Running.
“We need to be at camp by 4 or they’re seriously going to leave without us!”
Hayley, Eric, David and I nimbly picked our way across the rocks to the bridge that would take us back to camp. We were going to the hot springs today, and did not want to be late.
“Relax guys; you’ve got plenty of time to get your stuff together.”
Five minutes later, swimsuits on, cameras at the ready, we all crammed into two crew cab pickups, and a van.
As Pengal drove, dust floated in through the open windows, obscuring the rugged landscape. American pop music busted out of the speakers of the truck, its triviality conflicting comically with the majesty of the snowcapped peaks.
“Thank god, we’re finally here!”
Pengal and Filipe, locals who had been traveling with us, got out of the car to negotiate the price for 20 people to go to the hot springs. Strings of rapid Spanish could be heard outside, muffled by the windows of the car.
“Got it,” Pengal said moments later, smiling smugly.
Hotsprings, cut into the dusty Chilean hillside
We drove up the barren hillside to the springs, pools cut into the dirt and rock over hundreds of years. Walking down from the parking lot, the first pool came into view. My stomach twinged. Gross.
“This is not as pristine as I’d expected…”
Moments later, drops of hot, salty, coffee brown water were flying towards me.
“Guys! C’mon!”
I dipped a foot in tentatively. My body, chilled by the mountain air, then acted of its own accord and hopped into the mucky pool without further hesitation.
Relaxing in Coffee brown water of Chilean Hotsprings
My muscles relaxed, the feeling of just-too-hot bathwater settling into my bones, melting away the stress of the day.
Steam tickled the inside of my nose,
“Ah-choo!”
Soon, the heat became overwhelming. It was suffocating warm.
“Want to check out the other pools?” I asked Sara hopefully
We went to the one that was below the first, hopping in quickly to evade the chilly air.
“Much better” I said
“And less muddy” Sara agreed.
All too soon it was time to dry off and eat dinner. I got out of the pool and sprinted to the changing room as goose bumps covered my skin. After the water dried, I felt like a potato chip. Crispy and lightly salted.
After a simply delicious dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches and little Chilean cookies that tasted like s’mores, we headed home, back out the gate, back down dry, gritty roads, at speeds that pinned us to the sides of the car on every corner. We traveled back through a wonderland of mountains and valleys, streams and rivers. There was a certain euphoria coming home that night. Maybe it was the water, melting away stress and inhibitions. Maybe it was the mountains. Or maybe it was because I was realizing yet again that I was the luckiest girl on earth. I was in Chile, in November, kayaking and going to high school.
