If Puerto Montt was the Mos Eisley of Chile, then Camping Anderson was the Lake Country, where Anakin and Padame fall boke-inducingly in love.
My first impression was that we weren't going to last a week here, let alone two, as we were told point blank by the Canadian girls that they didn't like kids. Fair enough, but they didn't even give us a chance to get to know us or what we were about. But they had their own journey of self-discovery to do, and when we found out two days later that they were leaving (they heard ANOTHER family was arriving), I did sigh of relief. Once they had gone, we spent the afternoon cleaning the hut and preparing for the next set of travellers to arrive.
Another American family of four (mother and three sons, 18, 14 and 9), a young man from Australia and three young Columbians made up our little house on the prairie, and although the living conditions were far from perfect (dirty mattresses on the floor to sleep on, holes in the walls for mice to get in, one small cupboard for everyone to store their food, 3 gas rings to cook from, a shower that managed to stay warm for 3 minutes at a time), we all just made it work.
There was a wood burning stove in the hut which we lit most nights to keep the hut warm (a little too warm as we wandered around in shorts and t-shirts, and sweated at night in our sleeping bags) and a table big enough for all to sit round and chat about where we'd been and where we were going. We shared our things and traded tips for a good time travelling, and generally felt like a family, while the younger kids climbed trees, played tig and hide'n'seek or watched a movie.
Work wise, we were kept busy from 9-1, and although sometimes tough, it was varied so didn't get too tiring or boring. We cut down gorse bush, sewed fields for corn, weeded the large vegetable garden, planted salads, fed the chickens and huge pet turkey and even managed to have time to play with the two new puppies the host had rescued from the side of the road.
While we were kept busy with these chores, the kids had the arduous task of finding snails and slugs and then feeding them to the chickens, which they relished in doing for a short time until their heads turned to wanting to keep them as pets and ended up running around with sticks with groups of the slimy things hanging off them. Occasionally they would find small frogs and place them in the garden, amongst the vegetables so that they might eat some of the bugs attempting to attack the veg.
The days were long, the sun only setting at 9.30pm, so we had plenty of time after lunch to explore, play and relax. There was a large barn with ping pong and basketball, so Lorne managed to invite all the men for a good thrashing on the ping pong table, and then return to bask in his glory for a little longer than was necessary.
One day we thought we had found a hidden path down to the beach, which turned out to be a dried up stream complete with loose, slippery stones, fallen branches and even a small overhang we had to use a rope to help us climb down. The way up was definitely quicker than the way down, but it felt like a jungle adventure or part of The Goonies (there's that film again!), with Axel explaining all the booby traps he'd left (stones to slip on, branches to be pinged in people's faces, spiderwebs to get caught in).
When we finally arrived in daylight and the beach, we discovered it was a slither of stones no wider than a car and on walking along, no way back up other than the way we had come down. Unsure of the tide and not wanting to get caught out, we spent just under half an hour there before making our way back up. Out to sea we saw fishermen mussel farming, which on further exploration of the surrounding area, was a common sight in most alcoves we discovered.
Everywhere you looked was a feast for your eyes in terms of views. Snow capped mountains towered on the horizon, tiny, busy fishing ports working tirelessly in the foreground, green trees and bushes filling in the gaps. You could understand why our host had fallen in love with the area.
Our host was American (although a liberal one at that). He didn't seem the type to celebrate Thanksgiving, but had a change of heart when the American family arrived and he managed to secure a wild turkey from one of his neighbours. The American mother went into town to gather the other supplies and spent the morning cooking a massive and tasty meal for the rest of us while we worked. When the time came to eat, a table outside was laid with bacon, sausage, celery, carrot and raisin stuffing; bacon and roasted garlic mash; asparagus, a cherry sauce and gravy, along with turkey.
We had a slightly awkward moment of one American describing what Thanks Giving was all about, then the other American (our host) describing a somewhat less romantic view. However, the sun was shining and we were all around a table filled with glorious food, and I felt regardless of the reason we were sitting there, we were here and we were all enjoying ourselves.
Our two weeks flew by and soon it was time to leave again. We weren't really sure where we were going after here, but from the many discussions we had had with the other travellers, Chiloe was the obvious choice. We decided that a car would be beneficial for this part of the trip so we managed to acquire a Ute that we were very excited about. The Australian and Americans couldn't understand our excitement for what they considered to be a sub-par vehicle, but with them being sparse in Scotland, to us they were exotic. They regarded us with sheer amusement as we giddily discussed the car with each other.
The car was picked up the day before we were to leave so we could pack with relative ease. Sunday was our day off, so we gently rose in the morning, ensured we had breakfast with everyone then packed up the car for our next stage of our adventure.