You are looking at posts that were written on July 21st, 2007.
Posted on July 21st, 2007 by soulskier.
Categories: Recent Posts.
By Mike Taylor
Pucon is a town in southern Chile famous for heavy precipitation year round, and therefore equally as well known for it’s beautiful old-growth forests, raging rivers, and full length rain proof panchos…
As Claire and I sit in Cafe Trawen, drawn in from the rainy main street by an intoxicating, warm waft of fresh baked bread, three old buddies of mine file into the café. Their semi-waterproof panchos are leaving puddles on the floor, as they order a round of pints after a day of ski instructing at Volcan Villarica, telling of boot-top to thigh-deep dry powder up at the ski area.
Juan Pablo I’ve know the longest. We met in ’95 at Big White ski resort in BC, my home ski area for 7 seasons. He was a visiting ski patroller from Las Lenas, Argentina. It was a stormy time, and we met at the top of the Alpine T-Bar, from where he joined me on an avalanche control route on “The Cliff”, onto which we threw a handful of charges, testing the slope for hazard, and afterwards, of course, we skied the waist deep powder bridging any cultural indifferences. I suppose it was this afternoon when I first became interested in skiing in South America. Thanks Juanpa. Since I’ve been doing S. American seasons in ’99, I’ve bumped into him at Valle Nevado, as the patrol leader, Corralco 3 years later, as outdoor operations manager, and now he’s here teaching skiing.
Underneath the second rain-soaked pancho is Carlos, the oldest of the three, whose career has mostly been in mountain rescue, based out of different regions in Chile over the years. I met him 4 years ago, at a friend’s farm who was hosting an asado, a typical Chilean barbeque party. I recall the topo map he pulled out of his car during our conversation of various volcano summits. I don’t know how many years old his map was, but it was practically unreadable, with pen marks all over it, marking ski touring trips he’d been on. This guy is salt-of-the-earth, and when he first got into skiing off of volcanoes, I’d bet he was 1 of very few. I always make sure to grab a beer with Carlos, and draw out a story or two.
And lastly, Ivan, a ripping skier, and devoted family man, who loves to hike up from the top lift of Villarica, and traverse for kilometers, to bag some un-tracked lines down to the parking lot. He calls me “Simplemente Mike”, always with a huge smile, referring to my 10-yr-old (at best) level of Spanish, which at this point is combined with raw Chilean slang, resulting in some kind of comical linguistic paradox. Ivan and I once topped Volcan Llonquimay together is a wild wind storm. I offered the use of my multi-tool to him when we put our crampons on, as he had to re-size them and affix them with bits of leather lace he found in his rucksack. At the summit, we experienced the optical phenomenon of ‘Heiligenschein’ (thanks Wikipedia), always making a mountain experience spectacular. And the deer steak/mustard sandwich he gave me couldn’t have been more delicious as we took shelter from the wind in the crater, with the views of the conical summits of Llaima, Villarica, and Lanin volcanos to the south, and Tolguaca, Callaqui, Copahue, and Antuco to the north.
The social circles within the ski industry here in Chile are small, and these characters are warm and welcoming. As I finish this story, the 3 are headed out, and Ivan’s invited myself and Claire to an asado at his home, just off shore of Lake Villarica. His says all his friends from the resort will be there, and there’ll be a independent ski film shown. We’ll definitely take that in. And tomorrow we’ll meet on up at the ski area, Volcan Villarica, maybe hike a while, perhaps traverse a kilometer or two, leading up to a summit attempt the following day when the storm breaks. The run down is absolutely riveting, one of the many classic descents in Chile.
There’s a saying in Chilean Spanish that refers to a positive connection, (or literally vibration), between people, places, times, and events; ‘buena onda’. It’s these connections that keep me coming back for South American winters, and truly enjoying showing these destinations to new guests of CASA Tours.
Posted on July 21st, 2007 by gomez.
Categories: Recent Posts.
By Claire Dibble
It all started with a good deal on some ski boots at the thrift store. I was there looking for snowboard bindings, quite content in my knuckle-dragging existence. Tried the boots on, they fit, left with them slung awkwardly over my shoulder.
It wasn’t long before I found myself watching skiers bounce through powder under the chairlift, almost unaware of the boarders surfing by. But I continued along the same single-track path I’d been riding on, right up until yesterday.
With the thrift store boots, some beat-up touring bindings gifted to me by a supportive skier friend, and my very first pair of brand new skis (a pair of fatties made by the up-and-coming independent company, Faction), I officially began phase two of my life on two planks. Phase one was fun but unimpressive, and occurred between the ages of 6 and 16.
There is perhaps no better place to launch a romance with skis than in Chile. The Andes climb to unequaled heights mere kilometers from the hip downtown of Santiago. It was on the blanketed slopes of Valle Nevado, with its base 60 switchbacks and around 7,500 feet above the city, that I [re]cut my teeth. A storm had brought fresh snow, a high pressure system chased the storm away and left us with blue skies, a perfect combination.
Around mid-day, inspired by photographic opportunity, I followed Mike and Travis to the saddle between Valle Nevado and neighboring resort, El Colorado. We traversed to the virtually untouched lines of Santa Teresa, a terrain feature visible from the access road and full of interesting lines, some quite intimidating for those of us getting reacquainted with skis.
The snow was velvety, just enough powder to make one feel like a hero, but not so much that true powder skiing skill was needed. Perfect for someone like me. The features were visually pleasing, smoothed by snow when seen from above, rock faces tucked beneath arching slopes. We floated our way to the road, just in time to watch Gomez charge down a couloir feature, his giddiness visible even from half a mile away.
Santa Teresa welcomed me to Chile, to skis, and to a summer full of winter, and she did it with style. I can’t wait to ski her again. Or maybe I’ll take the board next time . . .