Travel Blog #2: A Stroll Up Cerro Santa Lucia

I’ve hiked, climbed, ski-lifted, and crampon-ed, if that’s a word, up a lot of hills recently, big and small. What I’ve found is that sometimes a small hill is just as worthwhile as a true mountaineering expedition at altitude, and a lot less expensive and time-consuming, too.

Last Saturday, I went with some friends to Cerro Santa Lucia, a hill in the middle of Santiago. It’s the baby sibling of the massive Cerro San Cristobal, which dominates the skyline. But even that larger hill is the runt of the geological litter of the Andes towering over the eastern outskirts of the city.

All of these comparisons are a roundabout way to say that Cerro Santa Lucia measures in at a “lowly” 68 meters, or 223 feet for the free (an adjective that seems to land awry these days, if it didn’t ever before). It’s small enough to be entirely surrounded by downtown Santiago, but rises drastically enough above the otherwise flat valley floor that it remains unsettled, an island of nature hemmed in between the urban hubbub of Barrio Lastarria, Bellas Artes, and Avenida Alameda.

It’s a steep way up. None of it is straightforward, either. For a seemingly petite outcropping, Cerro Santa Lucia still manages to be labyrinthine. Around its base, the park can’t seem to decide whether it’s open for roaming or fenced-in, and for this reason there seem to be countless entrances, though maybe only a few that go anywhere. At any rate, if you want to ascend, you’ll eventually be corralled onto a cobblestone road and pass by a lively fountain in front of a gorgeous building.

From here, you have two options: keep following the road, which inclines at a barely-perceptible angle and spirals around the hill—perfect for horses wheeling a carriage fifty-plus years ago, maybe—or you can take a series of jagged switchbacks, which slice their way up with sharp intention.

For my impatient self, there was only one option. Besides, I had sandwiched this quick outing right in between my midday climbing session and a homemade ceviche night that awaited back at the house. I was able to do so because I’m lucky enough to live close enough to downtown that Cerro Santa Lucia is only forty minutes by walking, thirty minutes by metro, or, best for me, twenty minutes by micro, the term for the hundreds of bus lines that crisscross Santiago.

While somewhat exerting, the hike to the top wasn’t too bad. It had rained the day before, so in places mud squelched underneath our shoes (a piece of cake, though, compared to the mud in Parque Nacional Huerquehue a week prior). As we climbed, the path occasionally opened up to a beautiful viewpoint here, a charming garden there. Close to the top, a lovely terrace beckoned us with its inviting benches.

To reach the summit, a platform atop a tower perched at the highest point of the hill, we had to file up a crowded set of stairs. From what I had seen on my way up, I had a feeling the view was going to be something special.

Special it was. Yesterday’s rains had cleansed the smog and dumped snow on the cordillera, and the result was truly breathtaking. I had seen the city from above from several vantage points, but never like this, with such clarity in the air, with the mountains looming so large, with the ability to turn in any direction you please and see for dozens of kilometers.

From this lookout, you realize just how large of a city Santiago is. There are nearly eight million people here, the same size as New York City, but usually, while it feels and breathes and lives like a metropolis, it never feels so aggressively, in-your-face massive as the Big Apple. Atop Cerro Santa Lucia, though, on a raft in a sea of endless high-rises, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of settlements. Some of the buildings are older, just below the level from where you stand; some of them are modern, stretching above you. In the distance, the Costanera proves that it is indeed the tallest building in Latin America.

I can’t think of anything quite like this view. In its sprawl, it’s kind of similar to looking out over Los Angeles from Mulholland Drive, except that you’re in the heart of downtown, and you didn’t need a car to get there. It’s not like Christ the Redeemer, or for that matter, Cerro San Cristobal, because you’re not so high above it all as to be removed from it. You can still hear construction and music and buses and cars honking at each other. You can still taste the life of the city; you can still place your finger on its pulse.

And, of course, there are the Andes.

These are mountains with a capital M. These are mountains that you have to see to believe. These are mountains that once you see, you’ll never really believe, so big they make the skyscrapers next to you feel like an ornate carpet on the valley floor. I’ll put it this way: the smartphone camera is commonly accepted as the great humbler of all mountains, rendering proud peaks smaller than they’ll ever be in your eyes or in your memory, but see for yourself. The Andes refuse to be humbled.

Descending back into the commotion, strangely, you feel less insignificant. You may be one person among 8 million; the city may be a mere speck next to one of the defining features of our planet, positioned on one of its most active fault lines, but you have people to meet, goals to chase, a life to get back to. As you weave your way back into the quilt that, for one hour, you had detached yourself from, you feel that you are an important thread. You are undaunted by all of those tall buildings. In fact, you hardly notice them.

One of the great and peculiar qualities of my experience in Santiago has been that, unlike in some other cities, I’ve never felt like an ant, like one tiny unimportant being scurrying among a swarm of countless others, readily crushed at any moment. Or rather, I’ve never felt that way except for when I was at the top of Cerro Santa Lucia.

I suppose, then, it would be rather apt—and proportionally accurate—to call it the anthill of the cordillera.

Note: I know it’s been a few weeks since the last post. I haven’t forgotten about the blog; I’ve actually been working on a bunch of different posts. With so much happening every day, it’s hard to find the time, much less keep up with everything. I think my new strategy will be to keep things very focused to a specific theme, moment, or place.

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