Chillàn - Aguas Calientes

Ascent: 1300 m
Descent: 1300 m
Distance: 9,30 km
Max. Incline: 40°

Our first ski tour of the trip was alternately modified by strong winds blowing over the ridges. We had heard about the notorious winds in the Andes and the first encounter did not disappoint. The initial glimpse of Nevados de Chillàn the morning of the tour was coined by a turbulent dance of wind and snow on the shiny, icy slopes of the mountains. Watching the strong gusts twirl whatever particle of ice it could grasp into the atmosphere our thoughts twirled between hot chocolate and exposing ourselves to the raw forces of nature. Luckily, we were out of milk and decided to give it a try. 

Getting ready.

Our initial goal was Chillàn Viejo and we started ascending through a sheltered gully to the south of the ski resort to avoid touring up the slopes of the resort. We traversed by a reservoir of steaming hot water feeding the thermal baths of the resort below and made our way up to a pass at the end of the gully.

Stormy weather with heavy wind gusts below Volcàn Chillàn Viejo.

As we reached the pass at about 2400 metres the calm turned into a storm. We turned into marionettes of the wind gusts with our movements increasingly resembling the first walking attempts of a new-born deer. The volcano looked anything but inviting and so not much discussion was needed for plan B to come into effect: Aguas Calientes. 

Skiing next to the hot springs.

A sharp eastward turn down flanks accommodating a challenging mixture of hard wind waves mixed in with a solid melt freeze crust took us right down to a natural stream of boiling hot water amidst the stormy, wintery mountains. Full of delight in sight of the awaiting warmth we couldn’t help but stand in awe under the portrait of nature’s forces surrounding us. 


Bathing in the hot springs during cold, stormy winter weather.

We found a pool far enough down the stream for the temperature to perfectly suit our liking and sat in relaxation with a view of the volcanoes continuously coughing up fumes like an old man smoking a pipe. 
As time doesn’t stand still even if it’s asked to, we climbed the 400 vertical meters it took to get back up the pass. In constant fear of the wind grabbing our belongings we prepare for the descent back into the sheltered gully. The feeling of skiing perfect corn snow on 35° slopes surrounded by the evening light were just the topping on the day’s cake.  





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