Al Fin Del Mundo

With heavy hearts and a not-as-strong-as-we-expected-it-to-be tailwind we left El Chalten. Nevertheless, as the owner of the smallest chainring I struggled to keep up with everyone else as we were blown southbound! The sadness was compensated by some excellent empanadas that we had for lunch with our trusty companions Simon and Lizzie aka The Pootlers (@bikepootling) who have a sixth sense for sniffing out the best snacks in town. After lunch we paused for shelter in one of the pampa’s famous WiFi huts, which has a better connection than anywhere in El Chalten! It seemed like it would get busy there overnight and it really wasn’t that big, so we decided to push on to the even more famous Pink House. Landmarks are few and far between in the Argentine pampa and the wind means that shelters and abandoned houses grow a bit of a cult following among bike tourers. Unfortunately, the Pink House was being renovated (into a hostel apparently!) but the yellow house next to it was available and already setting up for the night were Rosa and Will. Later that evening we got a chance to meet one of our heroes – Cameron of The Random Tandem fame who has cycled the length of the Americas solo on his tandem picking up random’s for the journey. His latest companion, backpacker Harry, was getting a crash course in bike hobo life. We had a wonderful night and morning with our companions (even though a mouse tried to make off with Rosa’s spork), the heartache of El Chalten now literally and metaphorically behind us we were back into that wonderfully present rhythm of life on the road.

Cameron had some great insights from the mixed bag of people he’d managed to persuade into his stoker seat over the course of his adventure. I thought it must be such a privileged front seat to observing someone bike touring for the first time. As most of us slowly slide into cycle travel as a hobby and way of life we carry opinions, prejudices and baggage with us. It’s only human! There must be something truly unique to experiencing life on the road for the first time through fresh eyes (and bottoms!). He mused that there were two main things that novice cycle tourists had enjoyed the most:

• the lifestyle – not the lack of washing and sleeping in abandoned houses – but that travelling in a way that is simple, vulnerable at its core and close to nature opened their hearts and minds
• how much they surprise themselves with how capable a problem solver they can be. How very few problems are terminal and at the very worst you thumb a pick-up truck!

At some point I think I would like to write a book or talk on ‘Life lessons from bike touring’. I think it teaches us a lot more than we realise.

The Pootlers set off early the next morning; nursing a tent that was on life support, they were anxious to have enough time to make it to El Calafate before the wind really picked up. We departed a little later with Cameron, Harry, Rosa and Will. Will and Rosa were unknown to each other before they met in Northern Argentina, but had been riding together ever since. Rosa is an activist and artist from the Netherlands. Being even shorter than me, we were both curious about each of our bikes and luggage setups. Will is from Quebec and had cycled all the way from his home in the direction of Ushuaia. We all enjoyed sitting on the wheel of the tandem, the draft from one of these fully loaded with panniers is a dream! Until the cranks fall off… quite literally. They actually fell off twice until Liam noticed that there was a bearing stuck on the inside of the chainring, presumably from a previous bottom bracket. With a stone and a flat head screwdriver socket Liam managed to prize it off and get them properly re-secured. Will captured this fantastic photo that’s one of my favourites from this part of our journey – it captures everything so perfectly.

We had lunch in an abandoned house by the river before heading our separate ways. While everyone else headed south, we wanted to detour to El Calafate to do some touristing. Seeing as we’d missed out on the views of the southern ice field on the huemul trek, we thought we’d check out Perito Moreno for our ice fix. When the cross/head wind got too much for us we thumbed a lift into town, set up at the campsite, then went for cheap and cheerful pizza with the Pootlers.

We’d had a tip from our friends Suzy and Ed that it was possible to hitchhike to the glacier, so we walked out of town and set about smiling with our best thumbs up and were quickly picked up by two of the most adorable people we’d met all trip. Two retired bomberos (firefighters) who were long time friends and felt they had to clarify that they weren’t romantic partners. They interacted with each other in such a gentle and loving manner it was heart warming. They’d known each other for 60 years and I suppose going in to fight blazing infernos bonds a friendship like (almost) nothing else. They joked about with one another and asked us lots of questions in between pointing out all the different landmarks along the drive. One of them was asked for his ID at the park entrance to prove that he was a pensioner and he replied with ‘can’t you tell? Look at me!’.

We thanked our new friends for their generosity and set off to find a quiet view of the glacier to enjoy our picnic. We were early enough that the boardwalk wasn’t yet heaving with tourists, as this is one of the busiest sites for tourism in all of Patagonia! We watched for falling ice and enjoyed the changing colours of the beech trees. After returning to the visitor centre we bumped into the Pootlers and managed to hitchhike back together with a Brazilian man. He was on holiday by himself because it was too cold for his wife and she would not camp! I couldn’t understand a word he was saying but thankfully Liam’s Portuguese chilndhood stood him in good stead and he kept our generous driver entertained for the trip back to town. Liam isn’t usually one for smalltalk but as the more skilled linguist of the two of us he has really taken on the lion’s share of small talk this year. I’d like to think it’s helped him to come out of his shell and it’s certainly helped me to appreciate his hidden talent for languages.

Back in town we went for St Patrick’s Day pints (Simon is Northern Irish so it would have been rude not to!) followed by another round of cheap and cheerful pizza and topped off with the last Grido helado of the trip. Wrapped up in all our down jackets we reminisced about our first Grido in the heat of the desert in Palo Blanco, towards the end of Ruta de los Seis Miles Norte. Many Argentinians are a bit snobbish about Grido. It is to ice cream what McDonalds is to a burger and chips, but it’s the most hyper-inflation and Patagonia-inflation resistant commodity in Argentina and their flavour selection is unparalleled.

Bike life in Patagonia is very much determined by the weather. Liam had inspected the wind forecast closely and thought that it was worth waiting a few more days before resuming the southbound journey. So we bid a ‘hasta pronto’ to Simon and Lizzie and set off on our own little side quest. On the drive back from the glacier the previous day, Liam had noticed a signpost pointing up a gravel road and looked up the corresponding area in iOverlander to find a free campsite in the National Park! Despite the hoards of people visiting Perito Moreno glacier this corner of the landscape was empty. With stunning landscape and easy access to some trailheads we were both so glad that we decided to take the detour.

We were right on the boundary between the steppe and lower forest with beautiful snowy mountains surrounding the horizon. The snow line crept lower during the first night limiting our walking options but it didn’t matter, there was so much to enjoy by just being in this wonderful spot watching the light change.

Our decision to linger a few days paid off and once we left El Calafate we were blown along to the border in 2 days, which is almost unheard of! We had a funny night with an AGVP (highways) worker who welcomed us inside to share mate in front of the fire but was insistent we give him a tip if we were to stay inside to sleep. As it was our last night in Argentina we’d spent all our cash! Fortunately, by now we were no strangers to sub zero camping and set our tent up around the side of the building. We woke up with ice on the inside of the tent fly and took our time to dry everything out because we were also waiting for the sun to dry out the dirt road shortcut. We’d had reports from Simon and Lizzie who had been forced to turn back along this stretch after the rain hit and turned the dirt into peanut butter death mud. After clearing their tyres and chains they’d spent two days taking the longer tarmac road around. We happily chose a lazy morning in return for safe passage. Along the ripio we bumped into Nahuel and Lu aka Ruedas Sobre Polvo, two Uruguayans on their way to Ushuaia, although we lost them when we stopped for lunch. Once we reached the end of the dirt road and were back on the tarmac we had views of Torres Del Paine in the distance. Our final camp in Argentina was a stone’s throw from the border post and we had a beautiful sunrise to send us on our way.

The admin of crossing into Chile was sorted as we ate our contraband cucumber and got news that Simon and Lizzie (The Pootlers) were just across the road in a cafe! Despite leaving two days after them, Liam’s judgement of the weather forecast paid off. Here we were faced with another decision. Whether to head into Torres Del Paine national park or give the park a miss. Torres Del Paine is a world famous beauty spot, although the price of entering the park (around $50 per person for a 3 day pass not including camping) and the hoards of tourists means that many cycle tourers give it a miss. The park had been on our destination bucket list (I hate that term) for a long time, but time had caught up with us. After feeling like the end of the trip was ages away and we had all the time in the world, our return flights were now looming on the horizon and we were thinking about our options.

We had heard about a ferry from Punta Arenas to Puerto Williams, which takes you along the archipelago of islands skirting the glaciers of the Cordillera Darwin to the tiny town of Puerto Williams on Isla Navarino. The island lies in between Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego (where Ushuaia is) and Cape Horn, so really far south! Navarino is home to the Dientes (teeth) of Navarino, a jagged mountain range and in the 1990s, Austrian mountaineer Clem Lindenmayer designed a rugged hiking circuit around the peaks. To us, this sounded like a fantastic way to decompress at the end of our trip, but we would be unable to make the ferry if we detoured into the Torres Del Paine park. Given the weather forecast for our park days were mixed, we decided to go all in on Navarino and said what would turn out to be our final goodbye to Simon and Lizzie! This is where our story also brings us back to Becky, the friend from home who we were supposed to be spending Christmas with before she lost her passport in a river…

We turned off the main road and back onto dirt in bewilderment at the stupidity of guanaco herd mentality. These wild camelids seem to be quite terrified of bikes but totally unafraid of cars and barbed wire fences. We found a wonderful wild camping spot next to a waterfall and endured a brief, refreshing wash. The warm days of blissful river dipping were well and truly behind us now, but the water was still wonderfully pure. The following day, we rolled past the mylodon cave made famous in Chatwin’s ‘In Patagonia’ before pedalling into the small fishing town of Puerto Natales. Cruising along the shore surrounded by bright skies reflected on the glassy ocean, it really felt like we were arriving at the end of the world. The smell of seaweed hit my nostrils and I was transported back to the Welsh coast (for those interested Puerto Natales smells exactly like the seaweed strewn pebble shores of Aberaeron) and I started craving fish and chips. Becky was now volunteering on a sheep farm located on the peninsula across the sound from Natales and was eager to show us her new home. I felt sad that we’d skipped our chance to see the Torres up close, but as we entered the little gaucho boatyard to catch the ferry to the peninsula, I realised that we were getting to experience something totally unique to us and our trip. With gaucho culture meeting rib knit fisherman hats we loaded up the small ferry with our bikes and skipped across the calm waters. Along the peninsula we saw the southernmost flamingos of the trip – the geographical range of these creatures really blows my mind!

The light was beautiful and the water glassy and reflective. We rode around the headland and towards the farm as Becky gave us the run down on her host and fellow volunteers. The farm was completely overrun with rabbits, which are invasive here. Presumably introduced for their fur but in the absence of any predators they’ve bred like, well, rabbits. So we took care not to disappear our tyres down one of the many, many holes as we rode along. The rabbits have made sheep farming difficult as they eat the feed that keeps the sheep going over winter. Ricardo the farmer had shot a bunch of the fluffy trouble makers and was busy showing another volunteer how to skin and gut them when we arrived. Without a male heir to take over the farm, the place had been a little neglected and it was like walking into a 1950s museum of rural life, complete with a very unique vocabulary board for the volunteers. We’d brought over some supplies for an asado and an apple pie was under construction.

After showering and hand washing our riding clothes they were hung up behind the stove to dry and we all headed outside to enjoy a meal in the evening light. Savouring every moment and mouthful of our final South American asado. We slept in a cabin near the farm and woke up to an incredible view over the water. Reluctant to leave this magical corner of the world my crank fell off twice as we rode to the ferry the next morning!

I would have been happy for the trip to end there in Puerto Natales. I had mixed emotions about the prospect of a few boring days of tarmac to get to our arbitrary destination of Punta Arenas, regretting the decision not to book our flights from Natales. Becky rode with us for the afternoon (via a small detour to the Chilean border to get the visa in her emergency passport renewed with a day to spare!) and we zoomed along tarmac to a not-so-glamorous roadside camp spot. The evening sky was beautifully red and full of rainbows. That’s something I’ll always remember from the last few days on the road, rainbows everywhere -because it’s always raining somewhere in southern Patagonia!.

We said an emotional goodbye to Becky, not sure when or where we’d see her again, and set off to sail the wind down to Punta Arenas. Some tailwind, some crosswind and a brief deluge that determined we would stay inland instead of cycling deeper into the grey clouds that clung to the coast and the beach route. We found a refugio on iOverlander and after a long, productive day in the saddle we turned in for our last night on the road to discover that we would have the wonderful company of Ruedas Sobre Polvo! I was pooped and our stove decided that this would be the day to completely give up the ghost, so Liam busied himself trying to fix it. Thankfully dinner was only delayed and we tucked into our last hot meal on the road while Nahuel and Lu watched Narcos wrapped up in their sleeping bags. Double dinner dates look very different here!

Our last day on the road was pretty easy as we zoomed along, past various military satellites and communication outposts, to the coast. We ate our lunch on the beach taking a moment to reflect on how far we’d come on our bicycles, from the jungles of Colombia to the desolate coast of southern Chile. Al fin del mundo. From the beach we passed some beautifully windswept beech tree forests before hitting the outskirts of the urban sprawl of Punta Arenas. Pedalling along the ugly dual carriageway seemed like such an anticlimactic place to finish such a life affirming adventure.

Thankfully, this wasn’t the end end. We had one night in Punta Arenas to transform ourselves into hiking mode, which involves eating lots of cake and exploding our stuff all over a small hostel room. With that done, we were off to Navarino!