Hiking Adventure in Middle Chile

So, we wanted to see a national park called Radal Siete Tazas, named for ¨The Seven Teacups¨ where the Rio Claro drops spectacularly through a series of basalt pools. We had read that it was possible to make it a longer trip by starting out in a neighboring national reserve, Altos de Lircay, and heading north. We heard that although it wasn´t an official trail, the way was becoming better marked, and it was now possible to hike it without a guide.

So we rode a bumping, deafening local bus up into the mountains to Altos de Lircay and asked the ranger at the entrance about getting to Siete Tazas. He first double-checked that we understood our destination was not in his park, then took a pen and appended onto the crummy, pixelated official park map a rough indication of where our path would veer off of their network of trails. He drew a small hill, then at some indeterminate distance beyond it a river, then his line snaked ambiguously toward the top of the page - at which point, presumably, we would end up in or near Radal Siete Tazas, of which he had no map to give us.

Off we headed into the park, with adventuresome spirits and a dim idea of where we might be going. By sunset we had made about 6km and found a picturesque perch that would fit our tent and give us a sweeping view of the valley, aglow with twilight. The next morning we were up at sunrise and off to find our mystery trail. The junction was right where it was supposed to be - so far, so good - but the path quickly bent back toward the park entrance and away from where we wanted to go. Backtracking, we found a second trail branching off of that one, marked with a small rock cairn. It took us to a creek crossing populated by cows, then past the hill we were expecting (in the wrong order per our directions, but why split hairs?). We filled all our water containers, because if this was the water the ranger had indicated, it was supposedly the last for a long while, though again, how long we could only guess.

As we climbed north the trail disintegrated into a series of cairns to mark the way. For the rest of the journey it would alternate this way; at times the path was worn and horse tracks were distinguishable, and at other times we would move in increments, searching for the next stack of rocks to indicate that we were still on course.

...And we interrupt this message for dinner and a bus. This chapter is to be continued...