The old man had just moved his bishop when the phone rang. Keeping his eyes on the board, he reached into his pocket, clicked the Speaker function, and dropped his cell on the table.

“Donde te escondes? Jugando, supongo?!”

“Where are you hiding? Playing [chess], I assume?!”

We laughed, Jaime assured his wife he wouldn’t be too much longer, and we resumed play.

Jaime was one of the many characters populating the chess boards in Coyhaique’s central plaza. Locals and tourists, regulars and passers-by, would come and go, sitting down for one game or 10, enjoying the craft of the game and the atmosphere it engendered.

I had discovered the tables while spending three nights in Coyhaique at Eliana’s place before heading south to the bottom of the Carretera Austral in Villa O’Higgins. On the way back north, I was excited for a longer stint in the region’s capital.

Sitting where the Simpson and Coyhaique rivers meet, Coyhaique is a small and compact city of just over 50,000 at the midpoint of the Carretera Austral. It was only founded in 1929, to encourage settlement in the region, but offers a nice taste of urban life. For those travelling through the Aysén countryside, Coyhaique is a nice stop for good food, craft beer, and vibrant street life. 

By the time I pulled back into Eliana’s yard three weeks after having left, my bike was hurting. The bumpy gravel road has taken its toll. My front racks had cracked in numerous places, my front derailleur was misaligned, and a mysterious creaking sound was coming from in or near my bottom bracket. I was happy to set up my tent, pop into Eliana’s cabin, and sit down for a home-cooked meal. Man and bike needed rest.

For the next 10 days, I enjoyed establishing a routine. Each morning, I would wake up and join Eliana inside for breakfast. We would relax, or knock off a few chores, before I made the short bike ride into town. I spent my days in the cafes, at the bike shop, simply walking around, and at the chess tables, before returning to Eliana’s to cook dinner together, watch Pasapalabra and the news, and relax into the night.

Spending time just hanging out with Eliana was major trip highlight. It was easy to connect with this thoughtful and friendly 67-year-old mother, grandmother, and widow, who created a Couchsurfing account a few years ago to start hosting travellers. We spoke openly and easily about life, relationships, family, and whatever else. I appreciated her wisdom. These types of connections – forged across different generations, languages, customs, and cultures – are my favourite part of travel.

My second home was, of course, the chess board. I could envision my life 40 years down the road: each afternoon, I would show up, grab a coffee and a sopaipilla from Gloria’s stand, greet the crowd at the tables, and sit down to play.

Chess, like futbol so often does, served as a common language for those at the tables. I developed a healthy rivalry with el Che (the Argentinian guy), a jocular and daring player. I played many games with a young guy from Santiago, whose measured approach befitted his Math degree. I had a long series of encounters with a newly-arrived Venezuelan migrant, exchanging as many stories as chess pieces. And, of course, I often played with Jaime, recovering some of my dignity after the battering he gleefully gave me in our first encounter.

Presiding over it all was el maestro, the teacher, who would set up the tables each morning, read his manuals, watch the matches, and teach those who asked. It was a pleasure watching him patiently and enthusiastically giving lessons to the children who would show up wanting to learn how to play.

It was a bit sad jumping back on the bike and pulling out of Coyhaique last week. It certainly felt like the place where I could happily spend an extended amount of time. But would that ever happen? Would I return? Would I see these people again? For all the hellos of travel, there are just as many goodbyes.