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The Volcano ChallengeOur special correspondent took part in a 550-kilometer extreme adventure race between Argentina and Chile, crossing the Andes mountain range. But as she confesses, “Lacking the necessary courage and physical stamina, my ingenious solution was to follow the competitors to the finish line... while I cheated along the way.”Text soledad castro
You began at dawn, crossed crystal-clear rivers and climbed mountains affording views I’ve only ever seen in books. And you run non-stop. They call it trekking, but if you ask me, that’s not trekking, it’s running non-stop. You’re not moved by this extraordinary place and you couldn’t care less about the name of the species of tree that has waited for you for so long. You forge ahead. I’ll just lie back, soaking up the sun on the Achen Niyeu Volcano. Considering what it took me to get here, I deserve this. I hiked uphill for over four hours, and a Jeep took me to remote Laguna Verde at the foot of the volcano. Then I spent a few nights in San Martín de Los Andes, Argentina, where I had good company, was well fed and had fine accommodations. Meanwhile, you kayaked across Lake Lácar, and still drenched, you ran three hours to the checkpoint and returned, paddling in the dark, soaked to the bone. Without stopping, you hopped on the bike and rode 70 kilometers along ragged, frost-covered terrain. After that, you climbed this mountain.
You run all the time, even when eating one more cereal bar or hydrating yourself. The dwarves – your best friends now – stay with you, as do the hallucinations: your teammates offering you hot soup; doing Kung Fu while traveling around Chile by car with your girlfriend; your mother waiting for you at an open door. You’re lost. At least that’s how it looks from my perspective on the Lanín Volcano where I am taking pictures of the beautiful colors. On the way here, they told me that an Argentinean who was climbing got a piece of native bamboo in his eye and it perforated his cornea. When they took him for emergency treatment, they weren’t sure if he was crying from pain or from the disappointment of not finishing the race. You know that a female competitor died on this mountain two years ago. But I see you jumaring up the 100-meter-high cliff at Garganta del Sapo, and I know that tomorrow you’ll cross the Tibetan bridge before climbing the Villarrica Volcano. Actually, I envy you. Your perseverance, your team spirit, your faith. Your crazy race, your struggle to survive or maybe save the world, to be an explorer of new worlds, a crazy adventurer, a hero.
I wonder what you were doing while we were sliding into the water at Coñaripe hot springs until four in the morning. Were you checking out your awful blisters and the sores on your back, urging your knees to endure more punishment? I wonder if you would have enjoyed the conversation with the craftsman in Liquiñe and Señora Rosa’s homemade bread (pan amasado) among the araucaria trees and Chilean bellflowers (copihues) and the full moon in Panguipilli.
They say you loved deeply too. You could see it in Pucón when you finally reached the finish line, dragging your bike and replaying the final moments: the kayak breaking in two on the Neltume River; her walking in her sleep; him hugging you after the panic; the adrenaline shots; the hypothermia; the emotional outburst at the summit of Villarrica. How much weight did you lose? You loved your team so much when you reached the finish line...
Around the Volcanoes Where to StayLe Village: Hotel and cabins from US$200. Cabañas Rucapillán: pesca, trekking, rafting. Termas Río Liquiñe: pensión completa y acceso a termas y piscina desde US$60. Gran Hotel Pucón: Seven nights from US$387. Where to Eat Mamas & Tapas: bar & grill.
What to BuyArtesanías Vera: The king of rauli wood, native to the region. La Oveja Negra: A good selection of folk art and souvenirs.
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It took a lot for me to get here, and I’m here to enjoy myself. You, on the other hand, keep going, coaxing your body, which hasn’t stopped in 22 hours, commanding it to go further, even if it’s nighttime and you can’t feel your frozen toes; that was before you realized that you had lost several toenails. You slog ahead because your goal is to get there. My goal is to stay in one place. I float in the pure, cold waters of Laguna Verde. You don’t soak in the hot springs at Liquiñe or savor the wild boar in Choshuenco after crossing the Andes and reaching Chilean soil. You paddle your boat again. Staying here is the furthest thing from your mind. One two, one, two. As you paddle, all you hear are the dwarves that guide you in your delirium, encouraging you through the maze that you must navigate your way out of using a compass and a map. Five more endless days and nights.
Seventeen hours of kayaking, eighteen hours of mountain biking, four hours skirting the banks of a river, seventy hours of trekking and three hours of extremely difficult rappelling, with barely fifteen hours of rest (which you take only because it’s mandatory; if you had your way, you would never stop).
They say the last few days brought out the worst in you. You didn’t cooperate with your team when they divided the weight of your female team member’s backpack; she could barely keep her feet on the ground or even carry her own weight. They say that your absolute worst was when you were all lost for hours in the middle of the forest; your mind slipped away and played tricks on you, imagining a finish line where there was none. 
