Here begins the long journey home.  I spent the day in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world.  Well, part of the day anyhow.  The rest was occupied with flights northward, the first 3 in a series of 5 that will eventually land me in Denver. 

I took a boat ride south from Ushuaia into the Beagle channel, named after Darwin’s boat that traveled through there to reach the other side of South America.  It really felt like I’d reached the end of the world. 

We saw islands of cormorants and sea lions, and took a nice little hike on one little island (with no sea lions!) to see a great view of the city and some of the native plants.  We also saw a hole dug by some of the indigenous population before the arrival of the Europeans, they would put skins over big holes and huddle inside, where the wind couldn’t get to them.

Cormorants are really something.  They look a bit like penguins, only they can fly, and they build their nests out of seaweed, grasses and their own dung.  Guess no one told them not to shit in their own nest…

From there we went out to the old lighthouse which was really gorgeous and then headed back to shore.  From there is was a series of taxis and planes to Punta Arenas, then Puerto Montt, then Santiago. I have a day in Santiago and then two more flights into Denver.

I decided to take a couple of days to visit the Torres del Paine National Park, one of South America’s most wonderful parks and something that two days certainally does not do justice to, but I figured that a little taste was better than sitting around in touristy, flat El Calafate.  So I booked a tour from my hostel that would do a day tour through the major sites of the park and let you return on the bus the following day (or many days after) and took a night to camp in between.  It was not, perhaps, the best decision, but I saw some beautiful things.

First we had to cross the border from Argentina to Chile, which is exceedingly easy on a bicycle and which is excruciating on a bus filled with passengers, as there is paperwork for the bus, long lines, and luggage checks on the Chilean side.

We had a guide, named Roberto, who annoyed me.  He insisted on speaking English to me, though I didn’t understand a word he said in English.  When he’d speak Spanish, no problem, but he would always address me in English and I couldn’t understand a word of it.  Nor could he understand what I said in reply unless it was in Spanish.  Nevertheless, he was really chatty.  The tour amounted to half of what we’d been promised, and it turns out that it would have easily been managable hiking if I’d just gotten off the bus when we first entered the park.  But you live, and you learn. But I did get to see the Torres del Paine and the Cuernos del Paine, and a lot of guanacos, which are apparently nearing extinction, though you wouldn’t know it from their numbers around the park.  Perhaps the most striking thing to me though was the beauty of the clouds.

I got off the bus not a moment too soon and got a ride up to the camping area up from Laguna Amarga with a guy from the big hosteria there.  He was really wonderfully nice and we had a great chat on the way up there.  I tried to pay him the normal rate and a good tip but he wouldn’t take any money at all and wished me a good trip.  Quite the contrast to my experience all morning.

I found a good campsite but the wind was terrible.  Fortunately I’ve had some experience staking a tent in the wind thus far (did I mention that it is always windy?¡?) and secured it well.  I had just my day pack with my tent and sleeping mat/bag inside, a knife, matches and a flashlight.  Also some cookies.  So I headed out to the little kiosk for something more to eat.  Camping in Torres del Paine isn’t exactly wild unless you are on the backside of the TDP circuit.  The kiosk was closed for the moment, but waiting outside I found a pair of guys that had asked and heard that it would open again later.  One was from Germany, Tony, and the other, Phil, was from Denver.  But he works in Boulder.  Small, small world.  So I ate dinner with them at the restaurant and after had a bit of wine by the campfire until it got too windy.  All night the wind blew like crazy, like nothing I’ve ever seen.

In the morning I packed up camp and took a hike to the lookout at the base of the Torres del Paine.  The hike was lovely if a bit windy and rainy, and crowded.  By the time I got to the base of the Torres they were hidden by clouds;  oh well, great hike, beautiful park.  But one that I will definitely have to enjoy with more time in the future.

I really missed the pace and the ease of travel by bicycle, though, and the different way that people treat me, less as a common tourist and more as someone that is taking the time to enjoy the country.  It made me very sad to pass everything so quickly and in so common a manner.

I arrived yesterday in El Calafate, Argentina, after a rainy and rather bland bus ride from El Chaltén.  El Calafate is really touristy as El Chaltén was, which is a bit of a shock to me after so much time in areas where tourism is not big business and things are a lot more simple.  Of course, there are a few reasons that tourism is big business here and one of them is the Perito Moreno glacier.

Perito Moreno is Argentina’s most famous glacier and for good reason.  It is absolutely stunning.  It is one little extension of the southern ice field, the third largest in the world after Antarctica and Greenland. 

I ended up taking a tour that allows you to walk on the glacier.  We took a bus from El Calafate to Parque Nacional Los Glaciares and as we got a ways into the park you could see the glacier from a distance.  We went first to the scenic walkways where you see one side of the glacier and then back across to the other side where we donned crampons and set out walking on the ice.  It was incredible, and even moreso than I imagined.  The glacier has the most amazing blue colors that I have ever seen, and there are big holes in it that water runs through.  It was also amazingly cold for a nice summer hike!

We walked on the ice for about an hour and a half, then headed back to the hut where we had started.  On the way back our guides rounded a corner and there waiting for us were cookies, glasses, and Scotch.  They filled the glasses with glacier ice which was really cool…(though I normally don’t like ice with my scotch, it doesn’t so much matter when it isn’t good scotch!)

From there we took the boat back along the glacier and to the shore where we caught the bus back to El Calafate.  An amazing day!  Tomorrow I go to Torres del Paine National Park (back to Chile) for a too-short look at one of South America’s most beautiful spots.

Perhaps due to too much reading as a child I developed a romantic notion of border crossings early on which, with my first actual experience crossing an international border (from the US to Canada) was quickly dashed; instead of the grand adventure I’d expected, only a bit of beauracracy and we were in a different country. In border crossing after border crossing I’ve experienced long lines, checkboxes about fruits, vegetables and animal products rather than the wild adventures I’d dreamed of. Until yesterday.

The border crossing from Villa O’Higgins, Chile (the end of the Carretera Austral) and El Chaltén Argentina (in the shadow of might Mt. Fitz Roy) cannot be done by car or bus.

It started with a boat crossing Lago O’Higgins, a 2.5 hour crossing that generally has great views of the surrounding mountains and glaciers. I rode to the port on Saturday in pouring rain, loaded my things on the boat and took a seat. About half an hour later a member of the crew announced that there were horrible winds and waves over 7 meters high, we would have to postpone the journey to the next day. So it was back to El Mosco, where we were joined by two great Italian guys, Marco and Lucah. I spent the day helping Jorge with his computer and then we all shared some wine and dinner as the evening wore on.

The next morning we were back on the boat, and this time we left, arriving a little late in Candelario Mansilla. There the border crossing is over a path that cannot be navigated by vehicles (other than bicycles!) so crossing is either done on foot, bicycle or horseback. I got a horse to carry my trailer and gear, and rode the bike, more or less. At the start you pass through Chilean immigration, then 15km later (up a steep and rocky road initially, then up a nicer path for 10 more km) to the Chilean/Argentine border.

From there it is another 5km to the Argentine border post, but along a path that is narrow, deep and filled with obstacles like rivers without bridges. Some had a single log over them, so I’d have to carry the bike and walk across, or roll the bike and walk sideways very carefully with my feet below the pedals. It was not really ridable, except in small sections. Marco was a fast walker and luckily I had his help for some of the trickier river crossings. I might have been very wet otherwise.

We got to the Argentine border post with what we thought was an hour and a half before the next step, a boat to the other shore of Lago del Desierto. Turns out, though, that Argentine clocks moved an hour forward that very day. So we had, in fact, half an hour, and that would have been fine except that the horses had not yet arrived with our luggage and would not, in fact, for another 2 hours. So we were stuck at the Argentine border until the next day, since the boats run once or twice a day.

Fortunately the argentine border guards had a refugio, simple but good protection from the wind, where the two Italians, two Israelis and I could spent the night. They cooked us a delicious dinner of rice, beef, potatoes and homemade bread, and of course great wine.

This morning we woke to catch the boat which was supposed to come at 10:30. But 10:30 came and went, no boat. A lot of wind, though, and it turns out that the boat left the port and turned back due to waves in the center of the lake. It did finally arrive a little after 2, but we didn’t leave again until almost 6 since the winds had picked up again. After a choppy ride to the opposite shore, I decided to skip the final 40km ride over rough roads due to the fact that 1) it was new year’s eve and 2) the wind was blowing badly enough that I couldn’t stand up. Great idea, but the bus wouldn’t take my bicycle. Fortunately for me, the guy from the boat was headed to El Chaltén and offered me a ride.

It has been a wild, wonderful couple of days, and my most memorable border crossing to date…

(I’ve been taking a ton of pictures, and will update the past several posts with them tomorrow when I get speedy enough access to allow it.)

I woke to the sound I had expected but dreaded, the heavy thud of raindrops on my tent, and the steady howl of the omnipresent Patagonian wind.  There was no way I was going to hang out and wait for it to clear in the middle of nowhere, so I put on my rain gear and packed up.  Riding in the rain was actually rather nice.  There were no biting flies, for example.  The ride into Villa O’Higgins was really quite easy and beautiful.  The low-hanging clouds in the mountains made me remember the Peruvian cloud forests and the scenery was stunning, though missing the massive peaks I had seen in the distance the day before.  All along the road were waterfalls; the mountains have glaciers and the water is the coldest, most delicious water I have ever tasted.  I had neglected, however, to pack enough on-the-bike food.  I still had a lot of things I could cook, but ran through my supply of quick carbohydrates without a chance to replenish (since the stores in Caleta Tortel were closed).  I was starting to feel a little irritated and opened the bag on the trailer to see if I’d forgotten any food source.  I found a pack of Sharkies, and the bottle of glucose tabs that Sara had packed for me.  Yippee!! Not 5 minutes later I was grinning ear to ear with the white-powder residue of glucose tabs around my mouth.  Shortly thereafter I made it into Villa O’Higgins, which is a tiny little town; it feels as remote as any place I had ever been.  As I was looking for the place the Belgians had recommended a van came up behind me. “Are you looking for El Mosco?” it was Jorge, the owner, and he had talked to the Belgians at the port than seen me on the road.  I followed him and the place is great.  It has two rooms with beds, and a shared shower and kitchen; it is his house in the winter.  There were two guys staying there already, another Belgian (camping outside) and a German.  I took a much-needed hot shower and then went looking for boat tickets (the boat leaves Saturday AM) and cookies.  With the Belgian, Toon, I explored the 3 mini markets in town.  There is a limited number of supplies that get here as it is so remote, but I found some Manjar (Chilean for Dulce de Leche) and cookies and we managed to scrounge up some pasta and a bunch of fruit and vegetables.  Jorge had some meat so I set about preparing salad and pasta sauce, and Jorge quickly took over the pasta.  We all shared dinner, except for Toon who was leaving the next morning and decided to eat the rest of his leftovers then stayed up chatting until 2AM.  It was a great time. 

There was an overly-enthusiastic rooster at the army post that greeted the first light of dawn, loudly and repeatedly starting at 4:30. Fortunately he found it in his heart to share his glee with others as his crowing faded a bit after 6. I got up at 7:30 and packed up, spent some time on the beach enjoying the view and then headed over to the boat a little after nine. The guys were all in the kitchen having bread, jam and tea and greeted me happily. Ana! Sit down, have some breakfast. The bread was delicious and I ate quite a lot, and we all chatted until about 10:20 (the schedule, they said, is flexible!) at which point we loaded my bike on board and left shore. I spent some more time in the kitchen talking to Luis and the cook, then the captain said I should come up and see the navigation area, we chatted for the rest of the journey, really nice man.

He is learning English and the night before asked me; how do you say…stay your enjoy? Enjoy your stay, I said. So as we pulled into the port and I left he said ‘Enjoy your stay, Annie’ I thanked him, said goodbye to my friends downstairs. The cook was crying. He said it was because I was leaving but I think it had more to do with the onions he was cutting. He gave me some bread, just in case I got hungry. As I pushed my bike up the ramp and the boat pulled out, the captain said over the loudspeaker: ‘Enjoy your stay, Annie’ and I could see everyone waving from the deck. What a wonderful experience.
The road away from the port was nice, relatively smooth and flat. About 7km in I saw two familiar shapes…bikes! They were a Belgian couple, Valerie and Renault, and they were coming in the opposite direction. He had a two-wheeled trailer and was examining mine; he took my bike for a spin and we compared the relative benefits of each, shared information on the road ahead and techniques for killing flies.

They recommended a place to camp/stay in Villa O’Higgins and said that it was possible to camp in the middle. I headed out for another 15 or so smooth kms and then hit what they’d described as slight climbs.

3,200 vertical feet later I found a campsite 55km in, a lone hill in a marshy valley. The sky was getting cloudy and the wind was picking up…it looked like a storm to me. So I pitched the tent, built a fire and cooked up some pasta, fell asleep before I’d even finished zipping up my sleeping bag.

I was tired after the long ride the day before and slept in, had a relaxing breakfast and then headed up to the bike around 1:00. Rode the 22km back to the Careterra Austral and immediately encountered a killer set of switchbacks which, along with the biting flies and my burning legs, had me wondering why I’d not just called it a rest day. But eventually the climb turned into a descent, as they always do, albeit a bit of a difficult one, with some sandy sections of washboard that I had to walk.

When I got into Puerto Yungay I found that there was very little there as expected: an army post and a boat which transports cars and people across the water to the other side of the highway several times a day. My plan was to camp there and take the first boat in the morning. As I pulled into the dock I saw a couple of guys walking up the hill and asked them if there was a good place to camp. On the beach, they said. And as I looked around the corner it was lovely. I asked them about the boat and they told me it left at 10:00, then the question I always get: are you riding alone?

Now I’ve read accounts of several other solo travelers where they invent a companion so as to not seem so vulnerable, but I figure that in a place like this that is pretty transparent; yup, I said. ¡Què valiente! They replied. About 10 minutes after I had started setting up camp I had a visitor from the Chilean army, Juan. I figured he was going to tell me I couldn’t camp on the lovely beach, but instead he said: we are having an asado (BBQ). Do you want to come? He and the guys from the boat were cooking cordero (lamb). It was something I was really excited to experience so I said sure, though I hoped that they were nice guys, etc. And they were. As soon as my tent was set up I had another visitor, Luis from the ship. He said if there was anything that I needed to come by the ship, and asked if I wanted a tour of it. I said that I was going up to the asado and he said that he was too. Juan came down wanting to use the phone on the ship, and so I walked over with them and got to follow along as they started everything up and tried to get the phone working…but they had no satellite signal. I got to check out all of the restricted areas of the ship which was really cool!

After that we went to the asado, the lamb was incredible and we had some good Chilean wine from a canteen and a lot of good conversation.

They walked me down to my tent and told me to come to the ship early in the morning and have breakfast. The captain of the ship showed me the stars that they use to navigate. The light was still visible, albeit barely, on the horizon at midnight. It took me about 5 minutes to fall asleep.

I woke up late telling myself that it was my way of celebrating Christmas given the great campsite, built a little fire and toasted some bread and made some tea, relaxed and packed up at a leisurely pace. Though the concept of sleeping in is really unknown to me here since 1) dawn starts at about 5:00 and 2) there are roosters everywhere.

After that the day got even better as my first 20km were on great roads, relatively flat, and I was humming along happily when I got to the first big climb. I rode half and then had to push the bike at the midpoint, all the while swatting the nasty big black biting flies which I have now killed several hundred of. At the top of the hill I met a couple on a motorcycle, Patrick and Belinda, who were really a delight. We chatted for a long while and I admired the little red horns she had on her helmet. I need some of those! The road from there was nice enough, some rough spots, some hills, but mostly smooth sailing.

I had been hoping to get into Caleta Tortel for Christmas since there is a phone there (yes, *A* phone) but when I was 20 km away I decided just to push on and give myself another late start on Christmas day. That ended up being about 86km total, which was a little much, by about 10 km. I arrived in Caleta Tortel only to discover that it has no access by wheeled transportation, bikes included. It has a series of ramps and stairs that give you access to the buildings, so I had to lock my bike and bring the things I needed with me. I redefined what I needed and left the majority of my camping gear on the bike when I saw the five-gazillion stairs leading to the nearest hostel.

Luckily there was space available there. So then, after a shower, I headed out to find the phone and food. That was easier said than done. Oh, just walk down that way and look for a wooden house (which describes every house…) but finally I got close enough that it could accurately be pointed out to me. There was a tiny room that was the phone booth and a slightly larger room with benches connected to it where the most powerful man in town sat with the phone that dialed. I need to make a call to the
United States, I said.

Oh, he replied, it is not possible to make an international call. Use the Internet, said another lady. But it’s closed, said another mand. Try tomorrow, said the lady. It’s a holiday, said the man. Which is why I wanted to call my family! I said. When I explained that I’d ridden an extra 44km the guy with the power to dial was a little more accommodating and looked up how to dial the US. It will be expensive, though, he said. But I got through and it was good to talk to the family, albeit briefly, on Christmas eve. From there I went to find food and found the one restaurant in town that was open. You could order salmon, or smoked salmon. And to go with it rice, or curried rice. And a salad. So I had salmon, curried rice and salad! There were two French guys there as well and they invited me to join them. We had a great time chatting about our respective journeys and at midnight toasted merry Christmas with the lady that ran the restaurant. Then one of the French guys wanted to know where was a good place to dance. Um, this is downtown, said the lady, and she turned up the music. The French guys were dancing in seconds and drug the two of us out with them. I finally begged my way out the door and to a very sound sleep.

I left Cochrane in the morning and was greeted immediately with 7km of nasty washboard roads and steep winding curves. After 7km I came to the top of a hill and decided to have a little snack and see if I felt any better. There was a little shrine there to a saint that died of thirst (I forget the whole story, but I read about it in a great book by Eleanor Meecham called Llamas and Empanadas); so the people here have little shrines where they leave bottles filled with water; quite a relief to the thirsty cyclist, though Patagonia is filled with delicious cold water…

So I took some photos and then felt quite a lot better. The next sections of road were challenging but not so bad, and I started to get back into the rhythm of riding. About 20 km in I met a Chilean cyclist headed in the opposite direction. He said that there were ‘a bunch of gringos’ on bikes just a bit ahead of me, an American, Canadian, Japanese and an English girl. We compared injuries and road conditions for a bit and then headed out; I was excited at the thought that I might meet up with these other cyclists. At about 45km I came to the campsite that the Danish couple I’d had breakfast with at the hostel had recommended; it was 10km off the road, and there was another 3km back.

But I’d just crossed a nasty pass and was ready to stop for the day. I passed the first site, then at 5km came to a gate which was a serious pain to open and saw a nasty road ahead and so decided to spare myself the 20km extra and turn back for the first. When I got back to it, the first campsite, which on first pass had appeared to be a field behind a barn, was phenomenal! They had built picnic tables, chairs and a kitchen area out of wood and had a huge enclosed fire area with a surface to cook on, bathrooms, a big sink, etc. It was a dream come true!

The lady said that if I needed any food she had a garden, so of course I followed her right back to the house and got an onion and some bread, which made my pasta dinner a lot nicer. Also a little bottle of wine! Hot damn! So after some laundry, camp setup and bike repair I sat by the fire and had a lovely end to the evening.

I got up early and rode down to the bus stop where I took the bus from Coyhaique to Cochrane.  Bus is a little bit of an exaggeration.  It was a large van, really, and we were carrying not only people between the two cities and every point in between (farms, pueblos), but also mail and cargo.  The guy put my bike and trailer on top of the bus, and I wedged in to a tiny seat (but a window seat) next to a great man that I talked to for a long time. 

The scenery was spectacular, though after the first little town the pavement ended and we were back to ripio.  I saw a few cyclists on the road and was really jealous.

Lots more pictures (from the bus window!) here…

And since I will be in the middle of nowhere for a week or so, Feliz Navidad to all!

(yes, the tree is brown…)