Creaking knees and piles and piles of rain created a forced hiatus in Puerto Montt. After which we were free to cross the border back into Argentina. The hope that the Andes would offer our bodies some protection from the precipitation drove us to cycle northwest toward the border.
The first kilometers covered in over a week were a welcome relief and we sucked up the tarmac around the great volcano Osorno, albeit with less sunshine this time. Two days in the saddle, the familiar mistakes recurring, the appetites reawakening. Things felt back to normal. We sat at sea level in Entre Lagos fuelling up, a trucker town with some questionable inhabitants, 71km from the 1300m pass over the Andes. Another granny host telling us where the paneneria was and wishing us a good journey.
The clock struck 10am and we set off, hoping to cycle a cool 110km to Villa la angostura in Argentina, just a small climb between us and a bed. The sky was surprising clear and we plowed on, only stopping for a sopaipilla sandwich (two bits of fried bread with some cheese in the middle) and 3 empanadas. We had learnt our lesson about food.
The climb began and we made some headway until we hit the Chilean border, Dave looked classically confused when they asked where his visa document was, polite attempts at looking for it ensued, "Nobody told me it was a visa document."
The road just went up from the Chilean border. No idea of how far away the pass was we just turned the pedals over for an hour. The temperature began to drop and the rain that was forecast slowly started to fall. It was fun at first, the challenge increased by the rain and a wry smile washed over my face, "Bring it", my internal voice stoically holla'd.
The climb went on and on. The rain fell with increasing intensity, permeating all layers and becoming awkwardly familiar with our skin. The climb went on and on. The wind picked up insidiously, doing a heat stealing deal with the rain. We awaited the border at the peak, dreaming of the dry warmth.
Finally we breached the Andes, camera signs indicating good views appeared from the rainy fog. 1300 m up but visibility 50m and no sign of the Argentinian border. Suddenly the realisation that we had no idea where the border was became clear. Wet through, cold and 40km from our final destination, the darkening skies confirmed the 5 o clock sky and a little panic crept in.
No words were spoken, we knew what wet and wind did and we endeavoured to lose altitude as quickly as was safe. Kilometers ticked by but no border, without the exertion of cycling uphill our bodies leaked heat into the environment. Dave stopped at the side of the road, "I'm in a bit of trouble, I can't stop shivering and I need to change my clothes."
That's strange, "I was just about to say that if it were a couple of degrees colder I would be in trouble, but I feel ok. I'll cycle on and I'll see you there."
"I'm fine", I thought, "I'm not even shivering." I began to sing to myself as I rolled down the hill in torrential rain and with the wind licking my chest.
"Oh too-da-loo-da, where's the bloody border control. Boo-ba-doo-da." Dancing on the bike, not peddling.
15 minutes later and I got to the border. I got off the bike and rushed inside with a change of clothes, food and a towel. The drivers watching me with interest as I began to take off wet layers next to the customs queue and eat a banana. Rocking rhythmically and laughing to myself. "Almost got a little sketchy there Kyle."
Dave arrived, "You don't look well."
"I'm alright, I'm not even shivering." I changed some clothes and went through passport control. Strangely I could hold a pen but was unable to get my hand to write with it. Using two hands I fobbed a signature and one of the customs officers handed us some mate tea, "You look cold, drink this."
"Yeah, it's pretty cold", I laughed, not seeing the hint, but preceded to drink everything hot that came my way.
Dave intruded, "You don't look well, you look half dead. I'm putting my foot down, you're not allowed to go outside."
"That's strange, I'm not even shivering." Dave's unusual seriousness was funny.
I unwrapped my hands from the mug of hot water I'd been cradling. I'd scolded my palms without realising. The last hour began to repay in my mind.
"Ok.......maybe that's a good idea." Amazing how a little reflection can change your tune.
Kyle
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