Day 20 - Chepu Valley, Ancud, Puerto Montt.

In Chepu there’s complete silence and darkness at night. Sleep like a brick.

When I walk to the main house bit in the morning, the southern lapwings start screeching. “They’re like an alarm,” Fernando says. “When we have campers, I can always hear if one of them is going to the bathroom area or if a stranger walks in.” The lapwings are extremely territorial.

I decide against kayaking because there’s too much work to be done and long for the day when I can come back to Chepu and just relax for a few days – hike along the coast, spend quality time with Fernando and Amory, go kayaking for hours in the sunken forest, sit on the veranda and play with the cats…

As I’m eating breakfast, I gasp. Across the little meadow from the main area, by the wooden fence, a tiny deer emerges from some bushes. It’s the elusive and very shy pudú; they are supposed to dwell in all the national parks, but you never see them. Then another! My ‘Chilean’ parents are supposed to have an entire family that visits their property, because they feel protected there. They’re the size of a small dog, and look a bit like large rodents. “We’re not going to tell any on our neighbours,” Amory says. “Some people hunt for them and eat them.” A man down the road boasts that his dog catches pudú. They’re protected species, but no one protects them. It’s the same problem: in Europe, because we’ve largely destroyed our wildlife and our forests, and polluted our sources of fresh water, we have mentality that those things are important and in need of protection. “In Chile, we have the nature but not the mentality,” Amory sighs.

My ‘Chilean parents’ are a great source of information. They know more about trail conditions in Parque Nacional Chiloé than the useless CONAF office in Castro, or even the local rangers, because Fernando’s always taking people on walks along the Chepu part of the park. The idea is to eventually link the three sections of the park, but at the moment, the Chepu one is the most accessible because it’s now part of the Sendero de Chile, Abtao (the middle section) is difficult unless you go with a knowledgeable local (and they happen to know such a guide) and Anay, the popular section down south, is the one that people seem to know less about – at least about the conditions in the depths of the park, since most backpackers just get to the wide Pacific beach and camp out there, without going further. I’d love to hike in the park extensively, and so I’m hoping I get offered Chile (the country guide) again.

Amory calls her guide friends on my behalf, and I spend the morning typing away. Am very pleased with the amount of information I’ve gathered, and they’re always happy for me to get in touch with any more questions.

I decide that I have to stop in Ancud to check out two things that they recommended: the Mundo de Papas (café specialising in everything made of potato, because Chiloé has several native kinds, don’tcha know?) and ICA – the church/museum run by the organisation that’s currently restoring all the UNESCO churches around the island. Before I leave, they arrange for a friend of theirs to meet me in Ancud; the night before I complained that there were no new hostels in Ancud, and he’s got a good one that’s not very well advertised, apparently. Then Fernando drops me off at the crossroads and I hail the first Ancud-bound bus I see.

I get dropped off at the wrong bus terminal – the rundown one that’s a fair walk out of town, that’s barely in any of the guides. On the upside, it turns out that quite a few long-distance buses still stop here, so I make notes while I wait for Marco, my ride.

Marco is a really energetic man who talks very fast, translating directly from Spanish into English; any words he doesn’t know, he makes up (but I understand what he’s trying to say) and he says ‘you know’ after every couple of words. His hostel really is all that. It’s a guesthouse, really, but with an epic sea view and the most incredible common space I’ve seen in a hostel so far – lots of light, really tall ceiling and the superb Chilote woodwork. Yep, this one’s for the guide.

He then drives me to the Mundo de Papas, where the Ancud tourism association is having a meeting. Then end up giving me a glass of champagne because they’re toasting something, and every now and then, Marco slips away from the group to hand me a business card of someone who does boat trips in the bay, or does penguin-watching tours. Everyone’s really upset that the older Lonely Planet guide just dismissed Ancud out of hand, suggesting that people head straight to Castro if they don’t have much time. It really depends on what you’re looking for, though.

My potato pizza with smoked salmon is superb. The base, made of potato flour, is a bit crunchier than regular flour, but really tasty. And you totally can’t tell that the chocolate cake is 25% potato. Really cute café, and really cheap, too. Long live the potato!

I find the ICA church and a helpful girl shows me around, explaining what they’re doing. The church hall is full of scale models of all the Chiloé UNESCO churches – one half is painted, to show its actual colours, and the other is left open so you can see in minute detail the way it’s constructed. On the walls, there are large posters, showing how the churches are put together, and there are displays showing different kinds of wooden joints used and the twenty different types of wood. This is definitely the place to come before checking out the churches, because then you can actually tell what you’re looking at. And I just love the scale models! If I were a kid again, forget Lego castles – I’d love to have a couple of the models to play with instead!

My bus back to Puerto Montt smells like a Portaloo and I’m sitting to a red-faced bloke who looks like he enjoys a tipple a bit too much. Escape the smell on the car ferry, when I climb on deck and watch scores of seals frolic in the channel.

My guesthouse is up a steep hill from the bus station. The woman running it is friendly, and my room has cable TV in spite of not being big enough to swing even a very small cat – it really is the cupboard under the stairs. Am asked for payment in advance – that seems to be a Puerto Montt thing; maybe cheapo tourists have a reputation for running off without paying – and then take myself off to the movies, stopping for street meat on a stick and Colombian empanadas along the way.

“Clash of the Titans” is an inspired choice; no problem understanding it in Spanish. I do enjoy my Greek myths and Liam Neeson makes a fine Zeus.