Day 14: Camping Doña Dora – Puerto Río Tranquilo

Distance: 24.23 miles

Time: 2:55:26

Elevation Gain: 1,811 feet

After I’d set up camp, my phone picked up a little reception, and I received several messages from Desiree, saying that she’d met a Danish cyclist, while she was at the side of the road trying to catch a lift, and he’d told her that there was a campsite in 12 kilometres, so she’d set off towards there, before optimistically putting out her thumb towards a passing vehicle, and had ended up getting out by Lago General Carrera, and was at a campsite, around 10 miles from Puerto Río Tranquilo, and about 13 miles ahead of me.

In the morning, she messaged again to say that she was making for Puerto Río Tranquilo, and that she could let me know if she found anywhere good to say. She also mentioned that she was planning on going kayaking to some marble caves on the lake the next morning, and forwarded me the number. That did sound fun, but what time? I had cycling to do. 6:00 – 9:00 am? Well, I probably wouldn’t be cycling at that time, I supposed…

In my head, the route would soon be gradually dropping to the shores of the lake, and then I’d be ambling along, relaxedly taking in the views from the lakeside. The road, however, had other ideas, with steep climbs on poor terrain de rigueur for the day.

The long gradual downhill never seemed to materialise, and soon I was near the edge of the lake, pausing to take on some fuel and reapply my sun tan lotion in the warm sunshine, I realised I still hadn’t reached the point at which Desiree had camped the night before, and had only just past it, when she messaged again to say she had found some available beds in a dormitory cabin at Camping Río Chirifo.

As I progressed over steep bluffs along the lake-side, I fielded some messages regarding kayaking the next day, and by the time I arrived in Puerto Río Tranquilo, I merely had to complete the formalities.

When I arrived, Desiree was having lunch in the restaurant, Casa Bruja, near the campsite, and her hake dish, Merzula Austral, looked so good, I ordered the same. New meal of the trip time.

After I’d settled into the functional, but slightly less than salubrious, accommodation, we took a trip down to the supermarket, and then paid a visit to a panadería on the way back up the road, where we sampled some berry kuchen, the German word for cake revealing the nationality of historic settlers in the region in the 1930s. The delicious cake was an excellent way to fuel up for our early morning kayak session.

Day 13: Villa Cerro Castillo – Camping Doña Dora

Distance: 51.93 miles

Time: 7:28

Elevation Gain: 3,878 feet

Although the next stop on my itinerary was Doña Dora campsite, more than 50 miles away, I was still riding with Desiree and was aware that she was a lot newer to this than me, so my thought for today was to split the 73 miles to Puerto Río Tranquilo more evenly into two days, and see where we ended up, with the possible option of a wild camp in what was quite a remote section.

We stopped off at a fruteria and the supermarket to stock up on supplies before setting off out of town, there was a long climb to start the day, but the views we were seeing, and the ones we were heading too, of the Cerro Castillo mountain massif made it all worthwhile.

Soon we reached the dreaded ‘fin pavimento’ sign, where, effectively, the tarmac ran out for the rest of the route. And, when it did, it was replaced with the worst surface imaginable, large chunky stones right across the carriageway, and with a regular procession of trucks and pick up trucks for company.

The views along the Río Ibáñez remained sensational, with one sweeping downhill bend offering incredible views of the river’s flood plain and an en-widened meander in the glacially-fed river.

Once we reached level ground, down alongside the river now, the going was tough. There was a strong headwind, the first occasional showers for a week or so, and the road surface itself was punishing, with an occasional smoother track near the middle, and with patches of washboard, alongside deep pools of dry dust as the road dropped towards the edges, oftentimes where we forced by the fast-moving oncoming traffic.

A little low in energy, and certainly in motivation, Desiree had stopped up off the road up ahead, to take on some fuel. She had already forewarned me for what might happen next, that she was going to try to get a lift in a pickup truck. Not happy at having to abandon her by the side of the road, I offered to stay until she found a ride. But she remained resolute, she did this all the time, and she’d be fine, and as someone who’d lived in Argentina, Peru, Ecuador, and Myanmar, she was probably in a better educated position to say that than most.

I re-evaluated the situation, it was nearly 4 o’clock and I’d only covered 15 miles or so, some of which had been extremely rough and punishing, however, I started to make strong progress in the challenging conditions, and quickly re-set my target for the day to Doña Dora campsite, which would be 50 miles for the day.

For 10 miles I pushed on, making good headway, until I reached a long steep slope of thick damp dirt, my wheels skidding on the peculiar surface, until I reached a layby, near the top, and stopped to take in the views of another fine bridge far below.

At that point, there was a toot from a passing pickup and I spotted Desiree happily waving from the passenger seat, it seemed likely she’d continue all the way to Puerto Río Tranquilo today.

After the long steep hill, the road started to undulate steeply along the side of Laguna Verde, and this trend in road profile remained, even when I reached a pronounced bend in the road, with my direction switching from West to South, and the delight of escaping the headwind, tempered by repeatedly energy sapping climbs.

The road was in a high valley along the river when I pedalled the last few miles to Doña Dora campsite at 10 o’clock, only shortly before dark. The camping spot was in sparsely populated forest-land at a farm, and the sole other occupants were an Argentinian couple with a campervan, who were hunkered down in a cosy communal cabin maintaining the fire, it was much appreciated when I was cooking up some pasta in the early hours of the morning.

Day 12: El Blanco – Villa Cerro Castillo

Distance: 39.55 miles

Time: 5:31

Elevation Gain: 3,530 feet

The campsite at El Blanco was a good one, with excellent facilities and a pleasant camping area with a mixture of hikers and a couple of other cyclists.

As I was clearing up my dishes at the end of the night, another cyclist, who had previously been conversing to some motorcyclists in some extremely fluent sounding-Spanish asked where I was from. She herself, was from Germany, but had been living in Peru, and before that Ecuador, and her name was Daisy, she said, when speaking to English speakers, but was actually Desiree. Even as an English speaker, I hoped I could manage that.

Desiree had just started her trip, that day from Coyhaique, and had actually cycled past me as I was readying to leave town. I was surprised to see her arrive at the campsite after me, but it transpired she’d had to return to her accommodation for her plug adapter, which she’d forgotten. She had set her sights on reaching Puerto Río Tranquilo, in the next couple of days, so it was likely that we would see each other on the road.

The next morning, I wasn’t feeling in too much of a rush, as although I knew today’s ride would reach the highest point of the whole route at over 3,500 feet, and the route profile showed it to be climbing all day, the distance was to be, only, around 40 miles, to Villa Cerro Castillo, and the forecast was for it to be a little cooler than the previous few days had been.

Leaving the campsite, at 10 to 12, I was already at 1200 feet, so some of the work had been done the day before. The road trended upwards for a while before a steep pull saw me reach the turn off, with ruta 7 continuing towards Villa Cerro Castillo, and the alternative route taking highway 245 to Balmaceda, and its airport, near the Argentinian border.

After the junction, the road continued to climb, but it was a while before the true nature of where the climb would lead revealed itself, as it began to aim squarely at a range of peaks on the horizon, first climbing gradually, before ramping up for a sustained effort towards the col.

As I was climbing up the steepest part, I had good visibility way up the road, and in amongst the road signs near the top, I could make out some shapes, that gradually it dawned on me must be stationary bicycles and their riders.

So distracted was I by trying to decipher what I was seeing, that I hadn’t thought too much about the climb at all, and as I eventually arrived alongside the German couple, Fabian and Helena, stopped at the side of the road, having their lunch, I realised that I was quite out of breath. ‘Wow, you were moving fast’, Fabian remarked. It took me a minute to respond.

Fortunately, the first of the two climbs was now, largely, done, and as I rolled up to a large sign promoting a nature reserve, at the top, I discovered Desiree’s bike leaning against it. Spotting a sign for a cafe, I made my way over to the reception building for the park, and campsite, and went inside, to find the host, her daughter, a work experience girl from London, called Lucy, and Desiree, who remarked that the soup was freshly made, and excellent. It certainly was, and the best meal of the trip so far.

After lunch, Desiree headed off, just as the German couple arrived, but they were stopping to check out walking opportunities, so I was soon underway. The road dropped down quickly, through a fine valley along a river, and it wasn’t long before I was drawn to a halt again by Desiree and a couple of cars parked up at the side of the road watching the far bank of the river fixatedly.

It was soon clear what had drawn their attention it was a Huemul, or South Andean deer, and it was grazing down by the river, before it eventually crossed over and came right past the assembled throng, which now included Fabian and Helena as well. I was surprised to see it was on its own, but now know it was an endangered species, and we were very lucky to see it.

The second climb wasn’t too bad at all, and the road climbed very gradually, before just as slowly starting to descend again, but soon Desiree and I found ourselves standing atop an exquisite set of switchbacks with the incredible mountain vista of Cerro Castillo, as its backdrop.

The road descended steeply into town and we made for El Nortino campsite, one that Desiree had seen recommended. It was a little hard to find, and full, but after Desiree exhibited her Spanish language mastery once more, the host, Felipe, found us a spot to stay.

Day 11: Coyhaique – El Blanco

Distance: 24.5 miles

Time: 3:17

Elevation Gain: 2,018 feet

After a reasonable sleep in the hotel, I was feeling tired after the long day in the hot sun, yesterday. Today was to be even hotter, peaking at 29°, so after breakfast, as I considered the possibility of packing up all my equipment and getting back on the road, I also considered the fact that this was roughly the half way point of the route between Puerto Montt and Villa O’Higgins, and I still had plenty of time to spare, so I came up with a better plan, take a day off. Unheard of for me on a trip, after the pedalling had started, but there we go. I booked another night in the hotel, and made for the sauna as that seemed a sensible idea when it was almost 30° outside. My watch had told me that I was only 32° acclimatised to the heat conditions, so clearly there was some work to do.

In the afternoon, I popped along to the pharmacist to pick up some eyedrops, in case there were dust based issues down the road, and then I made for the hardware store to pick up some WD-40, to give my bike a little TLC before the tarmac ran out for good.

In the evening, I headed into town, with my sights set on the best pizzeria around, Mamma Gaucha, which was handily placed on the one short pedestrianised area in the centre.

As I approached, I suddenly realised that I recognised the party of three sitting at one of the few tables outside. Or I thought I did, before realising that it was the German girl and the Dutch guy from the group of three cyclists that I’d met before, but on this occasion they were with another cyclist, Jan, from Sweden. I didn’t have to wait long for the Australian from the original trio to join the party. Would I like to join them, yes that sounded like an excellent idea.

One Hot Honey Pepperoni pizza and a few IPAs later, someone had the bright idea of finding another bar, and that we did, finding what seemed like a small local bar that was quite empty on what was a Monday night. But, as the night went on the bar got busier and busier, and then the Karaoke started…

As we all made to leave, at after 2 in the morning, I felt that it was no longer too soon to ask the question. So, what are your names? And now I can share for posterity, that the German girl is called Klara, the Dutch guy is Ry and the Australian is Marcus.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the next morning, I was in no rush to leave town, so I headed in the direction of the supermarket, stopping at the bike shop to pick up some handlebar tape en route.

On reaching the supermarket, one of the German couple was guarding their bikes outside, so I went to say hello. This was Fabian and his partner was Helena. 100 yards down the street I bumped I into the Swiss couple from the campsite the other night, on their way to lunch. Pierre and Claire, who were keen to know that my eyes had improved. Coyhaique had been an excellent place to be for bumping into fellow Carretera cyclists, and even better for finding out their names.

Before I left town, I sat in the square and wrapped a second roll of handlebar tape around my bars, anticipating that my hands would be less keen on the gravel roads than they had been on the tarmac.

After lunch, I set off on what would be part 2 of the Carretera Austral, things were about to become a little more challenging, but first I’d amble along the 20 miles to El Blanco, and leave the climbing for tomorrow.