Murphy's Law

Murphy’s Law

By all accounts it was a shitty day, the first total loss of our trip.  We had other bad days, the rainout on Big Sur, the complete fly failure in Washington, but today was a day of bad timing and luck snowballing repeatedly.

We returned to the lodge late morning to get an update.  By all indications we were not moving today so we hoped to get an internet signal; not likely, given the 150 hotel guests plus quadruple the number of hikers using the hotels stunning, glass filled lounge as home base.   A mix of emotions permeated the scene.  Many hikers, like us, not on a strictly defined schedule were sharing stories of the hike, weather experienced, the breath-taking view observed, as well as trying to find out news on the strike.  At the other end of the spectrum we those day trippers now stranded for their fourth day, as well as hotel guests clearly perturbed their get away was inundated with hikers in various degrees of cleanliness. 

It was clear that little information was being relayed into the park regarding the negotiations between the government and the groups – were they even unions? Rumors abound: they don’t meet on the weekend, they were very close to a deal, they weren’t close, there had been violence at the roadblocks, bus drivers were being kidnapped, they were letting tourists pass the blockades peacefully, etc. 

At noon we got definitive news that we were staying put for the day so we settled in with our friend Brian offering to buy lunch.  Sure enough, 5 minutes after ordering an announcement was made that all tourists are to be transported to the front gates as buses were coming to evacuate us to Puerto Natales. We ran back to the tent, hastily packing and flirting with the idea of trying to head north into Argentina rather than return to Puerto Natales. With clothes to pick up and rental equipment to return we thought better of it.  An ill-fated decision to retrieve a water bottle left at the hotel followed by a wait at the wrong ‘bus stop’ put us at the end of the queue.  We watched the last bus drive off in the distance as we crossed the passenger bridge near the park gate. 

Despite the promise of other buses returning ‘soon’ we found ourselves waiting the afternoon away into the evening.  Finally a Conaf park ranger – ironically an American ranger on exchange from Washington – sheepishly informed us that we’d be waiting another 3 hours.  We resigned ourselves and set to making dinner on the hotpot out of the wind and rain that was swirling about.  With the rice and tuna simmering and bags in disarray 20 minutes later we heard the roar of the buses coming from the other park entrance.  Of course other hikers were making their way to the gate all day having finished the hike and were joining in the ‘free for all’ for seats.   Dee managed to secure the last two seats while I dragged the pack in one hand and the hotpot in the other.

The drive out of the park was silent and eerily beautiful as a thunderstorm was raging on the horizon and the roads devoid of traffic other than the convoy of buses.   We approached the roadblock just a few km out of Puerto Natales at 10:30pm and it was a spectacle.  A dozen cars and trucks positioned themselves across the two-lane highway at 45-degree angle much like the police roadblocks on TV.  It was clearly a community event as the place was packed with angry looking protesters, families looking like they may have been picnicking, and a grandparent holding an infant no older than a year. 

We got off the bus @ 11pm and trudged to hotel we had scouted out 10 days earlier. ‘Crisis’ prices were in effect – 25% higher than she had quoted previously – although she reluctantly gave 15% discount because of our inconvenience!  We had a fitful nights sleep, a little shattered from the events of the day and fear of what lie ahead tomorrow.