Stage 12 - Wine Country to Patagonia

California to Patagonia: A Cycling Expedition
Stage 12 – Wine Country to Patagonia
5 March - 13 April, 2009

* Photographs from this stage of the journey can be found here.
* Route maps of the journey can be found here.

Total distance cycled: 19,869 kms (yes... a big celebration is coming up!)
Total distance in this stage: 1,665 km
Days on the road: 505
Maximum speed: 81 km/h!!! (storm-fed tailwinds on butter-smooth pavement to Junin de los Andes)
Maximum altitude: 6,310 mtrs (20,561 ft) - Mt. Chimborazo, Ecuador
Highest altitude cycled to date: 5,021 mtrs (Abra Huayrajasa, Peru)
Flat tires to date: 41 (4 in this stage)

Total money spent in this stage: $437 (critical rain-gear replacement and expensive food in Chile!)
Average daily expenses: $11.52 (total average for the whole trip: $11.49/day)

Nights spent...
... invited to a home – 26
... camping outdoors – 12
... in cheap hostels - 0
... firemen stations - 0

Best Day: Peaceful country road into Pucon with berry season in full swing and Volcan Villarica nodding in approval
Worst Day: uff... non-stop rain, mud, cold, and bad dirt roads across the pass to Argentina.

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The road out of Mendoza climbed up ancient glaciated valleys like a student's pen drawing theorems to the mathematical mystery of the mountains, looking for a high pass to lead to the solution on the other side. Despite the the mild hangover from the final night's reveries in Mendoza, I felt good. In the town of Uspallata, the sun's long rays traced the tips of cottonwood trees, hinting at an autumn that had not quite yet arrived.

The magic of blind navigation soon led me to the excellently maintained municipal campsite (which cost all of $3!), and after setting up my home for the evening, I acquainted myself with the parilla and one last Argentinian asado before crossing over to Chile. A few friendly hellos and exchanges soon turned into a bustling social scene as the neighboring campers invited me over to a mate, then a few gulps of vino, and then as a magical enchantment made the atmosphere light, conversation took over reason, uncontrollable smiles over sleep, and soon it was too late to even consider riding the next day towards a high Andean pass.

Before my eyelids finally took over, I responsibly bid good night to all the new friends of the evening. One held on a little longer than the rest before letting go, and her's was the one that carried my smiles into sleep.

The following day, an impolite sun greeted me earlier than I was ready, and I decided to romp around the surroundings to see what it had to offer. After all, this is where Brad Pitt's Seven Years in Tibet was filmed, and even if the Himalayas were far away, the draw of the mountains was strong.

Much to my delight, the hug-giver from the night before asked if she could join me, and I did my best not to sound as excited as I actually was. Melisa, a soft-spoken psychology graduate from Buenos Aires on vacation quickly proved that she was an excellent conversationalist and the hours passed by pleasantly. We roamed on and on, and eventually followed a windy trail by a nearby creek to the mountains.

Below the majestic Cerro Aconcagua (6,987 mtrs), the highest peak outside the Himalayas, something must have blossomed, because after our farewells a few days later, I felt a certain afterglow that I'm still trying to shake off as I write this. Blaming the high-altitude for the light-headedness, I pretended to know exactly where the road ahead was leading, but could neither hide the fact that my mind was not focused on the winding road, nor that I had any idea where it was leading.

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On the other side of the Andes, after clearing the fuss that is always Chilean customs, the road descended into a wild series of switchbacks known as "Caracoles" - or "shells," for its impressive pattern. Chilean engineers truly do a good job maintaining a steady grade throughout the length of long climbs, quite unlike their Guatemalan brethren, whose major highways in comparison would be steep horse trails.

In the town of Los Andes, after making quick work of some monster empanadas and enjoying the free wireless internet in the local plaza, I sought out a local cyclist who maintained a "Casa de Ciclistas." Unfortunately, however, he had sold the house, but being a veterinarian, owned a parcel of land a good distance out of town that served as a pet cemetary. Since I didn't have many other options (wild-camping is just about impossible in the heavily populated Central regions), I took my chances and set up camp next to some old headstones devoted to once-beloved canines.

Thankfully, it turned out to be one of the most pleasant evenings and none of the preternatural barking that I imagined took place. The next day was a mad dash into the big city, dodging heavy traffic, and navigating the confusing highway system of the Santiago metropolis. Seth and Kirsten, fellow cyclists and old compañeros from the Peruvian highlands, had now settled in the big city and treated me to a wonderful week of rest and recuperation.

It was clear after a while that neither wine nor good food nor good friends nor access to a full kitchen could shake off the impending winter. I made a side trip to visit a few friends in Limache. One introduction led to another, and soon I was in the company of a National Geographic photographer and his family who inspired me to no end (and helped me set aside that lingering feeling from Uspallata). After conversations about Pinochet, photography, and philosophy had grown to a fertile pond of ideas, I bid a hesitant farewell and then allowed myself a few days in Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. Before I could get too home-sick due to its extreme likeness to California, Bucephalus and I were making southward progress once again.

The highway system of Chile reflects the country's prosperity. Autopistas make up a mycologically precise network that boosts productivity, connectivity, and modernity; however, it makes for absolutely boring cycling. Riding the autopista, the road never actually enters any towns, and social contact is limited to the lavishly stocked gas stations (showers, wifi, beer, etc.). These don't come cheap either, as toll booths litter each exit, the government making sure motorists pay up. The cyclist, however, fed by beer-cold gasoline and human-power, passes for free!!!!

After a short break in Temuco resting with a wonderful family, I was glad to leave the autopista for some peaceful rural roads into the Lakes District and Patagonia. The berry bushes were now ripe with bountiful harvests, and the cottonwoods celebrated Autumn with golden shades of light.

Winter is just around the corner.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

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PATAGONIA. Pa-ta-go-ni-uh.

A name that immediately stirs my childish imagination to a distant place and an even more distant time.

Picture vast horizons dominated by mountains spearing high above a blanket of bone-white glaciers; picture sapphire lakes and virgin forests breathing a chorus of elven fantasy; picture a wind so fierce that knees buckle and teeth chatter when one dares to make peace with it.

Patagonia. That distant place is here. That distant time is now.

And the pictures I feebly paint with my words and my camera lens are like a young lover, who... lavish in his caresses, can only say so many inadequate flowery words before realizing that in the end, there is only the surrender to the vast unknown mystery of intimacy.

The moment I was waiting for so long did not come with a defining road-sign. And there were no candles and bright lights celebrating my arrival. A rain storm hit, winds kicked up, and my sandaled-toes were going numb as I pedaled furiously up the slopes of Volcan Lanin towards Argentina. On the other side of the pass, I was a bit disappointed that the only things that said "Patagonia" were high-priced boutique outdoor shops and tour agencies. I reflected critically for a moment on my own fascination with Patagonia clothing... selling unreasonably priced fleece jackets insulated in a sheen of fashion.

American company. Andean images...

It might as well be called "Pata-gucci."

Just like others elsewhere in the western world had capitalized on words like "Sherpa," "Himalaya," and "Quechua," Yvon Chouinard, the brainchild behind Patagonia had successfully immortalized the name as a place that is forever a faraway concept, one to marvel at and dream for.

Places become mythical or magical or exotic only in our minds. Beyond that, they simply exist, just like every other place in the world, whether its the Himalaya or an ignored barrio in East LA.

I had bit the bait and came looking for the Patagonia I dreamed of as a child through the glossy pages of National Geographic. Fueling my way ever southwards since leaving California over a year and a half ago, now - more than ever - is the time for me to question this whole journey.

What brought me here? I am a bit embarrassed to reveal that a small part of Patagonia was "sold" to me by the brilliant marketing of the western world.

The desire to reach the imaginary end of the world. The world of fantasy.

The world where human suffering, injustice, and poverty are masked by the sheer enormity of natural beauty.

However, much like the young shepherd Santiago in The Alchemist, although these dreams filled my spirit with an insatiable fire to move, it is the process rather than the destination that has been more valuable. While I am glad to be here, I am also thankful that as a once-distant goal, Patagonia also brought me closer to hundreds of new friends along the road; to confronting biting poverty and extreme injustice that exists in the world today; to the shameful history of conquest and war; to the haunting folklore that tries to make sense of all this; and to everything that my University education could never reveal.

For me, this process... this conscious search, this critical questioning, has been Patagonia.

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Acknowledgments:

• Seth and Kirsten Gates: thanks for the wonderful accommodations in Santiago de Chile and for all the rica comida shared!
• Angelina Upshaw: thanks for the engaging conversations and for a lovely crossing of paths in Santiago. Best on your own journeys, and hope to see you again soon!
• Soren: Amazing asados in the big city... ride safe and see you further South!
• Lina y Jan Puerta: thanks for your limitless hospitality, and for making Limache officially my favorite town in all of Chile!
• Ariana Mansour: thanks for the magazine interview, and especially for your warm vibes and spirited conversations.
• Hernan Blanco: thanks for helping me out while I was rushed getting to Limache, and for the short, but memorable time we shared on Cuesta La Dormida.
• Manuel Vargas: in my greatest time of need, past darkness, thanks for helping me out with a safe place to camp, a warm shower, and for your welcoming spirit!
• Omar: thanks for the loads of free fruits and for the continued energy along the road.
• Hogar de Cristo Curico: thanks for accepting me into this special community and for giving me the opportunity to get in touch with people I would otherwise never meet.
• Tamara Gutierrez: Tami, thanks for your positive vibes and for sharing so much about Chilean life with me. I'll carry your gift to the end of the world, and perhaps not too long after that we'll see each other again... maybe in Nepal?
• Harold, Marta, Esteban Gutierrez: your hospitality in Temuco will fondly be missed. Thanks for the wonderful family-atmosphere, the soft bed and warm showers!
• Eric Blair and Claudio: for all the drinks and laughs shared waiting out rainy days in Temuco.
• Dona Marta: thanks for your amazing food, and for helping a foreigner learn a bit about Mapuche life!
• Joel and Karen: for the route info along the 7 lakes!
• Adrian Zumsteg: great company from Villa La Angostura to Bariloche... keep that smile alive, and bike forever!
• Juanpa and Silvina: thanks for your unforgettable hospitality in Bariloche, and most of all, for all the mates and lively conversations shared! Best of luck on your upcoming journey.
• Melisa Soles: vocé e uma maluquinha! thanks for reminding this solitary voyager how beautiful it is to share and for helping me open up to the magic that is friendship!