Santiago seemed to last forever. The peaks rose on the horizon, those great continent-dividing Andes Mountains, dusted with white across their uppermost reaches. Close enough to touch, it seemed, but still so very far away. For what seemed like a long time, we wound through the traffic-choked thoroughfares of the Chilean capital, gliding from freeways to city streets, taking locals-only shortcuts and brief dashes across small neighborhoods.
“We’re going to where the Maipo begins!” declared Andres, a finger held in the air, the other hand firmly on the wheel.
And then, in short order, that great, steaming city fell away. We climbed in altitude, curling through a deep river valley, the surface of that flow flashing down below. As the sun tried to break through the clouds, Andres looked a little entranced as he recalled his history here. As a kid, he said, he and his father—an architect—would ride high into these hills to survey the land and conduct ecological studies.
“We went way up there, where there’s snow,” he said, pointing again, and shaking his head. “It was beautiful, so beautiful.”
Containing almost 40 percent of the entire country’s population, Santiago sprawls. But spreading just to the southwest, the Maipo Canyon offers fresh air and stunning vistas, just outside of town. It’s a perfect day trip to escape the urban maze, and on my visit, it was one full of surprises.
Meeting Andres—my driver and informal guide—was fairly fortuitous. Dropping a pin for an Uber ride home from a city mall to my Santiago hotel, he pulled up in a nondescript sedan. On the short drive, we had an excellent chat, Andres providing both insights and laughs. I asked him whether he ever did day tours. Not usually, he said, but he named a reasonable price.
Two days later, we were tracing the curves of the Maipo River, stopping to snap photos along the way. The two-lane road wound through the forest and past small restaurants, holiday cabins, and shops selling locally made queso de cabra—goat cheese. Riding with Andres, I learned his knowledge is extensive. He made casual references to art history and classic films. He gave me a tight synopsis of recent Chilean history and how it relates to today’s political contour lines. And he explained that this area is home to hot springs as well as all sorts of wildlife, including pumas and wild guanacos—a camelid related to the llama.
“There is a whole separate mountain culture,” he told me. In the past, bandits roamed these parts, bringing contraband through a labyrinth of pathways over the Andes from Argentina. “Now, those trails are mostly used for trekking.”
Nomad families, too, to this day pasture their horses and cattle up high on the ridges in the summer and down in the safety of the valley during the winter, as they have for hundreds, even thousands of years.
Chocolate and Houses
And just a few more miles up the road, we pulled off at a curious-looking chocolate shop. We had passed a few similar-looking places, whimsical structures that appeared as if a fairytale giant had picked them up and plunked them down, right here.After browsing the chocolate (made here, from base materials that come from Ecuador), we asked about the curious architectural style and its ubiquity throughout the valley. The friendly young woman behind the counter told us that we were in luck—the builder was actually here today.
A few minutes later, Sergio Andrade Huber and his son Lorenzo approached, offering a welcome with warm handshakes. We toured their busy workshop, which has canoes and kayaks hanging from the ceiling. “We’re a whitewater family,” Lorenzo explained.
We sat down for an afternoon coffee at a table he had hand-crafted from coastal flagstone, near a woodstove he had built partially from the wheels off the first subway in Santiago. They explained that Sergio began by building his own home and has since constructed 76 houses in this area. He takes care of everything, from woodworking to mosaics. The colors are bright, and the tile work is intricate and filled with happy symbols. He also integrates as many recycled materials as possible. When building a house for Lorenzo, he integrated 40,000 used tires into the foundation.
Self-taught, Sergio builds by feeling and inspiration. I asked him what he hopes visitors will take away after visiting this place and his other creations. “Just a second of happiness,” he says, a smile beneath his full moustache. “A moment where you’re off your cellphone, enjoying the reality of the moment.”
