a self-supported bicycle tour through South America

After our extra rest day with Tomoko and Fred we knew that we wouldn’t make Villa O’Higgins in time for the Saturday ferry that would take us through to Argentina, but didn’t really mind as we were looking forward to a few days of sleep-ins, Internet and good eating. Ha! What dream world WERE we living in?

Villa O’Higgins is certainly at the end of the line. We knew this, but didn’t really appreciate just how remote and isolated it really was. The Carretera Austral ends here, and the only way out is to return in the same direction (this was never an option) or cross a lake, then walk for 22km to Argentina to cross another lake before reaching the road and 37km that takes you into El Chalten (located at the base of Mount Fitzroy) in the Los Glaciares National Park.

Sounds incredibly adventurous don’t you think? Adventurous is putting it mildly. We think (and seriously so) that we have been on one of those stupid survival reality shows where the participants don’t know that they are being filmed and scrutinized by psychologists as they endure a series of tests that calculate levels of patience, mental and physical strength, and for the length of their short fuse! You guys have probably been watching it for the last 5 months and no doubt it is on par for the final Friends episode in ratings? We are probably page three reality television stars and don’t even know it! Perhaps now the coffers of the SIJEN Adventure Fund will start to fill up.

As we have mentioned before, southern Chile is ridiculously expensive, and banks are (as the Mountain Goat would put it) “rare as rocking horse shit”. If you are lucky enough to find an ATM, it usually only takes Mastercard, and not Visa. Guess what card we are traveling with? Yep, Visa. Test number one. In Cochrane, the last major town on the Carretera, the ATM only accepted Mastercard, so we pushed on hopeful that our cash would see the distance. We managed, just.

After two nights in a cabana, funds were depleting so we opted for the cheaper option of a hostel. Test number two. Most hostels these days offer rooms for couples, but the options in Villa O’Higgins are very limiting. We found a nice looking place that was warm, small but comfortable and with a toasted sandwich make. What more could we ask for really? We were set. We were showed a room with 4 bunk beds thinking that we would have the room to ourselves but to our dismay at 2200hrs, with us already tucked into our sleeping bags, two more people were showed in, and that was where the fun began!

I am a very quiet sleeper. The Mountain Goat, on the other hand, is more of a snoring sleeper. Hence why I intend to have ear plugs surgically inserted when we return home. Needless to say, on a good night when I catch the Mountain Goat on his back, I am only woken once or twice. Our night in the hostel was sleepless to say the least. One of our late arriving roommates snored for 3 hours. When he stopped, the Mountain Goat started. Because I was on the top bunk, there was no way for me to “gently” shove him onto his side, although I did try wriggling around to shake the bunk but it made no difference. He didn’t even respond to me calling his name - ear plugs. Oh the joy of communal dormitories.

This hostel was really a piece of work though; camping outside and 6 bunks inside. The living area was the size of a shoe box and the bathroom, a match box. All the campers would use the kitchen, and even though there were facilities outside they would use the bathroom inside. So, that is fourteen people using one bathroom - are there no hygiene regulations in Chile? I was not happy when I had to wait twenty five minutes to use the bathroom the next morning. All of this and we had to pay for the privilege. Never again.

In Villa O’Higgins itself, there is nothing. The library is the only place to hangout as it offers free Internet for half hourly intervals - when the wind hasn’t dislodged the antenna and the connection is working! Test number three. For those of us familiar with broadband and WiFi, old fashioned dial up internet facilities are an absolute nightmare and are often not worth the trouble, even if it is free and we have nothing else to do. We are all so used to things happening in an instant and when they don’t …. oh my goodness, the frustration is unbearable!

So, with five days to waste in Villa O’Higgins without money, we were going out of our minds with boredom. After the grating night in the hostel we moved back into our tent on the side of the road just outside of town along the road to the ferry. We really needed a good nights’ sleep for the trek to Argentina and everyone knows that Jen with little sleep under her belt is not a nice person. The poor Mountain Goat.

Our night in the tent was peaceful apart from the gale force winds. The ear plugs didn’t even help. It didn’t matter so much though as we were finally getting on the ferry….we thought.

On arriving early at the Port we met up with Italian cyclist Giovanni. Giovanni was the infamous snorer from the hostel. He had caught the bus from Puerto Yungay and had arrived in Villa O’Higgins late at night and dropped at the hostel. He too, is not a hostel person and professed similar feelings to us with the poor value for money that the hostel offered. Regardless, the other travelers were pretty nice and respectful. Ok, I will stop going on about the hostel, but readers, please take note: avoid hosteling at all costs!

Ok, back to the ferry. The ferry was due to leave at 0830hrs, but when the Captain didn’t arrive until 0930hrs, we suspected something was amiss. Test number four. The wind was too strong and the ferry would not run until the next morning. Oh my goodness! Another day! Do we slit our wrists now or later? We decided against another night in Villa O’Higgins and found a bloke working on his boat at the Port who said we could sleep on his boat for the night and use his shed for the day to keep warm and out of the rain. We had time to kill.

I was not feeling very well due to sleepless nights and lady problems so curled up in my sleeping bag on the rotten floor to sleep it off whilst Simon and Giovanni conversed in Espanglais. Giovanni’s English is good, and our Spanish is terrible so we all communicate very slowly through a mixture of English and Spanish. It can be very frustrating but we get there in the end. It rained all day and the wind howled down the valley. We just prayed that the ferry would at least leave the next day.

Taking everything into account, we actually had a lovely evening that night. The boat that was being repaired had a wood fired oven that kept us toasty and we enjoyed soupy risotto with Italian parmesan cheese followed by coffee and chocolate; sophistication amongst rack and ruin. In the early hours though, we woke to coughing and near suffocation as the cabin filled with smoke whilst Giovanni tried to relight the fire. Simon had stepped into the galley to sort it out to find Giovanni hidden behind a layer of smoke. Simon then got up every hour or so to add wood to the fire to keep it burning. Another sleepless night, but we all laughed about it the next morning.

Overnight, the wind disappeared and the rain returned to a slight drizzle and the ferry was ready to go. Finally we were on our way again. The boat was fully loaded with all the backpackers from the hostel as well as other tourists who had been waiting, waiting, waiting.

With such a full load, we were a little concerned that we would be unable to get a horse to help carry our panniers for the 7km section between Chile and Argentina that was next to impossible to do with bikes as it was a hiking track. We had read that other cyclists had struggled with carrying their bikes unloaded and because we are traveling with so much kit, we knew that the only way for us to reach Argentine customs in time for the second ferry would be to have a horse carry our equipment and us the bikes. For this reason, we had spoken with a man in Villa O’Higgins who had confirmed a horse for us but we have learnt along the way that what people tell you isn’t always what transpires. Needless to say this situation was no different.

We arrived at Candelario Mancilla, on the other side of the lake, to load our bikes and bags onto a tractor before walking up the hill to Chilean customs. We then set off for the 12km walk to the official border whilst the tractor chugged up the hill with all of our bags and bikes. The walk was pleasant enough, until we arrived at the border to find that there were no horses. Test number five. Surprise, surprise!

So, with trepidation we loaded up the bikes and with 4 hours to make the next ferry, we set off. On a normal day 7km is a piece of cake, a walk in the park, plain sailing, but after a couple of meters the mud started, then the track became so narrow that we had to try and lift the bikes onto the side of the path to get through and over fallen trees. Oh my goodness, I have never done anything so physically challenging in my life.

At each slight incline, it would take the three of us to push one bike to get it over the hill. The mosquitos and sand flies were unbearable, and the mud so deep in places that half the wheel was swallowed up. The river crossings were next to impossible with Giovanni and Simon having to take off their shoes to push the bikes through the freezing water. It was absolutely ridiculous. What on earth were we doing trying to push bikes through a muddy sodden walking track? It would have been difficult enough with just the bikes had we been able to get the horses, but with the bags as well. At least it wasn’t raining.

Six hours later we cleared the forest and arrived at the top of the hill that overlooked Lago Del Desierto and Argentine customs. We were covered in mud, bruisers and scratches but the sight of Mount Fitzroy against a blue sun drenched sky was rewarding, to say the least. The view was spectacular and our elation of finally reaching the lake was astounding.

As we gazed down at the buildings in the distance with Fitzroy as a backdrop we noticed the ferry returning. Because there had been so many backpackers they had had to make two trips across the lake. Oh my goodness, would we make it in time? We rushed down the hill as best we could but the track became deeper and more muddy and because I couldn’t lift my bike onto the hard edge of the path, poor Simon had to push through with his bike and then return to help me with mine. I think it still took us another 40 minutes by which time the ferry had already been and gone. Test number six. At least the sun was shining.

That night we enjoyed the perfect campsite on the Lake’s edge as we watched the sun set turn Fitzroy all shades of pink. We even managed hot showers in the guards’ house (at a price of course) with a sleep in to look forward to and a 1200hrs ferry. We met three Kiwi girls at the campsite who were off the next morning in the direction we had come from. They didn’t really seem to want to know what lay ahead of them, so we didn’t want to spoil their fun by filling them in. They were lucky though; horses turned up to carry THEIR bags.

After two nights in El Chalten enjoying the ever changing faces of Mount Fitzroy, the three of us took to the road south once again; destination El Calafate. With the wind at our backs, and a beautiful tarmac road we managed 112km by 1400hrs. That has to be a record. We stopped at a cattle station for banana cake, and as The Mountain Goat was feeling poorly, decided to stay and camp for the night. We had anticipated four days for this section because of relentless westerly Patagonian winds, but lady luck was on our side. About time she showed up as far as I am concerned!

So after two days of 224km, and two broken spokes you find us in El Calafate; gateway to the Perito Moreno Glacier. We are planning to spend Christmas here and indulge in a cabana so we can cook roast chicken, broccoli (you have no idea how much we miss normal vegetables) and watch television. The simple things really. We will say goodbye to our wiry little Italian traveling companion as he heads further south - not everyone has two more months left to get to Ushuaia, but I will miss his parmesan cheese in the evenings (goodness knows how he got it through customs though) and his company. As tiring as it had been at times (with the language difficulties) it has been wonderful getting to know Giovanni and appreciating the love that Italians have for food.

We hope this post finds you all well and gearing up for Christmas. Wish we could be there. More to follow before too long….[Jen]

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