Out of gas? Why don't you have some gnocchi instead?

2 days in El chalten and the cruel winds were behind us. Rested, eager, keen to move on, but wary of Dave's new inflammatory knee.

Next step, just a simple 59km in two days, a couple of ferrys. No problem.

We had a 37km ride to a ferry outside of el chalten. Gravel road but fairly flat and comparitavly no wind, almost a treat given recent events. A dramatic scenery change from desert to forest gave us great optimism for the future as the tall evergreens surrounded the road and waterfalls swooshed past it. The bikes ate up the bumps and we cruised to the first lake.

Sitting at the lake chatting with our new friend, a sudden realisation, "where the f*** is the fuel bottle?". The small fuel bottle holding petrol for our camp stove had managed to wiggle from its bottle holder and sneak off without telling anyone. The recent rule of, 'bring more food' echoed through my mind and thoughts of munching dry pasta left a bitter taste. Anger streaked through my consciousness, imprinting itself on my mood. Furious and determined I rode back like the wind, searching for the red bottle. It was nowhere to be found and so another gaff was added to the list.

Lago del desierto, our camp site

The next day required just 22km to the Chilean border but we found ourselves pushing our bikes up hills, through trenches, across streams and through mud fields with a scattering of SNOW. It was a very taxing and took 3hrs to cover the first 6km, mostly walking and pushing.

The border was crossed and another boat ride took us 50km North to Villa O'Higgins. Tired, cold and ravenous (recurring theme) we rushed around the mini mercado at 10pm. 'Some gnocchi.....perfect.'

Back to a hostel, Dave and I opened the bag to find no gnocchi, but just loads of flour. There's nothing like making your own gnocchi at 11pm.......

Gnocchi time

Kyle

 

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The road to el Chalten

3am I wake. My stomach rolls a familiar turn, "Dave I'm hungry, I need one of the bread rolls, where are they?"

10am we both wake after 12hrs of sleep following a gruelling first days cycling. One less bread roll for breakfast, morale low. "We should have brought more food", I conceded. Dave concurs, little more than a grunt passes his lips.

Life was so good rolling out of el calafate, a cool 40km covered in little over an hour. It was like sailing. Then we turned North and were struck by the furoscious wind. Suddenly, cycling seemed like a foreign sport, a sport we did not enjoy. Pedals were mashed and heads were down looking at the road. My one clip in cycling shoe hopefully doing loads of good. We were fortunate to be told of a cyclist' haven, 'la casa rosa.' An old abandoned house but a welcome home for the evening.

Heading west to El Chalten, the ominous looking peak of Fitz Roy in the background

Two more days of cycling into a headwind and we arrived in El chalten. 90km covered in 12hrs on Tarmac, the picture above doing little to show the strength of the wind that blew us off our bikes. A shame because the beauty of the world around you is lost when you head is down fighting to move forward.

We finally arrived in El Chalten and treated ourselves to a well earned burger and some beers. Next, the crossing to Chile.

Distance covered 217km in 2.5 days.

Lessons learnt:

1. Bring more food
2. Bring more cash
3. Learn how to put up your tent before you are in a cold desert
4. Make sure your water sack is firmly attached to bicycle before starting. Dry bags with holes in do not hold water as well as those without.

Kyle

 

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El Calafate

The bikes survived the flight to el calafate. A few nervous moments waiting by the carousel until a nice Argentinian man popped his head past the curtains. "¿Chicos, esperan para las bicicletas?", "Si,Si,Si!" He passed them through and relief swept over us.

Just a short 22km to El chalten town. Now..... we had learnt two things about the westerly wind of Patagonia. One, it's bad. Two, it gets worse throughout the day. We would class ourselves as decent cyclists but steaks, wine and resting were not good prep for a cold night time cycle into a strong head wind.

The enormity of our task echoed in our minds as we silently plodded into this wind. Cold, hungry, moving at a snail like pace, why did we fly our bikes to South America?

Regardless, we arrived in El Calafate late and bedded down. Today we tackle our first sleeping in the wild. 220km to el Chalten. Two days, maybe more. Hopefully we'll find some water along the way.

Go Royal Marsden

'Gaff' tastic' - the road to root canal

Collectively we've been in Buenos aires for a few days now. I came early under the pretence of learning (some) Spanish and planning our trip down South to the start point of el chalten in Southern Argentina. Both only moderately sorted, the trip has thus far been littered with gaffs:

Within 36hrs of arrival I managed to lose phone, mildly damage my bike and leave a pannier bag in London heathrow (Thanks to American Airlines). However, the classic mix of Spanish school and Buenos aires would never fail to improve someone's mood. Between Malbec, beef and learning Spanish phrases such as, "yo sigo en la sombra de eso mujer", things were looking up.

My bag and Dave arrived and I thought that this might actually happen, we might get started. A couple of days absorbing the European / South American melting pot of BA and we attacked the bus station with vigor. At each sellers desk improving our Bike specific vocab and feeling slightly more confident that our bikes might make it. A bus swept past and stopped next to us, we explored their luggage compartments and were concerned. A Drs consultation took place and we decided to try a flight.

There we were sat, finally ready to book a flight and get going. Dave returned from the toilet with a concerned expression and said "My tooth hurts and it doesn't look right". I concurred. The bottom fell out of our boat and Thursday became another bad day. After scurrying around BA with broken Spanish, some x rays, concerned faces and "necrosis pulps", our argentine dentists Dr Boorman and Dr Manterola decided a bit of drilling/filing/packing was fairly urgently required. Dave's face was a picture of impending doom. Seeing this Dr Boorman shot some local anaesthetic in his gums and pulled up his favourite YouTube comedy 'Air Afrikaans' - an anxiolytic patient tactic we will be borrowing for the NHS. An hour later he was patched up, on antibiotics and muttering about dental anatomy - a definitive root canal awaits at some point...

So here we sit. Waiting for some good news from home about our next options, bikes growling like grumpy dogs waiting for a walk and our legs softening.

"Fear is only as deep as the mind allows." Optimism shall prevail.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VuLL8g8ena0

 

Kyle/Dave

Ps translation is "I follow in the shadow of that women."

The last night

The final night before an adventure, frantic rushing around, little sleep and a realisation of how much gear you've bought. Well here it all is, researched and pondered over.

The stress of the last couple of months starts to disappate as the panniers get filled and loose ends get tied.

Just a couple more things to sort before the morning.....