Hiking the Chilean Volcano that Changed a Town Forever

by Caitlyn O'Brien (Canada)

Making a local connection Chile

In 2008, the people of Chaitén - a small town in Southern Chile - began feeling tremors. Two volcanoes were well-known: Corcovado and Michinmahuida. Corcovado's last eruption was recorded by Darwin himself, while in the area as part of his 1834 voyage on the HMS Beagle. Experts arrived on scene with a unanimous conclusion: Michinmahuida was erupting this time. What a surprise when smoke started billowing out from a tree-covered mountain just 10 kilometres from town! A new volcano was discovered and subsequently named "Volcán Chaitén.” Chaitén could, during its peak, celebrate a healthy population of 4,200 residents. Once confirmed that a previously unknown volcano was indeed erupting, townspeople fled. Every individual's life changed forever. Not only did ash spread from the Pacific to Atlantic Ocean, but the town's main river changed course, due to debris build-up demolishing hundreds of homes. Nearby towns and cities, such as Futaleufú, Palena and Puerto Montt, welcomed stranded families into their communities as everyone awaited the government's master plan. Chaitén in 2020 12 year later, Chaitén is a mere shadow of what it once was. The government is slowly investing in reconstruction projects. Many people, after a decade are patiently awaiting new homes. Some, however, have no plans of returning. I was determined to hike the infamous volcano. I'd been living there for close to four years. As with countless other plans, something always "comes up," and I hadn't gotten around to seeing this chunk of history up-close and personal. October 16th, 2018 rolled around. The weather was awful: rainy, windy and cold with significant fog coverage. No bother. It wasn't a view I was after, I wanted to be in contact with the beast. So off we went; my partner Ivan, his sister Natalia, and me. The Hike Begins Volcán Chaitén's summit reaches an altitude of 3,681 ft. This doesn't seem like much, but the incline is steep. At times, I found myself using both hands and feet to climb up crumbling pumice. There's also the fun, and slightly dangerous, task of crossing a spring with no bridge in sight. I'm sure this isn't normally a huge deal, but it had been raining non-stop for a week. After hopping from one slippery to another a few times, we reached the other side and split up. I could feel a sort of eerie magic while making my way through the virgin forest. Lush ferns popped up on either side, Helechos spiralled towards the weak daylight, local Chucaos responded to whistles and kept me company. As I continued, the landscape changed, it became barren. Once magnificent trees were now burnt slivers sticking out of the gravelly earth. I looked back and the fog began to part, teasing me with a view of Río Blanco, before dropping the curtain and giddily shrouding the image in a fine grey dust. With only one kilometre to go, a Belgian couple appeared out of nowhere, descending the last leg. "You're almost there! Not much more to go!" I had no idea where Ivan or Natalia were. Sharp winds cut my cheek, I nearly fell to the right side. This was not the best day for a volcano hike. Upon reaching the summit, all three of us were re-united. Natalia and I more breathless than Ivan, who had been waiting nearly 20 minutes. There wasn't much to see, with visibility at a mere metre. We knew the enormous crater was there, but it didn't matter. The volcano's strength, its power, its wisdom... that was everywhere.