La Vida de Kyakista - Superway!

Lucked out on our 2nd last night of camping at the brand spanking new, no expense spared, bano privado Campamento Serrano. V. chirpy manager entertained us with his "kid with a new toy" antics. After he worked out how to operate the batphone he giggled and told us it was his girlfriend, "the same around the world". Kaz was left to defend her gender and self while Stu and giggle-pot bonded instantly. After the full tour of his pride and joy, including watching him crank up the generator for his 2 guests he trundled off to collect a wheelbarrow full of chopped wood which he delivered to our door for Stu to whip up a BBQ while we cooked our dinner on the trusty stove. Our site was a stone´s throw from the river we would be navigating by kayak the next morning at sparrow fart.

By Murphy´s Law, now that we were a fair distance from the Torres, the next morning produced a clear, blue sky and seemingly endless views of the park´s main rock formations. We were spitting chips but this didn´t stop monkey boy Stu from shimming across the top of the kid´s swings to take some good snaps. Let the kayaking begin!
One of the highlights of the next 2 days kayaking down the river was definitely our bouncy, slightly loco (mad) Chilean guide Fernando. It takes a certain mental fortitude to dance around a cow pat filled, muddy, wet, freezing island singing "Vamos a la playa" (let´s go the beach!).

A beautiful morning also meant a freezing one. Taking off all of our clothes and squirming into wetsuits behind a tin shed in the middle of nowhere was no easy feat - one at a time was the go so that we had warm clothes to stand on and someone to lean on as we hopped around.

All in all we paddled, floated and hauled down 38km of a swift flowing Rio Serrano with magnificent views the whole way. Unfortunately the good weather didn´t last and our muscles and positive attitudes were tested against strong winds and currents to reach camp that night, Fernando singing all the way (even if he was making up his own words i.e. Superway!). Our skilled and swift guide had a fire going in no time and rustled up a good feed by the "beach". Wondering where we had landed to rest our blistered thumbs and aching biceps, Fernando told us with a straight face "somewhere between Puerto Montt and Ushuaia" - a range of around 2000km!

No rest for the soggy and tired, up early the next morning to continue our paddle to Glacier Serrano to meet the ferry to take us down Fjiord Ultima Esperanza and into Puerto Natales. The Glacier and Ferry were both welcome sights after 8 nights of camping, all four of our hip bones were looking forward to a decent bed! A quick walk up to the Glacier with the Chilean day trippers decked out in fur and high heels. Felt compelled to taste the ice - tasty, but put your tongue back in your mouth before it gets stuck Stu.

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5 hours; piscos chilled by 1000 year old glacial ice; "can we, can´t we, ok we´ll just have the soup" parilla and a frisky dog later we were back in Puerta Natales and never were we so glad to be back in the land of civilisation, even after previous ankle bruising experiences.

Not ready to face Snra Nikko and her bus ticket buying accusations we tried out the cool dudes at Erratic Rock for a couple of nights of R&R and blog catch up. Unfotunately the services weren´t quite as advertised and so relocated for a final night in Chile to affable Alejandro´s "Los Dos Lagunas" to be regaled with stories of Guanaco massacre, ferocious Alsations with an appetite for Australians and whisky addiction (his, not Stu´s although strangely enough the two of them bonded quickly). Fortunately the primatives were hospitable, despite their big feet. (Alejandro´s joke after snooping through his German guest´s postcard).

Kaz & Stu

Meal of the week: slow cooked (12hrs) Guanaco, beaver carpaco (when in Rome...)