We’ve been fortunate enough to experience the Andes from the tropical humidity of Colombia to the barren altiplano of Bolivia. Seeing how the landscape and ecology of this cordillera changes along the western edge of South America has been the greatest adventure. The downside of this is that we now have incredibly high standards. Liam has diagnosed us with ‘landscape fatigue’. The prognosis? It’s incredibly hard to blow our merino socks off with any old vista. Luckily for us, we’ve pedalled ourselves deep into Patagonia and a short detour off the Carretera Austral provided the perfect opportunity to hike up into a totally new alpine environment. It was the perfect treatment to re-invigorate our senses and restore a feeling of awe.
Liam wrapped up our last blog with the sad realisation that we did not have the time to visit Perito Moreno National Park in Argentina, spend a couple of weeks hiking in El Chalten and still make our return flight. While the former had to be scratched from our itinerary, we could solve this very first world problem with a short detour off the Carretera Austral to access Mont San Lorenzo from the Chilean side, thereby still getting to experience this impressive mountain up close. We would still get to experience rugged, glacier carved landscapes from the comfort of a log cabin, but without hundreds of barren Argentinian kilometres.
Our friends Simon and Lizzie, aka Bikepootling, were also keen for a little side-adventure and so we formed a merry band of travellers. We loaded up with 3 days’ of food and began the long climb up to Fundo San Lorenzo. Here, Lucy and Luis have a remote estancia that serves as an excellent base for exploring the surrounding mountains.
Arriving at the roundhouse kitchen and campsite sheltered by mature beech forest and nestled in a big bowl of jagged peaks and glaciers was an excellent reminder that veering off the beaten track generally pays dividends. It was such an incredible spot, one of our favourite landscapes of the trip. As we relaxed in the last of the sunshine, another bike traveller, Pedro, arrived. Pedro has been riding since Cartagena, Colombia and so we were a little astounded to not bump into him before – it’s amazing how many cyclists can be following a southbound Andean route that you never meet! As the heat of the day faded we went indoors to light the fire and enjoy some games of Monopoly deal.
Around 8km from the Fundo lies the Refugio Toni Rohrer, the basecamp for Mont San Lorenzo, constructed by Toni’s friends in his memory after he perished in an avalanche on the mountain. On the way up, we scaled rocks where you could see the scars caused by ancient ice flows. The native lenga forest was also full of bird life and about half way up some woodpeckers treated us to a chatty display of carpentry.
After arriving at the cabin, we took the time to checkout all the mementos left by climbing groups that adorned the downstairs. We then followed the short trail up from the cabin to the lake beneath Mont San Lorenzo and the glacier, where we swam and sunbathed under the spectacular summit, the sound of roaring waterfalls ever present.
We returned to the cabin to chop wood, cook dinner and relax with more card games. Living our best lumberjack and Jill lives, we managed to gather enough firewood to warm the cabin nicely for a cozy and comfortable evening.
The following day, we returned to the Fundo, faffed around and repacked our bikes, before beginning the rollercoaster ride back to Cochrane.
While trying to share some tips to help Simon and Lizzie become more confident with the rough, rocky track and possibly showing off too much on a worn out tyre, I punctured. I was able to repair two holes (including one right near the bead) with tubeless plugs, but one small hole in the sidewall would not seal, even after topping up the tyre with fluid. After 12,000km my first puncture was a nasty one! Feeling as deflated as my tyre, I put a tube in.
The delay had us riding into the golden light of the early evening, which really picked up the changing colours of the younger beech trees which were just turning pre-autumnal shades of yellow and orange. The days have been getting noticeably shorter and now there is no denying that the seasons are changing. This brings home the fact that we are rapidly approaching the end of this incredible adventure.
After a quick turnaround and resupply in Cochrane, we were back on the road and heading towards Villa O’Higgins and the end of the Carretera Austral. These last few days on the road were gravelly and dusty, but the traffic thinned as we got further south and gradually the scenery got more and more rugged.
An iOverlander tip from our pal Suzy had our sights set on a wild camping spot appropriately named ‘Paradise 2’. We’re not sure what happened to Paradise 1, perhaps it was lost before Paradise 2 was found? It didn’t disappoint, with views onto a nearby glacier, clear waters to bathe in and plenty of wind cover in the trees – it was one of the best wild camping spots of our time on the Carretera.
Our good luck is finally running out regarding the rain, and just as we were leaving Paradise, the clouds could hold their load no longer. A soggy day followed and we decided to take the short detour to Tortel to get our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean since surfing in Peru. We felt that this famous town on stilts was a little over rated and over priced, but would probably be a totally different experience if you weren’t looking to dry out and warm up with a 3,000 peso (~£3) cup of Nescafé.
After a damp night in dense, temperate rainforest on the banks of the Rio Baker, we awoke to find everything covered in shimmery, slimy slug trails. Unsure of the exact timetable for the car ferry connecting Puerto Yungay with Rio Bravo (because finding accurate and up-to-date information in South America is never easy), we rode into the drizzle unsure of how far we’d get that day.
As we were passed by a flurry of 4x4s on the descent into Puerto Yungay, we struggled to believe that we’d timed our arrival perfectly for the 12.00 crossing, which was fortunate because it didn’t seem like the 14.00 crossing even existed anymore!
Warming up onboard and trying not to melt ourselves on a couple of electric heaters, we met a lovely couple from Tennessee who were in disbelief at our two journeys, from Canada and Colombia down to Patagonia. Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that you’ve broken a seemingly insurmountable voyage into a year or two of incredible memories and stories. When the ferry pulled in to Rio Bravo we piled into the small waiting shelter and tucked into lunch. The rain had finally eased and we unpacked our tents to try in the wind. I also picked up a bonus can of peaches from helping out a truck driver who was up a food creek without a can opener.
This side of the fjord, the forest was less dense and felt, reassuringly, drier. Fresh, freezing water cascaded over the rock walls above the road. Layering is now almost impossible, between the drizzle, wind and climbing, you’re oscillating between wet and cold or hot and clammy. Thankfully, the Chilean government have erected a number of covered picnic spots along this final stretch of the Carretera, so after 30km of riding we pulled into our overnight spot relieved for some shelter from the elements. A clear waterfall pool provided a refreshing spot for me to wash – everyone else was still feeling too cold to immerse themselves and get even colder.
As we were finishing our dinner and tucking into another game of cards, Chinese rider Michael rode in to join us. Lizzie and Simon had last seen him on the slopes of Chimborazo in Ecuador, where he’d enamoured himself to them by sharing the large (glass, ie heavy) bottle of rum he’d carried up to 4,800m in his trailer. In the morning we had a better look at the contents of his trailer, where he’d managed stashed a hair drier, three camera bodies and a moka pot. He insisted that the hair dryer wasn’t for his model-ready shiny long black hair, but for drying out his clothes!
A stunning morning ride ensued as the snowy peaks around us occasionally emerged from the low cloud. We stopped by a waterfall mirador for tea and biscuits before finding another state-sponsored picnic shelter for lunch.
The final bit of the road towards Villa O’Higgins was along the shores of Lago Cisnes and Rio Mayer, until we finally reached the end of the Carretera Austral.
We’ve been resting here and waiting until the wind drops enough to allow for a, hopefully, uneventful crossing of Lago O’Higgins in a small boat that will connect us back into Argentina via one of the most famous (for cyclists) border crossings in the world. We’re keeping our fingers crossed for an clear view of Fitzroy.
Until then, chiao!
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