one more.

a casino is an interesting place. to it's core, it's own beast. 

after a long day of hiking through the mountain lakes of Parque Nacional Huerquehue we spent an evening at Refugio Tinquilco - a cabin built on the edge of of the park built by four friends: an architect, a writer, a musician & an engineer. well designed. very minimal in amenities. they boasted a wood burning sauna, which smelt of Christmas. dinner was a huge spread of sheep, potatoes and red wine. full and content i fell asleep in front of the wood burning stove. moving upstairs seemed an unnecessary challenge.

the following day started off well and continued on such a course. breakfast at 9:30. coffee, of a real brew. you'll understand what i mean when your only alternative through chile is terribly sharp & bitter nescafe. resembling coffee only in its warmth and colour. packets like a powdered creamer. steadily reminds me of post scuba dive refreshments. 

again, its not important. 

what's of importance is how smoothly the day was progressing.  at our leisure from our cabin in the national park. we strolled along the river bank to the park entrance hut. we were looking to make our way to another hot spring: Termas Pozones. supposedly more 'natural' than les geomatricas. natural rock scapes outlining the baths and a river sand bottom. a glacial river flowing the length of the hot spring's 6 pool span. yes, they were natural and certainly worth a visit, but they lacked the creativity & secludedness of geomatricas. 

nonetheless, we arrived at the gate to the park and noticed the most recent bus, one of three on the day, had just left 15 minutes prior. the walk to the hotspring turn off would take 1.5 hr down a gravel switchback and a few km on pavement. not going to walk. the next bus would arrive in 40 mins. 

pulled out Papillon and started turning pages for  all for 5mins.  a pickup pulled up. it was the husband to our cook last night. he ate dinner in the cabin with us. we need not hold up a thumb, for he stopped right at us and offered a lift. 

we arrived at the pavement turn-off - he was going the other way - and within 20 seconds another pickup signaled to turn down our road. a quick thumb and eye contact and the gentleman pulled over. of german descent, he quickly heard our poor spanish and asked 'spreckenze deutsche?' 

-'nah. nihongo?'

spanish it was. he took us 15 mins down the road to the last turn off. he heading back to pucon and us up the hill 5 km to the hotsprings. we decided that walking from here wouldn't be too large an issue. stepped to it and again, within 2mins the only car to pass along the road picked us up and dropped at right at the entrance. his white chevelle boasted a small 3'x4' black plastic plaque that read 'proteggi il mio cammino.' just left to the white words was a salvation image of jesus. he was a gym teacher at a school further up the road. 

paid our $4,000 entrance fee and descended what proved to be a rather steep dirt driveway to the river. we walked. knees felt it. reached the river and the baths along the shore, put on our trunks and picked a pool each. only two other people there. thus, i had an entire hotspring pool to myself for the better part of 2hrs. read through Papillon's 2nd stint in solitare and a foiled escape from the islands. damn spying rats. 

toby nearly fainted after climbing the steep driveway back up to the road. claimed he stopped to take a picture of the horses. huh? the guy's taken 4 pictures in the entire week+ i've known him. later claimed dehydration and muscle cramps, 'tengo, calambres.' 

with so few cars passing by - zero - we figured walking was again our top option. fortunately the grade was down. 400m and enough time for toby to point out the very horse he photographed, a bus heading to pucon approached. i sleep the entire way back. well not true. the only part i was awake for was when toby and i both reflected on how successful our hitching had been over the course of the day. we looked away and quickly turned and shot each other a quick glance and acknowledged smile: the casino had to be in our cards for the night. 

some down time. followed by some wine time. a $2 dollar stellar bottle of vino tinto continued us on course for the day. dinner from the small shop down the street which serves 3 dishes. two change daily and the completos remain constant. completos are hotdogs in doughy white buns, loaded with mayonaise, guacamole and tomatoes. they certainly have their moments, but you can't help remind yourself  a chain is only as strong as that weakest link. for me its always a suped up microwaved weiner. 

i opted for the 2nd daily: ravioli. a couple ltrs of beer for the 3 of us. singing broke out. we were stink eyed by the locals, but embraced by the owners. the proprieter, a short stalky chilean sporting a 'perelli tires' baseball hat, treated us to a solo about finding his lover. we left shortly after. not due to the singing, but our plates clean, beers were empty and the casino called. 

we got side tracked at a local indoor soccer game being played in a small gym - similar to a flood rescue center. both were home teams, but one of them was leading 2-1 with 3 mins remaining. we stayed. i cheered. the goalie was 'en fuego.' the home team won. 

we exited the gym and entered the casino.

you could tell the weekend approached. still being just a thursday, but the crowd was 5x the normal draw. tables had presence. the games were wider. ultimately, more energy. it just felt so right. we were going to hitch another ride.

blackjack. thats where you start. lost the first two hands. 60% of the bank depleted. unfortunately, my entrance roll started at exactly nothing. i had to go to the ATM off the bat. naturally, i'd withdraw enough for lodging, food and a few activities. a weeks worth. didn't want to pay more processing fees. 

i say unfortunately because despite best efforts sometimes you slip at little. going into a casino, its important to establish the thresholds: up & down. in addition, put away the first winnings that bring you playing above your entrance cash. away. try if you can not to touch it. good luck.

after two bets i was down 60% of my initial boundaries. it took little time before i was tempted to pull more from the pocket. i fluctuated. always a bit down. roulette won me the returns of a direct single chip on 21. that gave me a scrappy chance at playing my winning number's namesake. i did well for a while, yet found myself  dipping. I started playing larger. the winnings & losses both of a wider range. way more fun. way more entertaining, but always scrappy. a table of 5 players at its peak, 3 at its least. a mother, daughter team straddled toby and i. the mother on me direct left was a player. or at least she was having her snooker's roll. after watching the first 3 deals she turned $10,000 into $50,000 in successive hands. i was rolling with her. my bets turned up and the table was hot. its cliche, i know, but truth nonetheless. 

i'll spare further details of turbulent triumph and tailspin. the plot is common, but one constant must trump all: no tears. 

toby chipped away and ended up knocking the cover off with his consistency. seems that swinging for the fences isn't always as rewarding as a method. he turned round chips into larger valued round chips and turned these into even larger rectangle chips. a level i am yet to reach. he was a hitter. 

out we walked. hard not to smile. reveling in a day of good timing. a day when the roll continued. good fortune & inertia.