When I head out traveling, I heard I would run into places I'd simply fall in love with. No one seemed able to describe the sensation very clearly (akin perhaps to real love, which I can't say I'm sure I've ever experienced either). The quote by former supreme court justice Potter Stewart (which I generally love - the quote, not the justice) comes to mind: "I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description [hard-core pornography]; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it." Understandably, I hadn't much of a clue what they were talking about, and at times being quite cynical, I wasn't sure that I'd experience such a feeling. I thought it might be for more emotional, softer people. Well, I was wrong. I absolutely loved Isla Navarino.
Isla Navarino is a Chilean island, on the southern side of the Beagle Channel. If it's not Chile's southernmost inhabited island, it's certainly the southern-most one that's still reasonably easy to reach, accessible through public transportation both form Ushuaia (in Argentina) and Punta Arenas (in Chile). We arrived on a thirty-minute zodiac ride, followed by the most relaxed boarder control I've ever seen - quite literally a house in the middle of nowhere, where two families live, the man from one of whom checked our passports. After a short wait, we then took a van to the largest city of the island, a sprawling metropolis of all of two thousand people (about half of whom are members of the Chilean armada).
One of the reasons I loved the island has to do with little more than sheer luck. As we asked in the tourist information (a shockingly well-run affair for an island of this size) about hostels, explaining our preference as "the cheapest", we were given two options, One of them was a tiny bit closer and about $1 a night cheaper, so that's where we started. In a brilliant stroke of good fortune, that place happened to be my favorite hostel on the trip, at least so far. Refugio El Padrino is run by a lovely woman named Cecilia, who simply makes you feel like you've arrived to visit a long-lost aunt. She knows everyone by first-name basis, but also as "mi amigo de Israel." She starts every morning with a trip to the hostel, about two minutes from her house, to check on everyone, but generally matters are left to run on their own. Breakfast included eggs (already a real treat coming from a land where cereal and bread with manjar often qualify), and we were left to cook them as we liked. We were allowed to camp outside, access all of the facilities, and pay as much as we felt is appropriate.
Beyond all of that, it was the feeling she created among us that just made it such a home. The love she had for all of us made us feel as a family, and we treated each other as friends. Food was shared, as was beer, wine, or anything stronger that we happened to buy. Card games were played, as stories from the treks on the island and before were regaled. Christmas dinner (my first ever, in fact) was at her house, her family of four and fifteen hostel guests. She later threw an eighth birthday party for the place, essentially throwing a free barbecue for everyone. The lack of wi-fi probably also helped; internet on the island, as it turns out, only exists in four places: the museum, the library, the bar, and a restaurant. The first was especially appropriate, as it was about as rapid as what I had at home in the late 90's (hello, ISDN!).
Beyond all of that, the trekking was also phenomenal. The differences to where I'm currently spending time (Torres del Paine (TdP) national park) are simply astounding. We left for the trek with a booklet (supremely useful, and actually published by the state), a topographical map, and a compass, and still spent quite a bit of time wondering where the route goes and what they actually intended us to do. On the other hand, in TdP we had a map, but it was nary needed - the sheer amount of people walking the trails guided us quite well. Campsites were generally of the "previous hikers have found reasonably dry, reasonably flat areas, and there's water nearby." Camping in TdP felt like a five-star hotel, in comparison (albeit one with too many rules). The free campsites have toilets and organized cooking areas, while the paid ones have hot showers, stores, and some even have restaurants. In Isla Navarino, we'd run into ten or twenty people each hike. Over a four to five day hike, that is. In some places in Torres del Paine you could encounter that many in, oh, a few minutes. And we could have campfires. Campfires make everything better.
Nature there is simply wild. Raw. Primal. The views from the circuit itself are stunning, and the mountains are just gorgeous. Simply nothing man-made was to be seen, except for the occasional marking pylon, and one generally-un-maintained refugio (which was actually in quite a good condition as a French man has been living there for over a month when we visited). The weather was also quite harsh - we slogged through a day of on-and-off snow on one trek, and spent another day hiding in our tents from non-stop rain.
The island features two main treks, which diverge a day or so in. The famous of the two is the Dientes Circuit - anywhere between three and five days' worth of hiking, depending on your pace and the weather. The second is the trek to Lago Windhond and back. The Dientes Circuit was the more impressive of the two, for me, and the trail was slightly better, and especially less muddy. The mountain passes (out of five, the first two are shared) were more impressive, although maybe the island's best panoramic views, from Cerro Bertinelli, were only seen as part of the trek to Windhond. It would be quite possible to combine the two, and either do one longer circuit, or tack on the side-trip to Bertinelli from the Dientes. Either way - the hiking is stupendous. and is quite probably my favorite on the trip (thus far).
As for how falling in love with a place felt, well, I'm not quite sure I can describe it either. Something between how nice the people were, how marvelous the hiking was, and the atmosphere at the hostel I was staying at, just made me have love waking up there every morning I was there. That, and the wonderful people I was hiking with, is how I ended up spending almost three weeks somewhere most people spend about a week.
A word of advice: if you're ever heading over, give yourself a few days of leniency. You might want to wait for a better weather window, the boats might not be running due to high currents, or the flights might all be booked. It is, after all, the end of the world.
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