Wall Street Journal, OFF DUTY section, Saturday/Sunday, January 24 - 25, 2015, Page D3:
Exploring Chile’s Secret Island
The savage beauty and rich culture of the country’s second-largest island, Chiloé, have been overlooked for decades. No more
ROAD TO NOWHERE | Chiloé’s Wharf of Souls art installation marks the spot on the island where locals believe the dead sail off to the next world. PHOTO: ROGER TOLL
DARK CLOUDS threatened rain all morning as we hiked across a primordial landscape of lush green hills and through forests of wind-sculpted trees, ferns and exotic flora. “This is the last steep slope,” my guide, Carlos Toledo, said. “But it’s worth it.” Cresting the summit, we saw the clouds part and the sun shine through the last hint of mist. The vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean arced all around us, windswept beaches stretched north and south to the horizon and the barking of sunbathing sea lions rose from a craggy islet several hundred feet below.
The 18th-century Santa Marìa de Loreto church in Achao PHOTO: GETTY IMAGES
After leading me to what might be the finest picnic spot in all of Chiloé, this 3,200-square-mile island just off the coast of Chile, Mr. Toledo pulled a blanket from his pack, followed by a thermos of butternut squash soup, fresh chicken sandwiches, brownies and a carafe of white Chilean wine. Surveying the coastline, I noticed a wooden structure, like a pier that seemed to go nowhere, on a grassy meadow near the edge of a distant cliff. “It’s called el Muelle de las Almas,” Mr. Toledo explained—The Wharf of Souls. An artist built it to honor the local belief that the souls of the dead sail away to the next life on ghost ships from this headland.”
A lot of souls are also coming to Chiloé today. After centuries of relative obscurity, Chile’s second-largest island (after Tierra del Fuego) has a new airport, bringing its natural beauty into easy reach. The island is clearly catching on with international travelers. “It is charming, it is real, and it has interesting people,” an Argentine friend told me. “You’d better go now.”
Compared with the rugged peaks of Patagonia, the lunar landscapes of the Atacama Desert or the steep ski slopes of the Andes, Chiloé is subtle and soothing, with rolling hills and meadows where sheep graze and wildflowers bloom. It has echoes of Ireland and of Oregon’s coastline.
My hotel, the architecturally striking Tierra Chiloé, is set on an isolated perch along the island’s coastline and resembles a soaring wooden wing about to swoop over the sapphire-blue Gulf of Ancud. The long brush stroke of the Andes can be seen in the far distance. With only 12 rooms, all on the second floor, the hotel is intimate—like staying at a friend’s estate. On the ground floor, glass walls offer a 270-degree panorama, and a large living area, dining room and reception space are designed in an open, minimalist style.
BODY & SOUL | Fare at a food stall at the pier in Dalcahue PHOTO: ROGER TOLL
Before I arrived, I had wondered how I would fill my three full days on the island, beyond kicking back with a good book and a nice Chilean wine. That concern vanished as soon as the head guide met with me to discuss the beefy menu of excursions. Sipping a cold Pisco Sour, I whittled the list of possibilities down to hiking nature trails, sea kayaking in nearby bays, exploring some of the dozens of 18th- and 19th-century wooden churches that are collectively designated a Unesco World Heritage Site and exploring the archipelago on the hotel’s 55-foot motor yacht.
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Separated from the mainland, Chiloé has long been a place apart and still feels it today. The Spanish arrived in 1567, blending both their beliefs and their DNA with the indigenous people. The result of this fusion is a population of independent-minded seafarers and sheep farmers with a distinct dialect, a credo of self-reliance, and a religion that mixes indigenous beliefs and Catholicism. The island’s cuisine is also unique, with razor clam and abalone empanadas and an apple cake called torta chilota topping the list of dishes I sampled at local eateries.
‘Chiloé is subtle and soothing, with echoes of Ireland and Oregon.’
Part of Tierra Chiloé’s mission is to introduce guests to local culture and people. For instance, Mr. Toledo took me to the neighboring island of Quinchao, where we lunched in the large, weathered, wooden home of Iris Montaña, its fourth-generation owner. As we walked through the Victorian-style rooms, the floors creaked and sepia-toned portraits of her grandparents watched us from the walls. I felt I was in a Gabriel García Márquez novel. “This has always been a cultured town,” Ms. Montaña said as we sat at her kitchen table and she explained the local customs and shared stories of forest gnomes.
From there, we visited the ten-acre farm of a mestizo woman, Sandra Nayman, who produces garlic and several indigenous varieties of potato. “Chiloé is one of only two places on earth where the potato was found in ancient times,” she said. “The other is Peru.” I had eaten a few of the colored, fingerling-size potatoes, at the hotel and was struck by their creamy texture and rich taste, quite different from any potato I’d eaten before. Two hundred of the indigenous varieties are still cultivated on Chiloé.
Kayaks aboard the hotel’s 55-foot motor yacht.PHOTO: ROGER TOLL
The wooden churches of the archipelago were built during the 18th and 19th centuries by local boatbuilders and have resisted to a remarkable degree centuries of the humid, rainy climate. They are compelling examples of ecclesiastical architecture, and well deserving of their Unesco designation.
How long, I wonder, can the things that make Chiloé unique—the products of time and isolation—resist the island’s growing popularity? Can the locals withstand the influx of outsiders? Will its beautiful, historic churches, the patinated shingle exteriors of its buildings and the cows and sheep that live in their owner’s front yards be as charmingly idiosyncratic after tourism takes hold? New hotels are already being built, and the island’s trademark pastel-hued waterside stilt houses, known locally as los palafitos, are being converted into coffee houses, boutiques and polished restaurants.
Yes, I worry about the effects of tourism on isolated places. But I plead guilty to hypocrisy, too. After four days of being coddled, I admit that gentrification, a side effect of tourism, has its advantages: good guides, good food and good beds among them.
You’d better go now.
THE LOWDOWN // LUXURY IN THE WILD OFF THE COAST OF CHILE
GREAT PANES | The living room at Tierra Chiloé PHOTO: ROGER TOLL
Getting There: Several airlines, including Lan, United, Delta and American, offer nonstop flights to Santiago from U.S. gateways. Lan and Sky fly from Santiago to Puerto Montt, where Tierra Chiloé picks guests up for a four-hour drive and ferry ride to the hotel. Lan also flies between Santiago and Chiloé’s capital, Castro, where the hotel will pick up guests for the 30-minute transfer.
Staying There: Tierra Chiloé’s rates include all meals, drinks and activities. A guide will help you plan your days on the island after you arrive(from $1,290 per night,tierrachiloe.com).
Eating There: The hotel’s chef features organic, local ingredients, including Chiloé’s remarkably creamy potatoes and fresh fish. On most excursions, guides bring along picnic lunches and hot soup. Chiloé has many small restaurants and food shacks where you can sample the local fare.
When to Go: The southern hemisphere’s summer months—December through February, when temperatures range from 66 to 76 with occasional rains—are ideal. At other times, rain is common and temperatures more moderate. Don’t forget a rain/wind jacket and a hat.
