Bariloche The Final Episode: A Dud-Day in Chile
Expect the Unexpected
I had been eyeing the distant slopes of the Andes Mountains in Chile for weeks. The border was only 80 miles from Bariloche, Argentina and it was a perfect summer day for Mi Esposo and me to drive to Chile for a closer look. A quick stop to fill up the gas tank and for Mi Esposo to stock up with snacks and we were off on our Chilean Adventure. We skirted around the shores of Nahuel Huapi Lake on Ruta Nacional 231, destined for Villa La Angostura, the starting point of the Cardinal Antonio Samoré Pass that would take us over the continental divide into Chile.
Argentina Ruta Nacional 231 would become Route 215 in Chile. And who gives a frog’s croak about the highway route numbers? Interestingly, this small span of highway is a link in the famous Pan-American Highway System, a network of roadways that connects the Americas from the southern tip of South America to the northern shores of the Arctic Ocean.
Recognized in the Guinness World Records as the “world’s longest motorable road” the Pan-American Highway weaves its way through fourteen countries. The highway was originally conceived in 1923 as a singular route 19,000 miles long with only one 66-mile break at the Darién Gap, on the border of Panama and Colombia.
The Darién Gap segment still remains undeveloped, and it is likely to stay that way. The reasons are plentiful, but cost, uncontrollable crime, and dangerous jungle terrain wrap the subject up in a nutshell.
Since its inception, the Pan American Highway System has expanded into a 30,000-mile integrated network of roadways connecting the Americas.
The weather changed drastically at the top of the pass. The thermometer took a steep nosedive and the icy wind blasted through the pass.
Click, click. Snap, snap. “There, I have my photos.”
The border photo op took 20 seconds, then I broke a speed record sprinting back to the warm car.
Note to self: If this was the pass on a “perfect summer day”, pass on driving the pass on a freezing cold winter day.
True to his Canadian heritage, Mi Esposo hunkered down and braved the elements to check out the weird rock formation on the south side of the highway. The deteriorated state of the sign in front of the anomaly gave testimony to the harsh weather conditions that were typical in the mountain pass.
Note the dotted outline on the sign of a former conical volcano depicting steep slopes and a summit crater. This shows the ORIGINAL shape of the now extinct and eroded Cerro Pantojo Piton Volcano BEFORE its slopes were whittled down and blasted into a gazillion particles of volcanic debris.
How does THAT happen?
Over a period of millions of years, volcanic ash and tephra from the erupting volcano dripped into the vent (crater) and hardened slowly forming what is called a “volcanic plug”. For those of us who are newbies to volcanic terms, just think of tephra as “fine-grained particles of volcanic gunk”. That’s MY definition and I like it. There’s a TON of tephra info on the internet if you want to research the more scientific definition. I’m sticking with “volcanic gunk.”
Ok, I get it. The outer volcano was completely blown to smithereens. POOF! GONE! NO MORE!
The ONLY REMAINING PART is the NOW EXPOSED “plug” of hardened rock that used to be inside the vent of the volcano.
That “weird rock formation”, Cerro Pantojo Piton, is a volcanic plug.
Now that we are all savvy about the Cerro Pantojo Piton Volcano, we will sleep better because we have this very important information. In other words, reading about Pantojo Piton is a surefire cure for insomnia.
Traffic was light at the Cardinal Antonio Samoré Border Control Office in Chile. With nothing to declare, and only our passports and the rental car documents to show, we expected to be on our way in no time flat. The Border Agent meticulously scrutinized our documents, occasionally pausing to give us each the one-over eyeball. Still holding our passports, he directed Mi Esposo to step out of the car and pop the trunk open.
A minute later Mi Esposo came back and said in his most officious tone of voice, “We have a problem. I need you to come into the Border Control Office with me.”
“Problem? What kind of problem?”
Mi Esposo ran his hand through his hair, the way he always does when he’s over his head in a situation. “I’m not sure if I really understood what the guy said. I told him you understand Spanish better than I do. I think he said something about smuggling and impounding our car.”
Surely Esposo DID NOT say what I THOUGHT he just said… “SMUGGLING!!?? What the…”
Esposo continued, “I bought a bag of trail mix at the gas station this morning and it had fruit and nuts in it. It was in the trunk and I forgot about it. WE didn’t declare it. The guy said it’s against the law to bring fruit and nuts across the border. I THINK he said they could impound the car and fine us.”
“YOU DID WHAT??!!!” What was this “WE” STUFF? For a moment, I considered ripping Mi Esposo’s lips off. I didn’t forget to declare anything! I didn’t know he bought a bag of trail mix and put it in the trunk! I’m an innocent in this fiasco!
FLASH! I had visions of being locked in an isolated, cold, damp, prison cell somewhere in the Chilean Andes with my daily allotment of a crust of stale moldy bread and a bowl of wormy gruel being passed to me through a small rusty iron-barred window. I wanted to plead, “I didn’t do it! The guy with the ripped off lips did it!
We went into the Border Control Office and spent the next two hours with our butts planted on a hard bench waiting for an English-speaking agent to meet with us. I stood up a couple of times and checked to see if there was a sign posted over our heads – BUSTED FOR SMUGGLING TRAIL MIX!
The agents busied themselves with all sorts of important matters like drinking coffee, shuffling paperwork, chatting in Spanish about the dangers trail mix presented to the national security of Chile, and checking vehicles that drove up to the border. Every so often an agent tossed an inquiring glance our way and another agent brought them up to speed on our case. “Contrabando de mezclas de frutos secos.” (Trail mix smuggling) They all followed suit, nodding in unison, obviously sharing insider knowledge about the “crime” that we weren’t privy to.
My boney butt was getting sore and I was beginning to feel snarky about this border drama. I wanted to say, “Come on guys! It’s a bag of TRAIL MIX, for heaven’s sake, NOT cocaine or heroin. Let’s just toss it in the trash, shake hands, we’ll be on our way and you can go back to drinking your coffee.” My brain still worked. I kept quiet.
Finally, pushing into the third hour, an English-speaking agent reviewed our case with us. Yup! We had the facts straight. They could impound the car, and fine us a truckload of pesos for smuggling prohibited agricultural goods. FYI, those Chile Border hombres were NOT messing with us. They were dead-on serious.
This did NOT fit the happy agenda I had for a quick trip to Chile just for fun. Maybe it was my earnest attempt to talk to the agent in Spanish, as botched up as it was. Or perhaps, it was Mi Esposo’s sincere apology and commitment to NEVER smuggle trail mix across the Chilean border again. Something (God?) inclined the border agent to have mercy on us and dismiss our case. He wished us a safe journey and “Bienvenido a Chile.” Whew! We wasted no time in getting out of there.
With this, my career as an International Smuggler ended. Been there, done that.
A few minutes down the road we saw something that really took us by surprise. We saw the Lone Star Flag of Texas flying near a ranch house set back about a quarter of a mile off the highway.
The decision was a no-brainer. We’d just mosey on up to the house and say, “Howdy y’all! We’re from Texas too!” Wow! We certainly did not expect to discover a Texas rancher in the heart of the Chilean Andes. Heck, as fellow Texans, we were practically family! We pulled up to a single-story log ranch house flanked by an outdoor patio with rustic wood furniture overlooking the mountains. Yup! Rustic wood was as “Texas” as a Texas Longhorn. The guy was probably even going to tell us they called him “Tex” down here in Chile.
A middle-aged man, with dark hair and a hint of grey at the temples, stepped out of the house and walked across the patio toward us. He greeted us in Spanish.
Mi Esposo jumped right in with the introduction, “We’re from Texas. We saw your Texas flag and thought we’d drop by and say hello.”
The man had a perplexed look on his face. Then he replied, “No hablo inglés.” (I don’t speak English)
THAT was NOT the response we expected. We were fellow Texans. This hombre just needed to get the memo straight.
Amping up the size of his big Texas-sized grin, Esposo zeroed in on the MAIN POINT, “We’re from TEXAS. We saw your TEXAS FLAG.”
The man shook his head and replied, “No. No Texas. No hablo inglés. Aquí no hay Texas.” (There’s no Texas here. I don’t speak English.) He shrugged his shoulders, tossed his hands in the air as if to say, “I don’t know what you want.” and bid us a very polite, “Adios” as he went back into the house. The door closed behind him.
We drove back to the highway, totally baffled about WHY a Texas flag was flapping in the wind on a Chilean Ranch in the Andes.
Take a look at these two flags!
HEY! Who came first? Chile or Texas? The winner is…. Chile!! The flag of Chile was designed and adopted on October 18, 1817; whereas, the flag of Texas wasn’t designed and adopted until January 25, 1839.
Although the flags are remarkably similar, the Texas flag was NOT copied from Chile. The symbolism of the colors on each is totally different. Red on the Chilean flag symbolizes the bloodshed during the fight for independence, blue is the sky, and white is the snow in the Andes. In contrast red on the Texas flag symbolizes bravery, blue is loyalty, and white is for purity.
We weren’t the first to be confused by the remarkable similarity of the Chile and Texas flags. In fact, there have been so many digital emojis of the Chile flag being mistakenly sent as the Texas flag, that Texas State Representative Tom Oliverson, of Houston introduced bill HCR75 to “correct the egregious behavior” in the following resolution:
Resolved: That the 85th Legislature of the State of Texas…. urges all Texans not to use the Republic of Chile flag emoji in digital forums when referring to the Lone Star Flag of the great State of Texas.
Of course, we are ALL confident that this resolution of the State of Texas will put an END to the confusion between the Chilean flag and the Lone Star Flag of Texas. Yup, for sure.
Our Chile adventure was shaping up to be a real DUD. The highlights of the day included a volcanic plug, a trial run at international smuggling, a false Texas flag operation, and introducing ourselves to a Texas impostor. What was next on the dud-day agenda? Another half hour and we had to head back to Argentina so we could get across the border before it closed for the night at 6:00 PM.
Then it came in sight nestled amongst the evergreen forested mountains on the shores of Lake Puyehue. The Swiss-inspired Hotel Termas Puyehue Resort captured my interest the moment I laid eyes on it. Mi Esposo and I BOTH agreed it would be a great place to return to on another trip in the future
With our time cut right down to the wire, we took a quick dash around the grounds and through the main lobby of the resort. Everything about the place appeared exceptional. I was impressed!
It was time to make a FAST BEELINE back to the Argentine border - and hope and pray it was a straight shot with NO interference.
Aside from rain, verging on sleet, nothing hindered our return trip. We even drove across the Argentine border without any smuggling hiccups. Mi Esposo waited until AFTER he was back in Argentina before he bought more trail mix.