Valdivia, the City of Rivers
High in the Andes Mountains east of Valdivia, snows melt into streams and streams flow into pristine alpine lakes. From these lakes, rivers make their way down the mountains toward the coast, merging and tumbling and eventually becoming the great Calle-Calle River (the name comes from a Mapuche Indian word, kallekalle, for a common white-flowered plant along its banks). Approaching downtown Valdivia, the Calle-Calle merges with the Cau-Cau, forming the Valdivia River, a wide expanse of relatively calm water that ambles along for about nine miles until it reaches the sea. Other rivers — the Tomagaleones, Cruces, Naguilán — join the meandering journey.
The Tour of the Seven Rivers
Dozens of mostly white boats of all sizes line the docks of downtown Valdivia, offering a variety of waterway adventures. Only one boat, the Reina Sofía, tours seven of the neighboring rivers, providing snacks, lunch, more snacks, and short visits to two coastal forts in its six-hour tour. I climbed aboard.
An awkward moment for solitary travelers comes when you have to seat yourself at a table. Those in charge solved the problem by assigning me what turned out to be the table for guests from far away — two Venezuelans living in self-exile in Santiago and a traveling doctor from New Zealand. I couldn’t have asked for better companions.
At 13:30, the boat motored away from the dock, and we were soon on the Cau-Cau River, passing a mix of grassy swampland, deep-blue water surrounded by forested hills, and the Cau-Cau Bridge, started but for some reason never completed, a monument to … well, something not so positive. Tall stands of imported eucalyptus trees line some of the hills, and we saw a couple of timber mills along the way. Toasting with pisco sours (more of them in a future post), we had lunch (I chose pullmay sureño, a pile of mussels, clams, longaniza (sausage), chicken, pork, and broth) as the boat approached the coast.
Our guide at the fort on Mancera
Once at the coast, we visited two Spanish forts. One was on the small island of Mancera — rugged, forested, home to about 35 people, a lovingly appointed chapel, and the fort ruins. The other was the village of Corral, with homes, restaurants and small shops hugging the hills, and views from the fort across the bay where promontories descend into the water and the Valdivia River meets the Pacific.
