On one of the ferry rides I’d met this guy named Walter. He told me he lived in Petrohue and I should come visit once I finished the Carretera. At the time, this wasn’t on my itinerary, and by the time I realized I’d have time after all, I’d lost the card he gave me.

Literally within ten seconds of arriving, however, I heard someone call my name. I turned, and there was Walter.

His grandfather acquired a chunk of land some seventy years ago, and now around fifteen different families have built their houses there, all of them related. Some, like Walter, live there year-round and work in tourism, while others have jobs in Puerto Montt or Santiago, but come back in summer so the children can run around like crazy people and play. It seems like a pretty sweet life. Plus, there are always tourists passing through and camping there, which is how several of Walter’s sisters and cousins and other relatives met their spouses.

I stayed for three days; Walter’s family basically adopted me. They even had me out selling “kuchen” (cake, a German word that has stuck in Southern Chile). It went within five minutes. I tried to imagine doing that at home — baking something, putting it on a plate, going outside and shouting, “Cake! Cake for sale!” I just don’t think that would work in the city.

Petrohue is gorgeous. Some day I want to climb the volcano there. Walter says he has a friend who’s a guide and who would give me a discount — you need a guide for the ice-climbing at the top.

There is no question that I want to go back to Chile; the only question is when. Perhaps Amy and Brian, the friends who initially proposed the trip, will come with me next time. We shall see. And I’d like to do other bike trips, though I don’t know where yet.

In the meantime, I am preparing — I came home and got a part-time job as a bike mechanic.