Punta Estacion (Caleta Yvonne)
My wish has been granted!!
The sun is shinning since a few days now, it even is warm. I wear a skirt for the first time in months, the wind smoothly caressing my legs, how I like it.
We're in Puerto Eden, a little village in the middle of the wilderness with the last full blood Indians and a few coloured houses along a single wooden boardwalk that follows the waterline. It seems not sure at all that I'll be able to buy flour here, but then again, I'll try... Friday the ferry will pass by with some fresh food.
We arrive after a sunny sail through narrows with snowcapped mountains. After so long among them I'm surprised that I still get impressed by the sights offered to me and I start to see that the effect of mountains will never get lowered in my soul, it doesn't matter if I see them every day or not, mountains are filled with power and that's that.
Arriving at Puerto Eden I call the armada, they wish us a warm welcome and after maneuvering our boat in front of their house an officer comes on board with a blond adorable long eared dog. They get along very well speaking a language known to them only. The officer explains to us that he spends more time with his dog than with his wife, then tells us that his wife has gone to Puerto Montt for a while and so he doesn't sleep in his bed any more until she'll return, he doesn't like his bed without her. He's very happy when we tell him we stay a few days in the village, his thin moustache are shining in the sun his teeth are flashing white, he smiles at us, proud in his uniform, in love with his dog. And his wife.
Soon we find someone who will do our laundry and a place where we'll eat this evening. Warm and welcoming eyes look at us and ask us questions, their glare turn into horror or admiration when we tell them how long we're on board, where we're heading, what we do. Excitement makes their bodies shine. We eat on a big table with a lot of people around us, we enjoy the company while wondering what it is we're actually eating.
The sun dries the boat, our clothes smell of soap, our eyes ache in the strong light. We're at peace.
There are less than 200 people living in this village, some of them are Indians, lost, stripped of their traditions, they struggle and can't adapt to the occidental life and drown themselves in alcohol, empty-eyed they seem to spend their life expecting nothing from it. There are not many children here, though the school is immense. I?ve been told a mistake has been made while they built it, some one else says they expect the village to grow, and that they made the school too big on purpose for accommodating the future many children of Puerto Eden...
We fill our tanks with water and fuel, buy a few things from the empty shops and meet some Australians on another yacht whose road we crossed a few times, we're having a good time in the shinning sun. We're invited for a drink when we pay our laundry, Hakan gets a whiskey, I get a glass of anisette, it runs straight to my head and I accept the lunch invitation for tomorrow although we're intending to leave then and should do so before 1 pm to have the strong currents with us for a delicate passage. We agree on 11.30 and are promised fish... we wobble out of their house, our blood on fire. Alcohol seems to be the main occupation in this tiny village, ooph scary, on our uncertain but giggling way back to Mardek we're intercepted by the Auzzies, we're invited for dinner when I mention the delicious smells coming out of their cabin, more drinks, some food and a lot of laughter. Very social day, what a change from our month of isolation. It still hasn't rained...
The boat's a total mess, punctured bags with flour freely puffing out whenever touched, cheese that needs conserving, empty jars that waits for goodies, fresh clothes, dirty clothes, books, charts and dust fight to create the worse possible chaos. Everything will be fine in no time, that's the promise you get when you live in very small quarters where everything has found its place already. The worst mess can be sorted in 10 minutes. It is the same promise you get if you live in a large area with very little in it, the only difference there is that the big place never gets scary or claustrophobic but then probably never gets cleared up... hmmm the hard choices of messy people.
It's eleven thirty, we go to our laundry friends, she's cross eyed and a little fat and pretty ugly, he's quite handsome with a twinkle in the eye and very Indian, both are very short and we seem like giants around them. They have a young dog and many kittens, they are very much in love. We eat delicious fried fish filets, salad and rice, we try to keep the conversation flowing although there is a huge gap between us. We try to fend off the alcohol and manage to get away with one glass, which I didn't finish, of wine. It appears they never have anyone visiting them, no friends in the village and live a very secluded live in the ever raining country. Isolated in isolation, and indeed we didn't see the people conversing with each other, there was no place in the village for people to gather, no playground for the young, the only path was deserted although the sun was very obviously shinning and agreeable. How peculiar, how strange. They seem glad and eager for company when we're about but don't seem to socialize with the people around them. I fail to understand them, and have no time to do so, as I said another day we're always in a rush, and how can I grasp something in depth in just a few days? I would like to stay a little longer and find out what is hidden under all this strangeness, but we kiss goodbye instead, after receiving handmade baskets and exchanging names and addresses. We also greet the other lady where we took our showers and ate the first night, she gives us bread for the road and we all wish well and gods? protection to each other. Leaving the bay I wave at the small and single village of this huge labyrinth of mossy rock and water. I see an arm waving back, I feel love pouring out of me, crossing the bay and spreading to the little houses, I hope they will feel it, for love is so warm and good.