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Published: November 22nd 2006
Pictures to Follow!!
Nick: Almost full circle!! We are now back in Argentina after an interesting crossing of the border, and we are a mere 250 km South from Tecka, the small town that played haven to our somewhat tattered nerves 5 weeks ago. Since that time we have, of course, travelled through a significant part of Chile, reaching down as far South as Coyhaique (although not so far South when you look at the map!). Our feelings in our last blog were confirmed and the Carretera Austral, or at least the stretch that we saw, was indeed everything we had hoped it would be, thus salvaging Chile's position in the league table! This more remote part of Chile is truely fantastic, and has confirmed, for me, something I think I already knew: of all the landscapes I have seen in my life so far, none inspire and impress me like those of glacial landscapes. Huge, wide, green, lake filled, valleys, imposing peaks, pine forests and snowy mountain tops, waterfalls and rushing streams against either a blue sky or dramatic grey clouds coursing past the ice caps above.
The carretera austral was indeed fabulous, but also hard work, as we covered over 200 miles (320km) of off road, 160 miles (260km) of which were in one day. This surface varied from packed earth to fine dust and gravel to rocks and stones, the smaller of which were merely the size of a golf ball and others the size of my fist, and of course finally the soft rocks and earth they seem to love in road building as well as my personal nemesis: sand. These last two did actually better us and saw us kissing dirt on three occasions, although all of these were at a standstill, when I some how managed to stop the bike before it did go over! On the way out of Chaiten we covered a mere 50 miles, stopping in a very small village. There we decided to wait for the dutch couple we had first met at the thermal baths who, now both 60, had opted for a similar trip to us: but on bicycles, but each with about 20-30kg of kit: hard as nails! Embarrassingly, on a particularly tough stretch 15 miles from Chaiten, they actually caught up with us, and we laughed at the road we had just fought through. And so we waited for them in this village of Villa Santa Lucia. They arrived and we all slept in the only lodgings the place had to offer. There the matron told us, once we had eaten beef you had to tenderise with explosive, that she was going to bed and this, by default, meant we were going to bed too...
The next morning we woke early and spurred on by the dutch couples efficiency we, too, were packed and ready to go by a staggering 9 am!! And we would need it. We started riding the 160 miles we had decided was our minmum target. The road was good and I was able to ride at 35-45 miles an hour (50-70km) for most of the way. We stopped for breakfast in a lovely spot where we later flagged down two Swiss bikers for a chat. But after a few minutes their impatience was clear and we let them go, as I enviously watched them negotiate the gravel without any difficulty: I silently wished they would at least stub their toes that evening for making it look so easy.
With my vindictiveness out of the way we carried on and stopped for lunch in a national park about 2km from the main road, where we could see a hanging glacier casting its melt water over a 50m drop into the torquoise lagune below. Once back on the road we continued making good progress, but I have learnt that this is a bad sign on dirt tracks as things will conspire to make it harder. Indeed they did, as we reached a stretch of large rocks about 10 cm deep where the bike bucked and twisted and frankly I don’t actually know how we managed to stay upright, let alone go forward where I pointed the bars! Then it got worse as we saw a sign for 42 km of road works. I have decided that "road works" is a code over here: it means that in the next 42 km you will experience every evil material known to man, strewn across your path. Pot holes you could loose a house in, bumps rocks gravel, round stones carefully placed in moist loose earth, then exposed to a dozen tyre tracks, none of whom go in quite the same way. I was expecting a few unused WW2 shells as well, but instead we got sand. I managed about 200 mtrs before we fell: only another 100 from the hard earth I was aiming for!
When I get back to Europe, I will make it my goal to go to every sandy beach and stamp on it!
Finally, we made it to our goal: the start of the southern tarmac section!! From there we rode gently into Manihuales to look for lodgings: my back ached and my vocal cords were swollen from the screaming and abuse huling that I had aimed at the road and its designers! Lodgings came in an unexpected form. Whilst asking the local police for advice on where to look it seems the Captain had other ideas. Before we knew it, we were offered to camping out back beside the police station: one of the more secure camping options, I think. With this we had access to their kitchen and shower. In exchange I agreed to chat with the Captain’s 17 yer old son, by phone, who it seems was always looking for an opportunity to practice his English. A fair trade for a good night’s sleep.
The next day we trotted south, on to Puerto Aisen, where we had lunch in a restaurant where growing your own food was indeed quicker and less painful than waiting for our waitress to get it for us. Her progress was on par with that of a retreating glacier. Or, as Kristina described it, with one of her Estonian sayings that I love hearing translated: She was slower than a Horse’s dream: classic!
From there we went onto Coyhaique, the regional capital. There we met up with Oscar, the Captain’s son, for a coffee, cake, chat and a through thrashing at chess: I managed to take his queen and still lost: I need lessons, fast!
Once finished there we found a basic hosteleria to stay in. We parked the bike in the back garden, squeezing through the gate with about 5mm to spare each side. We then went for dinner after playing with the resident dog for 30 mins. Dinner was by candle light: consisted of fine beer and tender protein, and all to the crooning of The King, on CD in the corner.
The following morning we approached the police once more for advise our crossing to Argentina. We wanted to chatch the ferry across the lake 70 miles (115km) to the South, but bad weather meant it would not cross before Wednesday, and this was Sunday. We thought through the options and opted for another plan as, after 300km of dirt the days before, I did not fancy circumnavigating the lake for another 300km to reach the border crossing of Chile Chico by road: my “ripio” enthusiasm and optimism reserves had not yet reached their necesary levels to take on this route! So we left Coyhaique via the South East and after 45 mins of windy riding (welcome back to Argentina, Mr Marsh...), we arrived in Balmaceda, Chilean border town. Now the wind was howling through the valley, and the conscensus of the police, locals and passing truckers was that the road ahead was all ripio, and not nearly as good as that of the Carretera Austral and not a wise choice for a bike. Ok, then...
So we decided to wait to see if an empty truck or pick-up fancied a few extra pesos in exchange for an unusually cargo. No such truck arrived, and night fell as the wind continued. We camped in the village on an area of disused land: not picturesque, but flat, dry and shielded from the wind. A cough kept me awake that night, as well as the puzzle of how to get into Argentina with the least hassle or lost time. During the night, to pass the time, I was entertained by a dog messing about outside. Had I known that the little bar-steward was, at that particular moment, chewing through the case of my digital camera, that he had pulled from under the fly sheet, I might well have passed the night gleefully kicking its hind quarters into the middle of next week. In the morning the wind had abated and 4 hours of Sudoku, in a desolate border post the day before, meant it was easy to opt for riding the road ourself. Everyone had been correct. The road, for the most part, was appalling. It took us 3 hours to cover the 100 km to the Ruta 40.
Then things got worse. Some of the readers may remember that the Ruta 40 was originally our chosen route South, but severe winds had meant we had opted for the North first and South later. Good choice. The Ruta 40 is not a road, but a Rock and Gem show on a mammoth scale. Why bikers actually want to ride it is beyond me!! Its absolutely mental. With experience it is no doubt a worthy challenge, but for us on our 450kg juggernaut, it was more like a life-sentence. In short, neither of us felt very happy about another 600 km (400 miles) of this. We had already done as many KM, cumulatively, over the trip, so we knew we
could do it, but we did really think we
wanted to do it. On the one hand, it felt like we were running away from the challenge, on the other there was the fact that we did not have infinite time and, with these surfaces and the inevitable wind, we had to consider, with this trip containing our first ever off-road moments, what was wise and prudent and what was more fool-hardy. Hence we are now 130 hitch-hiked KM South of Rio Mayo, where the bike is parked up safely, in the police station, whilst we take the comfy bus to cover the distance in 14 hours that, by bike, would have been 3-4 days, one way. If I ignore my silly (yet quite influential) male pride I think its the best solution. This trip will allow us to see the Perito Moreno Glacier, and the Fitz Roy peaks (as long as we can rsist the urge to throttle the droves of tourists on the way!). Despite being a bike trip, we have to sometimes remind ourslves that this is also a holiday and should be fun too and not just challenging. When we come back here on the way North to the bike, we hope to camp in the same spot we spent last night in. A camping site located in a peotry improvising, retired, ex-regimental karate instructor, soldier/policeman's back yard. The gentleman is called Raul. At first glance he seems, a bit odd, maybe be even a bit mad. But, as you get to know him, this feeling only grows. However, he has a heart of gold and is evidently very intelligent. Generally, excellent fun to be with even when he refers to himself in the third person and repeats everything. Also, even though his lodgings look a bit tired, closer inspection of the kitchen area and the bathroom facilities, one sees that everything is immaculately cleaned and fastidiously tidied. A fantastic place to be: you generally feel warmly welcomed into his home, rather than his business.
Krissu:
It’s been less than a week since we left Casa Hexagon but somehow it feels like it happened a lifetime ago… Yet again we had to say goodbyes to someone that had lifted our hearts during this trip. I will think of Henriette when I look at the nice little bracelets I bought from her and also when listening to the Columbian-Argentine-Peruvian-African music she introduced me to!
About 20km from Chaitén, Carretera Austral welcomed us with a fitness and braveness test: the dirt road was suddenly covered with tons of loose, fist-size rocks. The inevitable happened, and we fell, twice. No injuries, just a slight scare and general frustration. Nick was struggling with keeping the bike up and going, the tires had almost no grip on the uneven surface. So, once again, I got off and started walking… At least I got to enjoy the scenery! I took lots of photos for Nick, to show him later where he had been. I must have hiked for 3-4km, in full bike-kit (by the way, I found that biking trousers are very good for anti-cellulites treatment - my skin felt smooth and silky after 1.5 hours of self-generated heat treatment! 😊) when the rough gravel road ended and we were back on “normal”, tierra road. To our shame, the lovely Dutch couple who were cycling (!!) on Carretera Austral caught up with us on that stretch of road… It seems that a bicycle is an easier vehicle to operate on these hilly roads than a 1150cc motorbike!!! To be honest, I admire that elderly couple in many ways. Not many people are willing and fit enough to celebrate their first year of retirement by taking their bicycles to the west-coast of Andes! And they were so positive, about everything. We spent an evening with them later that day and not once did we hear a complaint or moan about their 10-hour cycling trip over a 550m mountain pass.
Villa Santa Lucia was unforgettable in many ways... Nick has already described our hostess, a 70 year-old authoritative grandma. Another observation we made was that all the people in the village looked remarkably alike, especially the grandma's son and daughter-in-law... And the dogs all seemed to come from the pedigree as well, only that they looked much cuter than the villagers! Later on that evening we were laughing our heads off by watching our Dutch friends getting their teeth in to the boiled beef-skin that was served as a main course for dinner. The remains of a cow were hanging behind us, in a glass-fenced shed… That’s what I would call an authentic traditional cuisine experience!
After a good night sleep in the near-freezing temperatures of the shared dorm we had an early start towards Coyhaque. The landscape around was breathtaking: forests of massive, ancient trees, snow capped mountains, deep valleys with fast-flowing rivers, mountain lakes filled with crystal clear water. Absolutely beautiful! The dirt tracks were curvy but manageable. We both enjoyed that stretch of Carretera Austral a lot - a place we would like to return to, one day. The last part of the journey that day was a challenge again, the 40+ km of road works were hellish to ride in. Yet again I was exercising my thigh-muscles, by either hiking or half-standing on the pegs to save the bike frame from the numerous pot holes on the gravely road. On the way, a road worker gave me mercy and offered a ride in his truck on one particularly bad stretch of roadwork. At first a tractor, then a truck - I am curious what my next hitchhiking vehicle will be - a horse?
That night we “landed on our feet again” and camped behind a police office in a small town near Puerto Aysen. The local police were extremely hospitable and even offered their kitchen for cooking dinner. They were curious about the greenish-yellowish dehydrated chicken soup powder I had poured on our plates, waiting for Nick to return from his shower, and due to my limited Spanish they now believe that this is British national cuisine… (sorry, my friends in England!)
Puerto Aysen was cold and grey. I wanted to go there to see a fjord - and I did! The rest of the town seemed relatively lifeless, with an exception of a big prison in the middle of the city. We were relieved to finally receive the sandwiches we had waited for a good hour or so and even more relieved to jump on the bike again and head towards Coyhaique. We had a date to go to! The chief policeman in Mañihuales who had golden front teeth had arranged a meeting with his son, a 17-old who had been learning English and was eager to practice his vocabulary with us. Oscar turned out to be a young man with great ambitions and many talents; he had already planned his life with his man-made-of-steel-father and is going to first perfect his English language skills and next master the Mandarin Chinese. We had a nice chat in a restaurant with a delicious piece of cake (locally known as küchen) and “real” (ground!) coffee! Oscar then offered Nick to play a game of chess (his favourite way to spend free time)… I could see the sweat drops developing on Nick’s forehead as he tried to beat the boy… 😊
Our hotel in Coyhaique was… interesting. A bit cold and fed up with carrying our stuff around we agreed to take the first accommodation we saw. It was only after we had accepted the room when we noticed that our room had a “window” to the room next door. And our door had a window as well, covered with a delicate lace curtain... Our neighbour, a friendly old man wearing a dressing gown and slippers was listening to his transistor radio - good enough entertainment to us as we had no TV in the room 😊 We had a lovely dinner in a nearby restaurant, with Elvis singing to us and the waitress impersonating his famous dance moves. Back in the hotel, I forced Nick to eat a few cloves of garlic (partly because he was feeling unwell, partly to keep unwanted people away from our room) and we fell asleep. I was woken up in the middle of the night by a crashing sound next door (a falling transistor radio, perhaps?), followed by a muffled cry (the old man with slippers?). Yes, it seems that he had bungee jumped from a half-a-meter bed with a 2-meter cord… Poor lad.
The following day brought us more acquaintances with the local carabineros (police) and after considering all our options for getting back to Argentina we decided to take the less-used border crossing near Coyhaique. Our day continued in the Argentine border crossing office where we spent 6 hours waiting for a friendly truck driver who would take us to Argentina and playing Super Su Doku (with 12 and 16 squares!) - The best way ever to kill time! The truck driver never arrived.
The next day, we decided to face the devil and we made it to Rio Mayo, Argentina by our own two wheels. I know that Nick feels like he has “lost” to Ruta 40 but even though I enjoy travelling by bike a lot, I feel it is more important to actually see the places we want to see, no matter by what transport. So here we are, in Perito Moreno, back-backing, and we have already met an unforgettable character, Raul. Despite being different, I find him more humane than many of us.
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Radka
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Hi, your blogs just make my day, reading about meeting nice people, seeing exciting places, what a great time you're having! Here it's just mad with all the work which I'm afraid will not be better till Christmass... One day, I and Richard will go for such a trip too, promise! I think we will be retired then, but who cares. Enjoy, Radka