Hitting The Andes Trail

Nearly two miles high in what would seem to be the inaccessible heart of the Chilean Andes , while most of the U.S. swelters in August heat, a lucky few who love skiing enough to pursue it all year round are at this very moment disporting themselves in sun and snow in just about the most sensational skiing area in the world. Although the resort of Portillo (see page 12) consists of little more than the massive, watermelon-pink Gran Hotel Portillo, three shacks for the ski lift operators and a railroad station, it has all the creature comforts that a modern skier asks for, plus the wildness of really high-altitude (20,000 feet) mountain scenery. And it can be reached from Miami , take-off point for the major airlines' nights to Chile in just 22 hours for between $600 and $1,000 round trip depending on how you choose to fly.

The hotel, which was built by the Chilean government in 1948, has three ski lifts—two chair lifts totaling 3,800 feet and a 2,300-foot platter pull. There is a skating rink as well, and an underground passage to the railroad station where the trains from Santiago pull in. The ski slopes and one almost vertical descent where Ralph Miller set the world's downhill speed record in 1955, something around 110 miles an hour, are a moment's distance from the hotel. The beginners' slope is southwest of the hotel and the speed-record run is to the northeast, while the two more advanced descents are in between.

Strangely enough, the higher of the advanced slopes, which is reached by two chair lifts—one to La Cumbre and the second to El Plateau—is the easier, although the longer, descent. More expert or braver skiers leave the lift at La Cumbre and cope with the rigors of a steep, narrow defile between two rock masses known as La Garganta—the throat. Inevitably the non-Spanish-speaking skiers refer to it as Gargantua, to the amusement of the Latins, for there is nothing in the least Gargantuan about the slope, its greatest peril being its extreme narrowness at the steepest point—approximately 30 feet.

Two all-day ski tours are also available. One leads down the valley for a distance of four miles to a village called Juncal, from which one returns by train late in the afternoon. The other trip has as its goal the famous Christ of the Andes on the Chilean-Argentine border, an outing involving a three-hour climb, a picnic lunch and an hour-and-a-half descent. Of these two tours the former is the more popular, since it involves no climbing, a not unimportant point at this altitude.

There are other more taxing tours with appeal only for expert skiers which can be made when snow and weather conditions permit. All involve climbing and should under no circumstances be attempted without a guide. Notable among these are the run down the boulder-strewn Roca de Jack, or Jack's Rock; another called Ojos de Salados, or Salty Eyes—a reference, no doubt, to the state of the skier's eyes as he hurtles down; and a third rather significantly named Clavos Calientes, or Hot Nails. Some skiers believe it was so named to suggest that the old Hindu stunt of walking on hot nails was an amateur's trick compared to skiing down this precipitous run at Portillo.

The quantity and quality of the snow at Portillo is unexcelled anywhere, which is one of the reasons that Olympic skiers from all over the Western Hemisphere throng to Portillo in July and August. They do not, however, expect to find the ultimate in luxury of accommodations. Unfortunately, at this time, Chile is still in the throes of an economic crisis and an austerity program comparable to that of Britain after World War II. Most Chileans are taking it in their stride but, admirable as the program is, it does not have a stimulating effect on the management of resort hotels. The Gran Hotel Portillo, too, has suffered from the crisis—the hotel accommodations are not up to the luxurious standards of its European counterparts. The food, though abundant and perfectly served through all five courses, is not outstanding. The rooms, which can accommodate up to 300 people, are adequate, all with private bath, and there is a dormitory on the top floor for the less affluent. The beds are comfortable, the lights work, there are hangers in the closets, the water is hot, which is more than can be said for the temperature inside the hotel during the daytime. Coal and wood are expensive commodities to haul up to Portillo, and there is an understandable need to conserve them.

Two common rooms of the hotel which do not seem to suffer from the lack of heat are the Juvenile Bar, where soft drinks are served and three billiard tables and three ping-pong tables are provided; and the Bo�te, certainly the throbbing heart of the hotel and a place the truly dedicated skier will probably never enter, since its hours of operation are from midnight until the last guest leaves. This little night club, decorated with Easter Island motifs, is properly dark and conversation is properly limited by the music-making of a piano, guitar and drum trio who can play anything from tango to rock 'n' roll, with a marked preference for the latter.

In addition, there is a ski shop which sells the bare essentials—socks, dark glasses and so on—a first-aid room and a ski rental and repair shop.

Prices at Portillo average about $25 a day for a couple—meals included, of course. Ski instruction is about $1.50 an hour for a private lesson; ski rentals are around 75� a day. The tipping rate is low and the prices of the excellent Chilean wines are rock-bottom.

Several factors indicate that improvements at the hotel are on the way. The Chilean government, inspired by Pan American-Grace Airways (who are so enthusiastic about promoting summer skiing in Chile that they have made available to their passengers Hart skis, Henke boots, poles, trousers and parkas on a rental basis at their Santiago office), is becoming increasingly aware that it has a real tourist attraction in Portillo.