Playing the Waiting Game

One thing I can say about my time in Chile is that I have done a lot of waiting. I think I’m getting good at it even.

• About 45 minutes in the immigration line, twice (I hadn’t paid the tax first)
• In line at the grocery stores, which have moved incredibly slowly
• For the bus to take off
• For cheese and vegetables to arrive in the local supermarkets

The most prominent wait so far, though, was on our ferry ride to Chaitén. For context, Matt and I had already experienced something of a comedy of errors on our journey southward. Patagonia is an incredible place that is not easy to get to. We made our 14-hour bus ride from Santiago to Puerto Montt after a short and lively sprint through Santiago on Friday morning. It got in so late that night that we didn’t connect to the internet nor check-in with Phoebe, who had made reservations for our bus the next day, before going to sleep.

At 2am Matt gets a call from Phoebe which I sleepily overhear: our 7am bus ticket reservations have been given up in favor of some folks who were able to pay up-front. She made reservations for us on the 2am ferry which was leaving… already. I didn’t give Phoebe my cell phone number (drat!) and Matt had his phone off during the bus ride as it was low on battery. We recall the garbled message from the woman who had let us into the hostel – saying that a woman had called to say check your mail. It’s too late now, we’ll sort everything out in the morning.

Castro on the Island of Chiloe.

In the end we have to take a bus to Castro on the island of Chiloé the next afternoon and a ferry from Chiloé to Chaitén the following day Sunday. I could not complain about the new plan – Castro is a gorgeous town and we luck out with a hot sunny day. We find an adorable and cheap hostel near the water for that night, come upon a cool reggae band Eleva while walking by the port, and stumble upon a Catholic wedding in the San Francisco church among other things during our time in Castro. The next day we arrive at the port at 10am for our 11am ferry ride.

On the short ferry ride across the water to Castro.

First, they are having trouble getting 3 huge oil tankards on the ferry. We wait patiently with a few hundred other passengers to board the boat. Around 12pm we finally get on the boat, from which we have a great view of the bay, and of the tankards as they continue trying to back them down the ramp and onto the boat. We don’t leave until 2:30pm, which unbeknownst to us means that when we arrive at the port in Chaitén tide will be too low to get off.

When we arrive at the port in Chaitén we hear the announcement: due to low tide, all passengers will have to remain on the boat until 11:40pm. The announcement is met with a sardonic cheer from many, outrage by others, and complacency by some. What can we do? Our 9 1/2 hour trip just turned into a 13 hour trip, as it did for the other 200 or so people on the boat. Phoebe is waiting to pick us up on shore. “I’m watching you guys come in!” she says when she calls. “…We’re not coming!” I respond.

In the end, an extra 4 1/2 hours are a good chance to interact more with a big family from Santiago I met on the ferry (parents with their 4 young boys and a baby girl!), and to teach a handful of international backpackers my favorite card games. Meanwhile a group of revolutionaries begin to organize, make demands of the captain, and plan a peaceful protest. The whole thing is just a bit more exciting to me than it is boring, and not having anything pressing to get to, I am able to entertain myself and enjoy the experience as a monument of the way things are in Patagonia. After all, along with waiting comes improvising, one of my favorite things and an important skill in a place where, according to a lot of the locals on the boat, this sort of thing is very normal.

Passengers organizing below deck.

After several hours of silence, the crew provides a free snack to passengers around 10:30 and organizes sleeping space for stranded travelers in the school’s gym. A few people will go through with the protest – to not leave the boat until some reparations are made (it will last about 25 minutes) – but most are satisfied enough by the solutions. By midnight we are getting off the boat and meeting Phoebe, who has come back to get us in a decrepit van along with a group of folks waiting to get on the same ferry to head up to Puerto Montt (in the meantime the van had broken down and been fixed twice). After a quick 45-minute wait for the other passengers, vehicles, and then the protesters to get off the boat, the folks in our van get out and head down to get on the van, and we are off to El Quijote hostel, where the beers are cold, the small welcome party is cheerful, and the beds are cozy.