And finally: Pucón

Leaving behind Valdivia, we arrived in tourist-central Pucón around midnight. We were met at the bus station by a man who claimed to be the owner of the hostel we were staying at. A little suspicious, as we weren't expecting anyone, we cautiously followed him into what did appear to be our hostel and onto a very windy cabaña-style annex.

Pucón, as I mentioned, is super-touristy, and the jury is still out as to whether I like it or not. A small town on the side of a lake, its grid-pattern streets are lined with picture-perfect log-cabin style buildings, most of which house tour and adventure companies. The main draw to Pucón is the looming Volcán Villarrica, which can be climbed (with a guide and special equipment). As we're not particularly fit, and it was late on in the season, we had decided before arriving against doing this.

The crater of Volcán Villarrica

Preferring to explore by ourselves, we had hoped to walk around the skirts of the volcano in the surrounding Villarrica national park. So, avoiding the ever-zealous sales reps, we enquired at the main tourist office about where we could go under our own steam. This was a mistake. We discovered to our dismay that the only way way to access the reserve on your own was with a car. Otherwise, you needed to join one of the many tours leaving Pucón (did I mention those?), all of which we'd missed as we didn't exactly wake up very early.

We were left then with two options - staying in Pucón (which would have ultimately meant hanging around in a bar with loads of other gringo backpackers) or heading out to a different national park which was accessible by public transport. We chose the latter.

Lago Villarrica, from Pucón

The bus to Parque Huerquehue took around an hour and was an exciting journey traversing a pretty steep hillside. Once there, we consulted the park ranger about routes we could complete in the three hours we had before the last bus left the site. Mildly ticked off by the ranger for not arriving early enough for a decent length walk, I handed over my extranjero (foreigner) entrance fee of 4000 pesos, while Carlos got away with the local fee of 2500 pesos thanks to his Chilean ID card, despite a comment from the ranger about his Spanish accent.

Parque Huerquehue, as the rain started to fall

As the rain started to fall, we set off on a walk through the native forest. It was lovely, but the increasing rain and time constraints meant that we indeed did not get very far at all before we had to turn back and slosh our way through the mud to be counted back on the bus.

Returning to Pucón, we finally had the chance to sample some local trout, which Carlos had been dreaming of ever since we noticed it on a menu in our first five minutes in Bariloche. We also had a starter of seafood soup (again local) which was just delicious.

And that was that, bar an hour or so knitting in the bus station while we awaited the ten hour return trip back to the smoggy city of Santiago. Thank you to the regions of Los Ríos, Los Lagos and La Araucanía, you definitely prove the saying here that "Santiago no es Chile" (Santiago isn't Chile).