The similarities of landscape between the American West and Argentina are astounding. East of the Andes near San Rafael, Argentina, John and I camped in desert canyon country; creosote bush, barrel cactus, and Mormon tea (ephedra). I doubt they call it that here.

Southward we drove, into barren lands reminiscent of Nevada. By afternoon, it was the sagebrush country of eastern Oregon, and then volcanic rims and distant snowy volcanoes—Washington state. Passing one of these snow domes returned us to Chile. The inspection lady grabbed our potatoes with a bemused smirk and offered a firm, “no.”

High dollar shops and tourist traffic in Pucon felt a bit shocking after the empty plains of Argentina. We found our footing with helpful directions from Kayak Pucon, and the very stoked Santi at Rivers, Lakes, and Oceans.

Pucon is a centerpiece for whitewater paddling. The Trancura, Maichin, and Puesco; Govi and I sampled all of these, and still we barely touched the variety of high-quality runs around Pucon. We could’ve stayed for weeks, but there were rumors we felt compelled to pursue: Crystalline spring-fed rivers, hidden roadside gorges, backwoods 2nd descents. The rivers of the Bio Bio region were on the agenda.