Back across the Andes

Glad we were returning to Valdivia in a more straightforward manner, Astrid and I spent the next morning in Bariloche exercising, strolling along the costanera, window shopping the leather, sweater, and chocolate stores on Avenida Mitre, and returning to breakfast at Café Mamuschka. There we bought bread. The plan was to make delicious sandwiches with our steak leftovers from the previous night’s dinner and enjoy them in leisurely fashion as we crossed the Andes. That, as I said, was the plan.

Of buses and bus terminals:

Our transport back to Valdivia was aboard a large gleaming two-decker AndesMar Chile bus, equipped with semi-bed and bed seats (we had the former). It would leave Bariloche at 14:00 (2:00 p.m.), stop in Osorno, drop us off in Valdivia at 22:00 (10:00 p.m.) and continue north another nine hours to Santiago.

At 1:15 we reached Bariloche’s bus terminal at the eastern edge of the city. Crowded and somewhat rundown, it also lacked decent bathrooms, Astrid reported. Here I’d like to state that, of all the bus terminals I’ve visited in southern Chile, and they have been numerous, Valdivia has the nicest. It is clean, spacious, well-lit, and pleasantly located alongside the river, with decent kiosks and stores, a helpful information counter, and good bathrooms.

At 1:45, we boarded the bus, snaking our way to the upper deck and sitting in the front row, where we would have spectacular views of our journey, never mind the excessive heat when the sun shone through the giant window. Our seats were roomy, clean, and comfortable. At 2:10 the journey began.

Around Lago Nahuel Huapi:

As the bus rounded the eastern portion of the lake, the landscape changed dramatically. Arid, with low ondulating hills and tufts of hardy shrub, it resembled the drier portions of central Washington State. Before long, we were skirting the north shore, and the forests returned, predominated by various types of evergreens and pale spindly tree skeletons. Views extended across the lake, a chilly dark-blue, with close-up strips of pale-sand beaches, and signs for numerous camping areas.

Attractive homes began to dot the landscape and we soon reached Villa la Angostura. This tiny upscale town, nestled in the heart of Nahuel Huapi National Park and surrounded by lakes, mountains, and dense forests, quadruples its population in summer and winter months. A mecca for hikers, boaters, and skiers, it also makes a good starting point for Argentina’s Camino de los Siete Lagos (route of the seven lakes) along Highway 40.

The border lunch:

Leaving Lago Nahuel Huapi below, the bus wound up the mountains along a paved road. Although some trees leaves were turning a rust color, there was no snow yet. At 4,311 feet, Cardenal Samoré Pass is one of most accessible year-round border crossings between Argentina and Chile. We reversed the steps taken two days earlier — get off the bus and go through Argentinian customs, a fast process; travel some 20 minutes through shared land; get off the bus and go through Chilean customs with all our luggage, a more protracted affair that included a contraband-sniffing dog.

As the bus approached the Chilean customs house, a bus official told us no food could be taken across the border, and that included our steak leftovers. In a matter of minutes, we tore through the meat like a pair of hungry wolves. After customs, we leisurely ate the bread.

A magical moment:

Through early evening shadows, the bus descended into the lusher, multi-storied vegetation of the Valdivian rain forest. As the topography evened out, we skirted Lago Puyehue, a 14-mile-long lake nestled in the western Andes.

Night tinged the landscape with ghostly hues. At one point, we looked out and saw the lake to our right, the unmistakable outline of the Osorno volcano to our left, and a full moon in front of us. It was a beautiful scene. I now knew the general location where I could place a small lake that marked the start of my fictional character Clara Valle’s strange journeys.

Twilight zone:

Beyond the city of Osorno, the bus continued north on the Pan-American Highway until it turned off onto a smaller highway leading to Valdivia. No lights marked the roadway, and few cars traveled along it at that hour.

For reasons I cannot explain, from our perch in the front row of the upper deck, we could not see any illumination from the bus’s headlights. When no car beams came toward us, it was as if we were hurtling through utter blackness, a fast-paced ride through Hades. Breathing deeply, I hoped for the best.

We arrived safely in Valdivia at 10:15.