Before heading out to Cucao, on the West coast of Chiloé, I had a spare day in Castro. I waited with my move because of the weather forecast. A girl in my hostel mentioned she had a car and wanted to go hiking. She confirmed in the morning, but when we actually wanted to leave she’d changed her mind because of hurting knees. Fair enough. I hadn’t planned anything anyway. In the end we ended up going to a waterfall in the bosque part of the Tepuhueico park. It involved a short walk down a jungly trail, towards some very huge trees. Their trunks seemed to be several trees intertwined and overgrown with other plants. Shortly after that we saw the waterfall. It wasn’t big, but it was wide and yellowish water was coming down with force.
The next day I woke up bright and early to catch the first micro to Cucao. I got off at the national park and quickly found my way to my glamping site for the night. I’d be staying in a yurt and it appeared nobody else was there, so I had it all to myself. In the morning I entered the park to walk some small trails and look at some items they had on display, like an apple press. It seems a bit random, but it represents the culture of the area. I stood at a lookout tower that provided views of the coast. High waves were rolling onto the sand, creating white lines on the horizon. There were some low dunes with bushes and cows walking through. Then there was my glamping place. I looked right down at the buildings that housed the yurts. “They should get that out of the view”, a guy standing next to me said. “It’s where I’m staying.” We started laughing.
According to one bus schedule I’d seen, I would have enough time to go to the costa zone of the Tepuhueico park in the afternoon. However, that company seemed to have stopped their trips, so I got on a later micro. The bus driver announced what the schedule was and pretty much left out any information about the place I was interested in. When someone asked, he said there was barely enough time. Sure enough, according to the map you could only rush back and forth to a viewpoint in the 3 hours we were given. I decided to skip the park and enjoy the time on a shorter walk to Muelle de las Almas. Local folklore suggests the souls of the deceased pass to the other side by boat from Punta Purilil. Much like in ancient Greece they had to pay the ferryman. Now there is a kind of dock on the side of the hill to represent this story and it’s a much seen spot on Chile’s Instagram posts.
After taking some photos I started chatting to the same guy again. He was from down South, enjoying the perks of working remotely. He hadn’t been very impressed with Chiloé, until this day. We sat in the sunshine, talking Spanish, taking photos and finding the view on the other side. Meanwhile two girls were doing a whole photoshoot on the dock. This day hadn’t gone my way, but I ended up being more relaxed for it. When I got back to the glamping, I headed out to the beach, braving the crazy winds from the Pacific ocean, and saw a beautiful sunset. My only company were some cows and seagulls flying against the wind.
Cole Cole
I’d packed all my camping gear and food and left the rest of my things at the glamping. The sun was quickly warming up the chilly morning. I made my way towards Cole Cole beach, an area managed by the local people, after taking over from the national park service. Then I saw a micro drive by. I could have taken it the first bit of the way. Instead I was walking, but I was in luck. After some kilometers someone stopped and took me a little further, saving me about 45 minutes. After walking for another while, an older couple stopped. They made room for me and my things and took me much further than expected. They explained they were visiting their son and grandchild who lived way up the hill, very close to Cole Cole. To my surprise they went where I thought the hiking trail started. We drove across the beach and crossed a river. “Sometimes in winter the water is too high and we need to wait.” We went up and down super steep roads. They used to be just wide enough for one vehicle, with the tree roots sticking out, scratching the vehicle. Now at least people could pass each other. Not that there was much traffic. At the turn off to Cole Cole we dropped off a gift to another family and then kept going. The views were incredible, but where was I going? We really arrived at the top of the hill and entered the property of their family. I was pointed towards a grassy field. They had put some tree trunks there to enjoy the view. It descended steeply and at the end of the grass I found a muddy path. The path ended right at the beach.
There was a small refugio that was used by a bunch of teenagers and their teacher. I entered a toilet block, but it looked old and broken and didn’t have running water. There were some old signs, falling apart, and a bunch of picnic benches. I now understood the words of warning I’d received at my hostel. Managing expectations. Making up for all of it is the beach. It is simply stunning! It’s a shame the park isn’t maintained well. There used to be a bridge across the river that leads to another trail and another beach. Now you have to wade through the river, which seemed pretty deep in parts. It put me off exploring the trail. I walked around the beach, took photos and was wondering how long it would take to return. I’d arrived so early, I could try to head back and not camp in the cold night. After some debating, that’s what I decided to do. I struggled between my current feeling and the excitement of staying here I had while planning the trip.
Still wondering if I really shouldn’t stay, I made my way up the little hiking trail that people normally arrive from. It turned out to be pretty short, but offered some nice views. After that it was all road walking. There turned out to be an office where you have to pay a small fee. The man looked at me confused. How did she suddenly get here? I paid and kept walking and really appreciated the ride I’d gotten. Three tired-looking backpackers, also with tents, were coming uphill. I walked down until I saw a bridge. The car had had to cross the river, because the bridge was only for pedestrians. I got onto the big beach and that was about the last enjoyable part of the walk. People with cars could park there and start their walk. I’d hoped to catch a ride again, but there was hardly any traffic out there. So I powered through, up and down hills, over the gravel roads. In Chanquín I managed to catch a micro for the last 3km. I gladly paid the 500 pesos, about 50 cents.
I wouldn’t wake up on Cole Cole beach, but I had a cosy yurt. I went outside to watch the stars and returned to the warmth of the fire inside. I wouldn’t have to pack a wet tent in the morning, or rush to catch my buses. I didn’t plan it this way, and wouldn’t have dragged my camping gear to that beach otherwise, but I was at peace. None of my days went as expected, but on each of them I got to know interesting people and see new places. That’s it for my time on this island. Thanks for all you’ve brought me Chiloé.
