The weeks inbetween and the dog

Time passed since the roller coaster days of the carretera.

After the last post we encountered knee pain, many many dogs, rain, artesenal beer, rain, enchanted forests, rain, volcanoes, ghost towns and more rain.

The Cerro Castillo view

 

The Cerro Castillo view

Leaving the beautiful campsite we rested in Cerro Castillo, we soaked up the stunning mountain views and absorbed heat from the wood burner like gremlins.

The next few days included lots of climbing and a delightful reaquaintence with tarmac. Unfortunately along with the road change came rain. We had to take stock in Coyhaique, the main town along the carretera, during a 4 day downpour. Who knew a place could rain so much. We imbibed all the micro brewery beer we could get our hands on, replaced lost items and continued our search for a cup of real coffee in vain.

Artesenal beer at its best

 

From there terrain turned subtropical in Puyuihapi with the landscape totally green as moisture hung on the air, creating 'enchanted' forests.

 

Enchanted forest

 

The most heart warming moment was dog related. Chile has a dog problem and they are everywhere, Villa Mañihuales was no exception. We met a well behaved puppy who followed us from our lodging until the shop. She was quiet and almost polite, not vying for our attention or jumping up, a welcome turn of events. I thought she was nice so I gave her tummy a stroke. It was as if I was the first person to show her any attention in time and so she just kept following us. First out of town and then up the first hill. We assumed that she just wanted a little bit of exercise before she went home, but, she didn't leave. She just kept running next to us, never leaving the second cyclist behind. We hit about 20km and I tried to shoe her away, concerned she was leaving a comfortable and safe return. It didn't work. She firmly planted herself next to Dave and followed him for the next 30km, sometimes running in between us but always stopping and checking Dave was coming. It was amazing to see such loyalty had been attained with just one belly stroke. Even Dave was impressed.

We rolled into town 55km from where we left and there she was with us, still full of beans, a bread roll sustaining her. We checked into a hostel and she slept outside waiting for us for when we went to the shop.

The time came to leave in the morning and I cycled on, knowing she would stay and wait with Dave. He got a lift and as the car sped off, she realised the game was up and hopefully settled into her new home.

Or maybe she just ran back.

 

 

Kyle

 

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The Rollercoaster

We camp in the most beautiful setting yet.

36 hrs earlier we leave Rio Tranquilo late at 3.30. A mixture of sightseeing and restocking keeps us late but we are eager to move on. Clouds linger overhead, the air temperature doing little to warm our knees and only four hours of sunlight left. We are quiet as we finish preparations but anxiety bubbles through me. The last two weeks of cold nights, colder mornings, stiff joints, wet stuff and repetitive meals have taught a few lessons. I'm sure that one of them is, 'don't leave late.' At this point an internal dialogue begins.

"Why are we leaving so late? It's nice here, why don't we just wait until tomorrow?"

"But I'm itching to make progress and if we get In a good couple of hours then we could make it a two day trip rather than a three day trip."

"But it's 3.30!"

"But we need to get North because of the weather."

Indecision clouds logic and we set off. Dave, Katie and myself, lunch already leaving my system and Katie's broken rear pannier rack precariously holding her bags.

Anxiety.

Some light sight seeing with Katie

Fast forward 40 mins: mud, uphill, rain. Barely any distance covered but too far to turn back. Without music to listen to it's easy to get trapped in repetitive trains of thought, the previous conversation now churns over and over as steam bellows from my legs.

We battle on for 2.5 hrs then darkness forces us to camp in a poorly covered forest. Our new stove fails to work and we once more find ourselves huddled round Katie's stove, sheltering from the continuous rain. The staccato pattern of drops on the tarp and the fear of our tents' waterproofing integrity ensures a poor nights sleep. Dave resorting to medicinal support at 3am.

We wake with almost everything wet and condensation on our breath. Dave slices his hand attempted to fashion a dressing for his foot and damp cycling gear does little to enthuse our tired bodies. We set off into the mist.

Lunch is a new low. Hungry but a bit too cold to enjoy it, unable to feel my feet and concerned that the cold rain may have permeated my bones. I try to be jovial but I look at Dave's face and all I see is, "Why did you bring me here Kyle?" The first time a lunch of pate and cheese has tasted bland.

Melancholy.

Dave is keen to push on to try and make a warm bed. 70km seems like a lot to ride in an afternoon, but I do little dampen Dave's desire because of my concern that he currently dislikes me. Giving it a go seems the least I could do so we ride hard after lunch. The road improving slightly, allowing us to stretch our legs and hammer our discomfort through the pedals. It's almost cathartic.

Anger.

We make good time and as we drop into a new valley the......sun comes out! The beauty of the world rushes back in a we fly down the hill, the sun eviscerating our bad moods within seconds. Our eyes are opened and we see this savannah next to a range of snow covered mountains. We pull over for a snack and all the quiet moments of the last 24hrs are lost, the familiar jokes resurface and the pate tastes amazing again. "Well that was s*** and this is a amazing", I smirk. "Agreed."

Snack time

We decide to stop riding and camp for the evening, reflecting on another topsy turvy day in the saddle.

Making porridge in the morning

Joy.

Kyle

 

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The bumpy and beautiful Carretera

A week of wind, mud, freezing temperatures and we were finally on the Carretera Austral. The reason we came so far south http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carretera_Austral. The bikes in one piece, the speed with which we were losing items decreasing, and knee pain easing, we set off.

Immediately we were repaid with lakes, snow capped mountains and beautiful undulating hills. Borrowing sections of Scotland, Colorado and California the road snaked its way through the different countries, subtle but noticeably changes in the scenery as valleys were climbed out of and lakes circumvented.

Almost just as immediately is Dave's exasperated announcement, "I've er, lost my hoodie on the road somewhere." Not blessed with an enormity of clothes let alone warm ones, self loathing etches across his face and he cracks open a beer. With that familiar hiss his internal chasticement ebbs away. Optomisism shall prevail. We ride on and a familiar site of a 'refugio' pops up. We rest.

A refugio for travellers

What was so remarkable was the extremes in conditions. Night temperatures dropping below freezing with frost in the morning and highs hitting 25degrees around 2pm. Somewhere along the line life becomes very simple and it begins to revolve around the sun, water, food and the bike.

Unfortunately in sections the road takes centre stage and 40km of wrist punishing washboard road takes its toll on the spirits and ability to enjoy the scenery. 50km travelled in a day becomes a good achievement and the desire for a comfy bed starts to scream from the depths of your weary legs.

4 days of punishment, kilograms of carbohydrate eaten and we rest in Cochrane.

Kyle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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."