Waiting, waiting, waiting. The 7-hour bus journey from Mendoza, Argentina, to Santiago, Chile, was only a 5 hour drive. The other two hours were spent here at the Los Libertadores border crossing between the two countries, somewhere where things move at a snail’s pace. It looks it but it wasn’t that cold, still t-shirt weather for me. At the Los Libertadores border between Argentina & Chile. September 26, 2015.

Andean scenery descending into Chile from the Los Libertadores border between Argentina & Chile. I was looking forward to the journey today knowing that I was going to cross a section of the Andes. The scenery in parts was smashing, if a bit overcast. En route, & on the Argentinian side of the frontier, we passed through Parque Provincial Aconcagua, location of 6962 metre-high Cerro (Mt.) Aconcagua, the highest mountain in South America. Indeed it’s the highest peak outside of Asia, the highest peak in both the western & southern hemispheres, & is a popular alpine challenge in these part during the climbing season of November through March. September 26, 2015.

My first sighting of an Easter Island moai statue. Tahai on the outskirts of Hanga Roa on Easter Island, also known by its Polynesian name of Rapa Nui. September 27, 2015.

Conditions upon arrival today were glorious; it was sunny & warm. However, the clouds rolled in as the sun was setting with scant breaks in the clouds – with 6 nights here, I have time on my side in order to hopefully get some good sunset pictures. This image was captured at a rather blueish dusk, which is late out here – it was approaching 8 p.m. when I took this picture (Easter Island is GMT-6 hrs). I stood here for some time looking beyond the iconic moai and out over the vastness of the calm Pacific as the last light of my first day on the island slowly, slowly, slowly died. While here I might just have reminded myself how I’d been looking at pictures of this place for aeons. And I also might have, once again, commented silently to myself how cool it was to be here now making my own pictures. And yes, I might also have smiled a few times too. I’ve a few miles on the clock but I still feel oh-so privileged to be here & will hopefully never take moments like I had this evening for granted. Tahai on Easter Island, Chile. September 27, 2015.

Sunset at Tahai on Easter Island, Chile. September 28, 2015.

Playing with an Easter Island sunset. Tahai, Easter Island, Chile. September 28, 2015.

Ahu Tongariki, Easter Island, Chile. September 29, 2015.

Lineup. The 15 moai of Ahu Tongariki on Easter Island, Chile. September 29, 2015.

My first sighing of Ahu Tongariki as seen some distance away from the slopes of Rano Raraku, a crag, or hulking mass of volcanic tuff (compacted volcanic ash) where all the island’s moai were carved. This quarry, the island’s moai production line, is home to about 400 moai in various stages of completion – some are still attached to the bedrock while others are laying in pits awaiting transport to their ahu. Needless to say they aren’t anywhere these days. Ahu Tongariki as seen from Rano Raraku on Easter Island, Chile. September 29, 2015.

Fallen giant. All of the 400 or so moai that dot the coastline of Easter Island were toppled, it is believed because of tribal warfare resulting from the collapse of the societal system that that once prospered and which produced and erected the statues, again it is believed, as a form of ancestor worship. Some of the moai have been restored to their perch, but very few with the 15 moai of Ahu Tongariki the most famous example. The majority, just like this giant at the site One Makihi not far from Ahu Tongariki, lay where they fell all those years ago. A toppled moai at One Makihi, Easter Island, Chile. September 29, 2015.

Easter Island’s Museo Antropologico P. Sebastian Englert was/is awesome. Named after Father Sebastian, a German capuchin missionary who studied the way of life and language of Easter Island society, the museum is short on flashy interactive displays, fancy lighting, & overbearing guards (& it’s minus an entrance fee too). What it does is deliver good information in a simple & concise manner, covering everything from Easter Island’s formation to its early colonizers, to the rise & fall of its indigenous societal plan, & of course the full spiel on the astonishing & unique Neolithic statue cult that saw the production, erection & ultimate toppling of the iconic moai, the enduring symbol of the island. ‘The island of mysteries’ is what the museum claims Easter Island to be, stating that in 300 years of contact with the western world, the island has been represented as a place of unexplained mysteries. Very true – there seems to be an enigma around every corner out here – and it’s the mysteries that add to the fascination of this enchanting place. Museo Antropologico P. Sebastian Englert, Hanga Roa, Easter Island, Chile. September 30, 2015.

I never gave a second thought to the sex of the Easter Island moai (hands up if you did). The feminists out there will be happy to know that yes, indeed there were female moai, with breasts and all, although not very big ones & not too many – only about 10 moai display feminine features out of a total of 887 moai registered (as per figures displayed in the museum). This small female was unearthed as a torso in 1956 by a Norwegian Expedition before being whisked off to Oslo. Amazingly the head was uncovered some 30 years later, in 1988. A request was put in and the torso was returned to Easter Island to be reunited with the head, both now on display to appease the likes of me. Museo Antropologico P. Sebastian Englert, Hanga Roa, Easter Island, Chile. September 30, 2015.

I don’t do selfies – you can probably see why – and I certainly would never upload one to my blog. Not normally. But I’ll make an exception for Easter Island. Plus, it was a slow photography day. dMb selfie at Tahai, Easter Island, Chile. September 30, 2015.

It was busy this evening for sunset at Tahai, busier than I’ve seen it thus far – tonight was my 4th Easter Island sunset. Very few clouds meant the day was smashing but the sunset itself a little too perfect – you need a cloud or two. The post sunset sky was much more photogenic. And I know I’ve already uploaded a few Tahai sunset images but I can’t get enough of the sunsets meaning my blog can’t either. Post sunset silhouette at Tahai, Easter Island. September 30, 2015.

My Easter Island wheels lording over the car park during a stop at Ahu Tongariki. At 20,000 Chilean Pesos (€26) a day, this beast is twice as expensive as a bicycle to hire (yet half the price of anything with 4 wheels) but requires way less than half the energy required of anything with peddles. Plus, it will also get you from A to B many multiples of twice as quick, even heeding the island’s 40-60kph speed limit. All that means it’s a much better option for getting around. I’d probably pimp this with a few dMb logos if not for the fact that they have my credit card on file. Yamaha at Ahu Tongariki, Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

Anakena is a place revered on Easter Island as local lore claims it to be the location where the founding king of Rapa Nui, who led his people to the island by canoe from the Polynesian islands far to the west, first set foot on the island. To say it is pretty is an understatement. The secluded, picture-postcard crescent-shaped bay with golden sand & backed by swaying palm trees is as idyllic as it gets, except for the fact that it could be any beach on any paradise island. What makes it unique to Easter Island is the moai statues found here sitting proudly atop two ahu, Ahu Nau Nau, home to 7 moai (see next picture), & Ahu Ature Huki. The lone squat moai atop Ahu Ature Huki (small spec on the hill to the right of the image) invariably plays second fiddle to the 7 Ahu Nau Nau moai, but it has a story to tell. A trailblazer of sorts, it was the very first moai on the island to be re-erected to a platform; it took 12 (crane-deprived) islanders a mere 18 days to raise the 25-tonne beauty way back in 1955 – any other moai found on an Easter Island ahu these days was erected/restored post this date. Anakena, Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

All Easter Island moai were carved in a highly stylized manner & even though it is thought the statues were created over a 500+ year period, with production peaking in the 15th century, all share the same characteristics, excellently demonstrated by the moai profiles of this picture. All have rounded bellies & with arms placed tightly by their sides, so tightly in fact that they can appear armless; all have long-fingered hands that are always placed across their abdomen; and their heads are long & rectangular, with long drooping ears, pointed chins, prominent, angular noses & thin, tight lips. Another prominent moai feature is their headgear, the dark-red pukao, cylindrical topknots worn today by only a few of the moai standing on Easter Island ahu, 70 being the figure mentioned in some quarters. Themselves weighing upwards of 12 tonnes, the pukao were quarried in a separate part of the island before being placed on the erect moai. No one knows how this was done, a monumental task even for the hydraulic cranes of today. Likewise, there’s only speculation as to what the topknots represent, though they are likely just a simple representation of a topknot, a decorative headdress. This is the largest concentration of mounted topknots on the island. Some like their Easter Island moai con (with) topknot, some prefer them sin (without) topknot. I’m all for topknots, especially beautifully preserved, deep-red ones like those seen here, so needless to say I loved the moai lineup here at Anakena. Ahu Nau Nau, Anakena, Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

The head moai statue on the outer, sea-facing slopes of Rano Raraku. All Easter Island moai were chiselled out of tuff rock until they were attached to the bedrock only by a thin keel at their back. When complete, except for their eye sockets which were always fitted when the moai was erect on its ahu, they were freed and slid down the quarry’s slope to be temporarily stored in pits prior to being transported to their ahu. Of course how the 20 to 25-tonne (on average, some finished statues weigh 90 tonnes) statues were transported is one of the biggest Easter Island enigmas (as is how they were erected once they arrived at their platforms). Theories abound, everything from island lore claiming the moai walked to their platforms using their mana (supernatural power or force) to being rolled via wooden rollers, the most widely accepted theory & accepted reason for the deforestation of the island. This moai, located today well away from the Rano Raraku rock face, was probably completed, or very close to, and was awaiting transport to its designated ahu. Needless to say it went on further and today it just one of many I-never-reached-my-full-potential moai lining a well-trodden path on the outer slopes of Rano Raraku. Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

Gas craic they were, the lads, if a bit dry. Most of the moai heads in Rano Raraku do have bodies. They are full statues buried or encroached upon by surrounding soil over the years (think iceberg, with only a small portion visible). Walking among these moai figures was like being in some sort of Neolithic statue theme park, except it was real. Very real. I also had the whole scene, one of the most gorgeous places I’d ever been to, all to myself. It was beyond awe-inspiring, oh-so memorable. But little did know it was only going to get better. Hanging out in Rano Raraku crater on Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

I clambered up to the rim of the Rano Raraku crater, not sure if I was supposed to – there was a trail, albeit an obscure one. The very last portion of the accent, to the very rim of the crater, saw me pull myself up onto a rock to access the ledge. Once there I looked down, only to realise I was standing on the massive face of an unfinished moai. I stopped dead. I was frozen. It was an amazing moment and as I lived it the obvious kept coming to the forefront of my thoughts – how the hell, upon completion, did the carvers ever proposed getting the thing down (before reminding myself they’d somehow managed it many, many times already)? Once I was finished pondering and taking in my surrounds I found the time for this picture, one I know I’ll treasure for a long, long time. Rano Raraku crater, Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

The view from the ridge of the windswept Rano Raraku crater, looking towards the east of the island and the 15 moai of Ahu Tongariki, was something special (everything about today at Rano Raraku was). Having a massive unfinished moai up here with me was just the icing on the cake. Easter Island, Chile. October 1, 2015.

Today’s sunset wasn’t up to much either. But I was still there in Tahai on the outskirts of Hanga Roa just in case, & just like I have been every night I’ve been here, to see whatever there was to see of my sixth & last Easter Island sundown. Again my camera stayed in my bag. I took it out on the way back to my guesthouse when passing Hanga Roa’s quaint little harbour, somewhere I’ve passed many times this week & somewhere that’s overlooked by Ahu Tautira, home to the only moai in the town proper. Dusk at Hanga Roa harbour, Easter Island, Chile. October 2, 2015.

Me again, this time on the roads of eastern Easter Island. Sharing the frame with me here is some of the many horses that roam all over the island (along with the cows) and in the distance is the upper reaches of the moai quarry of Rano Raraku. Southern coastal road pit stop on Easter Island, Chile. October 2, 2015.

It’s not the island’s remoteness. It’s not the mysteries or enigmas associated with it. It’s not even the iconic moai statues. Nope, the real reason people venture to Easter Island is to get the stamp. Available in the tiny Hanga Roa Post Office to anyone who presents their passport (or just a piece of paper for that matter), the Isla de Pascua (Easter Island in Spanish) stamp is the ultimate Rapa Nui keepsake. This is mine taking pride of place on page 22 of my passport. It was acquired today before hitting the road and is seen here as photographed from atop a hill overlooking the beach at Anakena, somewhere that looked so much more inviting in yesterday’s sunshine. Passport stamp overlooking Anakena, Easter Island, Chile. October 2, 2015.

I’ve just taken off & I’m en route back the South American mainland. My 7-day holiday within a holiday – South America – within a holiday – my general being – is over. It was an amazing last week experiencing a truly amazing location, one big outdoor museum, the remnants of a unique cultural phenomenon that thrived in isolation on a small island in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean. An iPod shot of the southern coast & eastern portion of Easter Island as seen after take-off of LAN flight LA842 en route to Santiago, Chile. October 3, 2015.

Sunrise at Ahu Tongariki, Easter Island, Chile. October 3, 2015.

Awaiting sunrise at Ahu Tongariki, Easter Island, Chile. October 3, 2015.

On the platform of Quinta Normal Metro station in Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

A portion of Santiago as seen from Terraza Bellavista on Cerro San Cristobal. The lookout is accessed via a rickety 500- metre-long Funicular. Installed in the 1920s, it’s still going strong today and was designated a Chilean National Historic Landmark in 2000. I held off coming up here in the hopes of getting a clear day – seemingly the views of the snow-capped Andes in the distance are smashing proving that, and for all its lack of must-see sights, Santiago does boast one of the most dazzling backdrops of any city on earth. Of course it was overcast when I was here so I didn’t see a dazzling anything, just a sprawling city. Seen here is Latin America’s tallest skyscraper, the 300 metre-high Gran Torre Santiago in the city’s economic boom financial district, a.k.a. Sanhattan, at the base of which is the aforementioned Costanera Center. Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

A picture of architectural contrasts showing one of Santiago’s modern-day glass office towers in the vicinity of one of the city’s finer colonial-era churches, the Neo-Renaissance Basilica de la Merced, probably my favourite Santiago church (& there are a few). Santiago, Chile. October 5, 2015.

Needless to say, as a former colonial-era capital Santiago has its fair share of fancy buildings. This is the Museo de Bellas Artes, one of the nicer buildings in the city. Built to commemorate the centenary of Chile’s 1818 independence from Spain, it’s a copy of the Petit Palais in Paris & houses a fine collection of work by Chilean artists. It’s located on the edge of the city’s Parque Forestal. Following the course of the city’s Mapocho River, it’s a pleasant place to stroll, a narrow park with long rows of trees & winding footpaths. Museo Nacional de Belle Artes in Santiago, Chile. October 5, 2015.

The massive expanse of an empty Estacion Mapocho, an immense stone & metal railway station built in 1912 to serve as the terminal for the now disused Santiago-Valparaíso railway line. Closed in 1987, it was remodelled & in 1994 it opened as a cultural & exhibition centre & concert venue; it has hosted the likes of the Dalai Lama, the Spanish Royal Family, Stephen Hawking &, emm Slayer but today it was nice and empty while playing host to me & my wide-angle lens. Estacion Mapocho, Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

Activity in Feria Municipal La Vega, the city’s main fruit market. This place doesn’t attract many tourists even though it’s located just across the road from the much more touristy Mercado Central, Santiago’s main market & one especially famous for its seafood (& high seafood prices). Feria Municipal La Vega, Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

Serving both males & females, Santiago’s stand-up coffee bars are staffed exclusively by easy on the eyes girls, girls that wear tight-fitting, revealing uniforms, high heels & big, big smiles; they are… & how do I put this?… very friendly. They are also elevated behind the counter – a prominent cleavage looks even more prominent when forced to lean forward I guess – and they serve good, cheap coffee. You just best not hang around too long for fear of being branded a perv, something you’ll definitely be branded should you pull out a camera in here. (In my defence, I had just bought a new lens and I was keen to try it out. Honest). Haiti Cafe in central Santiago, Chile. October 5, 2015.

What started out as a location for 19th century aristocratic families to build their fine country houses, most of which still stand amid flowing gardens, quickly blossomed into a district of artists & intellectuals. Today Bellavista is a colourful & bohemian (meaning it’s ok for some areas to be somewhat rundown & downright edgy) district awash with graffiti & street art, & full of galleries, unconventional this & hip that. It also boasts many raucous cafes & bars, busy during the day but even busier at night with students, travellers, artists & writers. Bellavista, Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

The only blip on the post-colonial governmental copybook was the infamous military regime of the 70s & 80s, led by the dictator Augusto Pinochet. During this era, when all forms of political dissent were brutally suppressed, there were 4 detention & torture centres in the Santiago region, only one of which survives today thanks to a long and protracted battle by survivors, victims’ families and human rights groups. Over a one year period, between September 1973 & September 1974, 96 people, all considered opponents of the Pinochet dictatorship, were murdered here in the rooms of a house on Londres 38 in the Paris-Londres barrio (neighbourhood) of the city, a pretty district of sinuous cobbled streets overlooked by 1920s mansions. Today the 3-storey house, open to the public & simply called Londres 38, is used for exhibitions, workshops & talks on the dark past but when I passed through its rooms, with creaky floors & musty smells, were solemnly empty save for pictures on the walls and random pieces of furniture dotted here & there. The Londres 38 detention centre in central Santiago, Chile. October 6, 2015.

Pasaje Bavestrello, Valparaíso, Chile. October 7, 2015.

Today’s Valparaíso is a quirky, gritty port city draped over an amphitheatre of steep hills around a wide bay. Those hills, full of ramshackle buildings, vistas & snaking alleyways decorated by local artists, are accessed by unique age-old ascensores, funiculars, like the Ascensor Artilleria seen here overlooking the city’s bay & port. Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

Cerro Polanco is hilly & colourful, just like the rest of the city, not to mention one of the less salubrious parts of town; after taking this photo I was barked at by a considerate local to put away my camera. I heeded the advice but it was tough wandering the district’s warren of snaking graffiti & art-ridden alleyways without a camera. In the Cerro Polanco district of Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

The undercarriage of Ascensor Artilleria in Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

Approaching the top of Ascensor Artilleria. Built in 1893, this is probably the most popular of the city’s remaining ascensores. The short ride from bottom to top, which will set you back a whopping 300 CLP (€0.40), deposits you at a lookout terrace in the Paseo 21 de Mayo offering sweeping view of the city, its port & the whole bay of Valparaíso. Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

A row of corrugated iron buildings in the Bellavista district of Valparaiso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

In the twisting lanes of Cerro Concepcion, Valparaíso, Chile. October 7, 2015.

A corrugated iron abode in Cerro Concepcion, Valparaíso, Chile. October 7, 2015.

The aptly named Bellavista (beautiful view) district of Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

Dog tired in Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

Located in Plaza Sotomayor, one of the city’s many plazas & the focal point of the city’s port region, the Armada de Chile building is currently is home to the headquarters of the Chilean Navy. It’s a gorgeous blue & black hunk of a building that looked great when late afternoon light was reflected onto its façade from a nearby tower block. The Armada de Chile building on Plaza Sotomayor in Valparaíso, Chile. October 7, 2015.

Valparaíso, Chile. October 8, 2015.

Steaming Volcan Villarrica as seen from Pucon in the Chilean Lake District, a region of lush farmland, forests, lakes, & snow-capped volcanoes.

Going Down || Today was a good day to get some structure into the rest of the trip south, something I’ve needed to do for a while now. Knowing I’m going south is about as straightforward as it gets. I’ll be making the 2500 kilometre trip from here to Ushuaia in Argentina’s Tierra del Fuego – as far south as I’ll go on South American terra firma & whose motto is ‘The end of the world, the beginning of everything’ – mostly through Chile; as far as I can discern, Argentina has the better roads, Chile the better adventure. I won’t exactly be breaking out claiming hitherto undiscovered lands for the Irish State but lack of infrastructure in sparely populated regions, hostile topography, a capricious climate, & the need to rely on sporadically scheduled transport means things could be a tad less convenient, for want of a better word, from here on out. It, whatever awaits on the southern horizon, at least reads as quite the escapade, one that now has a face thanks to the crude itinerary I sketched over a few coffees while sheltering from the elements in a Pucon café.

The most popular trek in the 125 km² Parque Nacional Huerquehue, one of 96 state protected national parks in Chile that combine to protect 20% of the country’s landmass, is the Sendero Los Lagos, Lakes Trail, a 14 kilometre loop trail that takes you up through dense forest, past waterfalls, and around 5 of the parks lakes ultimately to an area 1300 metres above sea level that is dense with the amazing araucaria, a.k.a. the Monkey Puzzle tree. This is Lago Tinquilco, tinquilco being a native Pehuenche Indian word meaning ‘calm waters’, one of the hike’s 5 lakes & the largest of Parque Nacional Huerquehue’s 22 lakes. The lake was anything but calm when I skirted its eastern shore towards the end of the day but heading into the park earlier in the morning, when this image was captured, the waters were indeed calm, a striking picture of reflecting beauty. Spot the rogue orange abode among the endless greenery to the left of the image. Reflections on Lago Tinquilco in Parque Nacional Huerquehue, Lake District, Chile. October 12, 2015.

Going up, up, up towards the trek’s 1300 metre ceiling, one passes a few lookouts. This is the view from the trail’s 953 metre-high lookout number 1 showing Lago Tinquilco in the foreground and the smoking, snow-blanketed Volcan Villarica some distance off. Captured about 1 hour into the 6 hour round trip hike, the weather deteriorated after this such that the volcano wasn’t visible on the return some 5 hours later. Scenery in Parque Nacional Huerquehue, Lake District, Chile. October 12, 2015.

Founded in 1769 as a Spanish stronghold, the Ancud region would become the very last foothold of the Spanish crown in South America. That’s quite an historic titbit for such a quaint little fishing village on an island off the Chilean coast. It was here, at the town’s small Fuerte de San Antonio, in January 1826 that the last pocket of Spanish resistance to the independence movement sweeping South America finally fell. Today the reconstructed fort offers great views of the Golfo de Quetalmahue and beyond to the Pacific Ocean, not to mention an abundance of beautifully-smelling gorse bushes, an evergreen shrub that blankets most of rural Chiloe and one that brings me back to my childhood having grown up surrounded by them. Late afternoon at Fuerte de San Antonio, Ancud, Chiloé, Chile. October 21, 2015.

Shingles & shadows in the village of Chonchi, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

Boat maintenance at low tide fronting a palafito in Fiordo de Castro in Castro, Chiloé‘s largest settlement & the third-oldest city in Chile – it was founded way back in 1567. Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

Palafitos lining Fiordo de Castro at low tide in Castro. For the afternoon I snooped around Castro it was the lowest (farthest) ebb of the tide, low tide in simple speak. Would the palafitos have been more picturesque with the water of the Fiordo de Castro lapping their stilts? Maybe, maybe not. But at high tide I wouldn’t have been able to capture this shot, one I got by wading out into the low tide muck among smells & discarded rubbish of the exposed riverbed, not to mention into a hostile stamping ground of some very irritated Castro gulls. Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

A picture of colourful palafitos that haven’t felt water in quite a while. With the palafito the idea was that one could moor their boat at the back door and walk through their abode to the street fronting it. The remaining Castro palafitos are some of the oldest structures still standing in the city, one that has been rocked by many a natural and man-made disaster over the years – the earthquake of 1960, the most powerful on record, was particularly destructive. Today, very few palafitos, most of which look, at least from the water, like they’ll be washed away on the next high tide, serve their original purpose with many having been spruced up & converted into boutique hotels and chic restaurants & cafes. Castro, Chiloé , Chile. October 22, 2015. Palafitos in Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

Digging for razor clams at low tide in Fiordo de Castro, Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

The spires of Iglesia de San Francisco de Castro overlooking Plaza Armas in Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

The largest of Chiloé’s churches is the yellow & purple Iglesia San Francisco de Castro in Castro. Designed in 1906, it’s an amazing ironclad wooden structure that is a mixture of Classical & neo-Gothic styles. On a beautiful day in Castro, I knew the evening shadows would suit the wonderfully shingled facade well so I hung around for the spectacle. It was worth the wait. Fronting the UNESCO-listed Iglesia de San Francisco de Castro in Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

The interior architecture of Chiloé’s churches didn’t vary much either – regardless of their size, all churches have three naves separated by columns with the larger buildings supporting barrel-vaulted ceilings. Both the interiors I poked around blew me away; everything from floor to high-vaulted ceiling was wooden and impeccably preserved & presented. This is a section of the interior of Castro’s Iglesia San Francisco de Castro, a wonderful blend of the island’s native hardwoods that’s beautifully illuminated by rows of stained-glass windows. Castro, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

More colourful Chiloé wooden architecture, this time the of Museo de las Tradiciones in Chonchi, south of Castro. While Chonchi’s big draw, and the sole reason I paid the village a visit, is its sky-blue, UNESCO-listed church, the village, founded in 1767, also boasts the most sheltered harbour on Chiloé. As a result its bustling little waterfront is busier than one might expect for a settlement of its size. Chonchi, Chiloé, Chile. October 22, 2015.

A life ring of the Valparasio registered Queulat (slowly) plying the Canal Moraleda en route from Quellon, Chiloe, to Puerto Chacabuco, Aysen, Chile. October 25, 2015.

Perennially rain-swept, Aysen is the wettest, wildest, greenest & narrowest part of a narrow country. It’s a very sparsely populated, cut-off region with a largely backward outlook & feel, one still boasting areas of untouched wilderness – fjords, snow-capped peaks, lakes, river, Ice Age glaciers, & rainforest. Compared with the rest of the country, transport options here are few, roads even fewer, & with many an inconvenience. This ferry just happens to be the first of the Aysen inconveniences for me. (Not that it’s really inconvenient. If anything it’s a welcome break from the South American bus norm.) Canal Moraleda, Aysen, Chile. October 25, 2015.

Movie time. This image makes the Queulat’s interior look more inviting than it actually is; it’s the angle. TVs in the emm, lounge area playing dodgy movies with even dodgier dubbing. Lest I sound like a grump, but it’s kind of annoying. On the Queulat en route from Quellon, Chiloe, to Puerto Chacabuco, Aysen, Chile. October 25, 2015.

Plaza de Armas, Coyhaique, Aysen, Chile. October 26, 2015.

The streets of Coyhaique en route to the town’s small bus station for the early morning bus south on the Carretera Austral/Ruta 7 to Cochrane. Coyhaique, Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2015.

A bus breather by the shores of Lago General Carrera, South America’s second largest lake, in Puerto Rio Tranquilo while heading south on Ruta 7 from Coyhaique to Cochrane. The 335 kilometres of Ruta 7 I rode today, & despite an obvious lack of tarmac/asphalt (very little of Ruta 7 is paved, yet), was smooth enough. Bumpy at times but smooth enough; I’d certainly no need for that doggy bag (although others did put them to use). All told I was pleasantly surprised. I was distracted too. The scenery en route was nice, once I was able to see through the dust & especially once I was out of the bus itself. Puerto Rio Tranquilo, Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2016.

Lago General Carrera as seen from Puerto Rio Tranquilo during a break in the journey south to Cochrane via Ruta 7. Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2016.

On Lago Brown in Cochrane, Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2015.

Cochrane has a central plaza too. It’s not five-sided but it’s still nice, the centre of which is marked by this rather neat monument which I’m assuming is some reference to the local fauna; the small Tourist Information kiosk on the plaza wasn’t manned to verify (there is one here, honest). Plaza de Armas, Cochrane, Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2015.

I made a beeline for the hill overlooking the town when I laid eyes on the Hollywood sign atop it that Cochrane has going on. Cochrane, Aysen, Chile. October 27, 2015.

On the boardwalks of Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

Low tide in Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 28, 2015.

The boardwalks of Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

Gathering wood in Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

A weathered house off the boardwalks of Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile October 29, 2015.

A boat repair yard in Junquillo, Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

Boardwalk buddies walking in Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

Yes Caleta Tortel has a beach. More a sandbar at one end of the settlement, it’s called a beach (Playa Ancha) but it’s not a beach in the truest sense of the word – a sign at the end of the walkway providing access warns that Playa Ancha is ‘Unfit For Bathing’. Whatever about bathing, it’s certainly fit for photography; at low tide, when it feels like you can wade right out to waves of the Pacific Ocean itself, the views back towards the cliff-hugging settlement of Caleta Tortel & the far-off peaks are smashing. Playa Ancha, Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

This was my first look at Caleta Tortel, a view the bay/cove (caleta) at the northern end of the settlement as seen from the car park area at the end of the branch road off the Ruta 7, 465 kilometres & some 9-10 hours drive on a gravel road from the regional capital of Coyhaique. As far as cars or buses can go, from here Caleta Tortel is all boardwalks, all unique. Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

There’s nothing unique about the Caleta Tortel dogs. As with most places in Chile, dogs far outnumber humans on the boardwalks of Caleta Tortel. I picked up many a friend during my rambles; without fail they’d first bark at me from afar with uncalled-for hostility before warming to me as I approach & then accompanying me until such time as they got bored. This was one of my shaggy companions over the past few days resting on the boardwalk outside the entrance to my guesthouse after an afternoon ramble today. Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

This kid didn’t know what to make of me as I was photographing him & his home. Then I put the camera down and waved. He waved back, with hola & smiles included. Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

This, I’m assuming, is a monument to the logging origins of Caleta Totel in the settlement’s Plaza Orompello. Surprisingly, I didn’t see and nor is there any obvious signs of the settlements logging past or present. No piled lumber, no yards, no log processing plants, no catchment areas. Nada. Plaza Orompello, Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

A disused boat resting by the Baker River on the outskirts of Caleta Tortel. Further than the boardwalks go, this riverbank area was extremely photogenic with blue waters & misty, snow-capped peaks towering in the distance. By the Baker River outside Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 28, 2015.

Yesterday may have been a wet day but at least that meant puddles on the Caleta Tortel boardwalks. And puddles mean reflections. It has been a while since I played with reflections. Way too long, something I put that right yesterday evening. Boardwalk reflections in Caleta Tortel, Aysen, Chile. October 28, 2015.

The wet boardwalks of Caleta Tortel in Aysen, Chile. October 28, 2015.

A Halloween parade by Plaza de Armas, Cochrane, Aysen, Chile. October 29, 2015.

I ably killed the time I needed to kill this afternoon in Cochrane’s Nacionpatagonia, a small café cum artisan woolen mill. The café was manned by a delightful old man, Gabriel, who, and despite the language barrier, was able to tell me he was at the forefront of an ongoing campaign to prevent big business erecting pylons through the pristine Chilean Patagonian landscape – the café also seemed to have a role as a sort of campaign office. He was also very interested in me, specifically where I came from (his National Geographic map of Europe had Wicklow labelled, enabling me to pinpoint on the map, via a blue ink circle, exactly where home was) & he was noticeably pleased when I was able to assure him that these days there is no longer any cross-border hostilities between northern & southern Ireland (I also had to confirm that yes, The North is still part of the U.K.). However, the best part of the few hours I spent here was when Gabriel left for lunch, locking me in in the process. Of course he checked with me to see if doing so OK before telling me he’d be gone for 10 minutes – it was more like half an hour – during which time, & not surprisingly, no one came to the door looking for a coffee (large windows on two sides meant it would have been somewhat awkward situation for me if they did). Before he left Gabriel told me to help myself to coffee in his absence. I’ll admit I was tempted but those shiny chrome coffee machines have way too many knobs to mess with, plus they emit high-powered steam. I did tend to the jumpy Santana CD Gabriel left playing, about as adventurous as I got while locked in a café overlooking a plaza in a sleepy Chilean Patagonian town, a time killing session I’ll not forget in a hurry. Nacionpatagonia Cafeteria off Plaza de Armas, Cochrane, Aysen, Chile. October 30, 2015.

I’d been treated to views of Lago General Carrera some days ago now en route to Cochrane but today I saw quite a bit more of what is South America’s second largest lake, one that stretches east of here into Argentina where it changes its name to be called a very Argentinian Lago Buenos Aires. The bus I rode today from Cochrane here to Chile Chico hugged the lakes southern shore, the windy, dusty dirt road dipping up & down and weaving side to side. The going is slow but the views of the rocky, sharp-peaked mountains encircling the lake, & even through dirty windows, were nice. Lago General Carrera en route from Cochrane, via Puerto Guadal, to Chile Chico, Aysen, Chile. October 30, 2015.

My last stop on this particular visit to Chile was Magical (Magico) Chile Chico, the self-proclaimed Wonder of Patagonia (Maravilla de la Patagonia). A small, agricultural town (it’s known through Chile for its cherries), Chile Chico is only 6 kilometres west of the Rio Jeinimeni border with Argentina and 8 kilometres from the Argentine town of Los Antiguos (UPDATE || Los Antiguos was from where I was to start a long bus journey through Patagonian steppe in getting to get to my next stop of El Calafate in Argentina). Chile Chico, Aysen, Chile. October 30, 2015.

The access town for Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine some 120 kilometres away (yes, the park is kind of remote), there’s not a whole lot to do here but, and even though it’s so far south and so remote, it is still typically Chilean – a laid-back town of friendly locals & low-rise, colourful, galvanised, wood-and-tin architecture. Buildings on Blanco Encalada in Puerto Natales, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 6, 2015.

It says it all about Puerto Natales that its only real attraction per se is the badly eroded remnants of a wharf, the Braun & Blanchard wharf, reaching out into the Seno Ultima Esperanza (Last Hope Sound). That said, it’s a strangely photogenic sight, especially with the peaks of Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine in the distance. The channel that Puerto Natales sit on was named by the 14th century explorer Juan Ladrilleros who came upon it when at the end of his tether searching for the western entrance to the Magellan Strait further south. Puerto Natales, Patagonian Chile. November 6, 2015.

Moves in the Skate Park by Seno Ultima Esperanza in Puerto Natales, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 6, 2015.

Strays & Torres del Paine traveller services. That’s likable Puerto Natales in a nutshell. Puerto Natales, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 6, 2015.

The low-rise, wood-and-tin buildings Puerto Natales. Picture captured en route to the bus station for the bus to Punta Arenas. Puerto Natales, Chile. November 9, 2015.

Walking a section of the 18 kilometre-long Base de Las Torres trail in Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 7, 2015.

It took me 150 minutes of mostly uphill walking to cover the 9 kilometres separating the Base de Las Torres trail head from the shores of Laguna Torres, seen here. I hung around here for a few hours before retracing my steps hoping the clouds would break. They didn’t. But it was still good to just be here, one of the most iconic locations on the whole South American traveller’s circuit. Laguna Torres at the end of the Base de Las Torre trail in Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 7, 2015.

There they are, the missing pieces. While I didn’t see them today in person, I’d been looking at the Torres del Paine on the rear of the Chilean 1000 peso (€1.35) note almost every day since first entering Chile back on September 24th. I needn’t have bothered coming here at all. Parque Nacional Torres Del Paine, southern Patagonia, Chile. November 7, 2015.

The end. Almost. Overlooking the Strait of Magellan from Mirador Cerro La Cruz in Punta Arenas, Chile. November 9, 2015.

Cementerio Municipal in Punta Arenas, Chile. November 9, 2015.

A monument depicting a Selk’nam Indian, the now extinct people native to these lands prior to the arrival of European settlers, is surrounded by plaques conveying the gratitude of those whose wishes it has allegedly granted. If you touch (some say kiss) the Indian’s polished hand, tradition has it that you’ll return to Punta Arenas. I forgot to do so. Damn. Cementerio Municipal in Punta Arenas, Chile. November 9, 2015.

There’s a lot of history around here and even the discarded, rusting wrecks of Punta Arenas have a story to tell. This is the wreck of the 81 metre-long windjammer County of Peebles, the world’s very first four-masted, iron-hulled full-rigged ship. Built in 1875 in Glasgow, Scotland, it was purchased by the Chilean Navy in 1898 before being used as a coal hulk (a ship that is afloat but is incapable of going to sea). It was beached as a breakwater in the mid-1960s and today is one of the more unusual ‘attractions’ of the city. Punta Arenas, Chile. November 10, 2015.

Housed in the former city’s naval headquarters, the Punta Arenas Museo Naval y Maritimo (the Naval & Maritime Museum) was worth the look I gave it. With lots of cool period pictures, the museum is obviously full of information detailing the maritime history of the region, not to mention the formation and history of the Chilean navy & its explorations of the southern waters. However, I primarily paid a visit for its Antarctica displays, part of which is a big chunk of real Antarctic ice preserved behind glass. Just, you know, in case I don’t get to Antarctica in the coming weeks. A chunk of Antarctic ice on display in the Punta Arenas Museo Naval y Maritimo (the Naval & Maritime Museum). This was a good in Punta Arenas, Chile. November 10, 2015.

The Ferdinand Magellan statue in the centre of the shady and tranquil Plaza Munoz Gamero, the town’s central plaza. Punta Arenas, Chile. November 10, 2015.

There are penguins around here. For sale off Plaza Munoz Gamero in Punta Arenas, Chile. November 10, 2015.

A Magellanic penguin on Isla Magdalena in the Magellan Strait, Chile. November 10, 2015.

A pair of Magellanic penguins on Isla Magdalena in the Magellan Strait, Chile. November 10, 2015.

I Love Patagonia. Indeed. And I’m sad to be leaving. Punta Arenas, Chile. November 10, 2015.