I take the 7am bus towards Punta Arenas. I´ll change at Kon Aiken for the Osorno bus and then its the long loop through southern Argentina via the Atlantic coast, and the Andes back into Chile. The bus is full leaving Puerto Natales. As well as a sprinkling of backpackers there are a lot of very ditinctive looking gauchos and ranch hands by the looks of them. Rural people, they were berets, not in the french style but more like the caps which were so popular at home 15-20yrs ago. One guy with a wether beaten, tanned, craggy face wears a green knitted cap with a bobble on top. The conductor on this bus looks like a right character. He has almost shifty eyes with greying hair and moustache. He looks like he could be on tv as a mafia don or a new york detective (Law and Order??). He has a certain presence that tells you he´s in control.
We head south from Puerto Natales onto a rolling plain generously sprinkled with windswept trees, all leaning in the direction of the prevailing wind. The morning brightens, a sprinkling of clouds above. We pass estancias (ranches). Everso often the conductor shouts down the aisle to waken a sleeping gaucho to let him know his stop is next. There´s real familiarity here. Everybody seems to know everyone else. Translated from rural Chilean to rural Ireland the conductor´s routine might sound as follows.
"Seamie,.......... Seamie Valdez!! Your stop is next!! .....Seamie...???
"Ara Jaysus... for f**** sake is Valdez asleep again!!??
"Jaysus, Tady would ya ever give yer man next ta ya a puck and wake him up!! ........... Thanks Tady."
Seamie!!??..... Good man Seamie!! Fair play, are ya back with us??....... "Come up here quick or ya´ll miss yer stop!"
Seamie, a small wiry tanned gent, bleary eyed and dressed in cotton shirt and brown woollen jumper, shuffles up to the front with a small rucksack. The conductor, smiling, takes the rucksack from Seamie, allowing him to steady himself. Ushering Seamie into the front cab the conductor gives him a generous pat on the back. He leans into Seamie, conspiratorially, and says
"Come in here quick.... Wait´ll I tell ya..... Have ya heard the latest from the Hernandez ranch??......"
The conductor proceeds to give him all the latest gossip.
Moments later the bus stops. The conductor opens the door, Seamie steps down and the conductor hands down his rucksack, uttering a last few words of wisdom. As the bus pulls away Seamie beams a smile and waves farewell. The conductor answers with a friendly thumbs up.
This scene is repeated as the bus approaches the next estancia. Sometimes three or four ranch hands crowd into the front cab as the conductor regales them with a humorous tale. Peals of laughter from the front kepp everone who isn´t dozing amused. There´s no need for newspapers on this bus. In between times the conductor doles out drinks of coffee from a large flask into small plastic tumblers. He delivers these to all the passengers on a small plastic tray.
By 9.10am we haven´t arrived at Kon Aiken. I expected to have changed buses by now so I´m getting fidgety looking out the window. I´m sitting at the fron of the bus just behind the drivers cab. The conductor glances at me. moments later I see him writing on a scrap of paper. Finished writing he holds up the piece of paper and presses it against the cab window in front of me to read. It says "El autobus...... Punta Arenas 9.30........ Kon Aiken 10.00 horas." He nods with a knowing look, points to his wrist, gives me a thumbs up and an almost north Leitrim style wink. I have to say I was really impressed. I relaxed again in the knowledge we wouldn´t miss our connection. I had the height of respect for him. I smiled to myself. A real Character!!
We reached Kon Aiken around 9.30. About 7-8 of us got off here and the conductor retrieved our rucksacks from the luggage compartment. I thanked the conductor as he handed me my rucksack. He gave me a slap on the shoulder wishing me bueno viaje - good journey.
Kon Aiken marks the most southerly point for me. Its merely a small police/customs post in the middle of nowhere. Waiting for the bus from Punta Arenas I chatted to an Aussie couple and the first thing they commented on was how much of a character that bus conductor was. A short while later we were on the bus bound for Osorno, heading for Rio Gallegos and Argentina.
On this journey I was backtracking over the same country I´d crossed 10 days earlier so it was familiar terrain. I was sitting beside a Chilean guy. Passing through Rio Gallegos the police came on to note our details so it was out with the passports and identity cards. I had my passport open and the guy beside me started to read my details. He suddenly got excited and started talking to me. He pointed at my passport and then indicated my date of birth and showed me his identity card. His date of birth was 4th September, the same as me. Suddenly we were best buddies. He was a year older than me and it seemed therefore that he was keen to take me under his wing and look out for me. His name was Joe. Laughing he told me (in Spanish, he had no English) that it was an English name.
Joe extolled the beauty of Chile. The lovely trees, mountains, waterfalls and lakes, much nicer than Argentina!! He didn´t know I´d already been to that part of Chile but I knew he wasn´t exaggerating. He´s from Castro, a small town on the island of Chiloe, south of Puerto Montt. He indicated the food there was great. I struggled to follow his rapid spanish but I think I got the gist of it.
Other than the border checks the bus didn´t stop all day until 10pm. We stopped for a food break at a small restaurant in a town south of Commodoro Rivadavia. For the previous hour Joe had been indicating we´d be stopping for food soon. He also indicated he was starving. I sat at a table by myself while Joe, at a table chatting with others, kept a paternal view over proceedings. The waitress here wasn´t great. For some reason she appeared not to want to give me any bread. (You always get bread with your meal here). When she spoke I couldn´t understand a word she was saying (Normally I understand the meaning if not all the words when somebody speaks to me) She made no effort to clarify what she was saying to the gringo. Joe noticed this, said something to the waitress and when she still didn´t bring the bread he gave me some from his plate. It was a nice gesture by him.
By 11.30 we were all fed and back on board and the bus drove into the darkness northwest for the lake district and Chile. Joe smiled, took out a can of beer for a nightcap. He offered me one but I politely declined. He downed his drink and fell into a contented sleep.
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