Day 10 - Villarica.

Take a morning bus to Villarica, the nearby town that lies at the other end of Lake Villarica. Unlike Pucón which is very much a 20th century creation, Villarica’s one of the oldest towns in Chile and has been destroyed several times both by volcanic eruptions and the marauding Mapuche. It has more local character than Pucón; it's bigger, it feels more gritty and functional, and I like the little produce markets selling local cheese, honey and seasonal fruit and veg - but I’ve never really warmed to the abundance of graffiti (though some of the murals are rather striking) or to the black sand beaches strewn with rubbish – though that’s partly the fault of the city councils. Instead of providing sensible wheelie bins, they have these preposterous baskets on top of poles where people put their rubbish bags, and where they are easily accessed by stray dogs who rip them open. One of the town’s redeeming features is the Mapuche craft market, but since it’s low season, it’s closed, as is the Mapuche history museum – inexplicably so.

I wander down to the lake to have a look at the costanera – the coastal road that the majority of the residents were against. Actually, it doesn’t look so bad: though at one end, the costanera is closed off due to earthquake damage – a chunk of the road has dropped down several feet - the pedestrian strip with benches actually makes the lakeside more accessible. That opinion is shared by Glen, one of my local contacts. I pop up to the Hostería de la Colina, a really nice guesthouse run by two former teachers from Oregon who’ve been here twenty two years, and Glen always has something interesting to tell me.

Yes, business has been slow lately, but the recent earthquake means that there shouldn’t be another big one for 27 years; in fact, California’s due for a big one this year, according to seismologists.

“The earthquake was really strong here,” Glen tells me. “It lasted around three minutes and everything fell off the walls.” It’s quite lucky that it happened at 3am, when no one was driving, so there were very few casualties, unlike in the city of Concepción near the coast, where poorly-built multi-storey buildings collapsed, trapping people inside, and a massive tsunami wave washed boats a mile inland. Still, as he says, it’s part of the deal when you choose to live in the land of ice and fire. If the Villarica volcano blows, Pucón will be destroyed, as it’ll be directly in the path of the lava. Nothing in Pucón is insurable; when my friend Sarah tried to get a loan in a British bank to build the youth hostel, and they found out that it’d be at the foot of an active volcano, they laughed at her and sent her packing.

No, they haven’t seen a drop in tourism due to the recession; Chile hasn’t really suffered because copper prices are booming and Michelle Bachelet (the previous president) had several billion dollars put aside, which she was then able to spend on public works. Yes, Sebastián Piñera (the current president) is a bit of a dark horse and it’s anybody’s guess as to what he’ll do to Chile; he's Harvard-educated businessman (and billionaire with a major stake in the LAN airline) who will most likely run Chile like a business.

Glen’s concerned about the environmental implications of this: for the last few years, there’s been a battle between the Spanish-owned ENDESA energy corporation, which plans to dam Patagonia’s major rivers, and the locals, whose livelihoods will be destroyed – not to mention the implications for tourism and the fragile ecosystems, and Piñera may be likely to side with big businesses. One thing that gives me hope about Piñera is that he’s purchased a huge chunk of land in the south of the island of Chiloé and turned it into a private nature reserve, so maybe he’ll be able to balance business interests and the environment.

I’m shocked to learn that Chile doesn’t consider tourism to be a big thing, that there’s no Ministry of Tourism, unlike in Peru and Argentina, and that the annual budget per national park amounts to around $6000 – for upkeep, CONAF ranger wages, everything!

Finally, I gather information about hiking trails in the area, as Glen and Beverley are always out and about, and settle down with some awesome homemade ice cream as I watch hummingbirds flit around their garden, pausing to drink from the bird feeders filled with sugar water.

I finish my rounds, checking out a few more places to stay and eat.

Back in Pucón, I look at more hostels, find a laundry that’s also a bakery doing awesome cakes, invoice the Dutch company for last week’s translation work, type up more research and look into hiring a car to get to the harder to reach parts of the Lake District.

Dinner with Cristian, his brother, his mum, Alberto - the other guy who helps to run the hostel – and Mauricio, Cristian’s friend who’s also a mountain guide, who originally took me up the volcano two years ago. The weather’s not good enough to have a barbecue, but Alberto’s cooked lamb, Patagonian-style. Here I'm Anita; I feel very much a part of the family; after three days, it feels like I’ve been here forever, and come Sunday, I won’t want to leave. We polish off numerous bottles of Carmenere. The wine makes me hungry, causing me to consume double helpings and leaving me feeling like a happy snake that's eaten a goat (farewell, svelte girlish figure!), then it briefly improves my Spanish, and then it makes me tired. No more writing this evening, methinks.

I sleepily contemplate my dilemma: on Sunday, do I carry on with all of my current gear, bearing in mind that it’s already nearly 30kg and likely to get heavier, so that I may fly straight to the north of Chile from Patagonia, or do I leave all my Peru-destined gear with Cristian and come back to Pucón before going up north overland, which will cost me at least a couple of days? I favour the second option, because there’s no point in half-killing myself at the beginning of the trip and also because I’ve already had to sew up the tear in my rucksack twice and a split rucksack would be a disaster. Plus, it’s been two years since I’ve seen the northern half of Chile, so a 30+ hour bus ride from Pucón sounds good to me. I make a decision: I’m coming back to Pucón. Alea jacta est.