Crazy or Inspired? Part 2. Locura o inspiración?
If you haven’t read the first part of this story, please scroll down to the bottom to read Part 1. To recap: I'm on my way to Patagonia in search of a turquoise lake and a certain mystical mountain. I've just left a town called Talca in a dilapidated bus , and am heading for Casa Verde, which promises to be a charming Bed and Breakfast 'cabin' in middle of a eucalyptus forest. “Santa Blanca” the bus conductor breathes in my ear, as if saying ‘Meet me at midnight, Gorgeous.’ Or was it, ‘Be very careful Granny?’ I’m the only passenger to alight. The bus leaves, creating a shower of fine beige dust. It’s 4.30 in the afternoon. The scent of pine is strong. But what’s this screeching and droning? Sounds like heavy machinery. Where am I? I watch the bus disappear. Is there a parada ( bus stop) on the other side of the road? No. Is this a saw mill, or... a detention camp? There’s a lot of barbed wire, and a high perimeter fence. What now? ...