Stage 13 - Southern Patagonia and the Deep South

California to Patagonia: A Cycling Expedition
Stage 13 – Southern Patagonia and the Deep South
13 April - 21 May, 2009

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

Total distance cycled: 21,722 kms
Total distance in this stage: 1,853 km
Days on the road: 537
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: 42 (1 in this stage!!!!)

Total money spent in this stage: $181
Average daily expenses: $8.25 (total average for the whole trip: $12.24/day)

Nights spent...
... invited to a home – 11
... camping outdoors – 14
... in cheap hostels - 6
... firemen stations - 5

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The morning light comes in. It slips through the two-inch opening between the edge of the curtains and the wooden panels of a lovely cabin in the woods. Lifting my head just slightly, I make out the azure silhouette of Lago Nahuel Huapi. The bed is so comfortable that even as I begin the process of burrowing my face into the pillow, I've already fallen asleep again. When I wake up again, its almost noon, but considering that last night was gifted by an extended dinner party with a tasty Argentinian asado and many bottles of wine, this timely awakening is more celebratory than accusing.

The week and a half I spent in Bariloche thus passed with late mornings and even later nights. Silvina and Juampa, old friends of Damian, my cycling partner through Mexico and Central America (remember?), invited me to their home in this bustling mountain town to recuperate and it came at the perfect time, as I had just spent long days cycling through a monster 8-day storm and was exhausted.

And as an unintended bonus to the already Eden-like setting and company, my friend Melisa (from Mendoza, remember?) came to visit for a few days, complementing the serenity.

The only thing that troubled me each morning was the ever-reaching grasp of the Antarctic winter, now setting in fast. My hesitant departure from Bariloche was followed by a high-velocity charge southwards. Day after day, my primary concerns were staying fed, cranking pedals, and ignoring the beautiful and numerous distractions all along the road. I'm not very proud to say it, but the winter scared me into speeding. My journey had suddenly become an athletic endeavor, a race southwards, unlike never before in this journey. I now followed the light intently each day from dawn to its arc across dusk.

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The morning light comes in, but this time, instead of shining right into my eyes, it politely changes the color of my tent's rain-fly from darkness into a light blue. I know its already 8 am and the day needs to get started, but its so cold outside that I continue breathing through the small slit in my sleeping bag instead of birthing out of my cocoon.

Today I enter Coyhaique, the only major city along the length of Chile's famous Carretera Austral - a 1000 km stretch of mostly dirt road built by Pinochet in an effort to connect the vast wilderness of Southern Chile to the rest of the country. The road is still a patchwork of sorts; road conditions vary wildly from pavement to horse-rutted dirt. In many ways, Pinochet failed to realize his vision: the Carretera Austral remains an unconnected stretch of highway in Chile - giant Patagonian ice-fields stopped progress in the South, and in its northern end, a crucial piece of Chilean territory which could have made the whole area accessible was bought up by Doug Tompkins, an eccentric American millionaire who has been protecting the land as a wilderness sanctuary, unyielding to any sort of development.

As the only major city along the spine of the Patagonian Andes, Coyhaique is also an important staging ground; at the local post office, I pick up two precious packages. Cradled in my arms, I make my way back to my bicycle with the warm knowledge that the precious survival kit I´ve just received will be put to good use.

The ammunition received amounted to gear for the winter (socks, gloves, boots, and a hat), letters from friends (always the best part of the goodies, meant to be savored over and over again!), and a collection of thick, heavy paperbacks to keep me company throughout the long nights. Thanks to all my familia and friends - you´ve helped me out in so many more ways than you can imagine!

I thus followed the Carretera Austral due South, crossing over Lago General Carrera. Blocked by massive Patagonian ice-fields and glaciers, the road ends abruptly at Villa O´Higgins, so instead of following it to the end, I crossed the border into Argentina to negotiate the most trecherous yawning horizons of the mythical Ruta 40.

"Hacete hombre," Damian wrote to me just a few days ago when I nervously inquired about the route. He rode this entire distance over 10 years ago, and I vividly recall his stories from when we were together back in Guatemala. Damian´s not the only one who believes that crossing the Patagonian steppe is worthy enough to enter manhood, but bravado and machisimo aside, cyclists talk about this portion of Patagonia as a "horror," "extremely difficult," etc. etc. etc. Extremely long distances without services, winds gusting up to 120 kph, and terrible dirt roads - these are the challenges, explained in human terms.

Instead of rushing through the pampa, I survived, but only because I took my time, and deftly kept my guard not to let my mind fall into the abysmal trap of infinity, the contemplation of existentialism, and the tenacity of horizons. More on this experience can be found in this post.

After nearly a week on the pampa, I caught a cold and rolled into El Chalten just as a storm was brewing up. I recuperated with the usual regimen of sleep, alcohol, friends, and it seemed to do the trick. Four snowy days later, the storm cleared, revealing the Patagonian spires of El Chalten and Cerro Torre. These are the mountains that inspired Yvon Chouinard to found the clothing company, and to forever immortalize it in its namesake and logo.

Southern Patagonia has been called the windiest place on the planet by National Geographic. Its not uncommon for the wind to carry off roofs, buses, and animals. After nearly 17 months on the road, I knew that when the wind was blowing at full fury, life is best experienced indoors. Still, cycling had to be done, and this was the challenge.

The winds regularly sweep from the cordillera towards the Atlantic. Fed by rancid Antarctic currents, imagine a giant fan placed somewhere along the ragged Pacific Coast blowing to the Atlantic at full speed. Therefore, on the bike, this means that whenever you had the wind at your back (rare moments!), winds carry you up to speeds of 35 km/h from a full stop without any effort. Riding against the wind or with the wind at your side (nearly always!) was a different story altogether. An average speed of 8 km/h could be considered good progress!

Just two days out of El Chalten, after exhausting myself with the intense winds, I rode into El Calafate to be greeted by Analia and her daughter Valentina. Seasoned couchsurfers, the two were housing 6 other travelers, and over the span of a week, I forgot about the wind and the bicycle and we all spent hours exchanging stories, preparing hearty meals, and visiting the local glaciers and forests.

The weather having turned sour again, I cycled out of El Calafate with a monster tailwind that lasted all of an hour before I had to turn and fight it again. Southward progress be damned, if it weren´t for the blessed scenery ahead of me, I would have given up much sooner.

Then the snows came. Thousands of crystal bullets whipped into my eyes and stung my digits as I was cast into the ditch countless times. Entering Chile against the fury of the storm, I continually pushed my bike for more than three hours - never before had I encountered such extreme conditions. Each time, after exhausting all the curse words in my lexicon, I got back on the bike and continued pushing. Although this all sounds miserable, in retrospect it really wasn´t that bad and I was enjoying myself through a good deal of it cracking jokes and trying to stay in the present moment.

The skies cleared, and I saw a clear blue sky after a long hiatus, and I made a break for Punta Arenas. With calm winds and a clear, snow-shoveled highway, I racked big miles and reached the Southernmost city in the South American mainland, where I´m writing from.

Whats left of my adventure?

Tomorrow I cross the Stretches of Magellan into Tierra del Fuego, the dramatically curved island near the extreme tip of South America. Before the Panama Canal was constructed, this was the treacherous passage sailors had to negotiate at the bottom of South America to gain access across the Pacific and the Atlantic. Fighting subzero temperatures, black ice, and fading daylight hours, this marks the end of the completion of this stage, and only a few hundred kilometers separate me from road's end in South America. For the first time in my life, I can almost feel the "End of the World" dropping off into the not-so-far-horizon.

Will you come seek it out with me?


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Acknowledgments:

• Chris and Elissa: for the pleasant encounter en route to El Bolson.
• Leandro Eguiazu: thanks for the great conversation in Esquel and keep those tires rolling!
• Diego: thanks for helping me fix my thermos to be bike-proof in Cholila.
• Bomberos Esquel: for the last-minute accommodations in Esquel.
• Don Marcos: for the memorable Nandu hunt in the steppe!
• Ignacio Garcia y Gustavo Tome: thanks a million for your amazing company, the good food, and all the stories shared in Rio Mayo.
• Juancho Mansilla: for the accommodations in Coyhaique.
• Roberto Fillipponi: for the grand company in Coyhaique.
• Don Manuel, Dona Audolia, y Jorge: thanks for all the stories and mate shared in Puerto Ibanez.
• Gil Alejo: for the amazing warmth and camaraderie of the entire bombero station in Perito Moreno.
• Gabriela Horta: thanks for making Chile Chico forever memorable with your good vibes!
• Sarah: haha - thanks for making me laugh a bunch of times and perhaps we'll see each other in Ushuaia.
• Marcos Mendoza: for the anthro discussions and for helping me clarify my path further.
• Nadia, Valeria, Julian, Maxi: for the good times waiting out the bad weather in El Chalten.
• Analia y Valentina: a heartfelt thanks indeed for all your positive vibes and family-warmth in El Calafate.
• Nico, Lucile, Gaelle, Lucia, Irena, y Pablo: the few days we spent together in El Calafate were truly something magical, and I have all of you to thank for this!
  
• Sofia and the whole Mardones family: for your kindness and hospitality in Punta Arenas.