Distance: 35.70 miles

Time: 7:33

Elevation Gain: 3,405 feet

At 4:30 AM, I rushed back along the road towards the ferry port, that Desiree and I had paid a visit to, two days before. Slightly concerned not to see any other cyclists travelling that direction, I was almost at the port when I saw the first flashing red bike light in front of me, a French cyclist asked if I could take his picture at the ‘end of the road’ sign. Yes of course, no problem I said, before being slightly less sure when he suggested we should get one together. Later in the day, the cyclist, Manu, clarified that, in the dark, he thought I was someone else.

When we rolled down to the port, there were as many as 20 other cyclists already there, and I started to get a slight tinge of excitement, that despite the stiff breeze, we might be going somewhere today after all, and this was only reinforced when a minibus with a few hikers on board showed up.

We waited in anticipation for some movement around one of the larger boats, before realising that the boats we were looking at weren’t going anywhere, and the boat we were waiting on was really quite small. They started lifting bikes up onto the roof of the boat and I really hoped they knew what they were doing.

Soon underway, the small craft, carrying 28 passengers, mostly other cyclists, all of us wearing life jackets, which hinted towards the fact that we might need them as the small boat crashed through the waves, the 1.5 hours across the lake.

Arriving in Candelario Mancilla, I dawdled a little in getting ready, aware that the rush for the day was over, I was now readying myself for a long day out. The night before, shortly after I’d received the message to say that the first boat would be running, I’d received another message to say that the second boat – across Lago Del Desierto – had been cancelled, for maintenance. Fortunately, some of the other cyclists on the boat had updated information that it would be running today after all, which gave us until 5 o’clock to cover the 20 kilometre stretch to the lake, plenty of time.

I was the last of the cyclists to leave the harbour, after a pair of girls from Colorado. When I reached the Chilean border post, 1 km later, I bumped into an English couple, Sean and Emily, who I had previously met at the Cerro Color campsite. They had been delayed slightly as they hadn’t filled in the Salvoconducto form that was to be filled out to pre-warn the authorities of their intention to leave the country.

Fortunately, I had filled in the safe passage form, but I was still a little worried about the Chilean border post as I’d lost the PDI form, which I received when I entered the country, and which I was meant to keep with me at all times and was to be handed in on leaving. I’d carefully ensured it was in my passport for the last month, but then, when I’d booked the tickets for the boat, the agent removed the slip and gave it back to me separately, and when I’d tried to find it after returning from the BBQ the night before, I couldn’t find it anywhere.

Luckily, when the border control officer realised I’d lost it, he told me ‘it was very important to have it’ but that it was ‘ok’.

The stretch after the Chilean border was a slog, with a 5K climb from sea level up to 2000 feet. The surface was rough, and I couldn’t keep traction with my 45 mm gravel tyres, so I pushed the bike much of the way.

What followed was a much more pleasant section through a sun-dappled forest in a high pass through the mountains.

After 15 km, I reached a sign marking the start of Argentinian territory, and instantly the track petered out to a narrow path over steeply undulating terrain, through woodland. It was an extreme core workout pushing a loaded touring bike over the severe rock, and fallen tree, strewn terrain.

There were regular river crossings, some which could be forded on logs and some which required to be pushed through. By this time I’d caught up with some of the people ahead, so the girls from Colorado and Sean and Emily were also undertaking this section too. At one river crossing, I arrived to find Sean and Emily removing their shoes and throwing them to the far bank to keep them dry as they waded through the shin-deep water.

At the last such crossing, I was on my own again, when I arrived at two logs. Trying to push the bike across one, while walking across the other, the flexion in the trunks was great and the back wheel of the bike slipped off the log, taking me with it. I quickly realised I’d cut my leg on something in the fall and assumed that it was part of the bike, until I looked down at the log and saw two inches of rusty nail sticking out the side. Great.

On making it to the Argentinian border post on the banks of the beautifully situated Lago Del Desierto, I quickly dispatched the order of business of officially entering a new country, and then asked Sean and Emily if they had any first aid supplies with them, somehow the one area in which I’m never properly equipped. Fortunately they did, and Emily brought over a selection of creams and some dressings to cover the wound, which was not deep, but was three inches long.

We all waited on the lawn outside the border post for a couple of hours, in the sunshine, waiting for the boat to arrive to take us across the lake. When the time it was expected came and went and we could see no boat setting off from the other side, we all started to debate the accuracy of the report that the boat would be coming today, but as the time approached half past 5, suddenly the boat was on its way.

Now that I was across the lake, it seemed like the potential hold ups for the day were out of the way, and all I needed to do was cycle the 20+ miles to El Chaltén. But that was in theory, and had not taken into account just how beautiful this stretch was, and also the roughness of the road surface. The mountain scenery of Los Glaciares National Park was mesmerising, but the star of the show was undoubtedly Monte Fitz Roy.

Finally, arriving in town at well after 10 o’clock at night, I found that reception was still open at El Relincho campsite on the main street, so, thankfully, I was able to register and get a shower access code, most important after a hot, difficult, 18 hour day.