Dec 26th 2014 - Flying into Temuco 

So the suffering hasn't quite started yet ... coddled in my business class upgrade, no lost luggage, and now getting the royal treatment by my cousins here in Temuco! After an asado tonight, I'll build the bike tomorrow, then we all head to the start at Puerto Varas on the 28th, when the real fun begins.

Dec 26th, 2014  - Temuco

Puede ser que comimos mucho, y puede ser que tomamos mucho, con mis primos quieridos Alvaro y Rodrigo y  mi tia Vais

It took quite while on the 27th in Temuco to get the bike ready. I had decided to not take panniers, which means a lot less space. I'm not sure if it was a great idea or not - I think it started as an ultralight arms race with Simon aka the Grey Wolf who will join me in Coyaique  as we were both determined to not be stuck taking more stuff than the other guy. I had to make a few tough decisions but I think I managed to get in everything essential. Luckily my cousin Rodrigo's son Javier helped a whole lot. On the 28th Rodrigo and his bother Alvaro, their families and my Aunt Edelwais headed south to my cousin Mila's house in Puerto Varas 4 hrs away where the adventure would begin. Her son Alan and his daughter Josefina were already there with his partner Paula, who is also a cousin of mine, and her son. Confused? Elizabeth Nolf can explain it all! Suffice to say a whole bunch of cousins were there to see me off.

On the morning of the 29th, the day I would start the ride, I remembered that Elisa had figured out it would be Dad's birthday, so that was also on my mind.

It turns out that Mila's partner Jose Lois has a fishing resort in a town called Ralun, which is a bit of a detour from my original route through Puerto Montt, but a more scenic route and the offer of a bed, hot shower and food at the end of the day were too tempting to pass up. Mila and Jose Louis would meet me there later that afternoon. I set off at about 11am with a rousing send off from all the cousins. Then... I realized about 20 miles in that not riding for the past 3 months was really not a great idea. A terrible idea in fact. My legs were screamifng in a hot burn up the big hills. It started to rain pretty hard around the town of Ensenada, and I waited the worst of it out at a bus stop.

Got to talking to some friendly locals who were slightly confused when I told them I was headed to Ushuaia. On that thing?, they said skeptically. Then, 78kms and 3000 ft of elevation later I finally got to Jose Louis' resort in Ralun completely knackered. Mila was waiting there for me with fresh bread, pasta, beer and watermelon. It was truly wonderful.

So all in all a pretty good first day, everything held together. I'm sore as all hell right now, but quite content nonetheless, Let's see what shape I'm in tomorrow.

https://www.strava.com/activities/234834072 

Day 2 - relentless 100km hilly gravel ride from Ralun in the cold and rain and wind along the bay towards the Gulf of Ancud and the road towards Hornopiren. I was looking for a place to stop at about 70kms in but at some point gave up and decided to not worry about it, keep riding and enjoy the view.

The low, dark clouds, gloomy skies and the changing light over the bay were spectacular. Sometime after 8 pm I reached the ferry landing point where if I'd come directly from Puerto Montt I would have landed - close to 10hrs of riding. I asked about places to stay as I wasn't too keen on camping with the rain with everything wet. There were lodgings In Contao, I was told, about 10 kms away. The Gps showed 88kms at that point, and after some stuffing around in Contao (including a lady at an hospedaje who took one look at my wet, dirty, bedraggled disposition and told me no hay nada and basically slammed the door in my face) when I finally pulled in to the place I'm now at the gps showed an even metric century.

This place is great - they're drying my clothes, hot-ish shower (well, traces of heat to take the edge off the cold water, Liz you know what I'm talking about, and sometimes you don't know if the traces of heat are just wishful thinking!). After a lovely dinner of mariscos I snuggled up in bed and was going to write this post as there's good señal here but literally couldn't keep my eyes open. Today it's raining again, but the locals tell me it's clear skies from tomorrow on. I'll try to get to Hornopiren today and hunker down for New Years. It's only 50kms so should get there early afternoon.

https://www.strava.com/activities/27592076

Day 3 - estoy en Hornopiren. Woke up in my Contao hospedaje to rain and howling wind, so tucked myself back in bed for another couple of hours. Had a nice breakfast of eggs and coffee and after some bike maintenance set off for Hornopiren about 11am. I had a choice of a 70km coastal road, scenic and hilly, or the main road which is 50 kms and basically goes straight over a mountain. Having done an arduous coastal road the day before I decided on the mountain. About halfway up a brutal 20km climb I was starting to doubt my decision - it was brutal. The road was pretty bad, potholed with lots of loose dirt and gravel. Had to walk the bike a few times. I'd also for some reason neglected to pack any snacks or fruit, so was having a major energy bonk.

When I finally crested the mountain, the rain stopped and the sun came out, and my aches and pains seemed to vanish with the rain. I finally got in to Hornopiren with 50kms completed on the GPS, feeling hungry but pretty good. It's a nice town - by the sea, a bit hardscrabble like a lot of Chilean towns, but not run down, and very scenic. Got myself a nice cabaña, a little expensive at 25000 pesos, 50 bucks, but hey, I deserved it right? The place is supposed to have wifi, but it doesn't work for me. Also, I couldn't get any hot water out of the shower, so after 15 mins of running the tap got dressed, called the guy who fiddled with something and finally some warm water came out. But I was dressed at that point, so went for dinnerat the only place in town open on New Year's Eve - meat, potatoes, salad, beer, does it get any better?

Then I stopped by a mini-mart and for some reason bought a box full of stuff - pasta, tinned stuff, beer, wine, biscuits, cereal, milk... I won't be able to eat much of it, can't take it on the bike, but somehow it made me feel good to buy the stuff. Of course, when I came back to the cabaña there was no hot water. I ran that damn tap for 1/2 hr and it wasn't even warm. I think I've had one shower with what I would call HOT water since I arrived. Let it run for a while,it takes time to load up through the pipes or some crazy thing like that. But alas you wait and wait and it just don't come.

Tomorrow there's better weather expected, I'm catching a ferry to take me south, and I should end up in Chaiten in a couple of days. Chaiten was almost wiped out in a 2008 eruption and is still being rebuilt. Anyways, happy New Years to everyone, and thanks for following the adventure! Feliz Año Nuevo!

https://www.strava.com/activities/235053651 

Day 4.

Boarded the noon ferry from Hornopiren to Caleta Gonzalo, which is about 60kms from Chaiten. The boat trip took about 5 hrs, including a hair-raising overland in-between bit where I had to throw the bike on the back of a camioneta, jump in with it and hold on for dear life as an Argentinian driver went a little too fast for comfort for 10 kms of bumpy, windy gravel.

After the last 30min ferry leg we landed at Caleta Gonzalo, an absolutely gorgeous spot, like something out of Jurassic Park. It was 6pm when we docked, a little late to make a run for Chaiten as I'd originally planned. There were some cabañas, but everything was closed up for the new year. 100 meters up the road, I came to a nice camping area by the Gonzalo river, with bathrooms! So I busted out the tent for the first time on this trip, had one of my mountain house dinners (beef stew) while chatting to some fellow campers.

My one goof was to put my ultralight titanium cup on top of my stove to heat up a coffee - bad idea! It got all glowing red and started to warp, much to the amusement of my dinner companions. Titanium, one crusty old English guy said disdainfully, is just the latest fad. Nothing like good old tin. He was quite pleased with my mishap as he'd already been thoroughly annoyed at my fiddling with my satellite tracker.

Tomorrow, onward to Chaiten.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275926033 

Day 5, 290kms Total.

After breaking camp at the Caleta Gonzalo campground and a repack of my gear to shift weight off the front, I set off for Chaiten at around 9:30 in the morning. I was feeling pretty good - a little chilly a first, but soon warned up as the sun came out full force. The pains of days past had all subsided into dull aches.

The ride was spectacular, although again very hilly, following a river up a deep valley gorge, then when I finally crested the pass, the ocean was in view. Some more ups and downs, and at around 60kms Chaiten finally came into view. It's a port, so there's the customs office and the harbormaster, everything neat and tidy.

I found an hospedaje, and a lavanderia to wash my clothes, and, somewhat to the alarm of my waitress, ate a huge meal of chicken with 3 aggregados - rice, French fries and salad, all washed down by 2 Escudo beers. It went down a treat.

I haven't looked at the map yet for tomorrow, but it's basically head south, then south, and then south again towards my rendezvous with the Grey Wolf somewhere near Coihaique, about 400kms from here.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275947712 

Halfway up an absolute shocker of a 2500 ft climb, about 35kms from Fresia where I'll try to get to this evening if this climb doesn't kill me first. My map shows a camping icon there.

Day 6, 80 kms today, 370 kms total

Arrived at Villa Santa Lucia. The first 50 kms out of Chaiten to Puerto Cardenas were a dream run - paved, running moderately uphill up a very wide spectacular valley with snow capped peaks in the distance on either side.

After a lazy start leaving Chaiten at around 11am, I felt strong, powering up the steeper inclines up on the pedals, averaging a good 20 to 25 kms/hr uphill. I arrived at Puerto Cardenas earlier than expected, and after a quick bread and cheese that I'd bought on the way I decided to press on to Villa Santa Lucia, about 30 kms away. Well, those 30 kms were brutal. After crossing a suspension bridge that looked like a mini Golden Gate, the pavement gave way to loose, potholed gravel, and the incline was severe. From 500 ft to about 2500 ft in about 10 kms climbing a deep river gorge called Cuesta Moraga that got ever narrower and steeper. The sun was beating down, and the sweat was running down my face, my shirt was soaked.

At some point I couldn't pedal anymore and walked the bike up the last 2 kms to the pass. There was a point where the gorge closed completely and it wasn't clear where the road could possibly go, but it made one last very steep s-bend that had been blasted out of the mountain and after that I crested over a pass and on the other side below me was a wide valley floor and a beautiful long descent into Villa Santa Lucia. My legs were shot by then, so I coasted down, barely managing the one last hill just before the town.

I'd clocked just shy of 80 kms in total. It's a tiny town, at the cross roads between the Carretera Austral, which I was on, and the road to Futaleufu, a popular mountain town bordering Argentina. There were 10 or so Israelis in the main square who'd missed the bus to Futaleufu and were trying to negotiate a ride, creating quite a scene. They wanted to pay 1000 pesos per person, because it was the price quoted for a minibus in a book they had, but the guy with the camioneta wanted 60,000 pesos total, and wasn't budging. I tried to help a bit with the negotiations, but it was futile, so I biked around looking for somewhere to stay, it being after 8pm and I wasn't really in the mood for camping.

I asked a couple of guys drinking beers on a front porch of a house. It turned out it was a boarding house for local workers, but not for tourists who apparently are a pain. Israelis especially, they said, were the worst.Guy F you need to get over here to fix the image of the Israelis... Ahh, on second thoughts ;) Also, they told me later that the Chilean govt has special rules about catering to foreigners. At first they weren't fully convinced I wasn't Israeli, much less Chilean, but eventually I pulled out my Chilean identity card and that settled it. I had a room, hot shower, dinner and breakfast, all for a pretty reasonable 12000 for the night, or a bit over $20.

Next stop tomorrow is La Junta, where I have an Aunt Orli Krause I'm checking in on. Well, she's the sister of my grandfather's brother's wife, just to be clear. That's about 70 kms away, apparently hilly, bit not insane like today, And the hot weather is apparently going to continue. At least a breeze would be good.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275948571 

Day 7, Jan 4th, 65 kms today, 435 kms total,

My new mind technique to cope with the endless hills is to think the following; there are a finite number of hills between the start of the trip and Ushuaia. Each hill I tackle is one less left to do. So bring them on! It works for a bit. But then sometimes when rounding a corner it's oh crap no, not another freaking massive hill!!

First 20 or so kms out of Villa Santa Lucia were recently paved - smooth, rolling, following a river downstream. Things got tougher when the gravel started - big, chunky gravel and potholes. Often it's not avoiding potholes, it's trying to pick the smallest ones. I chatted to a pair of cyclists going North, an Irish guy and Polish girl in their 20s, quite fit looking. Their bikes were loaded to the gills - front bags, back bags, rack pack, they looked like cargo mules. They were absolutely incredulous that I was going to Ushuaia with such a light load. They reeled off a bunch of stuff as they were sure I was missing something critical. But it turned out I had most of it, except a spare tire, chain and I had a lot less changes of clothes.

I kept rolling as I wanted to reach the outskirts of La Junta at a reasonable time to meet my Aunt Orly. I found the house, and was made to feel very welcome by her, a daughter Doris who lives with her, her son and three grand kids who were visiting. My Aunt, in her 80s, is a bright spark with a wicked sense of humor, and the fact that this middle aged man from New York had been given permission by his wife and kids to set off on this crazy adventure and to suffer in southern Chile provided much good natured amusement at my expense, and she soon had everyone, including me, in hysterics. Her granddaughters are really cool - one is into Dr Who, Sherlock Holmes and the Smiths. Sylvie, you see nerd culture is alive and flourishing even in the depths of Patagonia!

Hearty meal of meat and salad, then we settled in to watch the final episode of a Turkish telenovela everyone was into. Turkish dubbed in Spanish. It was melodramatic, with mood music, loose ends being tied left and right, dramatic happy ending.

Tomorrow is another day and more hills to cross off the list. I've been warned about a monster hill just before Coyaique which apparently is 3000 meters (!) of climbing. Can that be right? I really hope it's a mistake ... Lisa H, can you take a look on Google Earth for me? Well for now it's time to tuck in and dream of the downhills...

https://www.strava.com/activities/275948502 

Day 8, 55 kms today, 490 kms total

I woke up in a wonderfully toasty bed in the house of my Aunt just North of La Junta. Hot shower, an early morning chat with my Aunt over some Yerba Mate, 3 fried eggs, bread, cheese, jam, coffee for breakfast. Doris made me two big meat sandwiches on fresh baked bread for the trip. Warm goodbyes, wishes of good luck and I was on my way. If every morning could start this way! My aunt and her family were wonderful and I felt privileged to have gotten to know them. Once they accept you as their own, they become extremely warm, loyal, protective - it is I think a characteristic of the German immigrant experience in Chile. Resourcefulness, intelligence, a high standard of ethics and a very sharp wit are other traits that come to mind.

I rode the 7 kms to La Junta quite fast, and by the time I got to the town square I was already ravenous! So I ate one of the two sandwiches. Then I looked at the second and, you guessed it...

The rest of the ride was a grind. It started to rain heavily and the temperature dropped. I put on my rain jacket, but I should have put on my full rain gear as it was really pelting down in parts. There was heavy road work in progress - big trucks rumbling up and down the road and roadblocks for 15 minutes or more at a time. I was starting to get the chills. The trucks were kicking up loose gravel, and every now and then a stone would fly out like a projectile. All in all quite an unpleasant experience.

After 55 kms of riding, I descended on the port town of Puerto Puyuhuapi. Beautiful spot at the very end of a channel to the sea - the Ventisquero inlet. Found an hospedaje, went to a German restaurant for dinner and felt thoroughly exhausted when I got back to the room. With 225 kms to go to Coyaique and a day of rain projected for tomorrow, I think it may be a good time to take a day's break from riding. There's lots of things to see around here, and the sky should be clearing somewhat on Wednesday.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275948939 

Day 9

Took a day off the bike today to visit the Ventisquero Colgante, or Hanging Glacier, which is about 20 kms south of Puerto Puyuhuapi, the town where I'm lodged. It was well worth it - an absolutely spectacular trip. In fact this whole area is just gorgeous, and has a lost world feel to it, prehistoric.

After breakfast at the hospedaje I lazed about, went for Kuchen and coffee at a German cafe, and then futzed about trying to find somewhere in town to wash my clothes, which the lady at the hospedaje ended up agreeing to do after taking sympathy on me. Not a regular service, she said. Gracias gracias, I responded. After all that I'd missed the buses to the park where the Ventisquero is, so I decided to try to hitch a ride. Weirdly, no cars were leaving town, and after an hour or so of standing on the outskirts I walked back into town and found out that the road to the south was closed for maintenance daily from 1 pm to 5 pm, and it was already after 2. The closure was after the park entrance, so I then tried to find someone who I could pay to take me, and finally an old guy in an old pickup driving around town agreed to take me for 18,000 pesos, or 30 bucks. I thought it a little steep, but what the heck. Well, we went straight to the Copec gas station, and I had to give him the money to pay for gas as his tank was empty. He only put 5000 worth in of the 18000. It was a rickety ride along a very bad road (which I'll be doing on the bike tomorrow).

Once at the park, a few kms of walking down a trail got me to the mirador, and the view of the glacier was truly awe inspiring. It's up high on a mountainside falling into the canyon below, and you see it like it's been dissected. There's multiple roaring waterfalls on both sides of it, and the scale is massive. Chunks of ice fall down periodically. And there's an ominous rumbling sound that emanates - you can almost feel the rocks and mountainside being ground down and crushed by the ice.

I took a boat ride that took me almost directly underneath the glacier, then a 7km round trip hike to a spot high on the mountain beside it. All quite spectacular.

As luck would have it I just missed all the buses back to town by about 1/2 hr, they all left at 7pm. But I walked back on the road and pretty soon hitched a ride back.

It rained on and off all day, but the heavy stuff didn't start till I was back in town having dinner.

Tomorrow I need to leave early to beat the 1 pm road closure., though I got conflicting views on where that is - somewhere between 30 and 40 kms away it seems. The big 3000 ft hill I've been warned about by many awaits about 40 kms away, and a few folks have told me to visit something called The Enchanted Forest, which is either at the top of the big hill, or at the bottom on the other side.

I may also consider going to Puerto Cisnes, a 60 km round trip detour from the road to Coyaique, depending how I'm doing for time.

A little sad to be leaving Puyuhuapi on this drizzly day, I'd grown to like this little town. Everyone has been so incredibly nice to me. To beat the 1pm road close I would have had to be riding by 8 or so, but I couldn't quite muster the get up and go, and I ended up lazy-assing the morning away instead. So I'm leaving at around noon for when the road opens again this afternoon. Not sure how far I'll get today - there's an atrocious road, huge hill then an enchanted forest coming up.

Day 10,    65 kms today, 555 kms total

I left Puhuhuapi about noon on a wet, gloomy day, rode along the inlet past the Ventisquero park I'd visited yesterday, and got to the road closure much sooner than expected at about 2:30 pm. I had over 2 hrs to cool my heels till the road opened again at 5. Cleaned my chain, tightened the bolts on the bike, ate most of my snacks... They were blasting the mountain to widen the road and every now and then there would be an earth shaking blast and a plume of smoke from up the road.

Setting off again, I rode through another 10kms or so of roadwork and shorter roadblocks - the scale of the project is impressive. I think the plan is to pave this whole stretch in the next few years.

At about 40 kms out of Puyuhuapi the big climb I'd been warned about started - the road zig zags straight up the side of a mountain to get over a high pass. I was in a good rhythm - staying a gear or two above the granny gear for the most part. I just kept pedaling - the s-bend corners were the steepest, so I'd stand on the pedals for those, then sit back down for the straight runs. I overtook a couple of cargo-mule cyclists on the way up. They must have had a ridiculously low granny gear as I caught up and went past them pretty quickly even though they were pedaling at a faster cadence than me. I didn't stop to chat, I was in the groove.

Once I got to the crest the vegetation stopped and it suddenly felt as though I was in the high mountains cycling rocky roads around the snowy peaks. It was a confluence of mountains at the top, and the road snaked its was around the peaks, staying quite flat for 5 kms or so before the descent. It was now late afternoon, and with no direct sun anywhere it got very cold and gray, and the drizzling rain didn't let up. My hands were freezing as I descended. Lots of fresh loose dirt on the road which hadn't yet been packed down which made it tricky to go at any speed.

It was getting dark, and I really needed to find a place to camp. There had been no place to pitch a tent anywhere on the road since the start of the big climb. I went past the entrance to the enchanted forest halfway down - it was a trail head for the 2km walk to a place I had been told was spectacular. There was a no camping sign at the trailhead, and it was too late and I was too cold to do the hike. It did look amazing, with another hanging glacier visible from the road.

I finally got to the point where the road breaks off to Puerto Cisnes, and it was almost dark. I saw on the map that a little further on the road gets to the level of the river, and thought there may be a place to camp there. There wasn't, but on the way I'd seen a little detour on to a cliff edge where I think the road used to go, it was about 100 meters of unused road around a big boulder. It was pretty much pitch dark, so I got the headlamp out to pitch the tent. The only place to do it was right smack in the middle of the old roadway. I had a devil of a time with the tent stakes as the surface was hard packed, so eventually after much stuffing about had to use rocks to hold the tent down.

Had some dinner, then collapsed into the tent, not very organized with my things, but I had the mat, the sleeping bag and for now that was all I needed.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275917114 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275917110

Day 11, 35 kms today, 590 kms total

Well it was a tough day today.

I woke up to light rain, ate my Mountain House granola and blueberries and got the bike packed. I had camped at a beautiful spot, with a view from high above a river.

I decided to take a 70km round trip detour to Puerto Cisnes given I have 5 days or so before my rendezvous with the Grey Wolf.

10 kms down the road to Puerto Cisnes, as the rain started pelting down and a headwind whipped up, I was starting to regret that decision. The road turned into a mud bath and the wind was howling making it difficult to hold the bike steady. It was really tough going.

At one point my gears stopped working, and i saw that one of my Velcro ties had gotten tangled in the derailleur. It took quite an effort to get it off, and it seems to have gotten things out of alignment as from then on there was a slight grinding noise from the back gears.

It was a real slog getting in to town, and even though it was early afternoon I just wanted to get out of the rain and cold and wind so I went to a hospedaje, had a warm shower and hunkered down for a while.

Took an early dinner, bought some beers for the evening and went back to the room to watch CNN listening to the howling wind and rain outside the window, thinking if i have to camp for a couple of days through this then this trip is gonna get interesting...

Tomorrow I'll try to get halfway to Puerto Aisen, with the hope of getting there on the evening of the 10th or 11th. Then on to Coyaique on the 12th.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275917110 

Day 12, 125 kms today, 715 kms total

Puerto Cisnes to Villa Mañihuales.

Wow what a fabulous day, a barnstorming 125 km ride in perfect weather through indescribable, out of this world Patagonian mountains.

After breakfast and carefully cleaning and readjusting my rear derailleur which had been making a slight grinding noise, I set off along the coast road out of Puerto Cisnes. Just out of town I took a fall on some loose dirt - the bike slid out from under me and in an instant I was on the ground with a thud. Nothing major except a bruised hip and some scratches on my leg, and the right brake lever is a bit bent but functional.

After passing the turnoff north to Puyuhuapi where I'd come down yesterday, the road keeps going up the Cisnes River valley. I've come to learn that all of these valleys get narrower and steeper, and you know they're going to crest, it's just a matter of how bad it's gonna get towards the end. This one was pretty steep, but the road was paved, I'd put a bit more air in the tires, my gears were smooth and I felt really strong.

Spectacular views back down the Cisnes valley from the crest, but the best was yet to come. A seemingly endless rolling ride around converging snow peaked mountain ranges, at times riding wide valley floors, other times the narrowest of passes, at times completely surrounded by mountains trying to guess where the hell the road could possibly go. It was awe inspiring, a special place and I felt very lucky to be there. I was really cranking out the kms, but feeling great.

I stopped for a full lunch at about 3pm at the lovely Villa Amengual which has a Swiss alps town feel to it. There was a hole in the wall place with a sign 'Comidas'. I went in, sat down, and egg soup was placed in front of me in a New York minute, no menu or discussion. After that meat and rice, then cherries for dessert. 5000 pesos. Perfect.

The last 20kms or so into Villa Mañihuales my leg muscles were starting to really feel it but it was mostly downhill thankfully. I rolled into town at about 8:30 and found an hospedaje. It had been over 10 hours on the road, 125 kms, 5400 ft of ascent, a bruised hip which made me hobble a bit when I walked, but really I was feeling only the elation from having been part of this special place today.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275942748 

Day 13, 65 kms today, 780 kms total

Villa Mañihuales to Puerto Aysen.

What a difference a day makes. After the glorious, majestical run yesterday, today went back to being a windy rain-soaked grind.

I really didn't like the residencial I was staying at in Mañihuales. It felt like I was in the son's bedroom that still had all his stuff in there while he was away for the summer. There was a scalding hot stove pipe running up through the middle of the room. I was asked by the slightly deranged looking lady when I got there whether I would be having my shower in the evening or next morning - I had to let her know so she could turn on the 'calefon'. I was admonished like 3 times not to put the Confor (toilet paper) in the toilet and that foreign travelers were terrible offenders of this rule even after they'd been told. (Some of you may be asking ... So where the hell is it meant to go?!?! Good question... Liz, do you want to take that? Jajaja). There was a general Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibe to the place so I skipped breakfast, glad I'd chosen to have my shower the night before, and got out of there as soon as I could. Maybe I should have 'busted out the tent' as Liz keeps telling me I should do more often.

I ate 3 meat and 2 cheese fried empanadas for breakfast at the mini market cafe and set off in a light rain and heavy fog. About 20 kms in the rain became torrential and a ferocious headwind picked up coming straight up the valley. I couldn't keep my eyes open as the raindrops were smashing against my eyeballs, and if I put on my sunnies I couldn't see anything. So I had to stop periodically to gather myself. It was slow, tough going.

The rain had eased up a bit by the time I got to the junction to either go straight to Coyaique, or to Puerto Aysen first as I'd planned. I thought about a run straight to Coyaique but it was 50 kms away, and even though I'd only ridden about 40 kms so far I was kinda done. So I stuck to the plan to go the additional 20 kms into Aysen.

It was a terrible road, cracked concrete, narrow with a very uneven gravel shoulder and with trucks and buses zipping past, and overtaking cars coming at you from up front. I was constantly forced on to the shoulder, which was sometimes a half foot below the surface of the road. At one point I was attacked by a band of roving dogs who followed me for a couple of kms while I pedaled furiously with the dogs running and barking and snarling beside me. I'd been told not to kick at the dogs while on the bike as that's when they recognize it's a leg and bite. If you just pedal fast they tend to be just confused enough not to bite. I was riding in the middle of the lane, not wanting to be forced on to the shoulder, so I had quite a caravan of cars behind me. When the opposite lane cleared, a guy in a van pulled up beside me, rolled down his window and gave me a wave, and then blasted the loudest horn I've ever heard from a car and I almost lost control of the bike. This seemed to startle the dogs long enough for me to get away, pedaling like a demon, pumped with adrenaline. It was a nightmare. I'd also heard that if you get bitten by a dog, not uncommon for cyclists in Chile, you have to get rabies shots every day for a week, each day making sure you end up in a town big enough to have a hospital with the shots.

I was never as glad to see the Zona Urbana sign as I was coming into Puerto Aysen. It's a pretty big town, with traffic lights and a big bridge connecting 2 halves of the town. I wondered around a bit on the bike, still raining, and came across a full blown Hotel. I went for it (sorry Liz no busting out the tent again tonight!). It was quite swanky, in a Chilean kind of way. Shower, pollo con purè for dinner, some TV and time for bed. And I'll be able to have a shower in the morning as well! And yeah, you know where all my Confor is going...

https://www.strava.com/activities/240322528 

Day 14, 70 kms today, 850 kms total

Puerto Aysen to Coyhaique

In a word: WET. It was pouring when I left, and didn't let up all day.

Setting off at noon, I rode the first 20 kms fast as I was paranoid about the dogs, but luckily they must have been asleep still, or better yet, run over! (sorry Susan)

At that point, I put on the full rain kit as it was really coming down in bucketloads.

The road follows the Rio Simpson up the valley toward Coyhaique. The mist and the rain gave it an otherworldly feel. The road was treacherous - narrow with that dreaded concrete lip. But I soon got into a groove, and like so often on these tough rides, there's that wonderful point where you disassociate from the pain, the mind clears, and there's nothing but the rhythm of the pedal strokes and being sharply sensorially connected to that place at that moment.

The end of the Rio Simpson valley is steep and the road goes through a long tunnel as it goes over the pass. I got the sense it provided some challenges for the road builders. My fingers started freezing up on the descent and I had trouble operating the brakes. That's about the point I took the photo that's now the profile pic.

As Coyaique loomed in the distance, I saw it was a big, sprawling town. I rode around some in town, but after 7 hours of relentless rain, I just wanted to get somewhere warm and dry fast. I headed for the tallest building I could see, and it turned out to be the Dreams Casino Resort, a very swanky place with swimming pool, gym, spa, the works. The porters at the entrance, to their credit, betrayed only the slightest micro-expression of sheer horror as I rolled in but then gamely proceeded to fawn over me as though I'd just stepped out of a Range Rover. After some haggling over the price, and my fingers being so frozen I literally couldn't write with the girl at reception needing to fill in the form for me, I had a warm room with sweeping views of the town.

A day off tomorrow, then the much anticipated arrival of my soon to be riding companion. It's like the producers of this adventure series decided they needed to mix it up a little as things were getting a tad predictable: pedaling, rain, hills, oh yes and the views are spectacular. What better way to add some spice and keep the fans entertained than fly in the Grey Wolf, sometimes known as Simon Kelly, fresh out of Westchester County, gammy legged and fashionably helmeted?

https://www.strava.com/activities/240322552 

Day 16

The Grey Wolf is In Da House!

He arrived remarkably upbeat for having been traveling for 36 hrs through 5 airports. His boxes were not in quite as good a shape as you can see from the pics, however all the important bits seem to be there.

We will now proceed to carouse around the town until he falls asleep on his Cerveza Austral.

Day 17, 60 kms today, 910 kms total

After waking on my last morning at the Coyhaique Dreams hotel, the first order of business was to unkink the Grey Wolf's chain. It hadn't yielded to his ministrations for some time, and he was getting a tad frustrated. The unkink is one of the dark arts of the cycling world, and I did my YouTube Professor Snapes proud. Then breakfast, and on to getting the bikes ready. After an appropriately long amount of stuffing around, we were on the road, picking up some empanadas on the way. I was very ready to get back on the bike after my 2 day furlough.

It was a relatively flat road out of Coyaique. The scenery was completely different to what I'd been seeing before - rather than lush river valleys, this was wide open landscape that reminded me of the Mongolian Steppes, with the road weaving around craggy, treeless high rock faces in a vast, flat plain.

The Grey Wolf was doing remarkably well given this was his first day. Then, after 40 or so kms a big hill started that got up to 3200 ft which made the going a bit tougher.

There was a multi-day competition in progress around Coyhaique - kayak, cycle, trek - and bands of cycling teams were going past us. We caught up with a couple halfway up the hill, sprawled on the side of the road. The girl looked great but the guy was not doing so well - cramps, dehydration, exhaustion. He looked like his day was done. As I pulled up to them, she jumped in straight away with an explanation of how he'd had a stomach problem the day before, hadn't been able to eat properly, etc. She didn't want me to think he was just a flake. That's love right there, I thought.

The hill kept going, and at about 6:30 there was a sign for a campsite by a lake. I looked back at Grey Wolf, who understandably was starting to flag a little, and he nodded vigorously, and so in we went.

It was surprisingly full, and turned out to be a checkpoint and sleepover spot for the event. There were Chilean, Brazilian, French and other teams all around.

We found a spot to pitch the tents, had dinner and the Grey Wolf soon after disappeared into his tent. A remarkable first day's effort for the plucky Scot. I went for a walk around the lake, but, as the southern stars came out above, I was soon ready to hit the sack myself. I was lulled to sleep by the uproarious laughter of the lads from a Chilean team camped nearby one-upping each other with stories of their conquests of the 'minas' (girls). 'Oye weon, eso no es nada...'

https://www.strava.com/activities/240322552 

Day 18, 60 kms today, 970 kms total

We left the campsite at around 9:30 and climbed for about 15 kms to complete the brutal thigh-buster we'd started yesterday. On the other side were magnificent views below of another massive wide valley to the south, criss-crossed by rivers, with numerous lakes, ringed by snow capped craggy peaks. The descent was breathtaking, albeit windy.

There is a large lake that stands in the way of direct southerly progress. The lake spans Chile and Argentina - it's called Lago General Carrera on the Chilean side, and Lago Buenos Aires on the Argentinian side. The Carretera Austral goes around the western edge of the lake, but we took the turnoff to Puerto Ibañez to cross the lake by ferry to Chile Chico where my Aunt Yuli lives.

We got to Ibañez around 1pm and found out that the ferry didn't leave till 8pm, so we had to cool our heels for a while. We had some bistec with purè, drank a couple of beers and napped around the lakefront.

We met a German cyclist, lean, mid forties, also waiting for the ferry, with a mountain bike with 2 big back panniers and a huge duffel on top of them. The whole thing weighed a ton - I tried but couldn't lift his back wheel off the ground. The problem, he told us, was that he had bought a big tent and other things for him and his girlfriend, who was going to cycle tour with him. But alas they broke up and now, like a cruel and unusual penance, he was forced to lug around her stuff as well as his up and down the hills of Patagonia. He mentioned her a few times, always with a wistful air. At one point he pulled out a full professional DSLR camera, not a common thing for a touring cyclist. Wow, I said, where do you post the pictures? No, he said, they're just for me.

A couple more beers and soon enough we were on the ferry, along with a full complement of cars and passengers, for the 2hrs 15min crossing. The wind was blowing a gale, with white capped waves on the lake and water spraying and swirling all around. The wind direction was toward Chile Chico, so the ferry felt like it was surfing along. We stood outside on the gangway to the bridge getting blown about - it was a great ride.

Once at Chile Chico it was twilight. We said goodbye to our German friend who went off in search of a campsite while we went looking for my Aunt's house. It was a kilometer or so up the road, and she and her family were waiting for us by the side of the road - we were greeted with cheers and hugs by this warm, generous family.

A nice chat over Lamb asado with boiled potatoes, Kuchen and coffee, and off to bed we went. Another great day in Patagonia. The next few days will be tougher as we ride the edge of the lake to get back on to the Carretera Austal. We have been warned: very hilly and very, very windy. What's not to love?

https://www.strava.com/activities/275921475 

Day 19, 40 kms today, 1010 kms total

Day 20, 40 kms today, 1050 kms total

Brace yourselves for a blockbuster double header. Viewer discretion is advised as there are scenes with hairy bare chested men in hospital rooms, once beautiful bikes being savagely stripped down for parts, and disturbing X-ray pictures of painful fractured bones.

It started innocently enough. Yesterday, the Grey Wolf and I had a carefree stroll through Chile Chico, sightseeing and buying last minute provisions. We went back to my Aunt's for a hearty lunch, said our goodbyes and at around 4pm bravely ventured forth on our trusty steeds onto the gravel road out of Chile Chico to the Carretera Austral. To paraphrase a French Canadian cyclist I had met a couple of weeks earlier, we were headed into 100 kms of beautiful hell. It was the toughest stretch he had done since leaving Ushuaia, and also the most breathtaking, he had told me.

So it was with lively anticipation that we successfully conquered the first big hill, the Grey Wolf out ahead muscling the climb in his trademark low cadence style. The road starts by going inland for about 20 kms of ups and downs, nothing crazy, like a teaser of what's to come. The headwind was quite ferocious and slowed us down, but we kept at it. The road then comes back to run along the edge of the lake, and we started to see what all the fuss was about. An endless string of huge rocky ridges that come down sharply into the lake, with deep gullies between them. Each ridge is a long, arduous, steep climb, with loose uneven gravel on a road that in places has been blasted out of the side of the sheer high wall of rock. The climbs were some of the steepest I've ever done - in places even walking the bike was difficult due to the grade.

From this road, a snow capped mountain range is visible on the other side of the lake. Truly a natural wonder - I can't do justice to just how beautiful it was.

After 40 kms or so it was getting late and we were tired. It had been a scorching hot day. We found a lovely camping spot by a little stream. It started to sink in we had done only 20 kms of the tough lakefront riding, and there was about another 60 of it to go. But we were still feeling quite cocky about it all. After dinner, the Grey Wolf bivvy'd - just his mat and sleeping bag - under the full canopy of Southern stars. Life was good.

The next day I awoke with an uneasy feeling I couldn't quite place. A dark premonition, perhaps. It was raining, even though we had been told it never rains here in summer. It was cold and gloomy. After breaking camp, I could see the Grey Wolf was a bit out of sorts. He was quiet, even a bit sullen, a stark change from the elation of the evening before. He had trouble with his gear - he couldn't get his drybags to sit well on the cages. As we were all set to go, both on our bikes, I turned to him and asked, all set? He just looked at me, didn't answer, and I took off.

It was incredibly tough going, much harder than yesterday. But I was riding fast. Almost as if out of an inexplicable fear. As if I was trying to escape something. Soon I had left the Grey Wolf far behind. I couldn't see him even on the stretches where the coastline formed a wide bay and I could see many kilometers behind. I waited for him a few times, but something compelled me to just keep going, to keep riding fast. It was devastatingly beautiful landscape, the road becoming ever more precarious as it somehow found a way around and over the rock face.

I knew there was a town coming up, Mallin Grande, around 40kms into the ride, where I could wait for the Grey Wolf. I rode in and got to a bench outside a little shop, and was so exhausted that I just dropped the bike and almost had to crawl on to the bench. I had been riding faster than I could sustain, possessed, on adrenaline.

I eventually went into the shop, bought some fruit and soda, and waited for the Grey Wolf. And waited. After an hour had passed, I started to get a little concerned, and flagged down a pickup truck coming from the direction of Chile Chico. Did you see a cyclist, I asked? Yes, there's one sitting by the side of the road a few kilometers away, they said. Why would the Grey Wolf be sitting on side of the road with the town so close by?

I cycled back to find him, fearing the worst. My sixth sense told me that something serious was amiss. Not far up the road I came upon the Grey Wolf. It was not a pretty sight. He was grimacing in pain. He'd taken a bad fall, and was favoring his left arm. He was caked in Patagonian dirt. The front wheel of his bike was buckled. Even his fashionable helmet had a nasty scrape - and, we really do have to thank God he was wearing it.

His first words as I came up to him were: I'm f****d.

He told me part of his gear had come loose - the same front bags I'd noticed in the morning - and locked his front wheel sending him over the handlebars landing on his shoulder. He was in a lot of pain, and worried about any internal bleeding in light of his blood thinning medication.

The tiny town, miraculously, had a clinic. We went straight there and a doctor was on duty. After an examination during which there was a lot of moans of pain from the patient, and after being told about the meds, he bandaged up the Grey Wolf and told him to go back to Chile Chico to get X-rays. There being no phone service in the town, he ham-radioed the Chile Chico hospital, and said they would be waiting.

Getting to Chile Chico was another matter. There were no buses until the next day, and everybody in town with a car was at a local wedding. We waited for a while debating what to do. The Grey Wolf's pain was increasing, and just when things were looking very bleak an old man who was a patient at the clinic and had overheard things said he would get his son in law to drive us for a fee.

As we were waiting for our ride to arrive, I was standing outside the clinic with the doctor. We're expanding the clinic, he told me, it's going to double in size to 40 square meters. Why, I said, it's such a tiny town. So many accidents on that road from Chile Chico, he said. Accidents all the time, often foreigners, just like your friend. Is it the bad road, I asked? Yes, there's that he said, but... At that moment the pickup that would take us to Chile Chico arrived and the Doctor moved to help load the bike. I grabbed his arm and, with the hairs on the back of my neck standing, asked pointedly ... But what? Many died building that road, their bodies never found... there are many lost souls there, he said, before breaking free.

The Grey Wolf was convinced his adventure was over, but I knew I would continue mine at some point soon. So I left my bike in town in the doctor's house's woodshed, and we took the Grey Wolf and his bike to Chile Chico in the camioneta. Driving the road gave us another perspective of just how mind blowingly spectacular it is. 'I can't believe we just cycled that,' said the Grey Wolf from the passenger seat, as he groaned repeatedly as we barreled through the potholed gravel.

Once at the Chile Chico hospital, X-rays showed that the Grey Wolf's trip was over after all - he had a fracture of the elbow. My Aunt, God bless her, sprang into action and, while I rode his wonky-wheeled bike from the hospital to her house, she took the Grey Wolf back to her house, made him dinner and generally fussed over him.

The Grey Wolf decided to leave his Surly frame here in Chile so he could travel light back to the US. He should be back there in a few days, regaling his Black Cow crew with magnificent but also sobering tales of the Chilean ripio.

After making sure he is safely on his journey out of Chile Chico, I will get on a bus and travel that road one more time to get to my bike so I can resume my journey just as it stared almost three weeks ago - a solitary ride south. Season 2 was short but full of drama and plot twists. Season 3 I'm sure will be also be worth tuning in for.

To the Grey Wolf, I thank him for the company over the past few days. He moved heaven and earth to be able to join me in Coyhaique, and despite his ailments and not having been on his bike much for months, he rode hard and he rode tough and he impressed the heck out of me with his true grit. This won't be the last time we ride together, I'm sure of it. Suerte, compadre, que vaya con dios.

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477446 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275923135 

The Grey Wolf wheels his small suitcase up the ramp of the embarcadero Tehuelche in Patagonian port of Chile Chico in the poignant final scene of Season 2. As a special offer for those who buy the DVD, included will be two tickets to his slide show exposition of his adventures to be held at the Croton Free Library, coming soon.

Day 22, 30 kms today, 1080 kms total

After seeing off the Grey Wolf in the morning, I started hitching to get back to the bike in Mallin Grande, about 80 kms away. After a couple of hours an old man came up to me and told me not to bother, no one takes foreigners on that road, too many accidents with foreigners, he said. So the only alternative was to wait for the 4pm bus.

I finally got back to my bike at around 6:30. It was there in the woodshed, waiting patiently, exactly as I'd left it. I had the sense that it too was anxious to get back on the road. I told the doctor the story, packed the bike and bought some fruit in town. It was 7:15 when I set off toward Puerto Guadal, 30 kms away.

The road was very hilly, having to come down from the high bluffs for each river bridge, then climb back up again on the other side. My legs were feeling a bit stiff, so I wasn't pushing it. Whatever anxious feelings I'd had the day the Grey Wolf went down were gone now. I was feeling relaxed, even serene as I pulled into town a little before 10pm, just at twilight.

I booked in to a cabaña and went and bought some pasta and tomato sauce since the cabańa had cooking facilities.

I'm hoping to get to Cochrane in the next couple of days. That will be the last town before the really wild empty wilderness of Patagonia starts. Make sure you stock up good in Cochrane is a common refrain from the cyclists I've come across. So Season 3 may have less of the high drama of prior seasons, but this ride is not over by a long stretch.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275944703 

Day 23, 75 kms today, 1155 kms total

Puerto Guadal to Cochrane

Only really stupid people ride during the hottest hours of the day, the Grey Wolf had said to me, somewhat ruefully, as we labored under the full sun a few days ago. As I looked at the cloudless skies this morning as I was eating my Sopaipillas at the plaza in Puerto Guadal, I thought, uh oh if only I wasn't so darn stupid. I rode all day, and yes, it was ridiculously, stupidly hot.

The first town, 25 kms out of Puerto Guadal, is the picturesque Puerto Bertrand, on the lake of the same name that gives birth to the famous Rio Baker.

From there I followed the Rio Baker Valley downstream. It's a beautiful river, fast flowing turquoise waters, at times entering deep sided canyons where you can hear the thunderous rapids, other times a more tranquil, wide, massive body of water.

The road was horrible to cycle on. I'm not even going to mention the hills - I ended up doing 5500 ft of climbing all up. The biggest challenge was the unforgiving, unrelenting washboards. There's no easy way to ride them. Too fast, and the bike rattles and feels like it's going to shake apart. Too slow and you almost start to feel seasick bobbing up and down. It's a matter of tying to find the best lines, a high groove here, a narrow flat shoulder there, but for the most part you just barrel through regardless.

The Baker river and its valley and gorges are just breathtaking in their scale and rugged beauty. At one point you reach a very deep, wide canyon where there is a confluence of rivers and you ride the rim for some time. I knew there would be a bridge somewhere as Cochrane was on the other side. I wasn't disappointed - the road plunges down steeply all the way to the bottom. It crosses a bridge called the Chacabuco, then proceeds to climb the other side, a long series of zig zags carved into the side of the canyon. It was very tough going but wow, what an amazing landscape.

It was getting late by this stage, at around 9 pm I still had a tough 20 kms before Cochrane. I should probably have been smarter and found a nice campsite earlier when the river bank was nice and flat. But it was too late now.

So I kept going. The twilight lasts a long time after the sun goes down. But at around 10:45 it was completely dark, the stars started to come out, and I rode the last 5 kms into town slowly and carefully with my bike lights and headlight.

I found a hotel, and after the ritual haggling over the price I booked in for two nights. I'll spend tomorrow getting ready for the long haul to Villa Ohiggins, the staging post for a boat ride and a 20 km on foot bike hike into Argentina around the Laguna Desierta.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275928565 

LEAVE A COMMENT!!

I'm about halfway through the trip and what an amazing mind blower of a ride it's been so far. I've appreciated everyone's support and yes may be feeling a wee bit lonely so how about a mid-trip shout-out in the comment section if you've been enjoying the blog, especially from you lurkers out there (oh yeah you know who you are!!).

Dejen un commentario si le esta gustando mi viaje!!!

It's time to hit the road south out of Cochrane this morning, and it promises to be a scorcher of a day - cloudless skies again. Cochrane is a lovely place with a frontier town feel to it - tough, self reliant but you also get the sense people would go out of their way to help get you out of any jam.

The road south gets significantly worse and more isolated from here. There no electric power lines south of here, and no towns or shops of any kind for the next 250 kms until Villa O'Higgins.

Once at O'Higgins, things will get interesting. For those with time on their hands read the 'Getting out of Villa O'Higgins' section in the link below and let's take a poll: should I rent the damn horses or man up and do the job myself???

http://www.outthereliving.com/worldbike/SouthAmerica/chile_notes.htm

Day 27, 70 kms today, 1350 kms total

Day 28, 80 kms today, 1430 kms total

Caleta Tortel to Villa O'Higgins

I had one last walk around Caleta Tortel in the morning - it was early and the boardwalk was deserted. There was a large 45 or so foot sailboat anchored in the middle of the bay. The crew, a couple it looked like, were having breakfast. I could just about make out their voices across the water - they were speaking French, and I could see the boat was also flying the French Tricolore. It looked idyllic, but I realized I didn't have much cause to be envious about anything right at that moment.

I set off at about 10 am on the 50 km ride to Puerto Yungay and got there with a few hours to spare before the 6pm ferry. I met up with a nice German couple I'd talked to a couple of days before. They were very proud of their Rohloff automatic gears. The bike is set up like a single speed, with all the gear changing magic taking place inside the back hub. I'm not convinced about it - I kinda like my more basic setup. Not to mention that their bikes weighed a ton and I suspect that Rohloff spent a lot of time in its equivalent of the granny gear.

The ferry takes a little under an hour to get to the mouth of the Rio Bravo, from where the road follows the river valley up and then proceeds to wind its way to Villa O'Higgins, about 100 kms away. The Germans started looking for a camping spot right at the dock, but I thought I'd take advantage of the cool evening air to make some progress. I rode a fast 20 kms, slightly uphill but not steep, until at around 8:30 when I got to a perfect camping spot - grassy, flat and by a bend in the river. It was also just before the big hills that I'd been warned about, and I thought it best to tackle those fresh tomorrow. For now, I busted out the tent, made some dinner and enjoyed a cool evening breeze accompanied by the sound of the river.

The next day started with 3 brutal 1200 ft climbs one after the other. The road seemed to skip from valley to valley - just when you'd climbed one, it rocketed down into the start of another. My tires are quite worn, and I was getting a lot of skidding in the back trying to power up the inclines. I'll think I'll switch the back tire to the spare at Villa O'Higgins. I ended up having to walk the bike in some parts - the gravel was too loose and uneven, and the incline too steep to pedal. It was very slow progress.

After about 40 kms the valley opens up into a sort of wide, high flood plain, with the river pooling in ponds and swampy areas, and the road flattens out, hugging the rocky mountainside that borders the plain.

The bike had started to make worrying grinding noises. I did a quick check of the usual suspects - brakes, deraulliers - to no avail. I'll have to give it a more thorough clean and checkup at Villa O'Higgins. Maybe it's the Curse of the Rohloff Hub - I was perhaps a little too sneery at it yesterday!

With the major climbs behind me, it was just a matter of grinding it out the rest of the way to Villa O'Higgins. I was feeling quite a deep sense of fatigue, and the last few kms really dragged out. The scenery had been fabulous all day, and constantly changing. About 10 kms from town the road drops down and loops around Lago Cisnes, which was quite breathtaking.

As I finally rolled into Villa O'Higgins both the bike and I were in need of a break - we had been going virtually nonstop for some 9 hours and got to within 7 kms from the end of the Carretera Austral. After asking around in the town, I found the office that sells the boat passage on a tourist boat that takes folks on a trip to see a nearby glacier, but also stops at a place called Candelario Mancilla, where I can trek overland into Argentina. The office was quite chaotic and was teeming with irate people - something had gone wrong with the booking system apparently. After an hour or so I managed to get a ticket for Wednesday morning which gives me two days to relax and take in the sights here around town. I'll take the 7 km ride to Lago O'Higgins, where the Carretera ends and where I have to be Wednesday for the boat. I also want to strip down the bike, clean and regrease everything, and switch round the tires. Then Wednesday the boat ride and trek around Laguna Desierta awaits me, and then on to the flat, straight, paved and treeless roads of Argentina.

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477638 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275927772 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275929339 

The end of the Carretera Austral, 7 kms south of Villa O'Higgins. This road has loomed large in my imagination since I was a kid, and how incredible it's been to ride it from top to bottom on a bike. Tomorrow on to Argentina!

 https://www.strava.com/activities/275949879

Day 31, 65 kms today, 1495 kms total

Villa O'Higgins to El Chalten

There's a place as you climb up from Candelario Mancilla, after a 3 hr boat ride from Villa O'Higgins, up an impossible incline, walking the bike through gravel that's nothing more than dirt and large rocks dumped on a firetrail of a road, that you get your first view of Mount Fitz Roy. It's an awe inspiring mountain. Today when I first saw it I audibly gasped at the sheer audacious majesty of it.

The first 20 kms out of Candelario, the Chilean side, can at least loosely claim to be a road. Once in Argentina it's little more than a mountain bike trail straight out of Blue Mountain Reservation in Peekskill, the advanced riders only trails. There's barely a track through creeks, bogs, swamps, and narrow, deep trenches. It's really crazy stuff. At one point, the bike was half submerged, literally, and I had to push, pull and just muscle it out with mud halfway up to my knees. And no, there was no sign of any horses to come to the rescue.

There were 6 of us cyclists who got off the boat at 11 am - the German couple I'd met earlier, a French couple, myself and another German guy who'd been cycling for a year and was also traveling pretty light. We were helping each other at first, but the German guy and I wanted to make the 5 pm boat across the Laguna Desierta so we left the couples to struggle with their loaded bikes - they were having a tough time with it.

About 25 kms in you descend in to the Laguna Desierta down a treacherous near cliff face of a descent, with Fitz Roy always there as the backdrop. Just magical. After doing the paperwork at the Argentinian Gendarmeria, we waited for the boat. It was late, and the German couple arrived after a while, a little worse for wear, and we all took the boat trip together. The Laguna cuts through glacial mountains with Fitz Roy looming like a navigation marker pointing us south, towards El Chalten. Once at the other side it was around 7pm and my German friend and I thought we could do the 37 kms to El Chalten before dark. The German couple were done for the day and camped.

El Chalten is a charming Argentinian town with a hippie, mountain climbing vibe to it. Less hardscrabble than Chilean towns, with more of an upscale mountain resort feel. My German friend decided to camp, but I thought I deserved the hot shower and baño of a hospedaje. Right?

I thought of the Grey Wolf today - he talked a lot of Fitz Roy and El Chalten as we prepared for this trip. After his own trip was cut short he's been incredibly supportive of my continuation of the ride, following along and sending me notes of encouragement, where many others may have just sulked. It says a lot about his character. I took some pictures for you Grey Wolf, and hope you can come see this great mountain in person soon - it was everything you said it would be.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275962669 

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477391

https://www.strava.com/activities/275929759 

Day 32, 120 kms today, 1615 kms total

Day 33, 95 kms today, 1710 kms total

El Chalten to El Calafate

I'd been hearing about it for weeks now, la Casa Rosada de los ciclistas, the cyclist's pink house, halfway, more or less, between El Chalten and El Calafate. Every pedal pusher I met traveling north had told me, often in conspiratorial tones, that I simply had to stay there. It was a special, secret place, a mythical, de rigueur destination; not paying due homage at la Casa Rosada would render any Patagonian cycling odyssey incomplete. Well, ok then.

I met a Columbian cyclist, a friendly, chatty fellow who had started his ride from Miami, also heading south from El Chalten. Together we braced ourselves for the crossing of the arid, flat Argentinian pampas notorious for their barely penetrable gale force headwinds. El Calafate was 215 kms away, but today we would aim to get to la Casa Rosada, a ride of about 120 kms.

The mind tricks that I played on myself in Chile - just get to the top of that next hill, to the next river crossing, that next town - don't work in the pampas. There is just the brutal, inescapable reality that you have in front of you hours of pedaling through the same featureless road, the same barren, treeless landscape. Sometimes there is a landmark in the distance - a craggy steppe perhaps - and it will get imperceptibly closer over a period of a couple of hours. The headwind was moderate and at an angle, but required constant effort on the pedals with no coasting. Average speed was between 15-18 km/hr, a bit more than half of what it might have been on a flat, paved road without the headwind. Like climbing a medium level hill that lasts 120 kms.

The first 40 or so kms out of Chalten at least the view in the rear view mirror, of Fitz Roy, had been there to distract me, but after that it was just an interminable grind. I tried, with varying degrees of success, to zone out, to let the mind escape the physical monotony of the pedaling and the barren landscape.

From about 10 kms away you get your first look at la Casa Rosada, unmistably pink, by a river, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I was actually expecting it was going to be some kind of hostel but as we got closer it was apparent that it was an abandoned complex left to ruin. We found the pass in the fence and got to the house - broken windows, half demolished walls, plumbing fixtures dangling, debris stewn everywhere. Inside, all about the rooms there were nooks and crannies cleared of rubble where you could put down the mat and sleeping bag. There was graffiti on the main wall in the living room, and my Columbian friend and I put our own marks there, his elaborate, mine just name and date.

We went outside and cooked our dinner down by the river. There was what had once been a lovely picnic area with seats and a firepit, now overgrown. As we sat there with the setting sun glistening off the river, a big sky above us, the vast landscape all around, my eyes now able to discern features where earlier in the day they had seen only endless nothingness, I began to appreciate the special beauty of the Argentinian pampas.

The next day, after an early start, and with less than 100 kms to El Calafate, we were feeling quite confident we'd be there early afternoon. But with 35 kms to go we turned to the west around el Lago Argentino and headed straight into the most ferocious headwind I've ever encountered, on or off the bike. It was difficult to stay on the bike, much less pedal effectively. Progress slowed to 5 to 7 kms per hour on the granny gear, and often we were being blown off the narrow shoulder onto the road where crazed Argentinian drivers zoomed past inches from the handlebars blaring horns then waving their arms frantically out their windows.

At one point, for the first time on this ride, I really didn't know whether I could keep going. I thought of flagging down a camioneta. But then I thought, how the heck am I going to explain that in the blog? I thought of the wonderful sign of support from my family in Minto. I thought of some words my cousin El Bombero Australiano had said to me early on in the ride. I hummed some tunes. I stopped the bike a lot, brakes on to prevent sailing backwards. There was a menacing howl to the wind, it was like a massive force that didn't give a damn about me or my ride and that would just never stop. I kept going. Every 100 meters was like a small triumph. It went like that for many hours.

When I finally rolled down into the El Calafate basin by the lake, the wind eased a bit and I was finally able to coast the last few hundred meters into the town center.

My Columbian friend had been a bit ahead of me, and I didn't see him in the town. I saw a hotel and stopped in front of it, falling down as I tried to get off the bike, one foot still clipped in to the pedals. I was helped up by a nice lady. I booked in for 2 nights and went straight to bed for a lie down, as worn out as I've been at any time during this trip.

Tomorrow I'll take it easy and play turista and go take a look-see at the nearby Perito Moreno glaciar. Yeah, I think I'll be taking the minibus.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275950963 

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477414 

Tourist day today (apologies to those who only like to see me suffer on this trip, Liz notice I didn't mention any names!!). The Perito Moreno glacier, one of the few stable glaciers of this scale in the world, neither retreating or advancing but calving off about 3 meters a day, you can hear it constantly shearing and groaning, chunks falling off every few minutes. A beautiful, sublime, surreal place.

Day 35, 115 kms today, 1825 kms total

Day 36, 45 kms today, 1870 kms total

Day 37, 115 kms today, 1985 kms total

El Calafate to Puerto Natales

I'd been riding scared since leaving El Calafate, locked in a desperate war with the Dementors of the Argentinian pampas, the indomitable West to East headwinds that stop you dead in your tracks as you try to cross back into the Elysean Fields of the Chilean mountains.

On the second day, after 7 hours of fighting the winds on stony gravel in the granny gear at 6 or 7 kms an hour, I got to an intersection where the road I needed to take to Chile went up a canyon directly against the wind and there was just no way to make progress. No way to stay on the bike. It was howling, raging, impenetrable.

At that intersection was a Puesto Fijo and a tiny shack of a gas station. It was the first sign of a human presence I'd seen on these godforsaken wastelands all day. There'd been nowhere to get out of the wind and duststorm, so at the very least I thought I could hunker down for a while in the lee of these structures.

The gas station was closed, so I banged on the door of the Puesto Fijo. These are outposts of what I think is the Argentinian Public Works department, used as a staging area for roadworks. There's one about every 100 kms or so from what I could tell, each with a caretaker, or puestero. In fact, these Puestos Fijos are indispensable to cyclists in these pampas - the distances between towns are often too great to ride in a day, and it's just not possible to pitch a tent in any area not protected from the winds. Luckily, the puesteros are usually friendly to cyclists, letting them camp in the yard or in a shed, and supplying water.

The puestero who answered my banging had just woken from a nap. Claudio was his name. Yeah, he said, the wind's really blowing today. It was the first time I'd heard any local even acknowledge the wind, they're normally very nonchalant about it. He let me in and shared a Yerba Mate with me. He was stationed here 15 days on and 15 days off, he said. His only means of communication was a CB radio he used to talk to the other puesteros. There was a satellite TV dish but it wasn't working just then, someone hadn't paid the bill, he thought. Sometimes you cyclists are the only visitors I have for my whole shift, he said.

He let me pitch the tent beside the building, in the only small area shielded from the wind. I worried that if more cyclists came we'd all need to huddle together in those few square feet. Later in the afternoon the gas station opened and I went and bought some biscuits and a drink. I bought my friend a Coke and some alfajores, a candy. He was so pleased that he told me I could sleep in the kitchen on a spare mattress he had, even though it was against the rules.

Over dinner I pulled out my dried backpacker food, and Claudio examined the packet. He'd seen other cyclists with these, and had wondered what they tasted like. Why don't you have a packet, I said, I have plenty of it. Well, I'll give you some meat in exchange for that one, he said. He pulled out a tray of cooked meat from the shelf, covered with a cloth, with flies buzzing around it, and stuck it in the oven. Once heated, he placed it in front of me - eat as much as you want, he said. Big, greasy, fatty hunks of meat. I wanted to ask him how long that tray had been sitting there. As he tucked in to my Mountain House beef stew, I gingerly poked around and then stabbed the least fatty piece I could find with my fork and hoiked it on to my plate. There were no vegetables, bread or anything else. I had lost my appetite, but under his eager eye I cut the few bits of meat away from the bone and fat and ate them. I had to say no, that I didn't want more, about five times before he finally took the tray away.

The wind, he told me, dies down at about 4 in the morning, and picks up again at 7 or 8. This window would be my only chance to escape the pampas. I had the bike ready at 4:30 under a bright moon, and indeed yesterday's howling gale was now what might be called a stiff breeze. It was freezing cold. So much so that I had to stop a few hundred meters up the road to put on more layers. Even with my full fingered gloves my hands were painfully cold. I wrapped them in what I could easily find - a t-shirt and my spare bike shorts.

I rode hard, in fear of the wind picking up. The moon set, and the sky started to lighten. After 50 kms I got to the Gendarmeria at the border. I asked the Argentinian policeman if I could use the bathroom. No, he snapped, esta fuera de servicio. It seemed a fitting bookend to my journey across the pampas.

The immense sense of relief I felt as I crossed into Chile wasn't just due to the working bathrooms at the border post. There were trees. And rivers. The post apocalyptic world I had been through was unfit for humans, but I had managed to pull off my pre-dawn escape.

I sat for a breakfast of eggs, bread and coffee with hot milk at a cafeteria at the Chilean border town of Cerro Castillo and marveled at the view of the Torres del Paine in the distance. I planned to go for a tour there tomorrow, but for now I would enjoy a carefree ride to Puerto Natales, 65 kms away. The sun was out, it was warm, and a nice cool breeze was blowing.

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477450 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275930724 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275951391 

Bus tour of Torres del Paine park. Stunning, wild place. Will have to return one day to trek through it.

Day 39, 100 kms today, 2085 kms total

Day 40, 145 kms today, 2230 kms total

Puerto Natales to Punta Arenas

A brilliant two days riding from Puerto Natales to Punta Arenas. After the Argentinian pampas it felt quite relaxed, even though it was a hilly, windswept 245 kms.

I met my Columbian friend, with whom I'd lodged at la Cada Rosada, about 20 kms out of Puerto Natales. I was surprised that he was coming into town from the south, and he had that same warzone look in his eyes that I'd had myself a few days earlier. It turned out that he had an old map that didn't show the border crossing I'd taken at Cerro Castillo, and so he'd spent an extra couple of days in the pampas traveling south to Rio Turbio, crossing at a high pass where there had been no town or shops, had run out of food, and now had to ride north to Natales. He'd also had some bike problems along the way, so he was doing it rough. I offered him some of the fruit I'd bought in Natales, and he devoured two peaches and an orange. He was 60 years old, just retired, his ex-wife and daughter lived in Miami, and he was in the process of getting his papers to live there too. He remarked on how cool it was that two old guys had managed to cross the dreaded pampas. Hold on there abuelo, I said, I've been called 'el joven' on this trip, have you? No, he laughed, I haven't.

Everyone riding this amazing part of the planet is on their own journey. For most of us, however, when we meet and each tell our story there is one shared secret: there's nothing we'd rather be doing at that moment. Not even if we had a billion dollars in the bank. That's the way it was with my Columbian friend. Hopefully we'll meet again on the road to Ushuaia.

Punta Arenas is a big, sprawling metropolis. Riding in right at peak hour was a little hair-raising, with roadworks, detours, buses, taxis, traffic lights. The city center has a colonial feel to it, with Spanish style stone buildings and an impressive cathedral overlooking the plaza. I rode around for a while, but I was feeling the fatigue of two days of hard riding and went to find some accommodation. Tomorrow I'll do some tourist stops, then on Sunday catch the ferry across the straights to Porvenir and then ride the last few legs to Ushuaia.

https://www.strava.com/activities/275952081 

https://www.strava.com/activities/275952894 

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477444 

Day 42, 100 kms today, 2330 kms total

Day 43, 135 kms today, 2465 kms total

Day 44, 110 kms today, 2575 kms total

Punta Arenas to Tolhuin

After 3 days of hard riding out of Punta Arenas, across to Porvenir and the island of Tierra del Fuego, through the usual suspects - rain, cold, bad gravel, hills, wind - I've arrived at another Mecca for touring cyclists in Patagonia, la Panaderia de Tolhuin.

The owner of the town bakery lets cyclists stay free of charge in the building out back. There's also an aviary, free bathrooms, showers, wifi. It's like a dream, so good in fact that folks stay here for days on end. There are about 20 people here right now, swapping war stories, and it looks like there's a few drinkers in the mix determined to make merry.

I could possibly make Ushuaia in a day from here, but it's a bit over 100 kms, with headwinds, and after so many 100km+ days I feel like taking it a bit easier on these last few legs. And there's some abandoned cabañas by a lake about halfway to Ushuaia that I've been hearing on the cyclist grapevine are also must-do destinations, so who am I to argue with that?

https://www.strava.com/activities/275953932 

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477483 

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477559 

Ushuaia, el Fin Del Mundo, aqui estoy!

The ride, 'tis done. 2680 kms. 45 days. A boy's own adventure comes to an end for this middle aged family guy from the New York suburbs.

And what a wonderful way to end it. The ride into Ushuaia was magnificent - a steep, brutal climb over the Garibaldi pass, then a long rolling glide into town. It was cold, with freezing rain and headwinds, but I was feeling no pain.

The crew from La Panaderia were going to take two days to get to Ushuaia from Tolhuin. It seemed eminently sensible and I had been intending to join them. But as I stopped at the trailhead to the abandoned cabañas where we'd planned to camp, well ahead of the others, I couldn't bring myself to take the turnoff. My Columbian friend had wisely said a few weeks ago that everyone is on their own journey. My journey had been about riding hard and it only felt right to finish that same way.

I had met Nestor, a Brazilian cyclist, at La Panaderia. He had already reached Ushuaia but had had trouble finding transport out, wanting to return to Brazil by bus, and had ridden back to Tolhuin. He said to me that those cyclists of Latin blood - South Americans, Spaniards, Portuguese - cry as they crest the last hill and look down on the bay of Ushuaia. He himself had bawled like a baby, he told me, thinking back on the beauty of his ride, and of the suffering that had gone with it. I had told him my story - that I was born in Chile but had grown up in Australia and now live in New York. He looked at me and smiled. You will see how much Chileno you still have in you, he said.

The city of Ushuaia is just beautiful, set on a bay of the Beagle Channel. It really does feel like the end of the world. I won't tell you the answer to the question posed by my Brazilian friend (I might later on if you buy me a few beers) but at the top of that last hill I got off the bike and stood looking out on Ushuaia for a long time, reflecting on what has been an incredible 6 weeks.

Not to make this the Oscars, but I do want to say to Liz that this old, out of shape guy couldn't have had his mad crazy adventure without her love and support. Thanks Liz - I love you! Sylvie and James I love you guys and will be home for a big hug soon!

For those who followed along on the blog, a huge thank you for your encouragement and comments - it made all the difference and got me through some tough spots.

Now I have to sort out the logistics of getting out of this place with the trusty Surly in a box. From what I've been hearing, that will be an adventure in itself. As Liz said if this was a TV show I'd be helicoptered out and the ground crew would come in to take care of the cleanup and messy details.

So guys as I sign off let's hear it one last time from everyone who's been enjoying the ride. GIVE ME SOME LOVE, MY FRIENDS!!!

Yeah!!!!!!

https://www.strava.com/activities/277477565 

Trying to infiltrate back into the real world, I went to a non-tourist clothing store and bought a whole new kit, top to bottom, inside and out. Does it look as ridiculous as it feels? Can a grown man just keep wearing his bike outfit in normal life???

Light as a feather, we went flying to where the road ends and we could go no further.