We had been to this place before, on the return leg of our uber-road trip to Patagonia.  But place names are still largely unfamiliar to us, and usually just have meaning as way points on the map.

So when we came back for Sue to compete in a 15k race near the Volcan Llaima, it didn’t occur to us that this place was both special and familiar.  And the day we arrived it rained all day and night and was utterly socked in.

At dawn on the day of the race, we rounded a corner out of the deep forest, and were met by the sight of the volcano brightly lit by the rising sun, while the lava the behemoth had deposited just a few years before I was born was still in the soft blue gloom of the early morning.

Holy.  Moly.






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