Bariloche – Wild Camp – El Bolson – Cholila – Villa Futalaufquen – Frontera Rio Grande – Villa Santa Lucia – Abandoned camping – Backyard camping – Villa Mañihuales – Coyhaique – Caterpillar abandoned camping – Wild Camp 2 – Puerto Rio Tranquilo – Puerto Bertrand – Cochrane – Abandoned hotel – Refugio – Villa O’Higgins – Candelario Mancilla – Lago Desierto – El Chalten

21 cycling days   |   1.497 kilometers   |   18.340 meters elevation gain

We’re in Bariloche, in the north of Patagonia in Argentina. I just waved goodbye to mom and dad. And to Wasi a few days earlier with whom I cycled together with for the last 3 months. I’m suddenly all alone again. It takes some time to get used to. But the next visitor is already on his way to see me: my brother. He flew to Argentina with my parents, they did some sightseeing together and afterwards put my parents on a bus to Bariloche. He, on the other hand, is traveling slowly up north and the prognosis is that we’ll meet each other somewhere on the famous Carretera Austral.

The first day on the bike I have to get used to being alone again. But I also enjoy the advantages of stopping whenever I want and taking it easy. It is getting really cold now. Not only am I cycling more and more towards the South Pole, winter is also getting closer. And this double trouble has made me reshuffle my bags completely whereas all my warm clothes have gotten an upgrade from the bottom of my bags to the top. At the end of the day I find a nice wild camping spot right next to a small cobbling river. Some signs tell me that camping is not allowed here. Wow, how different to be camping alone, in the dark, in a place you’re not allowed. Compared to the camping days with Wasi, this is a lot scarier, less cozy and also the cooking is less of a feast as well. After some simple pasta I go to bed.

It’s crazy how fast you get used to luxuries like WiFi, a bathroom, a coffeemaker. We tend to not appreciate the things that make are life easy, we only appreciate them when there not around anymore. I set up my cooking stove again this morning to make hot water. I make coffee by pouring the hot water through my filter into my cup. Actually, the coffee tastes way better if you have to put effort in it to make it.

I pack up and hit the road. I’m amazed by the thousands of pine trees next to the road.

It’s funny, the further south I go, the more the landscapes start to resemble Canada again. The day passes by. I’m not in my happy place yet and I know that like that you also won’t meet new people. You are a mirror to other people, if you don’t radiate good vibes, other people also won’t radiate their good vibes to you. Something like that. But it’s okay, because I’m still in my “mourning process” after saying goodbye to everybody and I know from previous goodbyes that it will take me one or two days.

When I arrive in El Bolson I don’t have a place to stay yet, and my plan is to stay at least two night to do some writing. After some groceries a WarmShowers host replies to me and tells me I can stay. They are super sweet people, father Luis and daughter Belen run a motoresguardo a place for motor travelers to work on their bikes and to rest. Luckily any two-wheeled vehicle is welcome. I meet more guests, Francisco and Lucas from Argentina and Chendo from Ecuador. We cook together, hang out together, drink mate together. I lend Chendo my bike to cycle across town and he lends me his laptop to do some writing. I stay one night extra to do some more writing which also gives me the opportunity to see Laurens and Vera again, which now are traveling north. It’s super good to see them again, we go to a bar, eat something and catch up. It’s funny that we’re both reaching our final destination and we’re really in the process of thinking about our new “life after cycling“. All night we brainstorm about ideas. Will it be a bike shop or maybe writing that book anyway?

Since nights have been getting colder in my tent I’ve been looking for solutions to make my summer sleeping bag warmer. Fleece liners in Bariloche where incredibly expensive (€200) and in El Bolson I find my solution. I buy a fleece blanket that I knit by hand into a bag. I saved €180 and should be getting way warmer nights by putting this soft baby into my sleeping bag. I can’t wait to try it out.

The dark rainy clouds from yesterday have disappeared and it’s time for me to leave this amazing place with the warmest people. The sun is shining. After 5 kilometers uphill I discover that I’ve left my charger at the house. I don’t feel like going back so I text one of the guys which tells me to send my location so they can give me my charger back. Whilst I’m waiting next to the road I suddenly see two bike travelers coming into my direction. When we shake hands and they tell me they’re from Italy I already know who these guys are! Ha! “So you are Giovanni and Francesco then I assume?” When I cycled together with Sander and Wasi in Bolivia, Sander told us many stories about his time cycling together with two Italians in Peru. We’re both flabbergasted and excited to meet each other. We send a picture to Sander and his reply is: “That’s amazing! But I also feel a bit weird, it’s like two ex-girlfriends suddenly become friends”.

They started cycling in the north of Colombia and have the same destination as me: Ushuaia. It feels a bit like we’re closing the line, since winter is really coming and we don’t believe there are any other cicloviajeros behind us that still want to go to Ushuaia. We hit the road together and a lovely day on the bike unfolds. We see snow-capped mountains looming from a distance, it makes for a nice contrast with the green trees in front of them. We deviate onto highway 71, an even quieter road. We have plenty of time to chat and to look around us. At the end of the day we make it to Cholila. We’ve heard that there are possibilities to sleep in the municipal gymnasium here. It takes some time but eventually we find the boss of the gym in the fire station. He shows us around. We make use of the kitchen, hot showers and there’s even beds for us. A cycle tourist heaven! We do groceries and together with the Italians, which are crazy about cooking, make empanadas. Delicious!

After coffee and bread, we set off. Soon we hit gravel when we enter Los Alerces National Park. The morning is beautiful, albeit with a strong headwind, but it’s dry with here and there some sunshine. In the afternoon, it starts raining, and it never really stops. My first rain (on the bike) in a very long time. It’s cold, the wind is cutting through everything, and we’re getting wetter and wetter. And to think that just a month ago, we were riding through a desert at 45 degrees Celsius.

Shivering, we arrive in Villa Futalaufquen where the park police quickly informs us that it’s either camping (9,000 pesos, too expensive) or leaving the park for wild camping (24km, too far). They drive off. Shit, what do we do? First we have to buy some bread. We go to a little store in the small town. After buying our bread we explain our situation and the encounter with the park police. We are lucky. They tell us that we can pitch our tents in their backyard, which we gladly do. The rain never stops that night so we cook and chill in our tents.

The next morning we’re invited into the house of the nice couple of the shop to drink mate with them. And like always with Argentinians, time tends to fly when this happens. An hour later we have to force ourselves to go away from the cozy heat inside the house and back into the cold. The cycling in the morning is nice with a comfortable tailwind. We reach Trevelin where we have our lunch in the entryway of a supermarket because we need shelter from the cold wind.

When the road makes a 90 degree turn the road turns into gravel and the fun is over. Wind. Straighter than straight into our faces. More furious than I’ve ever experienced. Flagpoles here no longer bear flags. They’re eaten up by the wind. Whenever the wind rages over the gravel it takes along it’s smallest particles that you can feel tickling against your shins. Don’t look into it, because you’re eyes won’t appreciate it. With grinding teeth you continue. Wind gusts harder than Rico Verhoeven can punch. Try to stay on your bike. On flat stretches the wind is slowing us down to 8 km/h. The trees beside me bend insanely low. And then the sound. You hear absolutely nothing and no one and you only realize it whenever it dies down momentarily and the pleasant silence becomes a soothing caress for your ears. The cars kick up even more dust, and all you can do is turn your head away until the wind is done stirring up the mess. At the end of the day your eyes hurt from all the dust it had to deal with.

Thirty kilometer on gravel with this wind feels like torture, but we reach the border and set up our tents just before it on a small campground, perfectly sheltered from the wind. The wind keeps raging all night. I hear the tall treetops making incredible noise and I wonder how they manage to stay upright. They must be incredibly strong.

Funny, every cyclist I meet who has been living this life for a while and is about to return to that other “normal” world struggles with the same thing: what will that look like? How will I start filling that in? It’s as if we’ve been given a glimpse into another world, our eyes are now open, and as a result, we’ve completely changed the way we think about life. But we’re still struggling with how to implement that when we’re back in that other world. Staying in this world is not an option: the cycling life is too demanding to sustain for long, there’s the problem of not having income and eventually, you long for a base again, even if it’s just for a while. But how do you implement what you’ve seen “here” back “there”? No one I talk to wants to go back to their old routine, their old job. Bankers, engineers, data analysts: no one wants to be a banker again, everyone wants to fill their lives differently. How that will be? Only time will learn us.

We’re off and the border is only a couple hundred meters away. It’s my third time crossing into Chile already. The rest of the day is beautiful, the gravel good, and the wind eventually dies down a bit. Because of the border hassles and an early lunch, it feels like we’ve already had a whole day after just 25 kilometers, but we still have over 60k to go! We push through. It starts to drizzle and the last 10 kilometer it is full on raining. Another day, another soaking. We arrive wet and tired at Café La Forastera and its owner Yola. I got a message from Wasi in the afternoon: he had stayed in a camping in Villa Santa Lucia, the owner Yola was apparently super nice. He also told me that she was moving and that maybe we could arrange something with her. So, I sent her a message in the afternoon: if we could help with the moving in exchange for a free stay. I quickly get a message back: “yes of course, just come by!” Brilliant.

Flash forward about 7 hours, and I knock on the door of Café Forastera, cold, wet, and tired. Inside, Yola is sitting with other guests. It’s warm and cozy. Immediately I slip into some kind of trance: I’m sitting on the ground and let all the coziness and warmth fall over me like a warm blanket. We’re allowed to take a warm shower and even get a warm bed. That evening, we chat, make a pasta with whatever everyone has left, and Yola surprises us with cold beer and pisco sour. Wow, what a generous, warm and lovely woman.

Together with Renzo, another cicloviajero from Argentina going north, we help Yola move. We wrap items in plastic and take them to a container, and unscrew things from the walls. Yola is happy with the help, and we are super happy to have a roof over our heads and everything else. Barter that makes everyone happy. Later, two more cyclists from France arrive. Not much later, when me and Yola are in the car, I see our cycling friends Lara and Bruno again on the road.

Yola is so kind to also take them into the house for free. So, in the evening, there are 8 cicloviajeros inside the small house of Yola. Super cozy and snug. We make pizzas. Furthermore, it has been raining all day, so it’s not bad at all to have skipped this day on the road for a rest day. The problem is that they predict even more rain for tomorrow. We stay another day. And then another one.

It’s actually quite unbelievable that Yola, in the midst of moving between houses, still provides shelter for 11 people. Eleven. People. In her small house. We use her kitchen and shower and sleep in her beds. 99.999% of people would have apologetically closed the door in our faces, saying that they would not be able to help us since they’re moving.

I’m really glad we can actually help her quite a bit. We drive in her jam-packed little car with all sorts of stuff from the house to a container in the village. Yola spoils us with beer, ice cream, and other food “because the fridge has to be emptied anyway,” and we indulge ourselves in making pizza, empanadas, and pasta. An absolutely delightful time with lovely people and yet another person who has inspired me to live a more loving and altruistic life.

Finally, we manage to leave Yola’s place. What also helps: it’s a stunning day with blue skies. The rain of the past days has sprinkled snow on almost all the mountain tops around us, which contrasts beautifully with these blue skies and white puffy clouds. We carry Yola’s last stuff to her car, have a nice breakfast, and one more good coffee, and then set off. It’s our first day on the Carretera Austral, Chile’s highway number 7 that connects rural areas in the south and is characterized by forests, fjords, glaciers and lakes. It was the first road that I put on my “to-do” list when I started planning this trip two years ago.

The road is absolutely amazing, hilly with no severe climbs. I’m a very happy guy in the morning, singing, dancing on my bike. It feels good to cycle again, and with blue skies: what else does a man want? Compared to one month ago when I was cycling in the desert with Wasi and Jean, there is so much more to see! Birds everywhere, big caterpillars crawling on the roads, cute wooden houses next to beautiful cobbling rivers, forests with crazy trees, snow-capped mountains. If you look on the left, you’ve missed what was on the right. What a contrast with a month ago. This also makes the kilometers fly by, and with only two stops, we do 103 kilometers without a blink. From my friends up the road, I’ve gotten the coordinates of an abandoned camping where we should be able to wild camp. We get there in the dark because we only started cycling at 1 pm. We find the abandoned camping, and one of the sites has a shelter, a table, and a grill: perfect. We set up the tents, have dinner, and go to bed.

The jolly mood of yesterday is over as soon as I swing my leg over my saddle to get on my bike: it starts dripping. The thing we don’t know at that moment is that it will not stop raining today. Apparently the stories of my friends up the road are true: it rains a lot on The Carretera. I secretly hoped that we would be lucky with the weather but today proves me wrong. After one hour we’re soaking wet. Halfway through the day my raincoat starts leaking through. The rain clothes make me sweat from inside so everything still gets incredibly wet. We can’t stop for too long because we get cold, so stops are short and functional. Giovanni’s brakes give out at one point and in the hard rain we are changing his brake pads. We don’t even seek shelter anymore: what’s the point? At the end of the day we see a camping and go for it. It’s quite pricey but when the lady tells us we can have a hot shower and that we can dry our clothes over the stove it’s a done deal.

It’s not very inviting too get out of our sleeping bag in the morning as we hear hard rain crashing down on the plastic roof that we put the tents under last night. I tell Francesco to wait for the rain too stop but he rightfully corrects me when he tells me that we’ll be soaking after 5 mins anyway. So we just go. The morning is rainy, but luckily the last hour on the bike is a bit dryer. We get to put our capuchons off and zip open our raincoats, we can actually see the landscapes around us! We drive into Villa Mañihuales. The best thing of the day is the camping we got recommended, it’s perfect indeed. It has a stove to dry our clothes, it has hot showers, we can cook and put the tents under a roof. I buy a pack of wine for my Italian friends since they’ve been feeding me incredible food the last days.

We wake up with sunshine and a partly blue sky, amazing! Gio makes pancakes and we set off for a great day on the bike. The reality is that we have to enjoy every moment that it’s dry, so we do.

Gio’s and Cesco’s friendship is admirable, they do everything together, they share all their stuff, have the same goal, the same vibes, they even sleep in the same tent! They passed the test of eternal friendship. Fra’s laugh is contagious and Gio’s excitement when he sees or thinks about making food is amazing. They are great fun to cycle together with!

We arrive on a camping in Coyhaique, all this paid camping is quite new, but also more of a necessity if it’s raining so much: a roof and drying our clothes is suddenly very important. We want to go out for a beer, but instead end up talking with an 71-year old cicloviajero from Colombia. Seventy-one! An amazing guy. He decided to start riding his bike more than a year ago and now he’s here. He generously gives us a lot of tips, advice and wisdom. The beer in the city never happens, but this is way better.

As soon as we wake up it starts raining. Bad timing. We dry our tents on the stove inside. I burn big holes in my €500 tent doing it and cry a bit from the inside. I’ve reached that point where everything slowly is breaking down and giving up on me. We start cycling in measly rain. Rolling yellow hills around us, up and down, up and down. At the end of the day we reach another old campsite. Out of use because of a caterpillar plague outbreak. The caterpillars are still everywhere but we think it’s a great spot. Shelters for the tents, water, tables and toilets.

I have to do some chores in the morning: patching my tent (I cry a bit more) and fixing the pivot of my back rack. Soon after we get on the bikes we descend into Villa Cerro Castillo with A-MA-ZING views. Partly blue skies but most of all: visibility! We can see white mountain peaks all around us, unbelievable. And I’m wondering how much of these views we already missed due to no visibility due to the rain. I guess one day I’ll have to come back here in a better season. We enjoy some WiFi and bread in town and continue our way. Hard grueling winds slap us in the face hard. It even throws Fra off of his bike smashing him on the ground and twisting his ankle. We continue to pound against the wind, sometimes it’s quite fun just because it’s just too ridiculous. We make it into a valley with less wind and then another element slams us in the face: ripio. Yep, from now on it will be gravel until the end of The Carretera, 450km of stones. It’s hard, the headwind and the loose rocks.

We manage to do only 20 kilometers before it gets dark and call it a night. We secretly crawl under some barbed wire to reach our camping spot for the night: a forest next to one of the many lakes. There are fallen branches everywhere and the wind sweeps the high trees left to right: let’s hope we don’t get a branch on our head tonight.

Big day today. Eighty-eight kilometers over gravel. Since we have a contact in Puerto Rio Tranquilo we want to make it to there today. We mentally prepared our already tired legs for this day. We wake up early and pack up fast. At 9:30 we leave, a personal record of the last months. The gravel is quite good at this point since the rocks have been shuffled to the side by the cars and trucks and only the underlying layer of smooth earth is exposed. We fly. Next to us incredibly green-blue rivers and lakes. I’ve never seen lakes with a color like this. So vivid, so blue. Something you expect at a bay in the Philippines but not here. Pure glacier water. A dry day today, we praise to all nature Gods for it to stay dry. We eat away the 88 kilometers with ease and reach the town.

At the gas station we WhatsApp our contact. The people selling artesanías at that same gas station already know who we’re trying to reach because they also camp in his backyard: the local Samaritan of the village. His name? Pato. Someone who actually helps people instead of only trying to get their money. When he reaches the gas station on his motorbike he seems rough: ripped clothes, talks with rough words: a cowboy on a mechanical horse. But later he will prove to be the softest, kind-hearted man alive. Just another example of: don’t judge a book by its cover.

He takes us to his “house” that has a big grass field where we can pitch our tents. There are more tents already, tents belonging to the artesanía sellers, motoviajeros and backpackers. All kind-heartedly welcomed by Pato in his house. He even cooks for all of us and puts fire in the stove to heat us up. He opens a pack of wine that we all share. Amazing. This guy is not only welcoming strangers into his house, he is also feeding them, all for no price. Just for the sake of doing good. Whilst he has nothing himself: his sink drains into a bucket, only has a cold shower, heats up the house with a fire stove and the furniture seems to be collected from the streets. What a guy. An example. The artesanías, backpackers, motoviajeros, Pato and us, cicloviajeros, talk, eat and drink. Pato seems to be the best talker, he easily gathers a crowd of ears for one of his stories.

Yesterday I saw that the weather forecast predicted rain at 9am, so as soon as I wake up and see that it is 8:30am i quickly try to pack up my sleeping equipment and tent. During the process it slightly starts drizzling so my tent is still a bit wet but I manage to pack up almost dry: good enough I would say. We say goodbye to Pato and all the other people and start cycling in the rain. It turns out to be one of the worst days on the Carretera. Hard rain all day. All the climbing makes me sweat incredibly with all these non-breathable rain clothes on, still making everything wet from the inside. So I’m wondering what’s the point of all these clothes in the end? All day we have to avoid potholes filled with water. The mud sticks to my chain and cassette and makes my bike sound extremely crusty. I can’t use my lowest gear anymore because when I do it sticks and clogs up in my derailleur. My right shifter is gone so I’m basically cycling an incredibly hilly parcours with two out of my 9×3 gears. Completely wet we find shelter in a roofed bus stop for lunch, but since we are so cold we have to constantly blow hot air into our hands and we sing songs and dance to keep warm. It’s hard to get back out in the rain but we have to. Man, I’m suddenly so glad I’m with the Italians. At least now I can share my misery and to be honest, they handle the misery pretty well!

We have to reach our destiny and find a place where we can make a fire to dry our stuff. The last half our is dry and it feels incredible to take off our capuchons and look around for a bit. We pass incredibly blue lakes with snow-capped mountains around them. This is Patagonia! We reach a small town where we find a campground that has a little refugio to make a fire, dry our clothes, get warm and make food. An unwanted ritual that is starting to find form these days. We sleep with our feet pointing towards the ongoing fire in the fireplace on the stone cold concrete of the refugio. Me between the Italians. Our warm breath leaving traces of condens in the air.

Today we’ll reach Cochrane, the small town where I’ll meet my brother. I’m fucking excited. It rained all morning and we are amazed that the bikes are still standing upright after the wind of last night. It’s raining outside and the wind is brutally pounding against the wooden walls of the little refugio. As soon as we manage to get our clothes dry we have to get out in the rain again, how long can a person handle this? Another day in the cold, rain and mud. It’s hard to prep ourselves. But off we go. Gio and Francesco try to protect their feet from the rain with plastic bags.

Five minutes in, a car surpasses me, driving into a water filled pothole, thereby splashing muddy water right into my face. Humiliation quickly changes into pure anger. I swing middle fingers at him in full force. When I’m cooled down again I see a stunning ice-blue river merge with another even more blue river. Around noon the weather gives us half an hour break from the rain to have a dry roadside lunch. After that it starts drizzling again. But later the sun comes out, the clouds disappear and we see beauty all around us. Glaciers, snow on every mountaintop, raging rivers and crazy stone formations. We are thrilled when we enter Cochrane and check into a cozy campground where we manage to ánd get a discount ánd get to sleep on matrasses inside some building.

Tomorrow I’ll see my brother and we’ll spend some time together, here in Patagonian Chile.

In the morning we do some bike maintenance in the sun. Around noon I finally meet my brother, Jeroen, or Joene how I call him. It’s great to see him again. I let him meet the Italians and show him the camping, my bike and my gear.

Then we move to a cabaña he has booked. It’s an amazing place: right into the woods in a rural part of town, there’s place for 5 people, a fully-equipped kitchen, a BBQ, an amazing automatic fireplace (with these little wood snips that automatically fall into the fire) and super comfy beds. The rest of the day we talk and talk. And we chill. We spend most of our time around the fire place with our feet pointed toward the fire. That night we go back to the camping because the Italians (that decided to stay another night as well) made pizza and they invited us. We bring the beers. At the end of the cozy night I say goodbye to the Italians. But I know I’ll probably see them again soon.

Joene let’s me sleep in the one and only two-person bed, what a guy!

The rest of our time in Cochrane is filled with comfort. We watch the cycling race De Ronde Van Vlaanderen, I do some chores on the bike, I cook for my bro, we make a beautiful hike through Patagonia National Park, we do a BBQ and as said we spend most of our time next to the fireplace

He is not only my brother, he is also my best friend and I’ve missed him. He is my biggest fan as well, he is the first to read my stories, the first to give me Kudos on Strava, the first to share my Instagram pictures and the one that is telling everybody about me. He follows my every step (even more than my parents), he always knows exactly where I am and has an even better idea of what to do in the area I’m at, what to visit, which roads are nicest. I know he is super proud of me and I appreciate him for it mucho.

I put my brother on the bus this morning, we’ve had four super nice days together. Time to cycle again. The weather looks nice so the only thing that doesn’t make it inviting to go out of the cabin is the way too cozy fireplace. After some quick groceries (bread) I make it out of Cochrane for the last three days on the Carretera Austral.

A dog decides to walk with me out of town. In the beginning it’s cute and all fun and games, but after 15 kilometers out of town I start to worry: I hope this dog knows how to get back to town, I don’t have food to take care of him. I scare him away by throwing rocks at him and then he starts walking back. It breaks my heart a bit.

The whole day it drizzles but it never really starts raining. I make it to the location where friends told me there’s an abandoned hotel. It’s creepy as hell.

Wooden statures all over the place make me think there’s somebody inside, the place is crashed by other travellers, everywhere rubbish. The best thing: there’s a lot of food everywhere. Everything is expired, but for a hungry cyclist without standards it’s absolutely perfect. I fill my bags with cans of soda, soup packages, lentils, pasta and a bottle of rum and tequila (that I pour in plastic bottles to save on weight). Another fear that starts creeping on me is that, for some reason, the owners of the hotel that decided to leave everything behind 10 years ago suddenly come back that night. What are the chances?

I sleep in one of the beds in one of the old hotel rooms. The night is scary is hell, the building makes a lot of noise, luckily the sips of tequila make me fall asleep anyway.

I quickly leave the abandoned hotel the next morning. I don’t like this place, but I did get to sleep in a comfortable, warm bed and my bags are filled with food and booze. All in all not a bad stay. I have my first ferry on the Carretera to catch at 3PM so I have plenty of time and thus take my time. I meet Grace after 24 kilometers. An Australian that I briefly met in Cochrane before. We’re going the same direction so we’ll share the road. Soon we hit a big climb and I find myself struggling holding her wheel. She completely destroys me on that first climb. She is way lighter packed, but still, I don’t want to be slower than a girl. I know this sounds silly, but that’s just the way we think. So thanks to my childish and competitive mindset and my 50kg bike I completely blow myself up on that first hill.

I told Grace that at some point I will cross my brother on this road today. He did a lightning visit to the end of the Carretera Austral and is going back north now. I hope I’ll meet him at the ferry so we can maybe have a conversation.

But every bus we see we also see to ask the driver if there’s a Holandès aboard. The second bus we see is bullseye. Through the little window the head of a confused bus driver is quickly interchanged by the head of my brother. I quick handshake and a quick talk, that’s all. The whole bus is waiting for us, so the bus driver cuts our meeting short. But it was worth it to see him again for those few seconds.

After the ferry me and Grace make it to a refugio on top of another hill. These refugios are build by the government to accomodate travelers and are basically a roof and some short walls. But we are happy to be sheltered from wind and possible rain during the night. It’s been a long time since I’ve arrived somewhere this wrecked. Two other “northbounders” accompany our little cabin for the night. We cook together and I share the tequila that I took from the hotel. During the night every wind breeze freezes my face: it’s cold.

The next day is our last day on The Carretera. Luckily I’ve recovered from yesterday’s effort and today is flatter and thus I can luckily keep up with Crazy Grace. We meet some proper gauchos, Chilean cowboys, on the road that are herding cattle. A raging tailwind is pushing us south. We see glaciers and a mountain wall full of waterfalls. And at the end of it all: the small but touristy town of Villa O’higgins. Literally the end of the road: from here it’s either a boat or turning back.

In the village we run into my friends Gio and Francesco again, we can stay in the same camping as they do.


Ode to a Patagonian Bus Stop

In the final fork of the carretera,
near the river that flows mint green
with glacial milk, where one road
leads to the town made of wood
& the other road leads to the end
of the world, where the rickety busses
pass only rarely, where the chilly
drizzle darkens & swells the walls
of the shelter, wooden insides
sharpied full of stories & Chilean slang,
where cyclists stop to rest
& swallow sticky spoonfuls of manjar,
cursing the headwind
through caramel-coated teeth.
Where a lone hitchhiker
pauses to reshuffle her pack, sip mate
& wait & wait & wait, content
in the company of who
she is becoming.

by Monica Joy Fara


So, we’ve reached the end of the road, what now? I’ll tell you. From here it’s possible to go back to Argentina, but only if you’re lucky and only for people on foot or with bikes. There’s a very remote border crossing that can be reached by foot and to reach it you first have to cross the Lago O’Higgins, after that there is a 20km gravel road and a 5km hiking path to tackle after which you can get your stamps and have to wait for another boat to take you over Lago Desierto after which you will reach civilization and a normal road again. The boats only go whenever the weather is good and whenever they feel like it. There is no schedule and at some points the boats will call it “end of the season” and don’t go at all anymore. Since we are reaching this end of the season the two boat crossings have been the most talked about subject between bike travelers for the last weeks. All info that trickles down to us is contradictory. Basically we don’t know if we can still take the boats. There is an alternative without boats but it’s a serious 400 kilometer detour.

The Italians have been waiting for a boat already for 5 days! Yesterday, when me and Grace reached the town, they told us that there will be a boat at 06:00AM the next morning. What a great timing that would be! But the same night they WhatsApp us that it’s cancelled: bad weather. They say “tomorrow”, but I have my doubts. So today all day we wait for good news, and around 15h it comes, ping, a WhatsApp from one of our contacts: “There’s a boat at 19h, be at the pier at 18:45“. Let’s goooooo. I cannot imagine being here for days, like the Italians, because the town is boring and there’s absolutely nothing to do.

Of course it pours rain when we cycle the 7km to the pier and we are dripping wet when we arrive. The little boat and its captain Pasquale is already getting things ready there. We haul the four bikes aboard and we get going. The first hour is beautiful with clear skies, blue water and beautiful mountains around us. Soon later the sun sets and the boat rocks in a dark oasis with only the stars shining bright above us. The last hour is rough, the boat rocks heavily, a headwind throws waves of water overboard, the little cabin starts leaking everywhere, but the captain assures is these are still mild conditions. We get thrown off of our benches in the cabin, crashing waves everywhere trying to capsize the boat. Inside it’s dark, I see only silhouettes. The rumba music playing over the speaker and the captain answering calm and distinctly over the maritime radio calms me down. We make it across.

It’s passed midnight when we unload the bikes from the little boat and pay the captain. There’s some men telling us that we have to go to their camping for the night. “No we’re not going to any camping“. “You have to, because this is all private property and the border is closed at this time“. We don’t like his attitude so now we’re definitely not going to his stupid little camping. We argue some more with the man until we reach the point that talking doesn’t make sense anymore. We leave the scene and push our bikes up the hill towards the border. At first the police are also not very helpful and are saying that indeed we can only stay at the camping.

But when we tell them our story they lighten up and eventually they even offer us to roll out our sleeping bags inside their little gym. Perfect.

In the morning we go back to the border police to get our exit stamps and after that we’re off for what is supposed to be the most famous hike-a-bike of all Chile/Argentina. The first 14 km are steep but very ridable. And pretty! Damn! Autumn has now really arrived and the foothills of the snow topped mountains are beautifully covered with trees in all colors. Red, orange, yellow, green: a spectacle for the eyes. We make it to the geographic border between Chile and Argentina and it’s not more than two little signs welcoming travellers into both Chile and Argentina on the other side. Now the fun starts. The gravel road turns into a hiking trail. We push, drag and lift our bikes through small creeks, over fallen trees and through the mud. Our feet don’t stay dry, we fall and bruise ourselves, our bikes take big hits. All we hope for is that we don’t break our derailleurs, don’t cut our bags and don’t break our bikes in any other way. For some river crossings we have to take one bike at the time and together lift it over some dead tree trunks that have been laid to make an improvised bridge. If someone would see this he would definitely think this is an illegal border crossing, it’s absolute madness. It takes us three hours to do the five kilometer hiking trail to eventually get out of the woods and onto the shores of the Lago desierto where a wooden cabin awaits us for our Argentina stamp. Four people man this border control of Argentina which just might be one of the most desolate of the country.

Tomorrow we have two options: do a similar hike-a-bike but then double as long and supposedly even harder or take a, way too expensive, boat to bring us back to normal rideable roads on the other side of this lago desierto. My preference normally is to not spend unnecessary money, but I think my preference now goes out to not fucking up my bike more than it already is for me and my beloved Koga to make it to Ushuaia together!

We pitch our tents on the grassy shores of Lago Desierto and quicly get into our sleeping bags to cook in our tents. It’s just too freaking cold for anything else.

When we wake up the next day I hear something gently falling down on my tent. Is that what I think it is? I zip my tent open and enter a white world: yup, it’s snowing. Wow.

We have some coffee and breakfast to warm ourselves up. We are lucky when we see a small boat arriving and after talking to him he tells us he will take us for a friendly price across the lake. Awesome! We pack up fast and get ready for a beautiful boat ride over a crystal clear lake next to mountains freshly topped with some white powder.

After that it’s one of the most scenic rides of the last months to get into El Chalten. The world-famous tops of Fitz Roy welcome us to this beautiful corner of the world.

Next up: Back in Argentina winter is coming. A big reunion with all my friends. And celebrating my birthday camping in the rain behind a gas station.

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5 Replies to “Chile: Rainy Days On The Carretera Austral”

  1. Wat maak je het weer mee Marijn
    Een prachtig verhaal van broederliefde , een spookachtig hotel , verschrikkelijke moeilijke ‘wegen’ , sneeuw en uiteindelijk dé F(r)itz Roy in El Schaltèn
    Wederom genoten XXX

  2. Kerel, wat een ervaringen weer! Blijft mooi om te lezen wat je allemaal meemaakt en ziet!

    Zet hem op het laatste “stukkie”! 😉

    Cheers
    EBAG

  3. Hé hé, eindelijk, mijn doel bereikt, ik heb zojuist net je laatste verhaal gelezen. Wat een verschrikkelijke mooie reis heb jij gemaakt. Heel mooi om te lezen wat je allemaal mee hebt gemaakt en beleefd. Super lieve mensen ontmoet, door hele mooie natuur gefietst, primitief geleefd maar ook op zijn tijd de luxe ervaren. Wat was het leuk en fijn om dit allemaal te lezen. Wat ben je eerlijk en wat kan je leuk en spannend schrijven. Marijntje, we zijn super trots op jou en we vinden het ook weer heel fijn dat je vanmiddag weer thuis komt. Groetjes Marcel en Annemarie X

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