Travels

Trekking to Cole Cole beach: Chiloé National Park

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We spent five nights in the magnificent Isla Grande de Chiloé in the south central area of ​​one of the most curious morphology countries: Chile.

The first section of the road we did under a dim sun. We cover a little more than six kilometers following the road that joins some of the small villages that dot the road, to get to converge with the magnificent beach that is part of this beautiful natural park. It is long, wide and with some dunes that give it a mystical touch, especially due to the absence of people during most of the day. A place where you can certainly see beautiful sunsets without anyone interrupting the flow of your thoughts.

We continued several kilometers more along the beach that was almost deserted, just dotted occasionally by backpackers who, curiously, were all going in the opposite direction to ours. They were asked for directions because we had no map to consult and there are no signs anywhere on the road.

The cause that nobody was in the same sense that we saw her appear in the sky after more than three hours of walking. Gray clouds threatened to completely cover the landscape and seemed to carry enough water. We thought that the thing would not be for much and we were also about 2 hours away from the famous Cole Cole beach, so we decided to continue traveling.

After the horizontal path of the beach, we had to cross a small river and go up and down a hill inhabited by some brave people. The wind is strong in that area of ​​the island and the winters must be truly raw.

Another stretch of beach led us to another small river and an area of ​​no one where we had to find an exit from the bushes to get to a house under construction that had been indicated as a reference as the beginning of the series of climbs and descents of hills that would take us to Cole Cole. And here the disaster began.

The clouds discharged their water -with force at the beginning, and an irritating insistence later- on us and began to make our progress difficult. My raincoat proved to be as useful as a feather in Alicante in August and let the water seep over all my clothes and backpack. I left a layer of protection for Chicco that didn't work either, being Mattia the only one who kept her dry clothes under a good raincoat Patagonia.

We arrived at the house under construction and the team working on it was sheltered contemplating the one that fell. I asked the oldest of them if he thought the storm would last long and he said: "No, this stops in a little while." I ended up baptizing him as The weatherman with total irony.

Encouraged by this news we begin the ascent to the first hill under heavy rain. I went ahead and lost sight of my companions but the fact of feeling wet every millimeter of my body and noticing how my bones froze if I slowed down, caused me to carry out this sprint.

I could hardly stop to contemplate the beautiful views that were on each top of the two or three hills that we passed because the water veiled my gaze and the cold that I felt throughout my body urged me to continue.

At an unmarked crossroads I worked as an explorer and found the right one, waiting for my classmates there so they wouldn't get lost. About half an hour later - almost two after meeting with the weatherman- We finally saw our goal.

Cole Cole it stretched at our feet like a strip of sand bordered by cliffs covered in an emerald green that was obscured by the reflection of the overcast sky. The place was truly beautiful but someone up there must have been jealous of what we were contemplating and made the wind and rain worse with more force than ever. The drops of ice water they hurt us in the face like icy pins and, after a few seconds of deliberation, we decided that it was impossible to stay there any longer and, even if it screwed us up, we had no choice but to return.

It was like touching home and coming back. A shame

When we arrived at the house under construction we asked for asylum by the stove fire they had there the weatherman and his minions. The man looked at me in shame and everyone agreed solemnly waiting for my reaction to his bad advice. I laughed and released my newly coined nickname character. They all burst into loud laughter from plain men and we began to tease each other, to talk about our countries of origin, of hard life in Chiloé, of football ... And of course, of time.

We spent an hour with them while it was still raining outside and our clothes were drying on the fire. In the end, a van that brought them food every few days appeared by magic and agreed to take us back to Cucao.

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