I myself am amazed at how well everything works here in Chile. To get from section 1 to section 3, I had to somehow try to bypass section 2, as recommended by other hikers due to too much snow.

As it was Sunday, there were no buses leaving directly from the trail. So I stuck my thumb out at the side of the road and was immediately given a lift by two older ladies. Two more rides further on, two older gentlemen who both drove me further than they had to in order to get me to my train station. From there everything was easy, a quick shop at the supermarket and after another car stop I was already at the start of the trail.

The landowner at the start of the third stage wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me. He told me straight away that this was private land and that I had no business here. He had already been annoyed by enough other hikers who had simply walked across his property without asking. That’s why he had put up a gate, which I had deliberately overlooked. I had seen it, even though I had come onto his property from a different direction, but I had decided to ignore it.

I explained to him that I hadn’t seen it from the direction I had come from. He then drew my attention to the many signs saying “private property”. These were hard to miss, which I conceded to him. The reason he didn’t want people walking across his property was because of the fire risk posed by people lighting bonfires.

I stood still for a while while he talked to his two companions. I pointed out that the trail was publicly accessible on maps. A brief discussion ensued about what Google does with all the data recorded by hikers. I hadn’t said a word about Google. After a while, he said that he would make an exception for me, whereupon I thanked him and disappeared into the bushes by the stream.

My way was blocked two more times by locked gates. As no one was around, I simply climbed over them. The shepherds keep their animals together here, or so it seems to me. It doesn’t hurt anyone if I walk over it quickly.

The next day begins with the ascent to the pass, about 1000 meters along a small river. I had deliberately walked a little further the day before because I knew that I wanted to reach the Rio Claro that day.

For at least a kilometer, I only made progress at a stop-and-go pace. My path was blocked by a family of cows who, with the best will in the world, didn’t want to make room for me and instead walked comfortably in front of me or away from me. For a long time, getting out of the way was not an option. Perhaps herd driver could be a future profession for me. I have experience now.

Leaving the pack behind me, the map gave me a rough guide for a few kilometers beyond the pass, but I had to find my own way. The paths I was taking were normally only used by the herd leaders. So I was hardly surprised that at a certain altitude it turned into an open field with bushes. Again and again I had to turn back and try a new route to get past the bushes to the summit. After a break at the highest point, I headed back down into the valley. On the way, a dense forest of thorny bushes and a precipice awaited me.

On the map, this part of the trail was marked with a dotted line, which means “you’re on your own here, have fun”. It must have taken me an hour to find a passable path through the bushes. On my GPS recording, it certainly looks like I got lost in a labyrinth. That’s probably the closest I came to it. Despite wearing long sleeves and trousers, I suffered a few abrasions in my battle with the flora, only to suddenly come across a path again that seemed to come out of nowhere. I had no idea who was going up here.

Down in the valley, a torrential stream was already waiting for me, which I must have had to cross five or six times. At first I tried to get across with dry feet, but soon gave up as it was carrying more water with every meter.

After the last crossing, the relatively small river flows into the Rio Claro, my final opponent for the day. Recognizable by its turquoise blue color, the river carries glacier water from the mountain peaks in the distance down to the sea. As beautiful as the water is to look at, the force with which it rushes past me is frightening.

Without wanting to take a detour of 10 km over a bridge, I look for a place where the river seems a little calmer. It is generally advisable to avoid rapids and look for the widest possible spot. I didn’t have many options. As I had already learned in New Zealand, I stowed all my electronics in a drybag at the top of my rucksack and attached my hiking poles tightly to the rucksack. The chest and hip straps remain open to make it easier to throw the rucksack off in case of danger.

With my boots and pants already wet, I feel my way forward bit by bit. My 90 kilos still provide enough resistance to the current at the edge, making it easy to venture further into the middle. With every step towards the other bank, I have to lean more and more against the current. The water is already up to my buttocks. I keep slipping, but manage to hold on to the next larger stone. When I’m already a bit over the middle, I give it my all again and jump forward. Done, I’m in shallower water and can shimmy to the shore. I’m glad it was pretty cool that day. If it had been warmer, the river would certainly have been carrying more meltwater, making it impossible to cross. Apart from one corner of the tent, which was hanging at the bottom of the rucksack, only I got wet up to my waist.

After yesterday’s adventure, today was rather unspectacular. There were two passes to conquer. On the second, I met a French-Belgian couple. I had already read about them in the Facebook group. They were also the ones who gave me the tip not to do the second part, as there was still too much snow there.

The day before, I kept seeing fresh footprints in the mud, which I can now identify. I didn’t think I would be able to catch up with them so quickly, as their message in the group was already a few days old. As they had taken a two-day break in Coya, I cought up to them.

The rest of the way down into the valley to the small village of Aguas Buenas led through a green pine forest, crossing a small stream again and again. The birds around us were chirping their little song, while I was already looking forward to a warm Chilean meal, which I finally got in the small restaurant “The Fig Tree”. If I hadn’t been bitten by a dog just before the end, the day would have been perfect. So I can only give it a very good.

Is there anything that interests you? Something you want me to write about in the next article? Feel free to comment below.