Puerto Montt & Chiloé - In search of Rainforests, Pudús, and Island Adventure
Female Gray-hooded Sierra Finch after a feast of ripe berries. Photographed at the coastal reserve Reserva Laguna Nímez.
El Calafate
After spending about a month and a half in and around El Chaltén, it was time for Britt and me to move on. The climbing season in Patagonia was coming to an end, and we still had a long list of things we wanted to experience before heading home at the end of March. From El Chaltén, we took the bus to El Calafate, a stop on any traveller's itinerary passing through here. There isn't a lot to see in or around El Calafate, but there are at least two gems to see. Both the impressive Perito Moreno Glacier and the small coastal reserve Reserva Laguna Nímez are worth a visit if you're already in the area.
Male Long-tailed Meadowlark photographed at the coastal reserve Reserva Laguna Nímez.
The impressive Perito Moreno Glacier.
Puerto Montt
Valdivian temperate forests.
After a few days in El Calafate, we jumped on a bus to Puerto Natales. From here, we had a flight to Puerto Montt. Not fully trusting the efficiency of Puerto Natales airport, we thought it best to show up at the airport two hours in advance. Stepping into the airport, it was clear that something was up. The air was filled with a certain energy or tension. We quickly realised what was going on. Our flight was more than eight hours delayed. Puerto Natales airport is a tiny, rundown place without much to offer in terms of entertainment if you have ten hours to burn. With this one delayed flight, the airport was completely overcrowded and without enough seats for everyone; people were sitting on the stairs or on the floor throughout the departure hall. Britt and I managed to get one chair, and after a couple of hours, we secured a second one. Very fancy! After half a dozen hours of watching Netflix, listening to podcasts, and walking in tiny circles around our precious chairs, the airline supplied us with some much-appreciated food. To our great surprise, it was rather good. In the late afternoon, with more delay than initially expected, we took off for Puerto Montt.
To get the most out of our time around Puerto Montt, we had decided to splurge on some luxury and rented a car. At the airport, we picked up any adventurer's dream vehicle: a 2017 Suzuki Dezire. Thinking that I'd never seen or heard of this model, I curiously decided to Google it. Maybe it would have been advisable not to have. Sold exclusively to fleet operators and aimed at the Indian market, the Dezire scores a concerning two out of five in safety. Not very comforting in a country where memorials along the roads are as frequent as the road signs.
We had, as the reasonable travellers we aim to be, managed to book a plane that would land early in the afternoon. Giving us ample time to pick up the car and drive to our accommodation in daylight. Navigating Chilean traffic for the first time seemed like an experience best had while the sun was still in the sky. But as fate or "unscheduled aircraft maintenance" would have it, we ended up arriving in total darkness. Luckily, Chileans drive rather sensibly compared to many other places in the world. Maybe a bit energetic for my collaborative Danish style of driving, but with a bit of effort and some extra weight on the right pedal, I managed to fit in just fine. It's not that Chileans drive recklessly or rudely, but as one online article about driving in Chile remarked, road signs are seen more as suggestions rather than rules to abide by.
The city of Puerto Montt isn't much of a tourist destination by itself, but in the area around the city, there are a few remarkable things that we wanted to experience.
Fire-eyed Diucon.
Alerce Andino National Park
We rented a cute little cabin about twenty minutes outside Puerto Montt. This would serve as our base for our adventures here. As the sun was rising over the horizon, we headed towards Alerce Andino National Park. We had read about a beautiful 18-kilometre hike through the park's temperate rainforest. The trail would take us past beautiful mountain lakes, rushing rivers, and impressive trees more than 3.000 years old. The trail is only open Saturday and Sunday, and you must start your hike from the ranger station between 8:00 and 9:00. We still don't really understand why, but rules are rules, and we didn't feel like trying to challenge them. When we arrived a few minutes before 8:00, two other hikers were already waiting next to the ranger station. While the young ranger changed into his official uniform, he explained about the route and laid out some additional ground rules. For safety reasons, a minimum of three hikers must start the hike at the same time. No clear explanation for why, but I guess: if one breaks an ankle, one can stay with the injured person, and one can go back for help. It was lucky for us that the two other hikers were there as well. All in all, a bit complex for a walk in the (national) park.
The walk itself is beautiful but challenging. The first part of the trail, which is shared with two shorter routes, is well-maintained and has wooden stairs or a boardwalk in the muddiest and steepest parts. Beyond the first few kilometres, the trail is no longer actively maintained. Old wooden stairs covered in a thick layer of moss and clearly well beyond their expiration date are scattered along the trail. Reminiscent of a time with bigger budgets. In most cases, the safer option is not to use the stairs and opt for the slippery forest floor. In total, the route ascends and descends some 500 metres. Most of the elevation difference is compressed in a few very steep sections. The wet and muddy nature of the rainforest makes the condition of the trail a challenge, especially when it gets steep. It requires focus not to lose control and start sliding down the trail. Making our way down a particular steep and muddy section, I reached out to grab a branch hoping for a bit of help keeping my balance. The branch, which turned out to be dead and rather dry, snapped under the weight, causing me to take the last part of the decline on my back. A bit muddy but luckily unscathed.
Britt crossing a bridge made from a fallen tree.
Valdivian temperate forests.
Clearly, the most spectacular part of this park is the more than 3.000-year-old Fitzroya (Alerce in Spanish, hence the name of the park). Growing to a height of more than 60 metres, these trees are the largest species of trees in South America. Standing next to these giants, it's difficult to truly comprehend their age. These trees were standing here well before the Romans ruled Europe. These trees have seen it all. On our way through the forest, we sat down on an old tree trunk to take a break and enjoy the view. After enjoying the peace and quiet for a few minutes, the park ranger appeared on the trail behind us. Surprised to see him, we asked what he was doing up here. Maintaining the path? Checking the camera traps? No. His task for the day was to walk behind us, making sure that we made it back to the trailhead before darkness. So much for thinking that we were cool adventurers all alone deep in the rainforest.
“Clearly, the most spectacular part of this park is the more than 3.000-year-old Fitzroya”
3.000-year-old Fitzroya photographed in the Alerce Andino National Park.
Chiloé
After exploring the temperate rainforest of the mainland, it was time for an island adventure. A twenty-minute ferry takes you from the mainland to the shore of Chiloé. The crossing is rather exposed to the wind, and while we were enjoying the sun on the upper deck, the waves were conducting a symphony of blazing car alarms on the deck below. No one seemed to mind, so we agreed that this must be as normal as the ferry ride itself.
The island of Chiloé is home to some truly spectacular nature. The island itself holds one national park and two privately owned parks. Hoping to get a glimpse of the notoriously shy pudú, we decided to start with a visit to the 20.000-hectare Park Tepuhueico, one of the two privately owned parks. Crossing the bridge over Rio Bravo, which marks the park boundary, we spotted a beautiful Ringed Kingfisher sitting above the water on an old rusty steel wire. The steel wire supports a cable car that was used to bring people and goods to the other side of the river. Nowadays, the cable car has been abandoned in favour of the bridge. Easier and much faster. From its vantage point high above the water, the kingfisher was keeping a keen eye on the rushing river below, hoping to catch a glimpse of an early morning snack.
Ringed Kingfisher photographed at the Park Tepuhueico.
At the park headquarters, we met a ranger who seemed to know everything we needed to know about the park and its different sectors. Unfortunately, the language barrier proved a bit of a challenge. After a few minutes of back and forth with our broken Spanish and his limited English, the ranger ran to the kitchen and returned with the head chef. He kindly agreed to help. His English was more than sufficient to translate. Armed with all the information we needed, we set off for the trails. Inside the park, there are a handful of shorter trails that are open to the public. With a special permit, you can get access to areas of the park only open to researchers and photographers. Here, narrow hiking trails have been cut through the thick forest. The aim is not on creating the most pleasant hiking experience but on facilitating the best chances of observing wildlife, including the pudú. Among the smallest species of deer in the world, an adult pudú stands about 40 centimetres tall and weighs in at roughly 10 kilos. The Southern Pudú is endemic to the Valdivian temperate forests found in this part of Chile and in neighbouring Argentina.
Adult Southern Pudú photographed at the Park Tepuhueico.
As we slowly drove through the park towards one of the trailheads, we crossed an old, decommissioned gravel road. Forty to fifty metres down the road, something small and brownish was moving around. Not believing our luck, we blinked our eyes. Every time we opened them again, it was standing there—a pudú. The sighting was short, but we had managed to see it. About an hour later, we had another sighting not far from the first one. Probably the same pudú. Not that that takes anything away from the experience. The second sighting was longer, and I managed to get a few okay photos. Nothing award-winning but a great experience, nonetheless. Towards the end of the day, we decided to do one last hike. On our way out of the park, we passed by a short trail leading to a beautiful waterfall. We had seen photos on the park's website and agreed that it would probably be worth the effort. The trail is popular with the regular day guests, so we were not expecting much in terms of wildlife. Too much noise and disturbance. Over the years, I've learned, often the hard way, that wildlife can show up when you least expect it. Not wanting to get caught unprepared, I decided to keep my camera at hand. That turned out to be the right decision. Walking quietly down the trail, we heard something rustling between the trees. We stopped immediately, listening intently to every sound coming out of the dense forest. Moving slowly, we positioned ourselves so we could get a better look through the thick undergrowth. Something was definitely moving in there. After a minute or two, we saw it. An adolescent pudú. What an incredible sight! Happily making its way through the thick forest, it ducked under branches and jumped over tree trunks. I positioned myself so that I had the best chances of getting a photo. A small corridor was formed through the forest. If the pudú crossed here, I would have a brief moment to make a photo. Even though the encounter was brief, it was a moment that I will never forget. As it crossed between the trees, it stopped for a second, curiously looking back at me. It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it.
Adolescent Southern Pudú.
Throughout the day, we had three beautiful pudú sightings. Next to the pudús, we also experienced an incredible selection of the park's abundant birdlife. More than we could ever have dreamt of. As we left the park, we stopped by the rangers to tell them about our day and thank them for their help. They looked at us in amazement as we told them about our day. They congratulated us: three pudú sightings in one day. They had rarely heard about anyone managing that. After an outstanding day, we headed back to our cabin for a good night's sleep.
Thorn-tailed Rayadito photographed at the Park Tepuhueico.
On adventure with Thom and Lydia
The following day's adventure was one that we had been looking forward to for a long time. Thom and Lydia, two of our good friends from back home, were also making their way through Chile on an epic adventure of their own. Our trips were planned independently, and by pure coincidence, we would be in Chile at the same time. Having been away from home this long, it felt like a nice break to do something with someone we already knew. It felt a bit like a piece of home away from home. So, with a bit of alignment, we managed to plan it so that we could spend a few days together exploring Chiloé.
Sundown at the iconic waterfront in Castro.
After a solid breakfast, Britt and I picked up Thom and Lydia at their hotel, and together we set off for our joint adventure. One of The Lonely Planet's top tips for Chiloé is a tour of the historic wooden churches. The island is covered in these iconic churches, and in 2000, sixteen of them made it to the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Our tour would take us to five of these sites. Britt and I were in the front of the Suzuki Dezire, Thom and Lydia in the back. Lydia was reading out loud from her hard copy of The Lonely Planet. We took a moment to appreciate the level of... let us call it maturity... it takes to bring along a physical travel guide in the year 2025. At some point, you just have to accept and own it.
True adventurers!
Coffee break in the village of Tenaún.
In the village of Tenaún, we decided that it was time for an afternoon break. After adventuring around for the better part of a day, we sat down at what seemed like the only establishment in town. With the help of our questionable Spanish, we managed to order a beer for Thom, juice for Lydia and Britt, and a cup of well-deserved coffee for me. After what seemed like a surprisingly long time for such a simple order, the old lady running the place emerged out of the kitchen. Thom got his beer, Lydia and Britt got blueberry pie served with decaf instant coffee, and I was left empty-handed. Not really according to the plan. In these moments, there is nothing else to do but keep a straight face and have a good laugh about the situation once the owner is out of sight.
Sunrise on Rio Chepu
Our second adventures day together started well before sunrise. We set off for the village of Chepu for yet another Lonely Planet top tip. Sunrise kayaking on Rio Chepu. Working your way down the river, you get to the spectacular sunken forest. A result of the 1960 Valdivia earthquake that caused the ground to sink some two metres, resulting in salty seawater flooding the area and killing whole areas of the forest. According to The Lonely Planet, the sunrise over these waters should be truly spectacular. Unfortunately for us, the weather had other plans. A thick layer of clouds and rain enough to fill our kayaks blocked even the tiniest ray of sunlight. Not really the sunny, beautiful experience that we had hoped for. The adverse weather left a mysterious grey blanket over the landscape. It was impressive and beautiful in its own way. As we kayaked under a small bridge, a Ringed Kingfisher leaped from the bridge and threw itself full force into the water. Not catching anything significant in the first attempt, it flew back to the top of the bridge and repeated its divebombing of the river. A spectacular sight.
Islotes de Puñihuil Natural Monument
Magellanic penguins on the shore of the Islotes de Puñihuil Natural Monument.
After our morning adventure, it was time for our last activity together. A boat tour along the coast of the islets known as Islotes de Puñihuil Natural Monument. Three islets famous for being the only place on earth where you can observe Humboldt and Magellanic penguins peacefully living together. It’s not possible to get onto the islets themselves, so you will have to enjoy the penguins from a distance. The coastline in Puñihuil is filled with tour agencies operating boats to the islets. The competition is fierce, and representatives of the different agencies are doing their absolute best to get your attention.
After getting dressed in a very fashionable orange life vest, it was time to hit the beach. Getting from the sandy beach and onto the boat is probably the most old-world colonial experience I've ever had while travelling the world. On the beach, you're helped up and onto a small metal platform with large rubber wheels. I don't know how to better explain it than to describe it as a wheelbarrow for humans. Once the platform is filled with tourists, five or six locals push the platform through the seawater until you reach your designated tour boat. From here, you step completely dry-footed into your boat. With a bit of luck, we managed to secure ourselves four good seats in the front of the boat.
Magellanic penguins guarding their nests at the Islotes de Puñihuil Natural Monument.
The weather had not improved much since the early hours of the day. It was still grey and uninviting. The wind was strong enough that the waves made it impossible to do the full tour of the islets. Getting to the outside of the islets means exposing the small speedboats to the fierce waves of the open sea. Even inside the bay, the waves were big enough to send us flying. Photographing in these conditions is a true challenge. The animals are moving, the boat is thrown around by the waves, and seawater is crashing over the side of the boat. The animals seem unaffected by the bad weather. They just carry on with their day. Jumping off the high cliffs and diving into the fierce water, searching for food. Getting back out of the water requires a bit more effort. A matter of timing and energy. With the right timing, the penguins, ducks, and other seabirds use the waves as a booster to get out of the water and back onto the islets. During our tour along the shore of the islets, we saw Magellanic penguins, Peruvian Pelican, Red-legged Cormorant, Neotropic Cormorant, Fuegian Steamer Duck, and many more incredible species of birds. After bumping around in the speedboat for a bit over half an hour, we were safely back on the shore. A bit wet and windswept but a fun experience richer.
After our tour of the penguin islets, it was time to say goodbye to Thom and Lydia. From here, our journeys would take us in different directions. Even though it was short, it was a lot of fun to share these experiences with them. I mean, how often do you get to do something like this with your friends?
Britt telling tales of great adventures.