Strike

On the road just outside of Puerto Natales, in front of a sign welcoming visitors to the tourism capital of Patagonia, is an enormous statue of a extinct giant sloth waving a huge black flag. The statue honors the milodon, a 10000 year old creature with the body of a grizzly and the tail of a kangaroo, found 100 years ago in a nearby cave. The flag is a recent addition, lashed on by protesters angered by a proposed hike in natural gas prices. Here in chilly Patagonia, people rely on natural gas to heat their homes and power their hybrid cars. The government has historically subsidized this fuel to bring costs to the consumer more in line with the warmer parts of the country. A proposed cut in the subsidy would raise prices here in Patagonia by 17%.
The solidarity shown by the milodon is emblematic of the widespread reach of the protest. All roads into and out of every town are blockaded, the streets are mostly deserted and almost every business is closed. All this has put our 24 day expeditionary sea kayak course
in a bit of jeopardy. I'm in Puerto Natales and was planning to head to Punta Arenas today to meet the students and shop for food. The status of the airport is unclear, so I'm not sure the students will even arrive at this point, and there is no way for me to get to Punta Arenas right now without a helicopter.
I arrived in that most southern of port cities five days ago after several flights from the US. The flight from Santiago was fantastic, with amazing views of the northern and southern ice caps, and the fjords. The mountains gave way to the windswept, barren Patagonian steppe, until we finally reached the end of the continental landmass at the Strait of Magellan and landed in Punta Arenas, a cold and windy ramshackle port town with a scruffy charm.
I soon made my way to Puerto Natales and dove into trip prep, gathering the tremendous amount and variety of gear needed for a trip like this. I found a proper nautical chart and poured over the proposed route with German at Tutravesia, who is providing kayaks and logistical support.
The biggest hurdle was supposed to be the Chilean Navy. Without their approval there would be no expedition. A simple formality when I paddled in Chile 10 years ago had become a serious bureaucratic affair. I was seated at a conference table across from three officials, all starched uniforms and epaulets and hairstyles that I believe are called the "deep side part". There was a chart on the wall and a pointer and the whole thing reminded me a bit of Dr. Strangelove.
Some recent mishaps had made them somewhat wary of kayakers. I was grilled on my experience, on that of each member of the group, and on the specific safety and communication equipment we'd be carrying. The meeting was followed up with a long and thorough written application. All was in place for their august seal of approval, the ferocious winds were lying down out of the fjord, and then.... Strike!
Yesterday I biked out of town, past the vigilant milodon and some real-life black-necked swans to the barricade.
It was an orderly and peaceful scene that could have been anywhere. Working class families feeling the squeeze of rising prices and stagnant wages. So for now I'm stuck here at the wonderfully cozy Erratic Rock hostel, along with lots of other folks trying to go trekking in Torres del Paine. At least the wine and cheese shop is still open...