Leaving Cochamó Valley

Thursday November 12.

Nate is itching to go climbing. Surprise? Not really.

La Luna is the closest climbing wall to the refugio. We trespass onto cow pasture in search of the trail. Being us, we get lost. But only for a little while until we find the two bridges. Turn right after the second one. Walk walk walk. Mushy mud further coats our sneakers.

We find ourselves staring up at a gigantic rock wall. Nate is bug-eyed, but disappointedly points out that it’s dirty and not suitable for climbing. So we keep going.

But promptly lose the trail. The next few hours are spent hacking through trees, bushes, very prickly things, and bamboo. Emphasis on hours.

Finally we reach the dirty wall again. Only to find a few bolts on it. Bolts? This is it! It was here all the time! Ugh.



So we unpack the gear and get set up. Nate climbs. I climb. Now, it’s been quite some time since I’ve climbed. Since West Virginia, if you can remember back that far! So when I had to work through a few moves, I thought nothing of it. It must be a 5.9, I exclaim.





On the way back to the refugio, Nate remembers being told about a boulder. A climbable boulder over the rushing river water. He adorns a wet suit and with a little hesitation, he hops in the frigid water.



Climb climb climb. I don’t want to fall, I hear him yell from my dry seat on rounded white stones a good distance away. But fall he does, it’s inevitable. Soon he’s splashing furiously through the water all the way over to where I’m sitting. With dry clothes on, we make our way back to the refugio.


Where we find out that the 5.9 we had climbed was actually a 5.11b/c , which is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever climbed. Haha. Cha-chinnnng.


Another intimate dinner with the family, the neighbors, and Nate, the aspiradora.

Friday November 13.



Climbing at Pared Seca required a short hike and the construction of a small fire. It was dry (imagine that!), but not far from freezing. We tried a 10b that gave me and my frozen fingers a beating.



I spent the rest of the daylight hours reading Kerouac.

Saturday November 14.

While I was reading the day before, Nate found Daniel bolting a new route. New route? Well, clearly we have to climb it before we leave. We forfeit the 5pm bus back to Puerto Varas to sneak in a climb.

I had never been on a fresh route. So as I followed Nate’s line of cams, I hauled hunks of dirt out of potential hand holds. The last move was nearly impossible for short people like myself until I uprooted a few plants and made a new hold for myself. It was fun and included figuring out a conundrum at the anchors.


A quick lunch and a goodbye to Daniel and Silvina (Zenon was down for his nap) before beginning our hike back. The days of sun we had enjoyed during our time at the refugio had seriously dried out the path. Gone were the mushy gushy parts of the trail. Gone were the raging river and streams we had to cross… well, almost gone. Nate managed to retain dry feet throughout the walk. My right pinky toe was not so lucky. But all in all, so much better than the week prior. Plus it only took us 3.5 hours to get down this time!

But once on the road, we walked. And walked. And walked… No car in sight. Finally a nice family picks us up and carries us a few kilometros. Thank them and keep walking. And walking. When we get to the main road, we hardly have to wait before a pickup truck comes by and we plop ourselves and our bags into the back. Breeze in our hair, we whip around corners and get dropped off pretty close to Cochamó itself. We retrieve our bags from Residential Edicar, grab a bag of chips and a bar of chocolate and hit the road. It’s getting dark so we take our spot on the side of the road and wait. With every headlight we stick out a thumb, but no one stops. It gets cold and dark, so after an hour or two, we head back to Edicar for a hot shower and warm blankets.