Another Beach Day

We have a prime spot on a largely deserted beach. It’s the weekend, no crowds lots of sunshine and though it’s too cold to swim it’s a lovely spot. We could be here or we could be fighting the crowds shopping in Puerto Montt for supplies. I don’t know what you would do but I know how we enjoy our retirement. And no fears of being robbed. Yes I know this is Latin America but don’t worry about stereotypes. We’re good here all on our lonesome. 

On a peninsula of sand between two bodies of salt water surrounded by farmland. 

We waved, they looked young enough they ought not to be allowed out on their own but that’s refer to on of my advanced years. Layne thought they were French as she got undressed in the fresh air. I thought they were German as they are so pale and blond. We knew they were European as they sat primly at a properly set table for breakfast as only European campers do. (All stereotypes apply on the road.  Americans are loud and brash and speak only English of course). 

GANNET2 in the wild. 

More walking please. 

The rental campers enjoyed some sun.  

A couple of Chilean families camping together up the beach meant we were not completely alone. They are fearless when it comes to icy water. 

Beautiful but cold. 

A local guy exchanged good mornings with me and strode off down the beach. 

Rusty checking the dried seaweed. 

I saw a pod of dolphins hunting breakfast. 

No prickles no mosquitoes few flies and a high near 70. Not bad huh? 

Time to get my book out. A Daniel Alarcón novel set in Peru, “Lost City Radio” which I’m alternating with Webb Chile’s “Fifth Circle” passage notes from a circumnavigation in 2008. Happy days. 

Happy days for us too. I hope and trust anarchy at home isn’t affecting you. 

And if you’ve made it this far here’s a photo from Layne showing the souvenir she bought in Ancud I mentioned previously. We ended up with the one flat on the table after going back and forth between the two round pictures made with woolen thread. 

Beach Day

What if we spent another day here? Layne pondered. I was quick to reply that sounded like a good idea. I don’t know what you think but a sunny day at the beach should not be wasted.

My little fox wanted a run on the beach so we walked down there around nine o’clock in the morning. Not exactly the dawn patrol but I’ve lost the habit of getting up early in chilly Patagonia. 

Our camp spot is between the gravel access road along which a little local traffic travels, and the soft sand closer to the water. In a 9,000 pound van soft sand is not a good place to drive. 

We are on a spit of sand between broad expanses of farmland and there is an estuary behind us. 

Leonard and Wilhelmina, the young Dutch couple in a rental van were planning to pack and drive to the border with Argentina.

We wished them well and said they couldn’t come back as we were going to take their spot. We were sorry to see them go but they have only three weeks vacation left. 

Putting our van here would make the main entrance to the beach more open for weekend visitors and put us in a book surrounded by prickly horse bushes. 

One cultural difference that gives us a hard time is the Latin American lack of awareness of personal space. We’ve seen this from Mexico to Chile no exceptions. If you are alone on a vast expanse of open space almost inevitably someone will park right next to you. You learn it’s not bad manners of a desire to push you out, it’s simply a lack of interest in weird gringo stress about having room. So we sometimes try to wedge ourselves in a spot where neighbors simply can’t fit alongside. 

Call this number if you want a horseback ride. 

And at low tide there was a lot of this weird parchment looking stuff. 

I stepped on it and nearly took a backward flop into it which would have been a mess. Where my foot slipped out from under me I found wet green seaweed underneath the dried white stuff on top. It looked to my jaundiced eye like a spinach pie with phyllo pastry on top. 

Rusty handled it rather more suavely than I as usual. 

Looking east: 

Looking down, oddly he picked up no smell from the seaweed. It must have just felt good.  

Clouds blew over in a north wind and rain overnight was forecast but it had been a pretty good day of not doing much at all, except waving goodbye to the Dutch couple and picking up an ebook. 

We should do more of this as the days grow warmer. We probably will.