Lago Villarrica, as viewed from the monastery
The Town:
In 1552, at the time of Valdivia’s founding, a cohort of Pedro de Valdivia journeyed to a large inland lake and established a fort on its banks. Both became known as Villa Rica (‘rich village’) for nearby gold and silver deposits. Though the settlement suffered from the Great Earthquake of 1575 (similar in many ways to the devastating 1960 earthquake), it continued to grow until Mapuche Indian uprisings at the end of the sixteenth century destroyed all Spanish settlements in the region.
Fast forward to the mid 1800s, when an independent Chile began to resettle the land held by the Mapuches. Swiss, German, and Austrian immigrants arrived in and around Villarrica and greatly influenced its economy and culture. Today the city, with some 50,000 inhabitants, prospers through grain and dairy farming and limited forestry, but its primary revenues come from tourism.
The Lake:
Shaped a bit like a parallelogram, Lago Villarrica is 14 miles long and seven miles wide. Deep-blue in color, it is a favorite playground for boaters and for all sorts of water sports, from kayaking to fishing, in summer months. Perhaps its biggest claim to fame is its proximity to Volcán Villarrica.
The Volcano:
Villarrica is one of Chile’s most spectacular volcanoes — over 9,000 feet high, a perfect cone shape, topped by thick glaciers and towering over lush green mountains and the lake of the same name. It is also one of the country’s most active volcanoes. Dozens of eruptions have spangled the sky over the centuries, including the most recent in 2015, and a permanent lava lake sits in its crater. In summer months, guides lead hikers on treks to the crater, and in winter, skiers and snowboarders speed down its slopes.
The Visit to Pucón:
One drizzly morning, I decided to brave the elements and take a bus to Pucón, the other city on Lago Villarrica. Bus travel in Chile is popular—the buses are clean, comfortable, on time, and inexpensive, and roads are well-maintained. That day, the bus to Pucón was full, but I managed to get a ticket for a cancelled seat. Others weren’t so lucky: about a dozen people, more or fewer as we stopped along the way, had to stand for the three-and-a-half-hour journey. Constantly wiping condensation off the window, I looked out on lush fields and forests, thick stands of native bamboo, cows idling in pastures, small towns, and low-lying clouds.
By the time we reached Pucón, the drizzle had stopped, the sun made an appearance, and majestic mountains soared above the lake. However, the volcano was nowhere to be found, hidden somewhere behind the remaining masses of clouds.
Because of its location between the lake and the volcano, Pucón has become the sports capital of the region. Small in size, it looks more like an upscale resort town found in the U.S. than a city in Chile. Large hotels rim a wide dark-sand beach, and, even though this was a chilly off-season day, a good number of people were out to enjoy the afternoon sun. A small peninsula separates the beach from the town’s marina. Cute shops selling everything from adventure gear to local crafts line several orderly streets leading away from the beach, and restaurants and bars provide just about any kind of food and drink you might want. Shunning these enticements for the moment, I headed to a monastery.
The Monastery:
A cross on a hill at the edge of town marks the way to Monasterio Santa Clara. Well-worn steps lead pedestrians up the hill to a white-washed stucco chapel, with low-slung red-roofed buildings on both sides. Views swoop down the hill, across the lake, and up to distant mountains. Two other visitors and I knocked on a door, and a nun answered.
The monastery, she explained, houses cloistered sisters of the Order of St. Clare (Hermanas Clarissa Capuchinas, or ‘Capuchin Poor Clares’ in English). This is the female branch of the Capuchin Order, which itself is an offshoot of the Franciscans. Established in 1959, the monastery currently has 17 nuns, mostly from Chile. Through their contemplative life, they pray for missionary work being done among the Mapuches. They provide for their needs in part by making chocolates and embroidered items for sale. I bought a small packet of fudge truffles: when I ate one later in the day, I wished I had bought a lot more!
The sister left us in the chapel, a simple, serene place of high windows, hanging lamps, arches, tile floors, wooden pews, a recessed altar, and stations-of-the-cross plaques.
Those Darn Clouds:
Returning to town, I looked around. The volcano remained hidden. Finding a restaurant with an outdoor patio, I ordered a skirt-steak sandwich (in Puerto Rico, that cut of meat was called churrasco; in parts of Chile and Argentina, it is known as entraña.) Soon afterwards, as the bus left Pucón for its journey back to Valdivia, I craned my neck one last time—no cone-shaped, snow-topped peak. Volcán Villarrica had won the game of hide-and-seek that day, but I would get another chance …
The volcano … maybe