Portillo is a state of mind. Over 12,000 feet up in the Andes Mountains it’s about as close to heaven as you can get without oxygen.Well above the tree line so the mountains you traverse are naked and rocky, the trip leads you to wonder if the promise of Portillo can possibly be all it is thought to be. The twenty-nine switchback turns without guard rails, permit you to look down into the impossibly far away valley below. The massive trucks, hauling goods to destinations that can only be imagined on the other side of these tall peaks slow the ascent to a crawl. Passing the high altitude Chilean Army training post a glimpse of chair lifts portend a different world beckoning just a short distance away. And now the rustic inn of the Portillo Hotel rises from the recesses of the mountain to proclaim the end of the ascent and arrival in Heaven.
Even now, in the parking area there is no hint of what lies beyond. More naked peaks with suggestions of snow evident on this October day.This cannot be Heaven as it seems more like a polar outpost, removed from humanity and the world of comfort from which we have climbed to this distant place. A glance across the parking area and a large modern building can be seen where the road has once more turned around to climb to a yet higher point. What is this building? “Customs”, we are told. For that building marks the boarder with Argentina. I had no idea that Heaven could be so close to Argentina.
Entering the lodge one instantly understands that you area bout to be transported to another place. The view through the window on the back side of the lodge blinds and amazes at the same time. A massive blue lake is nestled amongst the snow tinged peaks. At my count there are four ski lifts rising up impossible mountain trails. The view is awe inspiring.
We are escorted to the restaurant and a table directly facing Heaven. I find it difficult to tear my eyes away from the deep blueness before me, even to read the menu and order my meal. I am no longer in Chile. I am no longer a mere mortal making my way through life. I have ascended to Heaven through a portal known as Portillo.
A lunch consisting of a very fresh and too large salad with spinach and endive leaves precedes a main course of salmon prepared exactingly as ordered and accompanied by a bottle of Seven Colors wine is excellent, but I hardly notice, still entranced by the view before me. I etch every nuance into my memory wanting to stay in Heaven as long as possible, to carry this image with me wherever I go, knowing I have a three hour trek back to Santiago and the voyage of discovery amongst the broad offerings of the Chilean wine community that this trip represents for me and those who have chosen to accompany me.
As we gather our things to begin the return trip, I stop in the hallway towards the restrooms. No three hour trip should begin without such a stop in preparation. In this hallway are flags from the ski patrol in Portillo and pictures of the national and Olympic ski teams that practice on these slopes during the Chilean winter which is opposite that of winter in the northern hemisphere. Reflecting on the steepness of the slopes it is clear that Portillo presents the kind of challenge that world class skiers would relish.At that moment I envy the life of Olympic skiers who come to Heaven to practice before their performance on the world stage. Practice perfection. Seeking immortality. But isn’t that what Heaven is all about? Immortality?
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