a self-supported bicycle tour through South America

So we’re nearly ending our amazing journey down the Carretera Austral a 1000km road that leads to nowhere but a place called Villa O’Higgins. Villa O’Higgins was only recently connected to Chile back in 2000 when engineers completed the final 100km section from Puerto Yungay. I can only describe this place as the arse end of nowhere, which is far more accurate than the travel guides we have; there is absolutely nothing here apart from a weird sleepy town comprising of government built social housing, random shanty town style dwellings, the odd store with limited groceries and a mish mash of inbred dogs and chickens.

The journey to O’Higgins started when we left Coyhaique the only major town on the Carretera. We had stocked up with supplies and left with little trepidation of what the road may bring, being so very remote. Luckily we had one of the few paved sections to cycle on for about 100km which was very welcome to the incessant pounding of the infamous Carretera we have been subjected to over the past few weeks. The views were again tremendous, although the going was tough as we had some big height gains over the first few days. On the first day out we found ourselves winding up a valley climbing all the time and it wasn’t before long that all our steam ran out! Perfectly positioned was a national park camping site in “ Reserva National Cerro Castillo”. It turned out to be the best campsite of the trip so far and a welcome surprise with a wood fired hot water shower for DIY enthusiasts!

The following day saw us make the decision following lots of unclear advice, to go south via Puerto Ibanez and the ferry crossing to Chile Chico rather than the Carretera option round Lago General Carrera. It would hopefully mean 40km less distance but more importantly hopefully better roads; this was not to be! The road outside of Chile Chico turned out to be hell, up-hill, into wind and rough. By the time it had abated we had found a perfect spot on the side of the road that was sheltered and somewhat warmer than everywhere else. We were by this stage completely knackered and ready to drop and pretty down hearted about the decision, feeling that those who had advised us had never in their lives ever cycled a bike on these roads.

By morning we were back on the road again, winding our way on a road that hugged the steep cliff edge of the valley, with the road resembling a traditional wooden style roller-coaster with incredibly steep, yet short climbs that zapped all our energy. About the time I was praying for the road to flatten out and give us a respite from the arduous struggle into a stiff headwind, round a corner came a truck that asked if we would like a lift. For some reason it took me no time at all to respond “Si, muchas gracias”. I kind of figured that it wasn’t so bad being confronted with the proposition, as opposed to flagging down a ride. We could tell that the driver and his colleague knew what lay in wait for us. Sure enough, over the next hill we discovered yet more punishing hills with incredibly steep climbs, strong winds and not much more than a terrain that resembled the most barren part of Wales to look forward to. As we drove in the truck, the kilometres clocking up, we realised that this section would have taken us at least 3 days more than we had thought. Even to walk these sections would be a futile exercise as it was damn near impossible to push the weight of the bikes up such steep slippery slopes.

We arrived about 40 minutes later into Puerto Guadal a small village on the shore of Lago General Carrera, it turned out the driver was the governor of the area we were in and very kind indeed. We feel no guilt about getting the ride through this section, for anyone going down this road by bike should make sure they are prepared for what lay ahead, plus there are pretty much no supplies available on route.

We headed out of Guadal for El Maiten just down the road to pop in and see Fred and Tomoko’s cabin; we met them in briefly in Coyhaique and they said we should drop by at the 273km marker. Sure enough the green cabin roofs he mentioned were visible across the Lago Negra and we headed on round. Tomoko was surprised to see us, as was Fred when he woke up from his chair front of the fire place, expecting us to be a couple of days later, if indeed we ever turned up. It was an excellent decision as they turned out to be the most hospitable guests I have ever met.

Fred used to work on Wall street in New York and worked a lot in the financial legal areas whilst Tomoko had also been in banking where they had met. It came as a little bit of a surprise to find out just how successful both of them have been but that is all I will mention, needless to say, they live in Chile now where Fred can play with real-estate, growing vegetables, and perfect his already incredible talent for cooking and home baking. In this part of Chile, you basically have to make everything yourself. There is no place to go and buy a loaf of bread as such; sometimes you can buy basic bread in the form of rolls from a local house. But muffins, loaves, French sticks and croissants all get done at home, well at least at Fred’s place.

Being American he had a somewhat mutual appreciation for food as us, which forced us to stay for three nights and gorge on T-bone steaks, curry, French toast, muffins, pasta and God knows what else; quite simply the best dining experience we have had on the entire trip. Of course it all had to end, getting comfy and learning about how to make your own honey, wandering across a mountain that you own and designing your own hydro-electric power station, discovering how many eggs you can get from a chicken in a year and rotation cycles of Romaine lettuce unfortunately had to come to an end. So with regret, Fred and Tomoko dropped us of in Puerto Bertrand a few clicks down the road and said goodbye. Fred had baked us a white loaf and some muffins for the road ahead (which by the way we managed to make last for three days).

Arriving in Cochrane was tough but a satisfying achievement, fueled by Fred’s cooking over the last few days and fine rest in the cabana we had, we found lodging above a local supermarket of all places for the night but it really didn’t compare.

The following couple of days weren’t immensely interesting; except for the Dutch cyclist we met on the way into Cochrane. For some reason, he was wearing all his waterproof gear even though it was sunny, and was starting to resemble a boil-in-the-bag piece of rice. This guy was sweating like I’ve never seen before; it was unfathomable how he could replace the water he was losing in sweat by drinking alone, although I search for the IV drip, this was interrupted with seeing the copious amounts chocolate bars and cakes he would consume every 30 minutes or so, I remember thinking that I hope we get to the pie store before he does!

It became apparent that the next few days would be concentrated around timings of two ferries. Firstly the ferry which would take us from Puerto Yungay and link us with the final 100km section of the Carretera to Villa O’Higgins; And secondly the ferry that would take us across Lago O’Higgins to Candelario Mancilla, the final outpost before we make the border crossing (a foot only pass) into Argentina to continue our journey south.

The ferry from Puerto Yungay took about 45 minutes and only sailed at 10, 12 and 1800hrs, and the ferry from Villa O’Higgins only sailed on Wednesdays and Saturdays. For us, this meant that we could only make the Saturday sailing if we could cover the 150km and ferry crossing at Yungay in two days. However, this was not possible and therefore we would have to make the next one on the Wednesday. But for a couple of cyclists like Matteus from Italy he would make it, but simply because he was travelling dangerously light with no camping equipment as we discovered when we reached Puerto Yungay. Luckily for us, when we arrived in the pouring rain, the officer of the barracks there took pity on us and gave us a twin bed room and use of the kitchen, but more importantly it was warm and dry.

The road down to Villa O’Higgins became increasingly remote; now with pretty much nothing along the 100km stretch apart from one or two buildings erected for workmen working on the numerous bridges across various rivers. The terrain is quite simply raw and unrefined, and merely existing out here is a significant responsibility. Our choice to skip the Saturday ferry turned out to be prudent as the day from Puerto Yungay proved to be a massive one with just over 2,500m (8,000ft) total ascent over only 48km. We were so glad not to feel pressured to complete the 100km this day, instead getting the chance to camp at the foot of a mountain with massive snow fields draped over the peaks like a table cloth.

The following day we arrived in Villa O’Higgins in the afternoon, the wind was pretty strong and the rain started to fall as we waited for a local shop to open (of course this is Patagonia Chile where a siesta is required due to the heat of the day - not) that advertised a cabana we wanted for a few nights. Feeling good that we had made it, we sat outside the shop waiting, contemplating what the next few days and the crossing to Argentina would entail.[Simon]