This morning, I hiked some 20 km from my cabin, up a mountain, through the forest, up some flowery fields and some arid rocky verticals to the 7 cups. The loop around the cups is fairly short and beautifully constructed: wooden walkway goes all around. Bright warm sun rays playing in the gushing, flowing, jumping rejoicing and generally envigorated river. The lookouts for each of the cups are so well positioned for photos but I prefer to swerve off the path and climb down to the water every chance I get.
I hiked up to the entrance of the park and before going to fetch Hank, I have an awesome conversation with a gentleman from Mexico who’s been living in Chile for years. He works for a Chilean park manager. Lives in a trailer in the park. And loves it all. He had spent years in Santiago, in Ecuador, in Colombia… Now he is here… He will continue when ready…
Hank and I are driving on dirt roads of questionable quality following Google Maps which, beautifully and thankfully, can work offline. We have confirmed: this is the only way to Altos de Lircay. So goat paths, we are on to you. For 250km
Road construction all along the one part of today’s route that was supposed to be paved. I find the little place where we are crashing for a couple of nights. Check in with the cook/manager. Back in the vehiculo to have it take me to the National Park. When, alas, my front right tire is critically low… Shit! OK, plan b! Where is there a vulca (tire shop)? Some 70km down the road that is being constructed then a few other turns through a village or two…
The tire shop is brimful of customers. Mainly giant trucks. I inquire within and the owner’s strapping son comes to my rescue. He pours water over the tire, finds the puncture, takes the tire off, patches it, puts it back on. NASCAR pitstop speed.
Back up the mountain and straight into the National Park. I get my park permit from the ranger station. The ranger recommends a short loop as it is already late afternoon. The loops starts just up a hill and it is gloriously beautiful. Old growth roble, coigüe y ñirre hug the path. I hug them back. Then the lookout onto the spectacularly dramatic Lircay River valley and the badass vulcano/mountain or Cerro Morillo (hmmm technically, it is Morillo Hill – how can this gian thing be a hill!!!???). Late afternoon sun travels across the valley and up the mountains producing the most rare of reds, purples, oranges, yellows and maroons… and the range of utterly unreproduceable greens…
Vagabonding Zwindling 