Tag: road trip

And in the end–Patagonia

And so we arrive at the quiet terminus of our northward journey—not with a grand finale, but with that soft, reflective stillness that comes when something beautiful has run its course.

What began on the Futaleufú River–unfolded into 875 kilometers of winding roads and wonder along the Carretera Austral, carrying us south to Puerto Río Tranquilo and then gently back north to Puerto Varas. But distance feels like such a small measure now. What we gathered along the way cannot be mapped in kilometers.

There were days when the sun broke through, spilling gold across jagged peaks and glacial rivers so impossibly turquoise they felt imagined. And then there were the rains—the long, steady Patagonian rains that blurred the edges of the world and pulled us inward. Yet even then, especially then, the landscape held its magic. Mist clung to the mountains like breath, waterfalls awakened everywhere at once, and the road ahead felt like a secret slowly revealing itself.

We were not without our small missteps—a tire with its slow leak interrupted our plans—but even that became part of the story. It led us, unexpectedly, into the warmth and generosity of strangers, into shared laughter and gestures that needed no translation. In those moments, Chile revealed itself not just in its landscapes, but in its people.

The road demanded something of us. It was good, yes—but never easy. It asked for patience, attention, humility. And in return, it offered glimpses into a life shaped by resilience. The places we stayed—simple, weathered, full of character—felt like quiet witnesses to generations who carved out existence in this wild and beautiful edge of the world.

We stumbled through Spanish, sometimes clumsily, sometimes triumphantly, and in doing so found connection. We met people who, for a moment, became part of our story. Some will remain only as flickers in memory—a shared meal, a passing conversation, a smile exchanged on the roadside. Others… perhaps we will meet again, somewhere unexpected, as travelers do.

Because that is the quiet truth we carry with us now—the world, vast as it seems, has a way of folding in on itself. Paths cross. Stories intertwine. And somewhere down another road, in another country, a familiar face may appear again like a gift.

And so we leave this stretch of Patagonia not as we arrived, but fuller—of wonder, of gratitude, of moments that will live on in the hidden corners of our minds and as a steady glow in our hearts.

Great Northern Rockies: Ravens and Bison and Bears…OH My…

We packed up camp this morning, everything was still damp from the previous days storms. It seems to rain a lot here. Last night, we camped near some natural hot springs. Laird hot springs was once a respite for the workers back in the 1940’s, building the Alaskan/Canada Highway, or ALCAN for short. The ALCAN took 9 months to build and was built by the US to service troops in Alaska during WW2. These natural hot springs flow into a beautiful river mixing to a perfect temperature. There’s a long half mile boardwalk to get to the springs, that crosses some swampy areas choked with peat and thick patches of lichen. The trees are sparse and mostly just tall skeletons, poisoned and bleached white by the sulphur and minerals leached from the hot springs.

After a good soak, we drove to the overflow camping lot and picked a spot. The campground had just filled up when we arrived, figures, and we were sold a spot in the overflow lot across the street from the official campground. Basically it was a big gravel parking lot with an outhouse and a fence. We settled in and slept well.

Throughout our trip thus far, we have encountered a myriad of animals. There is an abundance of black bears. It has become a norm to see at least one black bear grazing on the fresh green grasses on the wide swaths of treeless area between dense forest and Highway. We have also seen stone sheep, timber bison, a porcupine, huge black ravens and the normal rabbits and ground squirrels when we venture down a side road.

We ventured down a gravel road to see the beautiful Smith Creek Falls. It was such a beautiful sight, we decided to set up our chairs and sit by the edge of the cliff to finish our morning coffee. The sun was popping in and out of the cloud filled sky, a light breeze blowing and the thunderous sound of the immense falls all made for a devine spot to stop. We had just settled in when suddenly Chris says, in a low steady voice, “Bear…” Let me tell you the fear that grips you when you hear that word. My stomach instantly tensed up, a rush of adrenaline, we stood up, bear spray in hand, and started walking slowly, yelling and waving our arms as we headed for the van. The bear saw us and turned and ran back into the thick trees and shrubs as fast as we ran to the van. I must say that bear spray is now within constant reach and always on us when we go anywhere outside.

The landscape has changed again. We’ve been following the path of a wide river as it carves its way between towering peaks. The water takes in a milky white color as new rivers rush from high glaciers down into the swollen river basin. As it meanders along, the sun turns it the most beautiful pale blue as if the sky had just poured itself into the river. It’s not hard to see the powerful force that this water has, with huge trees, roots and all lying about, stranded on huge piles of boulders the size of a small car. Don’t be fooled by its tranquil appearance. At times, this river is a torrent of icy froth and foam, seething and grabbing whatever finds its way into its banks and tossing it like a toy. Amazing and deadly in one package.