In the heart of Casa de Piedra, a mammoth rock takes centre stage, and unfortunately, I’ve just navigated my kayak to its incorrect side. The correct route lies on the right. However, on this fifth and final day of my whitewater kayaking adventure on Chile’s Río Futaleufú, I’ve drifted left.
Despite having gained familiarity with the rapid from repeated paddling, a sideways wave disoriented both mine and my companion Bartosz’s course. Now, we find ourselves caught in the cyclical undercurrent behind the hulking stone, pondering our next move.
A leftward route through the rapid is feasible, but its intricacies evade me. My knowledge extends only to the fact that the rapid is riddled with vigorous holes of recirculating whitewater that are best avoided.
“I reckon I can revert back to the right”, I suggest to Bartosz as we weigh our choices.
“Do you reckon so?”, he questions with doubt.
Regrettably, I ignored his scepticism and ventured into the current, attempting to steer right. Reminiscent of a comical Homer Simpson failing to leap across Springfield Gorge using a skateboard, my efforts against the powerful flow prove embarrassingly feeble. With my bow now ominously aimed downstream and diverging from the intended course, I plunged right into the threatening hole I had intended to bypass.
The frothing foam capsizes my boat, launching me into flips and tossing me about in the whitewater. Although I managed to ride out the surge, I plummet into a second hole for another tumultuous round. Consequently, my spray deck – the kayak’s safeguard against water ingress – gets dismantled.
With my kayak now water-laden and unstable, I opt to abandon ship and brave the waters, landing myself into a lesser, third hold that gives me a spin.
Weary, I let the current carry me to the rapid’s edge, where my friends gather to restore order. Although my morale took a hit, they helped me back into my kayak, mercifully unharmed.
It’s been quite a journey to reach this point. Ordinarily, the easiest way to get to the Futaleufú river from Ireland is to board a flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina and then take a local flight to Esquel; Futaleufú is only a short way from there. But, due to incredibly high return flight prices of over €6,000 in December, I had no choice but to take a longer route.
Starting from Dublin, I scheduled a layover in Toronto and then headed to Santiago. My journey then continued with a 900km flight south from the Chilean capital to the town of Puerto Montt, where I had to switch airports and boarded another flight to the coastal town of Chaitén located in northern Patagonia. My journey concluded with a three hour bus ride to Futaleufú, where I was met by my Irish comrades who had already been kayaking in the country for a few weeks.
However, this epic journey was almost derailed due to a delay at Santiago airport, as all the luggage for my flight was scheduled for fumigation. Chile is extremely serious about protecting its agriculture. One is not allowed to bring even a single undeclared pistachio into the country. To ensure this rule is followed, a friendly spaniel is waiting to sniff you when you arrive. With its tail all wagging, the dog jumped on me causing a stoic looking official to redirect me to a counter where another customs officer was busy with a desk full of confiscated bananas.
I explained the that scent from an orange I had previously carried in my hand luggage was probably what the dog caught. With a dismissive wave, the official directed me to the luggage hall to retrieve my belongings.
The following flight, booked separately, was due in two hours and 20 minutes. An hour and 40 minutes after landing, my fumigated bag finally showed up on the carousel which I quickly grabbed and made a dash for the domestic terminal. I just barely managed to catch my plane, destined for Puerto Montt.
Puerto Montt, founded by German immigrants in the mid-19th century, is presently a bustling port town on Reloncaví Sound. It serves as the transportation hub and gateway to Chilean Patagonia. The quickest way to get to Chaitén from Puerto Montt is via air, but requires an airport change.
The Marcel Marchant Airport, located a 30-minute ride away from the principal airport in Puerto Montt, is accessible via a stony pathway. The airport complex, which strikes a resemblance to a compact warehouse or a humongous shed, houses a food and drink station conveniently located in a closeby trailer.
A small local air service utilises the path to Chaitén, navigating a single-engine Cessna Caravan aircraft with a capacity for nine travellers. At approximately 3,500 feet above the ground, one can enjoy breathtaking views of the landscape and sparkling waters below during the flight, which roughly takes about 40 minutes.
My arrival in Chaitén, a quiet little town, was a mere three minutes later than the departure of the final bus to Futaleufú, missing an ideal connection of my whole journey from Ireland. This unexpected situation led me to seek an alternative mode of transportation. I came across a pickup truck loaded with kayaks and made an assumption that it was headed towards the Futa. However, the vehicle’s owners, who were indulging in empanadas post a takeout meal, stated that there was no space for an additional traveller.
With no other options in sight, I resorted to a taxi, which was unexpectedly a considerable minibus and came with a hefty price tag of around €200. The man who assisted with my arrangements at the tourist office justified the cost by mentioning that it was “quite pricey.”
Nonetheless, the journey presented ample time to appreciate the picturesque Futaleufú Valley, a scene described as ‘a canvas painted by the divine’ by its earliest inhabitants. The journey offered spectacular views of glaciers, verdant woods, and snow-covered mountain tops in this segment of northern Patagonia, from the convenience of the front seat. After turning left at the remains of Villa Santa Lucia, a settlement which suffered a landslide in 2017, our journey proceeded across Lago Yelcho’s southern coast for about 30km prior to driving parallel to the Río Futaleufú.
The initial thing that catches your eye about the Futa is its stunning turquoise hue, a result of glacial deposits. Its intensity is so vivid that it appears cartoon-like. Starting its course from the glacial melt in Argentina’s Los Alerces National Park, it traverses 105 km up to Lago Yelcho, crosses the Chilean border and then progresses as the Rio Yelcho, finally draining into the Corcovado Gulf near Chaitén.
The renowned section for whitewater kayaking commences close to the town of Futaleufú and meanders southwest for an estimated length of 50km. Crammed with gigantic, powerful, ceaseless rapids, their difficulty levitates from class two to class five, in essence, ranging from uncomplicated and without repercussions to challenging and indeed highly consequential.
Upon my arrival, my companion Barry guided me through the prevalent Bridge to Bridge sector, a roughly 9km paddle course. Having a limited span of days on a river, it justified shelling out for an exorbitant cab fare if it supplemented an additional day of paddling.
That initiated the first of five extraordinary days on the Futa. As my journey culminated, I was under the impression that I had almost mastered the nuances of the river, only to find myself on the erroneous path at Casa de Piedra. However, that’s an inherent aspect of whitewater kayaking, the moment you lose sight of who truly calls the shots, the river makes sure to jog your memory.
These were the musings that kept me company on my lengthy trip back home.