, and long dusty days…

          

Still tripping out over these photos… without Señor Vánchez, the sense of accomplishment that came with arriving in such a remote and special place at the bottom of the world would surely not have been the same. One of the best days of the trip and our lives for sure. Cerro Fitz Roy, Argentina. Still cant believe how windy this part of the world is!

          

Chubut Argentina, very remote and amazing scenery. One of Beth’s favourite towns Camarones on the left, and searching for waves in the Atlantic (or lack thereof) on the right.

Patagonia got the best of Señor Vánchez, with horrible roads it was only a matter of time until something rattled loose. Turned out it was the exhaust that finally gave way. We paid the mechanic a hefty tip when his hour of hard work and perfect weld job amounted to the Argentine Peso equivalent of 7.50 AUD. Really helpful friendly guy. Camarones locals are the best.

Heading north through Chile, camping in the Atacama. Happy days on the road.

          

Pisagua, Northern Chile. A ghost like town a long way from anywhere.

The road in to Pisagua. Breakdowns would not be ideal in this part of the world…

On the Bolivian border, Lauca NP is an amazing place. I had never heard of it until we were in Northern Chile. Turned out to be an amazing detour and our highest point of the trip. Breathless at around 4700m in altitude. He made it up some damn big hills this day.

Last week before we said goodbye to our loyal little white van. I hope we see him again some day somewhere on this earth…you never know. Señor Vánchez, we already miss you mate. See you in the next life!

This is it! We fly out in two days and reality is starting to set in. Life changing trips don’t come along very often but we have learned a lot about ourselves and each other since setting out in December and underneath all of the driving, laughs, new friends, MASSIVE blowups/arguments, setbacks, amazing waves, language barriers, bureaucracy, hospitality, breakdowns, Llamas, desert landscapes, The Andes and Patagonia. Our journey through Chile, Argentina and Peru has definitely changed us in a way that I can’t describe…it just has. Get out there and do it!

Adios…or Hasta Luego, We’re not sure which.

b+m

Winter in Chile is not a place for the faint hearted, if you surf that is. Freezing air and water temperatures mean thick hooded wetsuits, boots and a constant bombardment of very large swells. Never have I seen surf forecasts quite like the ones here in winter, actually surf forecasts have never made me feel nervous before, but the ones here have a tendency to give you that sick feeling in your stomach. Picture entire forecast periods spanning weeks filled with swell predictions that read anywhere from 10-20ft with good or light winds in the mix. There is nowhere to hide from the swell, no protected bays with beautiful 3ft point waves spinning away…nope, if you wanted that you should have stayed in Peru. Winter in Chile is a place for big surfboards and even bigger waves, if you don’t want that, your only option is to not come or expect to spend a lot of time out of the water.

Arriving back to a familiar place was nice after travelling so much for the two months previous. The town of Pichilemu is empty at this time of the year and the weather can be horrible at times but it is this slow pace that allows you to really unwind.

Before we get into the waves something that we haven’t mentioned in any previous posts was the Copa America. I’ve always loved soccer and grew up playing it, and it’s great that Beth really enjoys it as well. We had been following the entire tournament that was being hosted by Chile, and obviously tensions get very high in major soccer tournaments in South America. Not long after we got back Chile qualified for the final against Argentina which was to be played in Santiago. Beth, Adam and I made the call to go to Santiago for the weekend to soak up the atmosphere and watch the game. But this was not just a game…this tournament is a massive deal here, and Chile had never won the Copa America in its 100 year history. Argentina is one of, if not their biggest rivals. It was going to be monumental. I had a good feeling that we were going to watch history go down. We were not disappointed.

We couldn’t get tickets to the game but we did get to see history go down. Chile won on penalties after a 120 minute epic and the winning penalty was slotted home by the national hero Alexis Sanchez. It was pretty special to see how much this meant to the people of Chile after we have spent so much time here this year. It’s easy to get carried away in the emotion of it all when an entire nation pretty much loses its mind after a feat like this. We were, with the majority of the nation, intoxicated with liquor and cheer, and walked the streets to see the entire scene unfold before us. Everything from people car surfing to destroying property, you name it. We even jumped on the back of a moving garbage truck to the cheers of people on the streets, and high fives from the garbo! As the night wore on things got pretty out of control (read; warzone) and it all culminated at Plaza Italia where there must have been tens of thousands of people with flares, fireworks you name it. Fútbol in South America….absolutely batshit crazy. Then when the dust settled, Beth had one of the worst hangovers in the history of mankind. We found out in the celebrations that the night before a supermarket in Santiago was looted by a crowd of hundreds, and three people died in separate incidents. It’s horrible that things get so carried away that lives are lost, but we have now seen first hand how it occurs.

            

The waves down here over the last six weeks or so have been cold and mind blowing. Our plan was to base ourselves back at Casa Verde in Pichilemu with Ben and Adam, and do another little mission further south when the forecast lined up. Winter here means that you get some days with north winds and rain which destroys all of the waves in the area (as well as the roads of Pichilemu) but sitting around the fire getting warm and waiting it out for a day or two wasn’t all that bad considering the waves that followed. Once again I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Big, glassy and perfect out the back past Los Morros. This is me bottom turning and Adam out in the channel paddling back after catching the one before it. I think we had three solo surfs that were identical to this in the week that this photo was taken. With just the two of us in the water and big perfect five or six wave sets, it was just a matter of taking turns and deciding which one you wanted. It’s a pretty cool feeling making it to the channel after a good big one and turning around to hoot your mate scratching into another one right behind you. Above picture taken by Kimber, one of our many new, like-minded friends we’ve met on the road.

Beth and another amazing winter sunset at Punta de Lobos. I’ll never get sick of these and love sitting in this spot with Beth to watch another day come to an end.

Hood on and running to take the plunge on a big day.

Another really big day at Lobos. I was surfing by myself on this morning and got myself into a bit of a bad place on this one, it was a bit of a memorable flogging haha. There was so much water moving around on this day and the swell was coming up fast so when this big one popped up I was finally in the perfect spot on the ledge after half an hour of paddling, it looked so perfect that I couldn’t not go even though it was a 50/50 chance of making it down the line.

I love this photo, Beth always captures the whole scene so well. I’ve never seen anybody else take such amazing unique photos of this place to give you such a cool perspective.

Punta de Lobos post surf empanadas from a local lady, and still in a hooded suit and booties. It doesn’t get much more Chilean than that.

Ramon Navarro on his 10’6″ later the same day at the peak of the swell. Amazing to watch.

Infiernillo is a really fickle wave right in town in Pichilemu and I still hadn’t surfed it after we had spent months here on this trip. It’s really exposed to the wind and needs a really low tide, a good sandbank and solid, long period swell to break. Ben was always raving on like; ‘Infiernillo is for me the best Mels, this is the best wave in town. When it turns on is like a switch, on and off. Muuuy buena Mels.’ Anyway I must have checked it a million times during all of our stays here then one afternoon low and behold the switch turned on. It was like a mirage…6-8ft, fast and heavy but peerrfect barrels spinning down a shallow sandbar. It was an amazing afternoon and one that I will never forget. Beth as usual had camera in hand this time with a big lens attached. She casually noted that I should drop her off half a mile up the beach as it ‘should be good from up there’, and of course she nailed a whole bunch of amazing photos of one of the best surfs of the trip and my life. Lifelong memories. Then just as quickly as it turned on it was all over again. Looking at the following photos I still can’t comprehend just how good that wave was when it appeared for a few hours that afternoon.

This is an amazing photo! It was overcast but the sun burst through and created this amazing green backlight. Classic western coastline afternoon light.

It was full on. Late takeoff, one big pump and hold on until you either get pounded or spat into the next section. I made two…it was definitely better odds for the goofyfooters. One of the best waves I’ve ever surfed.

A rare one that I could slow down and drag through.

An empty amazing one with the sun out.

This is a Chilean guy by the name of Ismael who was completely ruling it. He is an amazing backside tube rider.

I really like this one. It’s one of Beth’s arty slow shutter photos that she is really good at. This guy obviously got a pretty good one. That’s me in the channel claiming it for him.

All in all it was a pretty memorable afternoon. The funny part is that the dust had barely settled from this session when the forecast for down south started to look really really good. We were down there for four nights and the first two days completely pumped. Adam and I surfed on the second morning at a lefthand pointbreak that had the most perfect sandbank I have seen EVER. Four feet and below sea level for the length of the point. We were out on dead low tide at first light and traded perfect round barrels minus the fear factor that was present at Infiernillo. It was two hours and one broken board until anyone joined us. We were so blown away that we were hooting and giggling like kids at our good fortune.

            

I love these trips down south. Remote dirt roads, and amazing countryside. It truly is a beautiful part of the world.

            

Surf dogs. They used to be a big part of Australian surf culture but all of the rules at home regarding dogs at the beach means that it is sadly becoming a thing of the past. Good to see the loyal surf dog is still alive and well in Chile.

       

       

       

 I love this part of Chile. This time we got to see its full potential. This was the first afternoon just as we arrived and the current was bad and there were lots of wash throughs. Still pumping as you can see. Then the next morning it was a bit smaller and everything came together. This is such an amazing wave.

Our home for a few days. A beautiful little house in a secluded bay.

            

We had fun little waves for the next few days once the swell dropped.

The last couple of weeks there has been a lot of north wind but still plenty of days in between that have been really good. Its been big again as well, including one day that was XXL and a few lunatics charged on 10’6″s. Too big for an 8’6″ that’s for sure. I flirted with the thought that I could get a couple out there and then saw a set that caught everyone in the water off guard. That made up my mind pretty quickly, I don’t think I would ever be ready for that.

Ramon Navarro again. Always on the biggest and the best waves. Way behind Los Morros here.

Got the guns out again. This was only a couple of days ago and was another surf just by ourselves again. Not as big this time but the waves were still powerful and really good, you still needed a big board to catch waves. The headland still takes my breath away every time I am walking along it. Punta de Lobos is a beautiful place.

Waiting…

Beth took some more beautiful photos in the really nice but tricky light on this afternoon. This one’s me.

 Adam bottom turning on a good one.

And putting himself right in the sweet spot for a nice speed run to the channel.

Trying to hook it on a big board takes some practice. Normally I’m not turning when I’m riding my gun, just shitting myself so it’s nice to have some big but not so scary days.

This could have been my last surf on the big fella! This is hands down the most amazing surfboard I have ever owned, something that I can hold onto for life and hopefully pull out again someday.

Time is counting down and as of today our car Señor Vánchez is sold. We’ll throw a few details up about this in a few days but for now we are feeling kind of shattered about having to sell a car that has become our noble steed and best friend.

Until next time.

ciao b+m

So once again lots of time has passed, great friends have been made, tons of experiences have occurred and not much has been done as far as writing this page. Anyway back in Peru….the charts had been monitored and last minute plans locked in. It was to be a plane flight from Cuzco to Lima, an eight hour wait in a bus terminal and an eleven hour overnight bus ride north through the desert to Trujillo. Jumping off an overnight bus after twenty four hours or so of travel and trying to then barter a decent price for a local driver to take you an hour and a half into the desert is not my forte. We sorted it pretty quickly however and before we knew it we had pulled up in a small ramshackle village that was actually quite similar to how I had pictured it. Tiny, with half finished crumbling concrete buildings, friendly locals, and a massive bay that stretched as far as the eye could see with, wait for it…..the longest lines of swell I have ever seen. Chicama, widely regarded as the worlds longest wave was firing. Keeping one eye on the charts and a bit of lucky timing paid off. I’ll let some pictures do the talking.

 

This is just as we pulled up and I was pretty much losing my mind. We were there for 5 nights the first time around and it just got better for two days and peaked right in the middle of our time there. This is probably about the first quarter or third of the wave. We never got a photo that really shows the whole lineup well as it would require a much wider angle lens than Beth had packed for this trip. It is one of, if not the most mesmerising lineup I have ever seen.

We really spoilt ourselves on this stop and stayed at the nicest place we have during the whole trip (and the most expensive by far!) and the only really nice place in Chicama, right in front of the wave. A beautiful resort with super cool local staff and a massive deck and pool overlooking the wave, complete with cervezas and cocktails on sunset after surfing all day. I think Beth fell in love with the place. To top it off there was a really awesome few people staying there as well (you guys know who you are!) which really topped off our time there. There is nothing like meeting really genuinely good people to hang out with from all different walks of life during your travels.

Lines for days.

It really never gets above four to five feet, and it’s a fattish sort of wave but…the feeling of coming out of a bottom turn after doing the same turn fifteen times before it is incredible and something that I have never experienced before. The leg burn is intense when you are catching waves that are two minutes long and 1500m in length and I think it breaks even further to the pier at the town when the sand is perfect! Amazing place and I was in awe to be walking around a point that I had seen photos of since I was a kid and to have it as good as it was with a total lack of people.

The long hot walks back around the point in the desert are surreal. Like being on Mars. This little rocket of a single fin got a workout as well. It was so perfect for that wave and was the only board I rode during the whole time in Chicama.

Way down the point near the end of the wave on the best day, still grinding perfectly on sunset.

So… it was with reluctance that we left Chicama and headed north a couple of hours to the town of Pacasmayo and the amazing lefthander of El Faro…which was completely waveless for our week long stay. Oh well I guess you can’t win them all. Beth and I really loved Pacasmayo, it was a really genuine hardworking little Peruvian fishing town with nice local people and amazing food. Hanging out for the week was fun and we met Paige and Clinton, a couple of friends on different journeys who had met up in Peru for a couple of weeks. We really had an amazing time hanging out with the two of them and trading stories. Paige is from San Fransisco and has been surfing for about five years and is probably the most surf stoked human on the planet and has some pretty hilarious info on surfing and travels on her blog. It was so refreshing for Beth and I to hang out with someone that is so high on life and we had such a fun time with the two of them that we decided to go back to Chicama with them for a few more days. She had come down to Peru to meet up with Clinton, a kiwi who has been living in the states for a long time is currently on an open ended motorcycle trip. So inspiring to know that he had ridden his bike from Alaska to where we were in Northern Peru and will be continuing all the way to Patagonia! It made for some pretty amazing conversation and made our trip look pretty easy in comparison.

Peruvian food makes my mouth water…. the seafood is so fresh and so cheap in these towns that it is ridiculous. Peruvian ceviche like the one above is hands down the best ceviche that we have ever had.

Pacasmayo. Peruvian towns are so quirky. The buildings can be so ugly and 80% are half finished but there are enough old colonial ones in between to make do.

Bethy in Pacasmayo. This was such a cool place to watch the fiery pollution filled sunsets and was actually a really old cemetery on top of the hill above where we stayed.

A lot of people from home would look at towns like this and immediately think ‘shithole’ but it is just the way towns are here. With not much money and lots of corruption, the streets end up looking this way. And despite all of the rubbish and pollution in Peru, which was horrible, Pacasmayo was impeccably clean in the town itself. I was so stoked to have gone even with no waves.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for animals in Peru.

Paige and Clinton, see you in Chicama!

Those long hot walks again.

Chicama was smaller the second time around but still had the amazing lined up shape that gets you excited, and as soon as the wave gets too small….just walk further. Around the corner there are two more point breaks almost as long as the first.

The sunset beers, warm weather, card games and fun times in Peru were a blast. It’s a pretty amazing country that we had originally planned to spend more time in. Looking at the swell forecasts was pretty grim, there was nothing significant for the next three weeks. Actually, it looked terrible and the far north of the country that we were headed to didn’t look like the most exciting place out of the water. With no waves I was starting to dream about southern Chile again….winter in southern Chile. Freezing water and a constant bombardment of big swells. There were waves down there that I felt like I’d missed out on. Last minute plans were made, phone calls to Adam in Pichilemu, flights were booked to Tacna, hassles by Peruvian customs on the land crossing into Chile (they pulled us into the office and had a chat followed by a full body x-ray each, I think it’s the beard…), and we were reunited with Seńor Vanchez in Arica, Chile. Then began the huge drive through the desert, south this time, to Pichilemu.

 

Peru you were amazing, but the last minute change of plans have paid off. Instead of sitting up in northern Peru waiting for waves that never came, we have been in southern Chile for the past month. And the waves you ask?

They have been cold… and mind blowing.

Photos to come.

Ciao b+m

time constraints and vast distances meant wishing Señor Vánchez a safe month or two without us and we hopped in a collectivo to cross the border to Peru and continue north on overnight buses. The crossing process is usually quick however on the day we set off the international camioneros (truck drivers) were on a second day of strikes and had blocked the border to Peru. Gossip filtered down the long line of stopped traffic that the border was closed for the day as the truckers weren’t budging. We were sharing a taxi with two Chilenos who used their translate app to explain to us what was happening. We continued to wait it out in the hopes something might change, and after half an hour the distant sounds of sirens blazing and horns honking became quickly louder and our hopes were rewarded. We were being forewarned to get off the road to make room for the passing fleet of assault police/squad cars/riot trucks/water cannon trucks tasked with the job of opening up the border. Unfortunately we weren’t within sight of the action as I imagine it would have been good viewing. Much to the delight of the very long line of onlookers, we all crossed into Peru about an hour later and could notice the significant change in economic status immediately.

The desert is strewn with tonnes of litter, half-built concrete homes left empty and clouded in thick smog which doesn’t paint the prettiest of pictures when entering a new country. The people look more Andean with smilier faces and strongly built bodies. We were both reminded of India as we recklessly sped north avoiding tuk tuks/people/potholes/dogs on the road while hoping a lack of seatbelts wouldn’t be problematic. We stayed in Tacna for the night and prepared for a brain-melting, feet-swelling 20 hour bus ride north to Lima the next day.

Our time in Lima was spent wandering around doing a lot of not much recovering from having driven 2500kms within the last couple of weeks. We did, however, make the most of being in the food metropolis of South America, eating everywhere from street stalls to fancy restaurants. The Mercado 1 was a seriously good local market with shops filled to the ceiling with exotic fruits, veggies, cheese, spices, butchers shops with mysterious carves of meat, and all sorts of odd shops in between selling everything from stickers to lace doilies to bootleg dvds and gold-framed mini paintings of Jesus. We found a great roast house cafe, ate the most delicious burgers filled with chicharron (pork fat) and camote (sweet potato), scoffed market ceviche, organic icecream, drank from a 44 gallon drum of sweet tea that was certainly dodgy, sampled a few too many of Lima’s latest craft brews at Barranco Beer Company, and basically had a sick time for a week.

               

i wish our farmers markets were like this at home!

After navigating the most frustrating websites and somehow wrangling tickets to Machu Picchu and the montaña, the train journey and flights to Cusco, we departed Lima and flew east to see some spectacular sights which we hoped would meet our long-awaited expectations. Which they did! Writing about Cusco is hard because I’m torn between loving it for its history and the local people (for example a couple in their 70s we shared a park bench with for an hour named Mariano and Sabrina and fumbled our way through the language barrier to share stories, have a laugh and learn things about each other while we watched the raucous happen in the square). In truth Peruvians speak Spanish a lot more clearly and slowly, which for us muggs is so helpful in moments like this. But on the other side, Cusco is a complete tourist trap and the two of us stood out to the hawkers and shopkeepers like white-skinned cash machines which felt disingenuous and left a bitter taste in our mouths on some occasions.

We gave ourselves four days to acclimatise (having heard numerous stories, including my parents, of altitude sickness ruining peoples time in the mountains) before we went to see the famous Machu Picchu. Unfortunately for Matt this meant lots of browsing markets and shops which according to him all “sold the same touristy shit”. I had heard a market in a nearby town called Pisaq had more authentic artesanal products so we hired a taxi and went to see some more “touristy shit”. But I was in heaven. Unfortunately about an hour into the wandering, the skies opened and the rain bucketed down as ladies rushed to cover their valuable items and used bamboo sticks to push the water off their makeshift stall covers creating gushing small rivers down the cobblestones, very wet feet and a very wet, unhappy boyfriend. I stood under the cover of one shop looking across to another that had several rugs for sale trying to decide whether I loved the rug or just liked it. Pressure was on to make a decision and for my loved ones you know how painful this is (for me and for anyone waiting for me to decide). But in the end I bought the rug against all rational thought, and have been lugging it in my pack ever since (well to be honest Matt has carried my bag most times giving him more leverage for the “irrational purchase” lecture) haha. Anyway I am so happy and look forward to it adorning our floor when we get home.

                          

     these ladies asked for a “donation” then wouldn’t accept our 5 soles coin (about $2), they wanted 10 minimum after taking their photo. the word must have gotten lost in translation.

Let’s get to the interesting part, Machu Picchu. Our tickets included entrance to the Montaña, which is at 3,082 meters (10,111 feet) above sea level and 652 meters (2,139 feet) above the Machu Picchu ruins. I must admit the advice given was that it was a “moderate to challenging climb” and was mostly Incan stairs didn’t restore my confidence in my ability to reach the top. But off we set, camera at the ready, me in my exercise clothes and Matt wearing a flanno, jeans and Vans. Not exactly mountain ready but those trusty Vans gripped their way to the top and we wondered whether this would be brand-embassador worthy. He has literally worn those shoes every day for the past 6 months. His thongs had a blowout early in the trip and since then they have carried him around the continent. Getting off topic. The climb is mostly stairs. Big stairs. I had such appreciation for the intelligent design of the Incas and marvelled at their craftsmanship, until I was about half an hour into the climb and started to wonder whether they were actually mad. What was wrong with having a nice flat grassy area for ceremonies? Why do they have to be on top of dizzyingly high mountains? Why did we think this was a good idea? Why are old people overtaking me? Why did I eat so much steak in Argentina? My lungs felt like little pips as my head turned beetroot red and my clothes embarrassingly sweaty. I admired the people who willingly pay money to walk the Inca Trail, and was dumbfounded thinking about the amazing porters who do it all year round. Matt rolled up his flannelette sleeves and took off upwards like a regular mountain climber stopping every now and then to let me catch up and then catch my breath. After lots of internal battles we made it to the top and the view was breathtakingly (literally!) spectacular. Machu Picchu is definitely worth the ridiculously high costs to see it, and we recommend a trip to anyone who is venturing to this part of the continent.

               

sweaty success

looking across to Huayna Picchu

the view really is that good.

This sight makes you completely forget about all of the things that get under your skin in Cusco. The annoying people reassuring you that their machine-made synthetic rug is hand-made genuine alpaca, the drug dealers lining the main plaza in Cusco whom seemed to think that if you have a beard you must want cocaine (poor Matt was stopped on every street corner which was pretty funny but got old quickly), people wanting to sell you their forged paintings (who were often the same drug dealers), men arguing  with you about the state of your leather shoes and their dire need for a buff (I like them scuffed) as well as the gringo-packed tourist shuttles that cost as much to go 10kms as it does to go half way across Peru in any other bus, is all forgotten once you are in the serene and splendid sight of Machu Picchu… There are places in the world that you can see in photos your entire life, but when you arrive and get the first glimpse they just hit you like a slap in the face. Machu Picchu is one of those places.

           

           

After the circus of Cusco and our fantastic time in Machu Picchu, our time in the mountains was done. Matt had been watching the forecast for northern Peru and had made the call that we had to hightail it on a flight back to Lima followed by an overnight bus to make it in time for an inbound swell up into the desert and the unknown . We will post about how this turned out in the next couple of days as it’s late now and time for sleep.

Buenos Noches.

b+m

Back to Santiago. First let’s start with the car. We were sad to leave Rupe and Carlena’s place but nonetheless we said our goodbyes and left for a long drive back to Santiago in order to meet Jimmy and Tracey the next morning. Señor Vánchez had been so reliable so far that mechanical issues were a distant thought way back somewhere in  our subconscious. Boy were we about to get a rude shock… Half an hour past the town of Cauquenes cruising at 100kph, the engine abruptly stopped and we silently coasted to a halt. Shit. We were in the middle of nowhere. So off we trudged to the nearest farmhouse, and were fortunate that the people inside were very helpful and called a mechanic from Cauquenes for us. During our wait they fed us (without asking) a lunch of fresh from their farm hard-boiled eggs (chicken and duck varieties), sugared rock melon and ice cream. We patted their huge grey cat Lucas, their greyhound Flaco, and chatted the time away whilst trying not to ogle as the man’s elderly father swatted flies at the table and the woman’s elderly father swatted bark off the trees for a purpose only known unto him. As the hours ticked by uncertainty was creeping in about whether this mechanic was ever going to arrive. We cursed our luck that on the one day of our journey where we actually HAD to be somewhere (with Jimmy and Tracey flying into Santiago the next morning), we were stuck waiting for a mechanic six hours from Santiago in the middle of nowhere. We consoled ourselves with the fact that things definitely could have been worse (think the Atacama desert or remote southern Patagonia) so there was nothing to do but wait.

 Finally, in rolled Carlos the mechanic and his apprentice who was too concerned with his appearance and staring at the gringa to notice anything Carlos was saying. Five minutes after removing the cover from the timing belt our worst fears were realised, the timing belt was broken. We had requested the belt be checked by two separate mechanics, and both sincerely reassured us that it was fine. But after 186,000kms the original belt finally gave in. Carlos said it was “muy mal. muy muy mal” (very bad. very very bad). Anyway to cut this story a bit shorter, we got a super sketchy tow back to his workshop in Cauquenes (the apprentice drove the small truck which towed us with an eight foot rigid tow bar and averaged 90-100kph the whole way to town, completely ignoring his boss’s instructions, which was scary when he didn’t signal when he was about to brake….) then got a lift to the local bus station, which in Southern Chile rural towns is just an open air shed. Low and behold, we arrived at the bus station at 5.45pm and had missed the last daytime bus to Santiago by 15minutes! The next bus was at 12.30am, so it was a very long and very cold wait. Matt was cactus by the time we hopped on the bus, and had spent two hours sleeping on the concrete next to his boards.

We finally made it to Santiago just before dawn, got all the boards, bags and our weary bodies etc into a cab (read: miracle) and arrived at our usual home in the city, Altura Suites. They had hooked us up with a really nice room this time and we had a quick nap before hightailing it to the airport for the arrival of our guests. All in all a simple 6-7 hour drive turned into a 2 hour drive, followed by a 3 hour wait and a tow, a cold 7 hour wait for the bus and a 5 hour bus ride (17 hour mission). What really stood out though, was the incredible hospitality shown by Jeronimo and Guille who owned the farmhouse, and Carlos the mechanic, who was sincerely sympathetic of our misfortune. Carlos reassured us of the time he would take to replace any damage caused to the engine and replace the belt, and gave us a very good price considering we didn’t have any other option. Every time we have needed help in Chile and Argentina complete strangers have been generous and more than willing to help, which for us, meeting genuine people like this reminds us of the kindness in strangers, and is the reason we love travelling by these means. Jimmy summed it up perfectly after he and Tracey arrived. We were sitting back in our room saying cheers to their arrival with a couple of drinks and explaining our nightmare the day before and he said simply “well look at it this way, those will be the moments that stand out in years to come”. Very true. And after all, the old saying is “it’s not an adventure until something goes wrong”.

So after collecting Tracey and Jimmy we headed back to our second home in Pichilemu for a week. They also came along for a big day of driving to pick up the car from Cauquenes which was good fun because they saw a really authentic part of rural Chile including a stroll/shop through the Saturday morning market in Cauquenes, which was the best fresh produce market Beth and I had seen in all of our time here.

                  

The sunsets from the cabaña and Punta de Lobos each afternoon were spectacular, it was really nice to share that view with them (and Ziggy). I think they were very shocked by how things work here (“I can’t believe there are so many stray dogs!”) haha. But with the Pichilemu chapter ending, we headed back to Santiago for Noelene and Barry to complete the group for a couple of weeks. We spent a few days in Santiago for some nice food, to show the group around and they even witnessed the passion of futbol fans en masse including riot police in all their glory (water canons included).

                  

And then we were off in convoy to Valparaiso. Valparaiso is a really cool place, we thoroughly enjoyed it. It is full of amazing street art in a large port city, framed by steep hills and accessed by very, very old funiculars which only work on a semi-regular basis. It is a beautiful place full of history. I hope Beth and I have the time to go back as we had a really great time with everybody but there are still so many places to see. Then before we knew it, everybody was flying out, even Noelene and Barry were going home due to their trip being cut short by Calbuco volcano in the south blowing its top and massive dramas with flights that we won’t go into for fear of bringing back bad memories for them.

                  

                 

                 

And then they were all gone. Initially it felt out of place seeing everybody here in Chile but after three weeks it felt lonely to just be the two of us again. Plus it’s kind of fun being tour guides, we had a sick time and were so glad that everyone came over to say hello. But we had little time to dwell on that as we rocketed north through the Atacama Desert bound for Arica. This part of the journey is better told in photos.

                     

this is the Manos del Desierto. The middle of the desert about 100km from Antofagasta in Northern Chile, it is a pretty bizarre but cool thing to see rise up in the distance when there has been nothing but sand for hours

beachfront camping in the Atacama. This was such a nice spot away from everything, no people anywhere just us, the beach and the desert. very beautiful and remote.

Iquique…the road in. It really wasn’t too much of an interesting place, but has such an amazing view of the town/city on the descent down the hill. The real positives from Iquique were the people and definitely one of the more hospitable places we have visited (especially when it comes to surf culture). It is so refreshing to paddle out into good waves with nothing but locals speaking Spanish and have every one of the five or six people in the lineup stop to say hello and show genuine interest in where you are from, how you find the waves in Chile, and where your journey is taking you. We are all surfers and this is how lineups should be everywhere, so hats off and thank you to Iquique and its locals for the amazing hospitality.

El Colegio, Iquique… didn’t have much success at this wave. It’s super heavy and breaks close to the shelf (which is razor sharp) but jagged a few, no really memorable ones. It is very hard to surf and a lot of barrels pinch at the end.

This wave looked F#*KING EVIL. It is about a mile offshore and is used as an indicator of sets approaching when you are sitting at El Colegio. When you see this scenario you are about 30-40 seconds from a BIG set hitting the reef. I don’t even know how big this wave was that day but I don’t think I wanted to find out. You can hear the booming noise of the lip detonating at the base of the wave from a mile away and that is no joke… scary shit and very eerie from that distance.

This local bloke charged and was a super nice dude. This was a bomb and he was right in the spot. He had El Colegio pretty wired.

Beth getting arty with her edits. El Colegio again on my 7’0″

Late arvo surfs in Iquique. Not much room for error on your entry and exit.

Beth and I spent a few days in Lauca NP close to the Bolivian border before travelling to Arica. Very high altitudes and breathtaking landscapes.

Beth. Lauca NP 4700m….breathless.

This guy. Señor Vánchez got up some damn big hills for our few days in the altiplano. Proud of him.

Arica. This wave is called ‘El Gringo’ and was made famous from the World Tour Search contest that was held there almost ten years ago now. It is still nearly empty every day and is probably the scariest wave that I have ever surfed. My first wave saw me get pounded and cop the next five on the head whilst getting washed across the shelf. Fair to say my nerves were a bit shot after that. The left breaks so close to the rock shelf (which is very sharp) that you have to see it to believe it. Scary and not surprising that it has stayed so uncrowded.

‘El Gringo’ again. Arica is a pretty cool little place considering the surrounding landscape and Beth and I enjoyed the week that we spent there. Once again I think I spent more time getting pounded at El Gringo rather than getting many memorable waves.

After much discussion we decided to leave Señor Vánchez in Arica in long term parking and we are currently rocketing north through Peru, scoring amazing waves and meeting some really good humans. More of this next time.

Hasta luego b + m

now that we are closer to being up to date with this blog we can begin to tell you what has been happening in the more recent past…

After crossing back into Chile we had an extended stay in Pichilemu. It’s such an amazing place, a place that now feels like home. This part of Chile is very special. It has such a beautiful, rugged coastline and anywhere south of Pichilemu is still very traditional in contrast to the rest of the country. Unfortunately it is changing though. Let’s hope the local people can hold off the developers and industry who are already showing too much interest in the region.

Anyway, we arrived back at Hostal Casa Verde and met up with our friend Adam who showed us our cabaña right next to Ben’s house. Adam had hooked us up big time, two levels, sweeping ocean views and a deck to drink beers on whilst watching the sun slip into the ocean after long days of surfing and relaxing.

Beth was making amazing home cooked South American meals for dinner and many late nights were spent around the dining table in the cabaña till 1 or 2am discussing life with a couple of bottles of wine, mine and Adam’s fave was a bottle of Carmenere called ‘120’ (a 1.5L bottle for 2000 peso, approx 4AUD) that despite Beth’s objections was actually really good. Lunches at the “Pin Pon” became a daily ritual and I am convinced that it may be the best restaurant in Chile. Poor Beth had to put up with the Pin Pon a lot, but despite its dodgy name and appearance the coleccion (lunch special) for 2500 peso is seriously good. Whenever there were a cool group of people staying up in the hostel Adam would make a meal called “chicken in the corn” that we all enjoyed, which is basically a few whole chickens butterflied and cooked in a big mud oven on top of a heap of potatoes/pumpkin/onion/hearty veggies. Speaking of good food, let’s not forget Chaka’s sushi. Chaka is a local guy who used to work in a really nice sushi restaurant in town. He quit or got fired or something (I think he likes a few beers…) and now makes homemade sushi for locals in town. One night the whole hostel ordered sushi so Chaka and his wife came and made it on site, it was so fresh and delicious. Later that evening while we are all having a merry time, a little scared meowing noise echoed around the room and out came a sassy but scared little black kitten who had found her way in from the night all distressed. Beth fell in love instantly, Ben said he needed a pet cat to sort out the rats in his shed, so Beth agreed to look after it whilst we stayed. So it was sorted, we had a pet kitten and Beth named it Ziggy. Its funny how attached you can become to a pet in just a few weeks and it was sad when we had to say goodbye to Ziggy.

                

Mels the resident german shepherd took a liking to miss Ziggy, and in turn she found this hiding spot to both keep her eye on him and watch the chickens and their chicks below

Let’s get to the waves… how can I begin to explain. Punta De Lobos is not always perfect, and its not a top to bottom tube from start to finish. But it is one of the most remarkable setups I have ever seen. It breaks every day of the year from two to twenty five feet. Its a lurching, sectioning wave that is clean all day in the prevailing south winds. Even a bad day will see you linking five or six good turns down the line and it is not yet plagued by crowds. But when it’s good….WOW. I found out that there are different types of good here. Six to eight feet good is about 900 metres of workable wall mixed with the odd tube section. Twelve to fifteen feet good = hands down the best day of surfing in my life. All whilst watching Ramon Navarro, Greg Long and a couple of local chargers taking off from way behind Los Morros. I’ve never seen waves ridden like that before. Going down the line in the pocket on an 8’6″ is a feeling I can’t even begin to describe, it was an amazing day.

Feeling pretty blessed looking back at this photo. A day Ramon Navarro called the best Punta De Lobos in a decade.

Ramon Navarro, amazing to see just how deep he was taking off. From way behind Los Morros knifing his 9’0″ into drainers like this one all day long. It’s like a walk in the park for guys like him and Greg Long.

I think I ended up getting about six good ones in this morning session and a couple in the arvo. The board I had shaped for this trip felt amazing. The feeling that you get in that split second moment when you turn, put your head down and dig in after having a look at a wall of water bigger then anything you’ve ridden before, it’s amazing like nothing I’ve ever felt in surfing until this day. The type of experience I’d always dreamed of getting out of this trip.

            

I love this photo. It shows just how perfect the conditions were. I remember this wave and how fast I was going at this point.

Local guy. That’s a solid one for sure.

This is me on Los Morros. I still get scared thinking about that rock jump. At the size it was this day it’s proper gnarly. A lot of guys were going off the side and getting the ski to pick them up after getting washed halfway down the point. I remember a conversation Adam and I had with Ben after this day about how all the guys used to go off the back and if you got pounded, hurt, couldn’t get out or whatever, it just wasn’t your day. He thinks that there is too much of a circus now with guys getting the ski when in the past they wouldn’t have had the ability to get off the rocks. So I felt better about myself knowing that I had waited and got off the rocks cleanly.

Oh and by the way, the pointbreaks a few hours south of Pichilemu are a freak of nature in a very quiet corner of the world, we managed to squeeze in another week down there with Rupy and Carlena whilst we were at it. Here are a few photos from a pretty memorable week down there. I surfed myself into oblivion, I think I’m still recovering. With no people it was just nonstop laps of the point. It completely pumped! I think I put in 6-8 hours each day for about five days. I haven’t surfed that much since I was a kid. Beth was happy when Adam and Amelia showed up so that she had Amelia to talk to, haha.

      

I absolutely love this place and we can’t thank Adam and Ben enough for their hospitality. All of the friends we made… Adam, Amelia, Ben, Claudia, Mando, all made for a very memorable stay, one we hope to repeat again one day.

As always though, the days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months and before we knew it, it was time to leave.

b + m

let’s make this short but sweet. Buenos Aires was awesome. We had heard mixed reviews and scoffed at the idea of the city being compared to Paris. How could any place be compared to Paris? Looking back at our time there I now realise why people draw similarities. It is full of lovers. The architecture is gorgeous, it is leafy and old and trendy and hip. But the main thing for me is that it left a place in my heart the same way Paris did. I feel a fondness for it that is hard to describe. But it has a Latin flavour and edginess (read dodginess) to it that endears itself to us in so many ways. The trains are sweaty, dog-poo is everywhere, street tiles are loose and squirt manky water, the people get so passionate (violent) about their football that now only the home team fans are allowed to the games, people riot about everything and anything and yet it’s that passion that makes the place unique to itself and truly wonderful. The food and wine are intensely rich, and yes we were stoked to find numerous cafes offering amazing coffee. We also went to a football match between River Plate and Quilmes which was probably the best sporting match either of us had ever witnessed. In the end a 2:2 draw but a nail biter until the end. We did the touristy thing and visited the Recoleta Cemetery (kind of obligatory) but spent the rest of the time just wandering the streets, trying out amazing restaurants/cafes/bars and being spectacularly surprised every time.

       

inside recoleta, a city of souls

lines of riot police, barbed wire, fingerprinting and pat downs did nothing to extinguish the passion and atmosphere created by the drunk/stoned argentine futbol fans. the most amazing sporting experience we’ve ever had. this IS their life.

san telmo was a really cool suburb with lots of antiques and handmade goodies. we also went to a pork restaurant which served only pork in all its glorious forms. yummo!

some pretty cool street art around town

       

Mendoza… another great place, however not the picturesque wine country that we were expecting. We stayed on the outskirts amongst the wineries as the town of Mendoza is not so much a town but a city. The wine itself, as expected, was amazing and riding some pushbikes amongst the vineyards taste testing was a nice way to cap off our journey through Argentina. A country that is so vast and so different from one region to the next, a place that we will never forget. We ended this chapter with the drive back across Los Andes and it was spectacular. Then it was back in good old Santiago for a couple of nights before our return Pichilemu.

      

next post: big waves, pets and a town that feels like home

b + m

well it has certainly been some time since the last post! I had a little incident with a cup of peppermint tea and our mac and the computer came off second best. that plus having too much of an enjoyable time has meant no work on the blog! nevertheless let’s get on with it.

argentina. It has been a while since we were there but it has left permanent, wonderful marks on our memories. After we went as far south as time would permit (Rio Gallegos), we made a left turn onto the Ruta 3 and headed north with our backs to the mountains and our sights set on the big smoke. If you have ever looked at a road map of Argentina you will see it’s a pretty big place. Really big actually. And when you are driving a four-cylinder oversized white brick across wide open plains getting buffeted off the road when trucks and buses pass, making about 500kms to the tank, travelling takes a little more time than google maps estimates. Luckily for us it meant we were able to detour into small towns that have little exposure to the outside world let alone tourists.

we were just outside a town called Comodoro Rivadavia having just struck the South Atlantic when Señor Vánchez changed his tune from his usual quiet, humming self to a loud, obnoxious, home-modified WRX noise. Snapped exhaust pipe, it turned out Patagonia had taken its toll. We discussed staying in this town for the night and seeking out a mechanic in the morning, but decided against this and kept driving to a town I had read was charming and tiny and hoped he would make it the distance. The smaller, charming town turned out to be a fair drive (three more hours up the highway, then about an hour east to the coast on a remote road) but he made it and we found a place to stay the night. Camarones is charming, tiny, has about 1300 inhabitants, two restaurants, two places to stay, two mechanics, lots of gorgeous old pickups and a whole lot of friendly people.

      

the “sand” at the beach

matt and the mechanic who welded our exhaust pipe for a hefty fee of 50 pesos ($7).

camarones coastline, so much potential, so little swell. such a remote, beautiful place

after 3 nights in a cabaña in this cosy little town and visiting a remote penguin colony we continued our journey north and I was quite sad to say goodbye. Full steam ahead to Buenos Aires with overnight stops in Viedma, an attempted overnight stop in Necocheo (but the town was fully booked, the best offer available was to pay $50 to sleep in our car and use the camping grounds showers – rip off!) so made it to Balcarce instead (home of Fangio). Next stop Las Flores eating some meat off a roadside grill with questionable hygiene practices (but was still delicious despite the flies – they brushed them off the food for us) and found an amazing derelict cemetery to wander for an hour or so.

Las Flores was beautiful, full of old and historic buildings with beautiful leafy trees reminiscent of Newtown but in dire need of TLC and some hipsters to sell good coffee. Such potential but yet so far from anything I imagine if we were to visit this place in 20 years not much will have changed. But maybe that’s what makes it so charming.

from Las Flores we made it to Buenos Aires which deserves its own little post

b + m

hola amigos! Long time no blog. We last posted from Puerto Varas in Chile with our fingers crossed for an easy border crossing the following day into Argentina. I wouldn’t say it was an easy process but the drive to the border, the hour or so in between checkpoints and the drive from the Argentine border was spectacular indeed. The actual checkpoints took about 2 pretty long hours standing in queues each side but it meant that we were able to spend an entire day up amongst the Andes pointing out breathtaking vistas to each other and taking too many movies of the road on the gopro. It was with a huge sigh of relief and a happy high five when the border guard let us through and we began the descent on the other side. The long, frustrating and confusing wait was over and we were back on the road free to journey to Patagonia through Argentina. Woohoo!

The first stop was Bariloche, a not too dissimilar town to the others on the Chilean side of the Lakes District. Beautiful, still lake with mountains surrounding it, stunning old stone buildings, a disproportionately high amount of ice creameries and chocolate stores, way too many holiday makers but the biggest difference was the food. Hello amazing red meat and wine! Our first night we went to a gaucho-themed restaurant and ordered the parrilla para dos (grill for two) and my gosh what a delicious introduction to the famous Argentine grill! Suffice to say our meal of choice since crossing the border has been meat, meat and more meat. Matt is in heaven.

After a couple of rainy days rest in Bariloche we stocked the van with food, accidentally bought the most expensive thermos ever made (AU$130) and set our sights on the Ruta 40 southbound. Next stop Patagonia.

What a drive. As we moved onto the Patagonian steppe the impressive mountains quickly turned into rolling hills and within a few hours the hills became flatter while the earth and the sky seemed to grow wider. Seńor Vánchez became an insignificant little white wind-catcher trying to cut through the gusts that screamed across the plains, with Matt needing to hold the steering wheel at 45° just to stay on the endlessly straight road.

The only sign of human inhabitance for a long time was the hand-painted signs every 100kms or so indicating the entrance to another estancia. Then you reach a point in time when you cross a cattle grid and that’s the end of the fences… Just open landscapes with no sign of man other than the road we were on, a very lonely but beautiful place. The amount of wildlife increased and a way for us to pass the time was honking at the rhea birds (similar to the road-runner) to see how fast they could shoot off into the fields and see how funny they ran. It sounds mean but it was for their safety really as they like to peck at the scrub very close to the road. Matt also discovered the best way to get the attention of a guanaco (llama kind of animal) was to yell “HEY!” at the top of his lungs while they munched on the dense shrubs in the distance. The car noise was not enough to interest them but a man yelling “hey” at the top of his lungs seemed interesting enough to pull themselves from their meal to have an inquisitive, camel like stare, long enough for me to take a photo before they lost interest and went back to the fascinating grass at their feet.

We stopped at a few little towns on the way, some not worth much of a mention, others with gorgeous old buildings waiting for some TLC and a good barista. We drank some atrocious cafe con leche and slept in some pretty interesting places but there were also a lot of highlights. Some of the towns we stayed in included Trevelin (lovely), Perito Moreno (not so much), El Chaltén (awesome), El Calafate (touristy but cool), Comandante Luis Piedra Buena (pretty cool) and Camarones (awesome).

     

     

Definitely one of the best parts of the journey to Patagonia was the journey itself. The drive allowed us to see some spectacular vistas on the highway that given the time make you appreciate the vastness of this place. It feels like you just couldn’t look at it the same way by flying directly to the big drawcards. Even when it turned to dirt for a few hundred kilometres it was yet another unique sight to see.

After driving on dirt for about 100kms we headed up a rise thinking we were driving onto yet another level of the Patagonian steppe. The intriguing thing about the steppe is that you head uphill for what seems like forever thinking that you’re going to reach an amazing view at the top of a hill or something. When you reach the top however, it’s just more flat nothingness and after many many kilometres you begin the incline again to reach the top of yet another steppe. It’s bizarre yet beautiful. But once we were on the dirt and had done this a few times we came over a rise to find a downhill road (shock!) and the most amazingly aqua blue lake either of us had ever seen. Sunglasses kind of bright. We both made weird awe/breathtaking sounds and pulled over immediately to take it in and to take some pictures.

Pretty stoked on it as it was so unexpected after driving for hours seeing nothing but nothingness. And native animals. This particular day was a day for shock and awe as we continued driving. A few hours later and back on the tarmac the plains gave way and the road began heading southwest.

The first time you catch a glimpse of Mount Fitzroy is just after passing through the tiny little town of Tres Lagos. It kind of caught us by surprise as the highway winds between a few large hills and, when we moved on to a large plain, all of a sudden there it was off to the right lit up by the afternoon light in all of its glory. Incredible jagged granite spires that completely dominate the Patagonian Cordillera. Amazing considering that we were still 120-130km away. Then a righthand turn off the Ruta 40 for the first time in days for the the final 90km drive to El Chaltén with the entire scene growing larger in the windshield minute by minute. Hands down the most amazing landscape we have ever seen, no photos could ever do this drive justice.

We stayed a few nights in El Chaltén which was a great stop for a bit of R&R. We enjoyed having a few drinks each night, some epic empanadas and doing some people watching in a town that is filled with rock & mountain climbers of the gnarly kind and the boasting kind (often not the same people). It’s also a haven for hikers, and we dragged ourselves up one trail due to feeling guilty because everybody else was there for the outdoor activities. There was an amazing view at the end of our little one hour trek so that made it a worthwhile experience.  The wind was relentless and so strong it was an experience in itself. I asked the man at our hostel if the weather was ok for the following day and he said with the wind they never know what the weather’s doing for the next hour. He was right as not long after we arrived and took the photo above the storm clouds rolled in and it rained torrentially all night until morning. For two mornings we braved the early cold and tried to capture Mount Fitzroy with front lighting, but alas, its precipice was as elusive as the ghost cat. I don’t know the right adjectives to describe this place but I look at my photos and can’t believe we were just there. Mind blowing.

Heading south the next stop was El Calafate, a bit of a tourist magnet but after doing the trip from town out to Perito Moreno Glacier for the day we realised why this is a stop on every travellers itinerary on a trip to Patagonia. Perito Moreno Glacier is awe inspiring, even with the bus loads of people arriving and the large souvenir shop and eatery at the entrance. We sat in a nice quiet place for way longer than we had anticipated (pretty much all afternoon) and took in its sheer size. The point that we were standing was 800m from its face and hearing the cracking and popping noises coming from the ice was incredible. Watching car sized pieces of ice fall and slap the water with the sound of a shotgun being fired was captivating. But after waiting for hours a really loud cracking noise followed by an entire section of glacier carving off directly in front of us one a pretty special experience. It really was like watching a train crash in slow motion and incredibly loud. Neither of us had anticipated the sheer scale nor the impressiveness of this glacier, or any glacier really, so it was a refreshing experience to be taken by surprise by the raw power and beauty of nature in motion. A perfect end to the day.

   
Thanks Patagonia. You were increíble. 

ciao chicos!

It is the eve of leaving Chile and we never would have thought we would be so happy to leave a foreign country. The car paperwork has taken a total of 7 weeks to receive a copy of the duplicate padron from a Registro Civil office, after six visits with the final including our new friend and translator from Ancud named Ricardo. Needless to say the wait for a piece of paper was challenging as every day we waited we were cutting into another day we should have been roadtripping south through Patagonia. Every blog and article Matt researched over the past 18 months about the car purchasing process reassured us that at a maximum it would take three weeks. So after the fifth week we were barely hanging in there and hence the lack of blog posts!

We must have been made to stay in Chile for a reason. The best reason I can think of is that we found the best coffee in Ancud which was actually reminiscent of our favourite coffee shop back home. It’s actually an awesome sushi restaurant and we happened upon it at the right time of day for a coffee and it was the best coffee we have had since Santiago! Such a delight in the mornings while we were playing the waiting game. The owner Ricardo is a great dude and hopefully we can return his hospitality when he visits Australia. If anyone is venturing to the island of Chiloe, definitely visit Cafe Bar Nerudiano to enjoy the beverages made (finally!) by someone who knows his way around an espresso machine. Also I think we might have introduced Piccolo’s to Chile. Or maybe just Chiloe. But Ricardo was straight onto it once we explained to him how tasty they are.

Matt’s highlight was exploring numerous nooks and crannies along Chile’s most southern coastline (accessible by road). Many days consisted of wrong turns, long dusty pot-holed dirt roads and stunning coastal vistas. Due to large tidal variances and consistently changing wind directions, not to mention the difficult beach access, good surf was a matter of right place, right time, and the windows were very short. The potential is amazing, and Matt managed to have a couple of memorable surfs completely solo bar the inquisitive dolphins and seals. We’ve confirmed that seals are just dog mermaids, swimming lightning-fast circles around you only to pop up and snort five metres away whilst having a good stare at the man in neoprene.

Not to mention the drunk fisherman. These dudes write themselves off so hard with 1000 peso (AUD $2) tallies of Escudo they literally nap in the gutter/on the footpaths by 3pm each day. Work hard play hard I guess…

So lots of places we have visited, revisted and revisted while we waited but the highlights so far I shall show in pictures with blurbs. I think this is easier on the eye than reading through my words as they spill randomly from my brain through my fingers.

Things are bigger in Chile. The cows, bulls, turkeys, onions, strawberries, volcanoes and the flies. The biggest sand flies we have ever seen in our lives. And we’re Australians, not strangers to the fly or two. But these bastards are massive. And jerks.

all rugged up

this beach break was amazing for an hour before the tide killed it

southern chile set ups

como se llama?

volcan osorno. pictures cannot convey how amazing this scene is

heading west

beth’s favourite place to relax

the nooks and crannies of the southern chilean coastline

farmer in chiloe

the miguelito has seen better days

trespassing “she’ll be right beth”

first time matt’s ever used the kookcam in the surf. normally it’s just a travel tool. not bad for a first effort. the sea life is abundant in this part of the world. amazing place.

Until next time amigos!