Southern Exposure

Friday, March 27

Our first priority for today was to find a welder. With Inna’s right pannier split at the seams and caved in and my right side rack missing a support. Knowing nothing opened early, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to sleep in until 9 am. Our hostel, Casa Cecilia, had perhaps the best breakfast in weeks. Freshly baked bread, cereals, yogurt, and real coffee were a veritable feast for us and we took our time eating.

We left the hotel at 11 and were off to the welder. The shop was actually open, which was a nice surprise. He could do both steel and aluminum but the bad news was we would have to wait until he was free at 2:30. We considered moving on to Punta Arenas and looking for a welder there but decided that since we were sure we could get it fixed here we’d wait.

We found a cafe with WiFi and Inna settled in to write. I walked around town looking to buy some spare motor oil. After being sent from shop to shop when I arrived at the most promising shop it was closing for their 3 hour lunch after their grueling 2 hour work morning. I returned to the cafe and tried to do some writing on my phone.

We had a snack before leaving for the shop at 2. We arrived early to unload the panniers. The welder got to work quickly, first hammering out Inna’s caved in right pannier. He rewelded the split seaming and did not have a very high opinion of the original work.

When I removed my right pannier so the rack could be repaired, I noticed a hairline crack had started along the edge. This would make 3 out of 4 panniers that failed and needed rewelding. The welder fixed this up and then started working on my rack.

The rack had taken quite a beating and had been bent in. He hammered the rack back into shape and rewelded the support. All of the welding he did was very well done and very clean. He even spray painted the welded spots to match the black rack.

Since we were so pleased with the quality of work and because a day had already been lost, we went all on repairs. We took Inna’s rack off to have it bent into shape and before he started he found a stress fracture that needed welding. Score! After straightening the rack he hammered the inside panel of the panniers so the mounting hardware would actually sit flush again. It was a long afternoon but we considered the time and money very well spent. The panniers were as good or better than new.

By the time we were done, it was almost 6. We had a 9 am ferry reservation the next morning in Punta Arenas, so we had little option but to hit the road. At the gas station, we ran into a Dutch guy riding a KLR. We chatted and traded KLR stories but it was already late so we cut it short and got going.

The ride to Punta Arenas was fairly miserable. Over 200 miles of cold windy darkness, with the latter half in the rain. It was very unpleasant and hard to see, but our riding gear held up well and we ground out the miles. Punta Arenas was visible from a frustratingly far away distance. We had great luck when we arrived as the first hotel Inna spotted, Hostal Patagonica, turned out great. The owner was a very friendly man and we were the only guests. Without taking off our riding gear, we walked to the supermarket for fruit and water. Back at the hotel we finally shed our gear and enjoyed a warm bed.

Thursday, March 26

We made another one of our famous early starts and enjoyed the standard south South American breakfast we so love, fortified with yogurts and fruits we bought at the store. Once we were packed, we rode around town to a few locations that had been recommended to us where we might find a welder. Since it was before 11, all of the shops we tried were still closed. To kill a little time we did some tourist shopping, buying some stickers, a Ruta 40 t-shirt for me and a little stone carved penguin for Inna.

We tried the shops again but they were still closed. Nice hours. We decided we’d try our luck in Puerto Natales and started south on 40. The road turned to ripio fairly quickly and we were riding on high golden hills overlooking the valley below. A lone guanaco stood sentinel on the hill below, perhaps wondering where all of his friends were.

The road turned west towards the border with Chile, and the wind became fierce. It was the strongest winds we had felt in Patagonia, and it frequently pushed the bike from one wheel track to the next. We leaned into it and would be rewarded with sore necks later. It wasn’t too hard to ride in, it just required concentration. Under those circumstances I had to consciously force myself to look up from the road and admire the scenery from time to time as it was easy to become fixated on staying on the road.

To the north, we could see the backside of the snow capped peaks we had seen to the south of El Calafate. We arrived at the Argentinean border outpost. I took great care in parking the bike in the heavy winds, but poor Inna was blown over as she parked, and fell again on the right side . Checking out was easy enough, and we rode in a leaned over fashion a few kilometers down to the Chilean border checkpoint. After more careful parking, we were checked in and on our way.

We rode north into the Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, which had been recommended to us by nearly everyone we had met in the north. We entered a country of jagged, snow capped peaks. Unlike some of the gentler looking, more rounded peaks we had seen far to the north, these peaks had a very raw and rugged look. The air was brisk and incredibly fresh. The mountains and their surroundings felt very wild.

We rode past the eastern edge of Lago Sarmiento and continued on the ripio road into the park. As we rode we startled some ñandú, an ostrich like bird. As we drew closer, they continued eating as long as they could stand the tension, and then burst into a run away from us. They’re so goofy looking when they run, like an armless person.

Guanaco herds were more and more frequent, and unlike their relatives the vicuñas, the ones in the park at least weren’t very shy. They would lazily cross the road in groups and graze along the side. They would walk away from the road as we drew closer, but they didn’t seem terribly troubled by our presence. This provided opportunity for some great photos.

We approached Laguna Amarga, an incredibly beautiful turquoise lake perfectly placed in front of the craggy spires of the Torres. We took some pictures, and as Inna tried to ride slowly downhill for the photo, she applied too much front brake and the bike slipped onto its right side again. Inna was unhurt except for the bruised ego, but her right pannier was in sad shape. We didn’t discover how sad until she continued riding and it fell off the bike. Since the seam had already been split, the interior panel of the pannier had caved in and the mounting tabs were all out of place. We secured it the best we could, using the straps holding the gas can in place to help hold it up.

With that on our minds, we continued into the park. We rode northeast to visit the Cascada Rio Paine (waterfalls). The scenery was just marvelous and almost too beautiful. The falls were a staircase of water against the snow capped peaks.

We enjoyed the marvel and continued northeast to Laguna Azul, which promised spectacular views of the Torres, passing more herds of guanacos along the way.

For a lake named after its color, it was a relatively unspectacular navy blue. We took some photos, and then doubled back to the center of the park. We chose a route that would take us through the center of the park and then head south to Puerto Natales. We thought about staying in the park, but the hotels were expensive and it was colder than we cared to camp in. We were also concerned about our ailing panniers.

We road along the park road between Lago Nordenskjol and Lago Sarmiento, taking in the sunset light on the Torres spires. We turned south along Lago Pehoé. The park was achingly beautiful and we were sad not to be here earlier in the year when it was warmer and we were less tired. Stopping at Lago del Toro, we looked back at the golden light on the Cuernos del Paine. Just beautiful.

As we left the park, it grew dark. It would be another night road on a dirt road for us and despite all of our riding gear, it was a little chilly. The miles sped away beneath us and we eventually made it back to the paved road just outside of Puerto Natales. After asking just for fun at a hostel that looked too nice to be affordable (it wasn’t), we went around the corner to our first real choice, Casa Cecilia. They had a covered portico for the bikes and we had a nice room. We were happy to be warm.

We went into town for a big dinner, as it had been another day without any lunch or even snacks. The restaurant recommended to us by the hostel owner turned out to be a fancy African influenced restaurant. Inna was in heaven and had a salmon in apricot in ginger sauce, while I had an African or Indian style curried chicken. It was a nice change from local food albeit expensive. After dinner we hurried home in the biting winds and crashed out.

Wednesday, March 25

Last night we decided to spend two nights in El Calafate in order to visit the glacier and do some bike maintenance today. As planned, we slept in until we were feeling guilty about wasting away the day, and after a cup of coffee at the hostel we got on the road to the Glacier park. Perito Moreno is one of the only two advancing glaciers in South America, and one of the few on the planet, growing about 7 cm a day in winter. There are two options for visitors to see it. You can ride up to the platform overlooking the glacier or ride the boat that takes you closer to the glacier. We decided to do the boat.

It was about 85 km to the park, and we rode along a beautiful lake that was an amazing turquoise blue color. As we were getting closer to the park, we had a nice road view of the thick glacier sheet spilling into the lake. We pulled up to the boat pier and learned that the next boat was leaving at 2:15 pm. We had half an hour to kill before boarding time, so decided to ride up to the lookout platform.

Unfortunately, when we got to the entry post, the park attendant told us half an hour was not enough for the visit so we went back to the pier, purchased our boat tickets and didn’t have to wait long before being admitted onto the catamaran boat. It was really cold outside and started drizzling as we started sailing.

After ten minutes of sailing we reached the edge of the glacier.

I was hoping we could ride through a glacier arch I saw on the pictures but apparently it had recently collapsed and no boats, at least as large as ours, were being admitted further into the glacier. Once at the glacier’s edge the boat was parked, and we went out on the deck to take photos.

The wind and the frigid temperatures were bone-chilling, but we enjoyed the sights of the magnificent glacier and its beautiful blue hues as long as we could stand it. After half an hour and after most tourists retired to the cabin to keep warm the boat sailed back to the shore.

We thought about going to the viewing platform after the boat, but changed our mind as another hour out in the cold did not seem that appealing at the moment.

We rode back to the hostel and worked on the bikes for a couple of hours, cleaning and adjusting the chains and tightening the bolts. In the process, Matt discovered that one of the three attachment points of his right luggage rack had fallen off. Fortunately, the piece complete with the screw was stuck in between the rack and the box. We will have to find a welder in the next day or so to fix it.

It was past 7 pm when we were done with our bike chores. Yesterday we met a South African biker Bruce who was also staying at the hostel and was on his way north. We decided to have dinner together, and after walking the length of the main street without finding anything that interested us, we finally settled on an asadero (grill) restaurant away from the tourist traffic.

I very much enjoyed my dish of grilled lamb with plum and rosemary sauce and a side of roasted potatoes. For the whole evening we were the only customers at the restaurant, and used the opportunity to convince Bruce to not skip Bolivia and spend more time in South America.

On the way back to the hostel Matt and I could not resist and treated ourselves to a scoop of “Chocolate Bariloche” flavored ice cream (chocolate with almonds and caramel). As always, by the time we got to the room it was bed time, and we agitated about making little progress on the blog.

Tuesday, March 24

We slept in until 9:30 am, and after the usual breakfast of bread, jam and coffee hit the road. The black cat came by to wish us bon viaje and was rewarded with left over chicken milanesa we specifically saved for him from last night’s dinner.

We were recommended by a few people to visit the town of El Chalten, just 80 km from Tres Lagos, that is a base for exploring the Fitz Roy mountain and its vicinities. We were hesitant to spend the night there feeling the pressure of reaching Ushuaia as soon as possible, and almost decided to skip it altogether. But after an attendant at the gas station outside Tres Lagos once again advertised it to us as a place not to be missed, we changed our mind and decided to detour there in the afternoon and then ride to El Calafate for the night.

The road south from Tres Lagos was paved and stretched along Lake Viedma, which occasionally glimmered with nice blue colors peeking through the heavy overcast. A cool glacier was overflowing its massive ice blue arm into the western end of the lake.

Without much effort we reached the town of El Chalten which was surrounded by the mountains and had a relaxed and pleasant atmosphere, with a friendly mix of locals and outdoor loving tourists.

We had two options for the afternoon, either do a short hike to Fitz Roy or ride to Lago Desierto at the end of the road through the park. Because of the thick clouds covering the mountains and our inability to leave the bikes unattended we decided to do the ride to the lake, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mountain along the way.

We rode into the park and started out on a 35 km dirt track riding along a river flood plain set against a mountain ridge to the east with occasional views of Fitz Roy glaciers to the west. We then rode into a forest, which was a nice change from the never ending open space pampas we have been seeing for the last few days.

A ride along a beautiful clear blue stream finally lead us to the end of the road, and a nice lookout point over the lake. We met our Carretera Austral hitchhiker friend again who mysteriously always manages to get to the destination ahead of us without having his own transport. We chatted briefly, then took a short walk to the peer and climbed up the hill to the lookout among short crimped trees. We felt compelled to get back on the bikes to start heading back because the cold air was getting under our skin.

The skies were clearing ahead of us, but Fitz Roy was still hidden in the blanket of clouds. The mountain ridge to the east however had a pretty lustrous glow and we even spotted a rainbow projected on the rocks.

We filled up on gas in El Chaiten and set out to El Calafate, riding again along Lago Viedma, enjoying the paved road. It turned to dirt for a short while, but soon thereafter we were rewarded with pavement and steady winds from the west. We ascended to a lookout over the valley below and I pulled off the road to take a picture. Before I knew it I was on the ground with the poor bike fallen on its right side. A gust of wind had unfortunate timing.

We entered El Calafate around 8 pm and checked out a number of hotels, looking for one with wi-fi before settling on a great value hostel off the main steet. I felt cold and unpleasant from the day’s ride, so my first order of business was a shower. Matt was sweet enough to go out in the rain and get us a pizza to eat in the room. After dinner Matt worked on the blog and I studied the travel book trying to figure out our plan for visiting the Perito Moreno Glacier tomorrow.

Monday, March 23

Since we had somewhat of a late night last night, it was hard to pull ourselves out of bed earlier than 8:30 am this morning. We ate a healthy breakfast of yogurt and fruit we purchased yesterday and were on the road before by 9:30 am. The border crossing was fast and easy. The Argentinean aduana official warned us that “La Cuarenta” (the legendary Ruta 40) will be hard because of the strong winds combined with poorly maintained loose gravel (ripio) surface. Yes, we had heard this before many times and were prepared to hit one of the most remote and difficult stretches of this 5,224 km road albeit much later in the day than we should have.

After the border we followed a paved road to the town of Perito Moreno for a quick fill up on gas and an ATM withdrawal, and got on RN-40 which for the first few kilometers was paved but turned quickly into dirt. The scenery was mostly dry and flat pampas, passing occasionally through harsh meseta, rocky outcrops and patches of desert.

The road condition did not make for a pleasant ride and demanded the outmost mental and physical concentration. The two most hindering factors of the road were the excess of ripio on some patches of the road which were extremely slippery and unstable, and the deep and sometimes narrow tracks made by cars that once chosen were really hard to get out of. The wind was strong and sometimes pushed us over the bend to the next track as we tried to maneuver through the ripio, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as we expected. It is an advantage of traveling in Patagonia later in the season in March/April, although it is definitely colder, the winds are less severe and there are less tourists.

I did not enjoy this stretch of the road. Having heard so much about Ruta 40, I really could not understand why people are so fascinated by it. It was boring and laborious. While navigating through the dusty ripio I was reminiscing about the beautiful and enjoyable Carretera Austral in Chile. The road conditions weren’t any better there, but the scenery was so much more rewarding.

We reached the town of Bajo Caracoles around 3:15 pm, surprised at having done very little progress. This was the last island of civilization before 350 km of nothingness. We filled up on gas and had a quick bite to eat. Two insipid sandwiches, a bag of chips, two ice cream cones and two cokes set us back $18. I guess you have to give them credit for having ice cream available in the middle of the desert.

We were back on the road by 4 pm, knowing we had a long-drawn-out evening ahead of us. Near Las Horquetas, the 40 turned east and to our great delight it was paved. Riding on cloud nine with wind at out backs did not last long, and we were soon back to dirt.

The late afternoon’s sun angle was illuminating the land that stretched to the horizon revealing the kind of panorama that embodied my concept of Patagonia. We stopped frequently to take pictures and very much enjoyed the scenery, though it did not seem foreign to us. Some stretches of our last two days in Bolivia were very similar to this Patagonian landscape.

We had a choice of spending the night at an estancia (a working ranch that provides lodging for tourists) about 160 km from Bajo Caracoles, but decided to press on. As the sun was setting we decided to switch to clear shields. We’ve only worn them once before on this trip, but discovered that they got all scratched up in the case. With darkness fast approaching we continued the journey, and marveled at the western horizon lit for hours as a blue band with soft streaks of peach color in between.

The last three hours we rode in complete darkness, and both of us nearly fell on a few occasions hitting unexpected patches of deep gravel. There must have been about 50 rabbits (not an exaggeration!) crossing the road. They were all on a suicide mission, as they would wait for us to approach and then charge across the road right in front of us. Sometimes realizing they won’t be able to make it on the other side without getting run over they would stop half way and run back. I had a few close encounters, but am proud to announce that no rabbits were hurt despite their best efforts.

To Matt’s great delight the night sky was clear, so we stopped a couple of times turning off the bikes, to gaze at the starry sky and the clearly pronounced milky way above us. The experience of being in complete darkness and silence, just the two of us on our bikes, gazing at the stars far away from everything in the middle of Patagonia was very special.

Finally, exhausted from a long day’s ride (350 miles on dirt) we reached the small village of Tres Lagos at 11 pm. A black cat welcomed us and we quickly located the only hostel in town. To our surprise it was quite nice, comfy and warm, and the owner’s wife fixed us some dinner before we dozed off to sleep.

Sunday, March 22

We pried ourselves out of our cozy beds and had a passable breakfast downstairs. The owner, Gustavo, was very cheerful and showed us his little moto. It was his dream to travel on a similar trip. Once packed, we navigated through the town and filled up on gas.

We were looking for a gas can to strap on because there were long stretches of Ruta 40 without any towns. We had to go to another gas station to find a can, which we strapped onto Inna’s bike. Since she sat so far forward compared to me it was an easy fit.

We headed south out of town and by this time the sun was breaking through the clouds and breathing some color into the landscape. Looming over the town was a rocky peak composed of crystalline rocks, all oriented vertically. It could have been the inspiration for Superman’s ice fortress.

The road was paved and it was easy riding through the open mountain valleys. We began to weave through low mountain foothills and the series of sweeping curves was a great beginning to the day.

We climbed over the mountain and a sublime panoramic vista that greeted us on the other side. We were overlooking a huge glacier carved valley. The northern edge consisted of jagged peaks crowned with the remnants of glaciers. The more gently rounded southern hills were covered in green forest. The central valley flood plain was a marshy mix of dirt, vegetation, and standing water with a languid river meandering across the bottom.

We were positively gleeful to be sharing this view and went a little picture happy. As we descended to the bottom of the valley, we bid farewell to the paved road and were back on the hard packed dirt loosely covered in gravel.

The road hugged the south side of the valley we began to see frequent dead trunks of trees sprouting from the water. Their number increased until we came to a sign declaring us welcome to El Bosque Muerto, the Dead Forest. Amidst the silence and the stillness of the water, it was an eerily beautiful site.

The road continued along the valley bottom. The wasn’t too difficult and only had occasional very loose patches.

We finally emerged from the woods at the town of Bahia Murta. We were hungry by this point but decided to wait until Puerto Tranquilo to eat. Lago General Carrera came into view and it was another visual delight. The waters were more of the fine turquoise glacial melt we had come to love.

We continued along the shore until we reached Puerto Tranquilo. It was a one street town in front of a small lakefront beach. The ever present wind created a small surf which produced a pleasant background murmur.

After filling up the bikes, we chose one of the two adjacent cafes to fill our empty stomachs as it was already mid afternoon. We treated ourselves to big warm sandwiches and took in the view while we ate.

Shortly down the road from lunch, we came across some gauchos herding cattle down the road. The cows blocked the entire road and we stopped to let them pass. I was on the right side of the road, but not the very edge, and the cows didn’t want anything to do with us and starting piling up, afraid to get closer. The gauchos tried to get them to go along the side of the road, but the cows were panicked and one ever hysterically fell off the edge of the road into the bushes below. I moved a few feet closer to the edge and that seemed to give enough room for the cows to pass.

We continued southwest along the road until we finally reached the edge of the lake. We crossed a bridge over the river that flowed into the lake and through a ravine we could see the icy blue glacier that fed the lake.

It was late in the day and we were surprised at how little distance we had travelled. Beautiful scenery made for slow going. On the map, the road along the southern shore of the lake looked straight and easy. No such luck. The south shore of the lake was a cliff with steep drop to the water below.

We climbed and twisted our way up and down along the southern cliff. Progress was slow and the sun was setting. A gap had formed in the clouds, and a perfect cone of sunlight lit up a golden circle on the surface of the lake.

The sun finally set and we continued to bump and slip along the gravel road in the fading twilight. It was 50 km of riding in the dark and it was not much fun. For the last section, the road straightened out a bit and we were able to ride a little faster. When we arrived in Chile Chico, the town felt deserted.

There was only one principle street in town, but we couldn’t find any of the hotels listed in our guide book. We settled in at what seemed to be the only hotel in town and decided to skip dinner. After we went to the supermarket to stock up for breakfast, we relaxed in the warmth of the room, doing some writing before falling asleep.

Saturday, March 21

We slept in until 8:45 as we had a breakfast appointment. When we had arrived yesterday, we had met an Argentinean couple who were coming north on a BMW 1200. They were extremely nice and offered to meet us at breakfast to go over the map and give us advice. We’d gotten over nine hours of sleep, which was good timing, as the days ahead are likely to be cold and tiring.

Breakfast itself was a buffet of cereals, meats and cheeses with a few fruits. Not the greatest, but it was good enough. As we had our coffee, Fernando and his wife talked about their favorite places and roads along the southern Patagonia roads and gave us some good recommendations. They told us there were many glaciers to see near Chalten, which made us feel better about not taking the incredibly expensive tour of the glacier of San Rafael. I’m sure that glacier is beautiful but at $500 or more per person, we can look at pictures.

Since the road was under construction until 2 pm, and we were in a nice hotel, we delayed our check out until noon and weren’t taking the boat back across the fjord until 1:30 pm. We had enough time for another visit to the thermal springs. In our nice bathrobes and hotel provided sandals we strolled down the forest path and soaked in the pool under the hanging ferns. When we’re freezing and fighting against the high winds of southern Patagonia, I’ll be thinking about these awesome thermal springs.

We reluctantly packed up, soaking up the view from our balcony. Once packed, we moved our gear to the lobby. The boat showed up at the dock, and once loaded, we were off. I think Inna wanted to stay for another day or week and was very sad as the lodge receded into the distance behind us. We waved goodbye to Fernando on his balcony. It was a nice ride across the fjord.

We reloaded the bikes at the dock, and we were back on the dirt and gravel road of the Carretera Austral. This section of road was under construction, so it was a mix of nice sections with sections of large rocks amidst a rough road. Fortunately, being narrow on bikes, we were able to bypass some of the waits at road blocks by inching past construction equipment.

Once we were clear of the construction, we entered Parque Nacional Queulat traveling on a mountain section of the road. A series of rough, dirt switchbacks climbed up the hill. We were riding through a ghostly section of a dense forest as a low mist clung to its hillsides. The trees were of an unknown species to me. Unlike the pine covered forests of the north, the pine is not native to these southern forests. The trees were gnarled and interspersed with dead trunks. The trunks must linger for decades as bleached trunks lay amidst healthy forests. The road itself was an ash gray.

We cleared the mountain switchbacks and the road became a little straighter and a little smoother. We cruised the forest. The scenery continued to make a strong impression. The landscape felt primeval. Occasionally through breaks in the clouds we could see ice capped peaks sheltering small glaciers.

We finally left the dense forests for a more open countryside. The land was more suitable for farming and we rode through many fields of golden grains. As it grew dark, we rolled into Coyhaique. The town plaza is a pentagon rather than the traditional square, so the town layout was slightly more complicated than normal. We tried a few hotels and hostels, before finally settling on the charming Hostel Bonn. The owner was a jovial man and our room was brightly colored and cozy.

After changing from warm riding gear to warm street clothes, we went out for dinner. The owner had recommended we eat at the Casino de Bomberos, which translates to Fireman’s Clubhouse. It was nearly empty when we arrived around 8 to eat. It had a rustic feel, but we had a good meal and by 9 the place was full of people. We just can’t get into eating so late as is the custom.

Back at the hotel, it was our standard evening. We wrote and posted and even got in some reading while catching up on our cable news. The next day’s ride would be our last leg of the Carretera Austral.

Friday, March 20

It was a brisk 45 out when we woke up. I went outside to top off the oil in the bikes while Inna took advantage of the kitchen again to make us a tasty veggie and leftover chicken scramble. It was heaven to not have another miserly breakfast of coffee and stale bread. We even had enough chicken leftover to feed the puppy out in the yard.

After repacking the bikes, we headed southwest out of town. The pavement only lasted briefly and we were soon on a well packed dirt road. It was a bit daunting to consider we would see very little pavement for the next few weeks.

The road followed the Rio Futaleufu down the valley. The river itself was a divine shade of turquoise. It was like the waters of the Caribbean had been rerouted to flow down a mountain valley. The road itself wasn’t too difficult and we were able to cruise along between 30 and 40 mph.

We continued to track the river to the south west, and the valley we were in was surrounded by mountains. A few still had snowpack on their peaks even at this late summer date. We occasionally passed farm houses, or tourist lodges, but we increasingly felt wonderfully isolated and remote. It was thrilling to be riding out onto the Chilean frontier.

Eventually R-231 intersected with R-235 and we headed northwest to meet up with R-7, the Carretera Austral. We rode along the southern shore of Lake Yelcho Lonconan. The lake was surrounded by peaks, with a strange bulge like island peak to the north. The waters in the south were shallowed and covered in a field of reeds.

The road intersected R-7 in Villa Santa Lucia. There was an advertisement for a gas station but no gas. Immediately south of the village we stopped to chat with a hitchhiker from Holland. He had been working his way south from Mexico and was a very amiable guy and we were impressed he had gotten himself this far south.

The scenery continued to impress and I felt a great sense of exuberance. It was thrilling to be riding in such a beautiful place on such a wonderful, sunny day. The wilderness felt close at hand and I could feel we were near the edge of the continent and the bottom of the world.

We reached the town of La Junta, where we were able to fill up on gas. We were aiming to reach a hotel at the Termas de Puyuguapi, thermal springs across the fjord reachable only by boat. We rode out of town only to find the road was closed for another 45 minutes for construction. We had made a reservation to be met by the boat at 2, but it was clear we were not going to make it. Seemingly every road in town was under construction and blocked, so it took us half an hour to find a public phone in the maze of the town. After all this trouble, it turned out the phone was not working, but I picked up a wi-fi singnal on my phone, and used our laptop to make a call via Skype. We were told to call once we were near.

The road was open by the time we extricated ourselves from the maze and the under construction road was in worse shape than the road to the north. The bumps were bigger and the rocks were more numerous. It finally improved after 20 km, and we picked up speed. Once we reached the town of Puyuguapi, it was an ordeal to find a public phone. The main streets were also all under constructions, and the first three places that advertised having a telephone didn’t actually have one. The fourth was the charm, but the hotel told us we would have to wait two and half hours for the next boat.

This did not put us in a good mood as the delay burned precious time at the hotel. We debated just skipping it entirely and continuing south as we road out of town towards the pier 15 km south of town. When we arrived at the pier and parking area, we were split on what to do. A large tour bus was already there waiting, and we weren’t keen on spending another hour and a half in this parking lot. Fortunately for us, the tour group had more sway than we did and the boat had been sent for them. This settled it for us and we parked the bikes in the locked area and got ourselves onto the boat.

It was a quick but scenic 15 minute crossing of the fjord. The hotel was nice and deserted. It turns out the office season had started today, reducing the rates. The tour group was just there for a few hours for the hot springs, so we would be one of four couples in the hotel. The location was beautiful and our room had outstanding views across the fjord.

We didn’t waste any time getting changed and into the thermal pools. There were 3 different pools, all at a different temperature. The water felt great and we luxuriated in the views of the mountains over the water. Inna couldn’t resist, and swam in the cold waters of the fjord out to a diving platform to cool off. Freezing cold water is not my thing and I’m happy to leave it to the Russian.

We soaked as long as we could stand it, and retired to the room to enjoy the bottle of Montes Alpha Merlot we’d bought at the winery in Santa Cruz. I did some writing while Inna cleaned up. It was soon time for dinner, and let’s just say it was terrible and overpriced and leave it at that. We debated enjoying the night sky in the thermals after dinner, but it was cloudy. This was a real heartbreaker as the idea of floating in the thermals looking at the southern stars had been the real selling point for me. Without the stars, an early night’s sleep won out.

Thursday, March 19

We got up at 7:30 am knowing that we had a long day ahead of us as we were crossing back into Chile. We realized that we had no Chilean money and the travel book mentioned that there are no ATMs in the 500 km stretch of the Carretera Austral, so after breakfast we set out to look for a money exchange. Neither of us thought about taking a passport which was necessary to make the exchange, so we went back to the hotel, loaded the bikes and exchanged the money on the way out of town.

We rode along a lake and a mountain valley, underwhelmed by the scenery for a couple of hours, stopping for gas and a cup of coffee at a small town of El Boson. Past the town the scenery has changed dramatically and the pine forests were replaced by stunted meseta-style vegetation, expansive pampas and rugged mountains in the distance.

The famous Patagonia wind was finally making its presence felt, but for now it didn’t bother us as the road was smooth and we were the only ones on the road.

We reached a small Welsh town of Trevelin, which had a pioneering feel to it, and stopped at the only place that resembled a cafe. I had packed a lunch with us, so we bought the drinks at the cafe and ate our lunch outside. We used their wi-fi to call home and soon thereafter were on our way to the border with Chile.

The road out of town turned to dirt, but was manageable and scenic.

When we finally reached the border and checked out of Argentina I noticed that the infamous bolt was missing again. This is the third time it has gone missing! The last one we replaced in Bolivia was not stock, but thankfully Matt’s mom brought us two stock replacements, so we installed it and were on the way to Chile. This one better stay in, or else! [it defies locktite -Matt]

Entering Chile was very easy and took only 15 minutes at the aduana. [hardly a pass at 1200 ft -Matt] The road was also nicely paved so we coasted to the wood-built town of Futaleufú, and after a bit of a hassle trying to find a suiting place to stay settled on a cabaña with a kitchen. We did a run to the “super”market to purchase groceries and enjoyed a quiet evening with a home cooked meal of salad, chicken, potatoe and mushrooms gratin and a bottle of wine.

Wednesday, March 18

When we were planning this trip, reaching the town of Bariloche represented to us the arrival at the final leg of our adventure – the remote and beautiful region of Patagonia. We have heard many good things about this town and decided to spend two nights here, using today to rest and take a ride around the Circuito Chico, a 65-km paved road course outside of town that affords picturesque views of the lake and the mountains, and a few sightseeing and hiking opportunities.

We deliberately slept in until 10 am. It felt enormously satisfying to just be able to roll over on the other side and take another nap knowing that we didn’t have to do anything or be anywhere today. We of course missed the hostel’s breakfast, and craving pancakes and an omelette, we set out to find a good breakfast place in this heavily German-influenced town.

We walked around the center looking for the breakfast spot but no menus listed anything even remotely close to pancakes or eggs. More so, at 11 am people were already having lunch. After wandering around for an hour we gave up. We realized later the time had changed it and we had been looking for breakfast at noon. In the process however we managed to visit the main plaza, and its main architectural statement, a grouping of buildings constructed of timber and greenish-grey stone in the alpine style that is representative of the region. Like the llamas on the main plaza in Cusco, Bariloche’s signature Saint Bernard dogs were employed by selfish owners to pose for photographs with tourists. Some, the bigger and hairier ones, were more popular than others. There must have been five or six of them working the plaza.

After purchasing the obligatory Ruta 40 stickers for the bikes, we stopped for a quick coffee and quiche at a bakery. Having realized that our clock was now an hour behind local time, so we hurried back to the hotel to gear up for the circuit ride.

The first ten kilometers were unexciting. Although the views of the lake were great, the constant stream of hotels and restaurants was annoying. Further down the road, we stopped to look at a neat chapel and across it in the distance we could see Llao Llao, one of Argentina’s most famous hotels.

After a few kilometers on the road we decided to park and take a short hike through the forest to the hidden Lago Escondido, which also had excellent views off Cerro Capilla. The rest of the ride was pleasant and had nice views of the surrounding pine forests, steep valley outcrops, deep blue waters of the lake and the small islands.

It didn’t take long before we were on our way back to the hotel. I spent the afternoon working on the blog while Matt was shopping for glove liners in our anticipation of freezing temperatures in Patagonia. He didn’t succeed, so on our way to dinner we checked a few outdoor stores of which there is a great abundance in Bariloche, and found what we were looking for. We also visited one of the many chocolate stores for some dark chocolate treats and set off to have dinner at a recommended Mexican/Mexican-run restaurant Dias de Zapata, which was excellent. I had the best ever fajitas del mar, and I think Matt was also happy to finally satisfy his craving for real, or at this point any, Mexican food.

We couldn’t resist stopping for ice-cream at a German heladeria and chocolateria we put on our list earlier today because it had a large German grandma figurine outside, who looked like she could whip up some good chocolate and ice-cream.

By the time we came back to the hotel, it was already 11 pm. I finished my writing while Matt caught up on his The New Yorker reading.