In November 1980 Bob Hayes and I left Australia on a Lan Chile flight to South America. We had planned for the trip for three years and left thinking that if we didn’t like the continent we would fly on to Europe and England. We weren’t to be disappointed though and spent our whole time, nine months, travelling around South America.

We flew to Nandi, Fiji and had an overnight stop-over, then on to Tahiti and Easter Island where we ended up staying for two weeks. We had three months in Chile, one month in Argentina, two months in Brazil, one month in Bolivia, one month in Peru and two weeks in Equador then flew back to Australia via Los Angeles from Quito in August 1981.

Just two days after leaving Sydney I found myself in hospital with a broken bone near my ankle, the fibula. On arrival we had decided to stay on Easter Island for three to four days. We stayed at Pablo’s place, a local 60s hippy who allowed campers on his land for just $3 per night; in the spirit of the budget traveller we stayed there. The first day or so was a deluge – it poured! We discovered in this time that the mine site for the stone that constituted the famous statues on Easter Island ‘Malcolm Fraser Statues’ was on the other side of the island to the populated residential area. Once it began to clear and in the spirit of adventure we set out with all our new camping gear, packs, tent, shoes etc., to walk around the island; it was said to be possible to do so in about two days. It was exciting to be off and the weather good but the roads were incredibly muddy.

The island is volcanic and there were fences made of volcanic stone. The coastline spectacularly contrasted against the sparse, baron landscape. The island was suffering a plague of insects. The soil wasn’t good, combined with lack of water, pests and theft the vegetable and fruit crops were minimal. The local people survived on imported food from Chile, canned chicken and tomatoes, rice, bananas and pineapple; the diet was incredibly restricted and within even two weeks it became very boring and bland. It was called Easter Island because it was sighted at that time of the year by early Spanish explorers but the local people say the island should be called Rapa Nui, the name of their culture.

We set out on a two-day expedition to walk around the island. We had spent the first night in the shelter of Vinipu, the oldest Inca ruin in the whole of South America. It had begun to rain and it was better to stay in the ruin than put the tent up. We were on our way on the morning of the second day at about 9-10 am when I slipped on the side of the road, on a very small puddle. (Some people say we were being punished.)

Anyhow, I slipped and I heard a loud snap - bang. I looked down and my foot was facing the opposite direction to my leg – oh!! I must say it hurt. It felt like someone was pulling my foot off. What do you do in agony six hours walk out of town? Bob literally stuffed bread into my mouth. It seemed to ease the pain. We decided to wait for a tourist to pass as we were on the only road around the island. When, over the hill came a horse with what looked like a band of Mexican cowboys on it (two people on one horse and one of them wearing a sombrero), we asked them in broken Spanish for help and they rode off into the distance. We didn’t know what they would do. Would they just forget about us? They didn’t and within about an hour or so the police arrived. After unsuccessfully trying to put me into the back of their utility we heard an ambulance, thank heavens! There was a hospital on the island because the Canadian government had paid for it when there was a long term Canadian research project a few years prior, well probably in the 60s. Within a short time I was in the hospital and having my foot plastered. I stayed in hospital for about four days but we couldn’t get onto a flight off the island for about two weeks, we were stuck there.

The doctor at the hospital gave me a referral to a specialist in Santiago. On our second day in Chile I went to see Dr Pantoca, who after looking at the x-rays said, “operation for you, tomorrow”. I was flabbergasted. I had no idea I would need an operation. It was due to the nature of the break which was very close to the ankle and required two pins to hold the bones together but that’s another story.

One of the highlights of the stay on Easter Island was that we met a fellow traveller, Darelle Duncan, a great adventurer and advocate of women’s rights, particularly within the Teacher’s Federation of New South Wales in the 1980s.

One of the spin-offs of an insect plague on Easter Island was that there was a super abundance of cockroaches. I had to wear a beanie to bed by way of protecting myself from getting them in my hair whilst I was asleep. There were literally millions of them. They regularly crawled across the floor or the walls of the house. Even away from populated areas there were hundreds of them breeding under rocks.

A major tourist attraction on Easter Island is the stone statues that stand on the coastline looking out, they are huge, something like twenty to thirty feet (eight to ten metres) in height and two to three metres in width and they are in one piece of stone. The mystery that surrounds them is the question about how the stones were brought from the quarry, on the other side of the island in one piece, to their final resting place. There are numerous theories. The predominant one was that the statues were rolled on logs over the island, which in turn had caused major deforestation. We met a couple of anthropologists when on a tour after I came out of hospital.

Another amazing and funny incident was that the hospital couldn’t or wouldn’t give me crutches. Bob had to buy a walking stick at the local markets. He found a ceremonial stick that was made to place in a coffin so that the person would have some assistance to walk in the next world, nice A! Well this was all I had to walk on, so as you might imagine I had to hop everywhere; onto the plane and through the terminal in Santiago when we arrived, how embarrassing!

The island people did not escape the excesses of Pinochet after the 1973 coup. We were told the staff of the hospital who had supported Allende were transported back to Chile and they were not heard of since. The nurse from the hospital that we got to know told me, very confidentially, that her husband should have been on the plane and she prayed for years later that they would not come to get him. She believed the staff were all killed, along with the thousands of other political executions, in the now famous sports stadium in Santiago.

Needless to say I went ahead with the operation. We had left on a trip for one to two years and we weren’t about to go back after one to two weeks. On the one night I had to contemplate the operation we decided to go out and have a good meal and bottle of wine. Using the South American Handbook we chose the best looking, medium priced restaurant called Bar Central, San Pable 1063 which was close to the hotel we were staying in called Hotel Caribe, San Martin 851.

I would say this was the best food I have ever eaten before or after that night. At first it looked a bit of a dive but by the time we had finished I ordered a second entree just because I missed it the first time (Bob had ordered it and it tasted beautiful) the crime was that I couldn’t eat it, I was just too bloated. The Chilean red wine was also beautiful so we ate and drank heartily and loved it. I got a bit tipsy and completely forgot about the operation, what a night.

The hospital was a whole other experience. When they took me into the operating theatre I was lying on the table with at least fifteen to twenty people all washed and ready around me. They were all talking and laughing in Spanish. I couldn’t understand what they were saying and I eventually had tears running down my face with the prospect of having them operate on my foot without an anesthetic. I didn’t know the word in Spanish so eventually I said to the nurse the closest words I could think of, are they going to put me to sleep, “dormido?”, she reassured me and said to my relief “the anesthetist was late”.

When I finally came to, I asked for water and for pain killers but in a situation where everything is privatized, including the hospitals (and even the pension), things like pain killers are hard to come by. Bob brought me in some panadol which helped greatly. I didn’t know whether to believe it when after two or three days of care the nurse gave me her bill. It was true, the patient pays for any special treatment required.

When we left for South America everyone cautioned us about talking politics to the local people, it is dangerous for them and likewise for us. But we were surprised to find that within two days we were talking politics with Pablo on Easter Island. In fact Pablo had a noose hanging in his kitchen. I drew attention to the fact it was there and he took it down (at least while we were there). It seemed to me Pablo would have rather hung himself than let them come and take him either to jail or to be executed as so many others had been; at least 50,000 people. Even eight years after the coup there were said to be more than 100,000 people still in jail.

While I was in hospital, the husband of one of the women I shared the room with spoke very forthrightly about his disgust for a system that kills its own people. “We were a democracy” he said and “this is the way we want it to be, not as it is now”. I was surprised that he would speak so loudly in a public place to a stranger in such a way but this was his conviction and he wanted it known.

On two other occasions in Chile we met political situations. The first was on a boat trip from Puerto Montt up the Reloncavi estuary (which was wonderful). We met a man with his daughter. The daughter told of her father’s jailing and the torture he endured including electric shock to the fillings in his teeth. They said there were many people escaping the government in the South of Chile. Many of these people were sent to the South where they had to live at a nominated remote location either by their own means or with family support and regularly report to the police. Even Dr Pantoca in Santiago took us out to the doctor’s club and talked to us about the inequalities that were so problematic in Chile because of the current system.

At one point we hitch-hiked in the South of Chile and the guy who picked us up soon got into a conversation about the government. He had spent time in Europe and we had seen some of the same documentaries that explained the developments that led to the 1973 coup, including The Battle of Chile and another film made by an ex-CIA agent Phillip Agee called On Company Business, which talked about the CIA involvement with the coup, this guy confirmed the details. The driver offered us a place to stay for the night. He took us to the house of some friends but when we arrived they took him off and talked with him privately. It was a foolish thing for him to do and they knew it. They got him to take us to an island where we could camp. There was an elderly man who lived on the island and he said, like many other people, that there was a lot of disruption with Allende and trouble and “we don’t want any more trouble”.

Back to the hospital in Santiago. I stayed for about four-to-five days and by then it was close to Christmas. They gave me some new steel crutches that fitted onto my hands and wrists and I lived and travelled with those crutches for about four months. We decided in order to cheer up our Christmas that we would lash out and spend a week at a guest-house (with meals included) in a coastal resort called Cartagena near Valparaiso.

Both Valparaiso and Cartagena were well worth visiting. Valparaiso is an old sea-port. I think the biggest in South America. There are some beautiful old buildings. The parks are also very European (I believe). Between 6–9 pm it was hard to get a seat on a bench in the park because this is the time when many people, old and young, come out to walk and talk and play. I thought it was a magic time and a cultural practice that we have been all the more poorer in Australia for not joining. I noticed elsewhere, especially in Chile, there were some lovely, beautifully kept parks that were well used. In particular at Jose de Maipo and one other I’ll come to later. They often had a small fountain, a bandstand, and statues to the hero’s like San Martin or outstanding leaders. There was a strong sense of history in the monuments and a pride in achieving independence from Europe. There was also a very obvious Catholic influence. We often came across little grottoes that had many candles and statues of Mary, Jesus or other saints. People would stop in the grotto to pray or meditate or just talk with others. Usually when people passed a church they would cross themselves; father, son, holy ghost. We also came across some religious festivals. Valparaiso is well worth a visit. It is next to (the Chilean equivalent to the Gold Coast) Vina del Mar, but we felt if you’ve been to one Gold Coast you’ve been to them all so we didn’t spend any time there.

Whilst in Santiago we visited Valparaiso, San Jose de Maipo, Los Andes, Portillo and Cartagena. These places were amongst the most beautiful and delightful to visit of the whole trip. In most places we visited we went to the local markets which were great. We had a little stove that was indispensable. It was wonderful to always be able to have a coffee or tea at any hour of the day. Porridge became a staple, which was filling and hearty. We would often only need to buy a light lunch after the porridge then we would usually cook our own dinner. We saved a lot of money this way. We would buy our groceries at the local market and we ate well.

In Cartagena the guest house was terrific. The food was good. The restaurant looked out over the ocean and we were the only guests on Christmas Day so the family included us with some of their celebrations. We went for a walk and sat in one of the local parks and were approached by a group of gypsies. One of the women wanted me to put my hand including my ring finger under a scarf so she could do a magic trick. I gave her my right hand but I didn’t fall for the ring finger. She became a bit insistent but I resisted. Apparently there were relatively large numbers of gypsies in Chile we saw them from time to time, particularly in the parks.

The beach and promenade were very nice. We saw men in suits walking along near the beach, on the promenade, a sacrilege in Australia. Whilst we were there (about four to five days) an infection developed on my ankle. Fortunately, we had made up a first aid kit on the advice of a nurse and we had some tropical antibiotic powder which we used. It was so painful I couldn’t bear to even look at it but the powder worked and by the time we got back to Santiago and the doctor the infection had cleared up and all that was left for him to do was clean the wound which he did with what felt like steel wool. I cried when I got back to the hotel.

All in all we spent five to six weeks in Santiago at the Hotel Caribe. We rationalized it by saying that we didn’t want to travel fast but this did seem a bit ridiculous. The whole thing (my ankle) was quite a drag on Bob I couldn’t walk too far on the crutches without getting pretty tired. So sometimes he would leave me with a book in a park and he would do some more sight seeing. I used both the crutches for about six weeks and then took one with me from Santiago which I used for a further three months. I sent it back from Brazil. The postal worker who accepted the parcel made a joke after it was wrapped, holding it, he laughed and said it looked just like a machine gun.

While we were in the hotels in Santiago we met quite a few travellers. I was surprised to find that many, if not most travellers, went to South America for the mountain climbing (of course with the Andes). Most of the travellers weren’t interested in politics and seemed to have very little knowledge or interest in Chile’s political history or current situation.

Another thing I haven’t mentioned about Santiago (which I found to be quite confronting) was that there were two policemen on nearly every corner holding machine guns. They pointed the guns out like they were ready to use them; that had quite an effect psychologically. One day, whilst we were in the city, we turned a corner only to find a truck surrounded by army guys with their guns pointing at the crowds. It seemed they were transporting some equipment or whatever and they were taking no risk of sabotage. There must have been twenty to thirty armed guards and again the situation was very confronting and intimidating.

Some of the characters we met in Chile that stand out were: an English guy who was travelling around with a very traditional English umbrella. He was on his way home from Venezuela where he had been working for a year teaching English to the local bourgeoisie as he described them. He was very nice. Another, older man, said he was on his way to Columbia to find the ‘El Dorardo’, the infamous city of gold. He said he believed there was still lost fortunes to be found and he believed he knew where to look. I envisaged this guy trekking through the jungle and only getting hopelessly lost for his trouble.

The three trips I really should mention that we took out of Santiago were: San Jose de Maipo, Los Andes, and Portillo. The first two, San Jose and Los Andes, were in just stunning countryside and the small towns were really beautiful. I thoroughly recommend a visit to both of these places. Whilst we were in Los Andes Bob met up with some Chilian young people (18-24). They liked to smoke marijuana and in Chile they grow the plant for rope. So they invited us to go with them on an expedition to collect some weed from the plantation. Apparently many people go in collecting plants but the owner gets around on a horse with a gun and scares them off. Being on crutches I was, to some extent, incapacitated so I couldn’t go the whole way. I waited out near the river while the troop went in. They managed to collect some weed before the owner came and then they took off. Because the plant gets an oversupply of water it isn’t very potent so the users tend to smoke very large amounts. We heard they even fill the cardboard center of toilet roles and use that as a cigarette to get the extra strength.

The third trip to Portillo was by bus. It is on the way to Mandoza in Argentina and was spectacular. This trip takes you up through the mountains. The climb is incredible and the scenery magic. We packed a picnic lunch of chicken, bread, cheese and a bottle of wine to have whilst we were there. It was great until it started to snow so we soon had to collect all our goodies and hide in a bus shelter or something similar. Also while we were up there we met a fellow Australian traveller who actually came from Canberra.
Whilst we were in Santiago we met Eva and Marco (some very close Argentinian friends from Sydney). I met Eva while working at Amalgamated Wireless Australia (AWA) and she gave Bob and I lessons in Casteljeno (the South American version of Spanish). They stayed one night on their way back to Australia after having spent some time in Argentina. We met at the airport and went back to the hotel. Then we went out for dinner and had a beautiful fish meal of eel which was commonly eaten and tasted great. Also the abalone was cooked in a particular way which was delightful. It was terrific to see Eva and Marco in a situation like that so far away from home.

We left Santiago in probably late January, 1981. We went down towards the midlands of Chile which are the fertile productive areas. This was where most of the fruit and vegetables were grown. Because Chile was living under a regime of free trade it was difficult at times to buy vegetables particularly in Santiago. The bulk of the produce was cash crops and were sent either overseas or to other countries in South America. Because so many people didn’t own cars there was a very good bus system with buses leaving in most directions every twenty minutes from a huge bus terminal.

We went down South by train however. One of the trips down south took four hours to go about 100 kms. But it was a very beautiful trip, stunning! We saw some lovely timber cottages in the midst of fields of flowers and because the trip was slow, we could take in the scenery. There were people on the train with sacks of potatoes, apples and even people carrying ducks. The seats were quite hard but the trip was really good. We were well and truly amongst the locals. Through a combination of train and bus travel we stayed at Curico, Talca, Concepcion, Chillan, Temuco, Valdivia and Puerto Montt.

Temuco was very active as the South American Handbook says “the markets were very busy and good to visit”. We met an Italian atheist somehow around here and he and Bob got along very well. He was a real talker and they just yapped for ages. I was virtually leading them around while they continued the conversation. This guy was heavily into reading the Bible, it was a bit like - know your enemy, and he was going to great lengths to know both the old and the new testaments. He was chubby and bought fresh basil and tomatoes for his nightly pasta dish.

We stayed at the Chillian Hotel which proved to be probably the worst of any we stayed at. The room had no window, it was damp, and there were insects in the bed. We were lucky to get out of that without picking up some dreadful disease or plague. Thank heavens we didn’t. The hotel was a long way from the station and carrying the packs it felt more so. Some boys helped us by carrying our packs and we gave them a tip. We were lucky not to lose them that’s for sure. Naivete can be a blessing at times even though it’s generally a curse.

Concepcion was also a good place to visit. There were markets on the river side. The weather was beautiful and the markets very colourful. Most of the time when we arrived in a new place we would put the packs down and one of us would stay with them and the other look for a small, cheapish hotel near the station or bus terminal. Usually it was better for Bob to get the hotel because the proprietors were often suspicious about a single woman asking about a room (double) to rent for the night. Also it was very difficult being a woman, in that the men were often making a pass or trying to pick me up, even if I was with Bob. So I resisted being alone particularly for that reason.

Puerto Montt was a large city. It rained a lot in the South of Chile and the area was known for the timber shingles used for building the houses. The shingles were something like 6” across and 10” long and there were hundreds overlapping to make up the exterior walls of a house. Apparently they worked well in keeping out the rain. Even though we were there in the peak summer month of February we rarely took off our down jackets, which were really warm.

In Puerto Montt we stayed at a youth hostel, as we had in one or two in other places. There were no warm showers so we had to have them cold. I even had to wash my hair in a cold shower and the water was icy. How did I do it? I would just groan a lot whilst under the water, that seemed to help. We met some spunky young Chilean men there. I was very interested in one or two of them but Bob and I were together and weren’t exactly into flings in a situation like that. We probably missed out on some special occasions but we didn’t get into too many problems either. Bob met a Swiss guy there who was most concerned about the time he was spending in Puerto Montt waiting on a boat down south to the Patagonia area. It was said to be a spectacular trip seeing ice burgs, glaciers and sea lions. The boat trip hadn’t been operating for some months so we all missed out. The Swiss guy was counting the lost days as lost money, what he could have been earning if he was back home, what a way to travel?!

We did a wonderful trip on a launch up the Reloncavi Estuary. A real treat!! We could see snow capped volcanoes. The trip left early and there was a heavy mist and as the fog lifted we could see mountains and beautiful scenery. We also saw sea lions basking in the sun. We camped the night in a place at the end of the estuary called Cochamo. We camped near the water and met some children who had been collecting muscles and shell fish. We bought a dozen or so from them and cooked them. They were the best muscles I have ever eaten, so soft and luscious. The estuary was a feature of the holiday. I took some super 8 film of the trip and as usual sent it back to mum and dad and in one part of it I inadvertently caught someone actually picking his nose. So when they showed the film at home they had great fun reversing and watching in slow motion that particular bit. They would show the films when the family, Jackie, Colin, Kerry, Richard and their kids, visited and have a few laughs.

Puerto Montt was also wonderful for very cheap fresh fish at the markets we just lived on fish, muscles and abalone. When we were on the boat trip up the estuary we saw men diving for abalone with the very old helmet and hand pump for oxygen. Everywhere else in the first world tanks were used for oxygen but here, well I guess the equipment would have been cheap and still usable even if it was dangerous.

Something else that happened at Puerto Montt was that we went walking one day just to look at the town. We saw what looked like a lovely river bank, the sun was shining over it and reflecting back. Behind the bank were houses on stilts which should have been a warning to us.

I was still on crutches (one crutch) and I had my leather sandals on. We started walking down and eventually got onto the bank. It was fine for a while until it seemed all of a sudden the ground turned to heavy silt and we both started sinking, me more than Bob because of my crutch. Well, we ended up in mud up to our thighs and there seemed to be no end to it. Bob laughed looking at me sinking but to be honest I just wanted to get out of it. I lost my sandal and while retrieving it my crutch just sank deeper and deeper. Bob started to realise it was serious and he used some of his old bush craft skills and decided the best thing for us to do was to find where the water was moving, the gullies, and these would be firmer. Bob found some and we headed for these and eventually worked our way out of it. The tide was out of course and this was a silt bank. The locals probably had a good laugh at us, the silly tourists, gringos. I was delighted to be out of it. So much for our nice walk next to the river!

There were some beaut rivers in Chile. With the Andes going through the country there were plenty of fast moving rivers. The Rio Blanco near Los Andes was deafeningly loud and the Bio Bio River was another one that we enjoyed. They were quite a contrast to the normally slow moving Australian rivers.

next - Off to Argentina