Rain

I can’t remember the last time we had to huddle aboard GANNET2 with the sound of wind and rain slashing the walls and roof of our home. Without giving it too much thought I think it was in Ecuador about five months ago while we were butterfly hunting in Mindo when the heavens opened. That was on the tail end of a rainy season that had been dumping on us from time to time since Guatemala maybe.  And then there was yesterday. 

It didn’t last all day but as the weather forecast predicted it rained from late morning to early afternoon with gusts of freezing cold wind. I laid on the bed with Rusty my hot water bottle, and read Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” the story of the cruelty of conquest up the steaming River Congo a fearsome contrast to our own modest frigid situation. 

There is, we are well aware, much more of this to come as we go deeper to the south. Patagonia is down there somewhere, a land of rain and winds so strong anything not pinned down gets blown over the horizon; a place of fearsome stories of car doors incautiously opened being torn off their hinges, where campers write in iOverlander of lovely  spots only viable if they are out of the frigid winds. 

It is obvious now we should have installed a heater system aboard GANNET2 and when we go home I have been eyeing a blower furnace that can be plumbed into the gasoline tank to produce warm dry air on demand. We will get it before we go to Alaska because yesterday’s taste of cold wet wind was what we can expect more of in the land down under. 

And as you might expect it was a day of cloudy beauty, white caps ruffling Lake Calafquén, deserted on a national holiday until the squalls moved on leaving us to freeze on the beach in little clumps of holiday walkers determined to enjoy a stroll in cold afternoon winds. 

Rusty was having none of it. He may be old but he had better bladder control than I. He poked his nose out in the rain and hid under the picnic table for a while but that was it. I tried to go for a stroll between rain showers but he, as you can see above was not inclined to stray far from home.

We had been considering a departure for Valdivia three hours to the west, a city said to be of great beauty on a confluence of rivers not far from the beach. However November 1st is a national holiday and Valdivia is reported to be not only the earthquake capital of Chile but also the wettest spot with the highest rainfall in the country. That’s something to look forward to, especially in traffic jams on national holidays. So we stayed put and watched a movie about a sardonic Australian detective investigating a death in his unhappy home town.  

A native of Valdivia, Alejandro dropped by to practice his English and he gave us some rather useful route tips for the journey when we come back north from our southernmost goal. He and his family were taking the long weekend off in their Sprinter camper converted by a Chilean company (Fauna Campers) in this very modern country. My photo of him is terrible as I only had my iPad to hand as we mapped good roads to drive that he recommends. He, his wife and daughter were off to enjoy some hot baths in the Lake District.  “Perfect weather for it” he laughed, a proper attitude for one who lives here. 

We finished off my birthday pizza and watched the architect pack up and leave in the sheets of rain.  I imagined him out and about in all weathers working on designs for buildings, undaunted. “We need to get more like that,” I said to Layne as we ran the engine for a little while to heat the cabin.  

A Dutch RV spent a night on the beach between a “No Camping” sign and the front gate of Rucahue campground where we paid twenty modest dollars to sleep. We did not see anyone nor did we seek them out. 

I’m ready to drive.