by Eric Gresham:
I sometimes start to get jealous when I’m on Skype with my family and they report to me that it’s 76°F and sunny back home in Alexandria, VA, but opening the door to find ice on the sidewalks and frost on the grass in July also has its advantages. High up in the Patagonian mountain peaks and volcanoes surrounding Puerto Varas, Chile, the powder is fresh and ready to be carved.
So when I threw off my blanket this morning and braced for the rush of cold air to startle me into consciousness, I was motivated. Volcán Osorno’s snowy peak, viewable from Puerto Varas, would tantalize me no more.
My two options were to bus to Ensenada and hitchhike to the volcano, or to rent a car. Not willing to spend the day with my thumb in the air, 20,0000 pesos (about $40 US) later I was on the road, snowboard in the passenger seat, armed with the words of my salesman: “You’ll find the highway to Osorno, no te preocupes!” and, “If cops stop you, speak English and you’ll be fine.”
He was right. On both accounts. I found the highway, and as it turns out Chilean police use speed traps too. Luckily they only keep the Chileans, and throw back the Americans.
After reaching the base of the summit, I jumped out of my car, pulled my co-pilot out of its travel bag, and bought a lift ticket. I soon realized my destination was well worth the risks of the road. On the 20-minute chairlift to the peak I swiveled my head around in awe, in stark contrast to the casual gazes of the Puerto Varas locals who consider this their back yard.
After a conservative run down the resort’s groomed trails, I took a fellow boarder’s advice and did a little hiking to check out some fresh powder. I found what I was looking for — but the end of the run landed me in the backyard of someone’s chalet instead of the ski lift area. There aren’t a lot of off-piste options on the volcano, but what it lacks in trails it makes up for in views.
When the lift operator told me, “Es el último, amigo [This is the last one, buddy],” I couldn’t believe how the hours had flown by, but the setting sun was a testament to the end of the day. Packing up my snowboard and shutting the car door, I couldn’t help but think of the next stop on my to-do list for my article on snowboarding in Southern Patagonia: Bariloche, Argentina.
