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Published: August 7th 2007
We set off from Villa O'Higgins
in search of adventure on the Carretera Austral... and a haircutDust. Headwinds. Gusts from the side strong enough to blow cyclists off the road. The occasional tailwind! Rain. Climbs, descents and more climbs. Gravel roads. Endless corrugations. Potholes. Teeth rattled loose in the jaw. Stock cubes turned to a residue that is reminiscent of used engine oil. A blessed stretch of tarmac. Tábanos (horseflies) in at least three, equally voracious and persistent species. Orange-framed bridges over turquoise rivers. Turquoise lakes. Deep green rivers. Hundreds of waterfalls freefalling out of clouds. Roads hugging the edges of cliffs high above turbulent rivers. Condors floating in the heavens. Forest as far as the eye can see. Mountain sides too steep for vegetation to cling to. Landslides. Wildflowers. Green valleys. Grazing cattle. Raw slashes of bulldozed land that marks a new settler's beginnings and hopes. Occasional farmsteads. Paddocks of grasses fat with seedheads that mature quickly in the brief summer. Sunshine and sunburn. Eyes puffy and teary from the dust. Noses running in the cold wet. Exhilaration. Slumps into disheartedness. Hot chocolate drinks at the end of a long day. Wild campsites beside unpopulated lakes. The sleep of the totally stuffed.
This is the Carretera Austral.
It is the 1,240km Chilean southern highway
Leaving Cochrane
Looking south over the Baker River, back towards Cochrane that runs between the city of Puerto Montt and the remote southern village of Villa O'Higgins, along the western flanks of the Andes. (It is also known as the Camino Longitudinal Austral or Ruta 7.) Except for a few sections totalling perhaps 300 kilometres that is paved, the road is gravel. And in this part of the world, that also means corrugations, for only small sections of the road are without them. The most common way to ride it is from north to south, which gives greater likelihood of tailwinds, but we had to do it the harder way, and travel from Villa O'Higgins to Chaiten, about 980km north. You can see the route
on this map.
The highway was started in 1976 by Pinochet as an exercise in reiterating Chile's claim on its territory so far from the centre of population and power, centred on Santiago. The message was directed largely at Argentina. Of course, the highway vastly improved movement between the communities of the south — and also made trade over the Andean passes between Argentina and Chile much easier! The bulk of the highway was opened by the mid-1980s. Building the road through such rugged and remote terrain
was a considerable feat of engineering and logistics. The extension further south to Villa O'Higgins, another 100km, was opened in 2000. Before then, this town of 500 souls was accessible only by boat, as were several other villages in the Chilean fiordlands. Even now, Villa O'Higgins remains one of the most remote communities in the country.
Before the Europeans arrived, the land was peopled by hardy Tehuelche Indians, who lived here for perhaps 10,000 years, according to archeological information we read in the regional museum in Coyhaique. The Mapuche peoples, from further north, expanded into Tehuelche territory probably in the mid-16th century, bringing cultural changes. The indigenous peoples were devastated by contact with the west, and about 6,000 Patagonians identify as Tehuelche today.
Many of the small towns were established only in the 1960s, as part of moves by the Chilean government to promote greater population of the area, and to exploit the natural resources, mostly forests, which were felled for their timber, which is valued in this wet part of the world for its resistence to rot, or burned to establish cattle grazing. Most of the towns have populations of a few hundred people, and along the
At the top of yet one more climb
Between Cochrane and Puerto Bertrand above the Rio Baker highway the government is funding the provision of permanent rural electrification and potable water. Aside from Puerto Montt, Coyhaique is the only substantial town along the Carretera Austral. It has a population of about 45,000, and supermarkets that allow for choice, cafes, museums and other paraphernalia of large, thriving towns. Many of the people who live in this part of the world supported Pinochet for making their lives easier. Of course, this part of Chile also suffered under the dictatorship. A cenotaph in the Coyhaique cemetry, a simple affair at the end of an avenue of ostentatious family mausoleums, pays tribute to local members of the Communist Party who disappeared during those years.
There is some tension between economic development — cattle grazing for beef and leather, fishing, intensive fish farming, and the generation of hydro-electricity — and the conservation of the magnificent, unique forests and wild rivers of the Patagonian fiords. At a weekend fiesta of traditional pioneering skills in Villa Cerro Castillo we met a group of young Tehuelches campaigning to prevent one of these rivers, the magnificent Rio Baker, from being dammed for electricity by the Spanish company Endesa. They argue that any dams are socially
undesirable, will permanently change the ecosystems of the Baker and its catchment, and will bring little economic advantage to Patagonia, as the power is destined for the Santiago area. There is information about it
here and
here in Spanish, and
here in English.
The Carretera Austral is about the hardest riding we have done, and where we discovered our limits. It was hard enough on our muscles, although they got stronger after a few days in the saddle; it was much, much harder on our heads. We found it extremely difficult to struggle for 5 and more hours a day to coax and bump a bike carrying 85 or 90 kilograms (including rider) over badly corrugated roads to make only 45km. And knowing that we would be doing it all again the next day, and the next. So, we didn't always, and on some stretches of the highway flagged down a passing bus and watched the scenery go past from the comfort of a petrol-driven padded seat.
The difficulty of the riding could not diminish the power and magnificent beauty of the primordial landscapes the road cuts through. They are awful, in the old sense of the word,
of inspiring awe, and understanding in your gut that, whether you thrive or die, are strong or weak, are in tears or soaring with physical strength and a sense of accomplishment, the landscape is impassive.
The landscape is very beautiful, and varied. Walls of forested mountains ascended to the heavens. The peaks are often jagged. These contrast with the lower slopes and hills, which were smoothed by massive glaciers during the last ice age. Through the valley floors rush rivers as powerful as the mountains. Even on fine days, the mountains were often shrouded in wisps of cloud. It seemed that we were witnessing the birth of the world. Had a dinosaur burst from the forest at the side of the road, we would not have been surprised. It seems impossible that these mountains, muscular as rugby league players without necks, are not immutable and, pebble by pebble, are being washed into the floodplains by landslides and the action of snow, ice and river.
Sometimes, the mountains opened, surprisingly, to small valleys that gave us a sense of intimacy, which we enjoyed after a surfeit of the grand. A few kilometres south of Coyhaique farmers were making hay
from the lush summer grasses, the first farming we had seen in months, as agriculture in Patagonia is generally grazing and, in Chile, intensive fish farming.
In the north, we spent a few days exploring the trails in
Parque Pumalin, a private conservation park comprising two large tracts of Chilean Patagonia. They are owned by Americans Douglas Tompkins and his wife, Kristine McDivitt Tompkins, who are probably better known for their Espirit and North Face companies, and perhaps for their involvement in deep ecology. Chileans seem to love them or loathe them: either support them for their work to protect forest that would otherwise be under pressure to be logged and chipped like the great forests further north that have all but disappeared; or loathe them as foreigners come in to take their land and impose US environmental values. This
informative article tells you more about the Tompkins' and the controversial park.
One of the reasons we wanted to visit the park was to see the alerce (
Fitzroya cupressoides), a slow-growing conifer that, if it gets to live to the venerable age of 3,000 or even 4,000 years that is cited, may end up with a diameter of 4m and
Caleta Tortel
where there are no streets, only boardwalks a height of 70m. This will only happen, of course, if people don't fell them, which is something that has happened with such exerburance that there are now few left. The trees that remain are now all protected, and perhaps 35%!o(MISSING)f them grow in Parque Pumalin. The timber is valued for its durability and resistance to rot. The alerces we saw, though comparatively young, were nevertheless venerable enough to stop us in our tracks. It is as though they are the wisdom of forests through the ages brought alive. One the drive in to the park from Chaiten, a huiña cub raced across the road in front of us. Our driver, old Teofilo, was so excited at this rare siting of one of the native wild cats of the area that he was in tears.
The towns along the Carretera are as varied as the landscapes.
In the south, a few kilometres off the highway, lies the village of Caleta Tortel, which we visited by bus. This picturesque town was established to exploit forests of guaitecas cypress (
Pilgerodendron uviferum). Tortel has no streets, and people get about along 7km of boardwalks. There is a massive boardwalk expansion
program in anticipation of growing tourism to the town, as the people here work to expand their economic base. One of the sad stories of the village's past, and now a tourist attraction, is centred on the nearby Isla de los Muertos (Island of the Dead). It is the burial ground of a group of Chilote woodcutters who died mysteriously in 1906 far from their home hundreds of kilometres north and another world away. To this day it is not known what caused their deaths.
Tortel lies at the mouth of the Rio Baker, which, we are told by the tourist brochures, flows at a rate of 1,500 cubic metres a second, hence the interest in exploiting it to generate electricity. It isn't a river one would care to fall into, with its slick surface the only indication of the turbulence of the waters beneath. It's powerful and beautiful and, like many of the rivers in these parts, a deep, translucent green.
Villa Cerro Castillo is another hamlet of 500 or so people. In late January it comes riotously to life as thousands of people converge for its fiesta of traditional pioneering and gaucho skills, some of which
are still part of everyday life here. Tents spring up like mushrooms in people's gardens, the camping ground is a bustling city, kitchens and sheds become restaurants for the weekend and, down at the rodeo ground, a huge asado (barbecue) is put on free. Guitar and accordian music plays all weekend. We thought Australians eat a lot of meat, but we aren't in the same league as Chileans. During this weekend, family groups cooked barbecues all day and at any time. We were invited to a feast at 1am.
Villa Santa Lucia is an unprepossessing hamlet that lies at the junction of the Carretera Austral and one of the access roads to Argentina, through Futaleufú. If the town is hardly a fitting place to leave the Carretera Austral, at least the landscapes are still spectacular here as we say goodbye to Chile and head east over the Andes and back into Argentina.
Cyclists who want specific info on the Carretera Austral can email us.
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Mark and Becky
non-member comment
Chile
It's sounding like this leg of the journey is quite hard going in places. I'm glad you're finding the occasional oasis of rest amongst the days of hard riding. By the way, who is that beard-face you've picked up along the way and what's happened to Dave? Love, Mark and Becky