Tag: michael lindsay

Homewards Bound

After a relatively stress free night, knowing that I had a box sorted for the bike, I awoke early and finished up packing my bags for the flight. Rodrigo from the bike shop got in touch to let me know that he was in early, so when I checked out of the hotel, I headed straight there.

He was friendly and helpful, and spoke excellent English, helping me out with some tools that made dismantling the bike easier than it would have been with just my multitool. He also phoned me a taxi, and directed me to the nearest cash machine, things were finally coming together.

The time he’d booked the taxi for gave me quite a long time to dismantle the bike, which wasn’t really required, especially when he started helping himself, so by the time I arrived at the airport, there wasn’t much more than one hour until the flight. Fortunately it was a very small airport and they were prioritising the 11 o’clock flight at the check in desks, when I arrived.

Although I had an aisle seat, for the 3 hour flight back to Santiago, I could still make out the impressive shapes of the spires of Torres Del Paine, out of the window – shortly after the plane took off – partially making up for the fact that I’d missed them during the trip itself. I was taken aback to see the scale of the icecap and glaciers that were situated to the west of the route that I had taken, features I had only really caught glimpses of.

Arriving into Santiago airport, I was glad of the decision I’d made to book into the Holiday Inn hotel at the airport, which lay directly between the National and International Terminals and allowed me to wheel my bike and equipment to and from the hotel on an airport trolley, with an onwards flight the next day.

The hotel had been recommended to me by Marlen, when I had been travelling with her and Pablo at the beginning of the trip, but what we hadn’t realised at the time was that we would both be at the hotel on the same day. They had arrived in Chile on the 24th of December – the day after me – and Marlen was flying back from Santiago on the 23rd of January, the same day as me. Pablo, was leaving her at the airport in Balmaceda and continuing down the rest of the Carretera Austral with some friends from Argentina. He was then taking a long route back to Switzerland via Buenos Aires, and Barcelona, where he also used to live.

So, after a quick shower at the hotel, I messaged Marlen to see if she had arrived yet, and quickly got a response to say that she had taken a ‘Cabify’ taxi into town, was sitting in a café at the bottom of Cerro San Cristóbal and was planning to take a cable car to the summit to drink a Mote con Huesillo. Although I had no idea what that was, it sounded like a good plan.

It was about 10 miles across the city to the base of the mountain, and it was nice to pass by the Santiago skyscrapers on the way.

Meeting her at La Subida cafe, she had just finished and paid for her lunch and drinks, but was in no rush, so we ordered another couple of drinks. It was great to catch up on the last few weeks, having not seen each other for almost a month at this point, but I monopolised the early conversation with my tale of delayed boats and fully booked buses. You should tell this to Pablo she said, and sure enough, before the afternoon was out, I had messages from Pablo asking about the Villa O’Higgins boat.

Marlen and Pablo had had a great trip, although both of them had suffered for a few days with the fever that had initially struck down Marlen, and Pablo’s knee had remained a problem. They had taken numerous side trips to see glaciers, and to see a glacier calving into the sea, as well as a boat trip to the caves that Desiree and I had kayaked to.

Eventually, we took the cable car up to the San Cristóbal summit, where there was a church and some drinks stalls, and a very impressive view of Santiago spreading out beneath us.

Marlen recommended the Mote con Huesillo, which she’d already had earlier, and thought I should try for the novelty value if nothing else. The drink was an unusual one, featuring dried peaches, husked wheat berries, and syrup. It was super sweet but pleasant enough, until I got to sampling the wheat berries at the bottom and decided that I’d had enough.

That evening we had dinner at the hotel, one last opportunity for me to have Merluza Austral (southern hake) served on a bed of risotto and coriander, a delightful combination.

The next morning we met again for breakfast, and after we’d checked out, and headed the short distance to the International terminal, we quickly discovered that not only were our British Airways and Iberia flights at the exact same time, of 1:05 in the afternoon, but the planes would be at neighbouring gates, so we didn’t have to say goodbye until the last few moments before the flights.

On leaving Santiago, my flight hugged the west coast of Chile, before crossing into Peruvian airspace, and starting to turn east at Arequipa and heading towards Lake Titicaca. Names and places firmly being planted into my consciousness for the future.

What a trip it had been, the scenery, the weather, the people. I had allowed myself more time on this occasion, and it had only served to increase my enjoyment of the trip. I hadn’t needed rest days from a cycling standpoint, but ultimately it had allowed me to spend more time with the people I’d met on the way, and ultimately those relationships are always what make these trips worthwhile.

Special thanks must go to those who I shared the road with, but in particular Marlen, Pablo, and Desiree, who I hope won’t mind me sharing her beautiful words about her trip here, translated from a Spanish language vlog:

And well, I realised that it has its charm, really, going slowly and taking your time is a luxury, taking your time, forgetting about time, no longer knowing what day of the week it is. Even though we live in a society that sells time like currency, not everything has to be fast and instantaneous, so slowing down is a luxury.

Wise words indeed, and also an explanation as to why she never needed to apologise for slowing me down.

Thanks for reading,

Michael

Villa O’Higgins: At The End of The Road

I was almost at the end of the road. After Villa O’Higgins, the road continued for 7 kilometres more to Puerto Bahamondez, where the only option was to take a boat across Lago O’Higgins to Candelario Mancilla, 1 km from a Chilean border post and 20 km of no man’s land in a disputed area with Argentina.

Eventually, I’d reach the Argentinian border post, and then have to cross Lago Del Desierto on a small tourist boat, before pedalling out the 20 or so miles to the Argentinian mountain resort of El Chaltén, in a popular hiking area.

The next morning, I made for the Ruedas De La Patagonia office as soon as I got up, only to find that it wouldn’t be opening until 11 o’clock. After a wander around town and finding what was clearly the best stocked supermarket, I returned to check on the possibility of booking a place on the boat.

The ticket agent shook his head, ‘oh no no no no, Monday’, he said. Ok great, I said. That would be fine. He asked if I also wanted booked on the second boat, across Lago Del Desierto while I was at it. Yes, please, and thank you.

On the Friday night, on my last stretch into Villa O’Higgins, I’d finally had reception after a day and a half in the wilderness, and I received numerous messages from Desiree all at once. She was hoping I was doing ok in the bad weather, telling me that her accommodation at Giselle’s in Caleta Tortel was great, that she was feeling exhausted on her day off, that she’d got up for an early morning hike, and that she’d got back on the road, before taking a lift to the Puerto Yungay ferry, from Felipe, who was Chilean, was travelling in a campervan, and she had met before back down the road at El Blanco campsite.

From the ferry, she’d then pedalled to the Río Blanco María campsite, so she was now only around 50 miles from Villa O’Higgins. Her rental bike was to be returned in Villa O’Higgins on the Monday, and my ferry was now scheduled for the Monday too, it seemed possible now, that I might see her again, beforehand.

As it happened, she had a great day on the Saturday, in beautiful weather, making it 50 km to the glacier-clad mountain that I’d seen the day before, and leaving herself 30 km to do on the Sunday, to reach Villa O’Higgins.

The rest of my weekend was largely spent wandering backwards and forwards between the campsite and the town, a walk of under ten minutes. It was a picturesque little location, but an incredibly sleepy town. I did need to stock up on some supplies for my planned long day to El Chaltén, and of course I needed to keep stocking up for my extended stay in Villa O’Higgins as well.

Then late on the Sunday afternoon, just as Desiree was arriving in town, she messaged me asking if I wanted to cycle with her to the end of the road, as her bike would be getting returned the next day, and she wanted to make it to the end before she took it back.

We had a pleasant ride in warm sunshine, and soon covered the 7 km to the port, despite having to wait for a campervan to be rescued from a ditch, a short distance from the end.
It was a lovely moment and Desiree, was delighted to accomplish what had probably seemed like a – potentially – unrealistic goal, for someone with no previous experience of this type of trip.

We decided to celebrate by going out for dinner, and were almost ready to go when I received the bombshell news, that the boat crossing on the Monday was cancelled. I looked ahead at the forecast, the weather didn’t look any better on the Tuesday. Oh dear, I thought, before accepting that I could now have an extra couple of beers to accompany the excellent burger at La Travesia, restaurant. And, what would be the harm in a little Calafate Pisco Sour as well?

After an unintentional cake breakfast at Café Norwest 340 – due to it being all that they served – it was now Monday afternoon, and I still had not received an update about the boat, and wasn’t really sure about what to do next. The options were, wait for a boat, which was – very much – at the mercy of the weather, before taking 2 buses, totalling over 400 km: the first from El Chaltén to El Calafate, in Argentina, and the second from El Calafate to Puerto Natales, back into Chile, where I had a flight booked on the Thursday morning. The alternative was, it seemed, to get myself back along the Carretera Austral to Coyhaique, with my bike, hope to pick up a box there, and then make for Balmaceda airport – by Thursday evening – when a flight was available. A third, more costly, option was to keep waiting for a boat, and hope I could eventually make it for a 7 hour flight from El Calafate airport, to Santiago, via Buenos Aires.

Desiree, left me pondering the decision, to help Felipe set up a BBQ, at his campsite, that he’d invited us to that evening. Too tired to decide what best to do, I fell asleep, only to awake 45 minutes later to several messages from her to say that she’d heard from the boat company and there was a sailing on the Tuesday. The message she forwarded didn’t seem to state that, but it did say that the safe passage form I’d filled in to cross the border would still be valid for the next day, which only seemed relevant if there was to be a boat.

I rushed along to the office, and was delighted to find out that it was true, there was a boat scheduled for 5 AM on the Tuesday morning, and the man would WhatsApp me the details. In an instant, my trip was saved. I rushed along to the BBQ to tell the the others the good news, and then we had a very pleasant evening taking it in turns to jam on Felipe’s 3/4-sized travel guitar that he carried in the van.

Day 20: Puerto Yungay – Villa O’Higgins

Distance: 62.94 miles

Time: 7:55

Elevation Gain: 5,525 feet

In the morning, Fabian and Noah were up early, and asked if I had any recommendations for food to eat on the road. Having some of the Bizcocho scones and a small tub of Manjar dulce di leche in my panniers, I passed forward the morish flavour combination that I’d been recommended by Pablo, right at the start of the trip. It seemed like there might be new converts to it too, as Noah took photos of the various packets to remember for the future.

Soon, they were gone, heading north towards Caleta Tortel, and for me, I was waiting for the first ferry of the day, at 10 am. Well, the first passenger ferry of the day, a boat for dangerous loads, had already left at 8 am, carrying the Copec petrol tanker, presumably to service the filling station in Villa O’Higgins.

On reaching the other side, at Río Blanco, there was another little cyclists’ shelter, but this one with toilets. It was a quarter past 11 by the time I left for what was undoubtedly going to be my longest cycling day of the trip, 100 km on gravel roads.

The first few miles passed quickly enough, and the road was relatively flat for the 8 miles to the Río Bravo María campsite, after that the terrain became far more challenging, with a series of tough climbs dragging me quickly away from the river.

It was a wild day, with regular showers and a strong cool wind, thankfully blowing in a favourable direction. To combat the cold, I was wearing extra layers, but in turn, each time I reached a hill, I quickly overheated and got off the bike to push. I knew that pacing myself was the key to making it all the way to Villa O’Higgins today.

22 miles in, after an energy-sapping sequence of steep climbs, I reached a refugio, or shelter, near the top of a hill, in an exposed spot. There were a Chilean couple already cooking up some lunch when I arrived, and they were generous enough to bring me over a cup of coffee while I prepared my own.

10 miles later there was another similar shelter, after which the road dropped and flattened out along the side of a lake. The tailwind whisking me along at a speed rarely accomplished on this trip.

I stopped at a thunderous waterfall, being asked if I’d like my picture to be taken by a man. On offering to return the favour, the man politely declined, before climbing back into one of two police cars parked nearby.

It wasn’t long before I spotted the glaciated cap of the mountain high above from where the cascading water was originating, the hillside shining with the many streams of glacial melt running down its slopes.

Towards the end, I rose slightly once more, with fine views offered up over Lago Cisnes, before the road took a long detour along the side of Río Meyer, before making the last approach to Villa O’Higgins.

After checking in at Los Pioneros campsite, I made to pitch the tent, quickly realising that my tent pegs must have escaped during the short period that I rode with one of my bags accidentally open on the rough roads. Scavenging some sticks from around the site, I managed to do a reasonable job of staking it out.

Afterwards, I made for the kitchen to prepare some food, and was introduced to a fellow cyclist called Belén. She offered me a huge bowl of salad that she’d made and had plenty left of, and I was happy to accept.

She told me that she was waiting on the boat to Candelario Mancilla, that she was booked on the Saturday sailing, that it had already been postponed until Sunday, and that most of the other people on the site were waiting on the ferry too. She did also know of somebody that had successfully got a place on the Monday sailing earlier in the day, so for tomorrow, visiting the Ruedas de la Patagonia office, to book the boat, was a massive priority.

Day 19: Caleta Tortel – Puerto Yungay

Distance: 27.18 miles

Time: 3:55

Elevation Gain: 2,336 feet

The next day, Desiree was taking a rest day, and I was pushing on the 45 km or so to Puerto Yungay ferry terminal, ideally in time to make the last ferry at 7 o’clock, and continue the 8 miles to Río Bravo María campsite.

By the time that we headed out for lunch though, that was already seeming optimistic, and I soon started to realise that it was likely I’d be arriving at the ferry port after the last ferry had already left, and I’d be camping in the vicinity of the port.

This feeling was reinforced quite quickly, when Desiree, liking the look of the Calafate cake in a craft shop, proposed the idea of having coffee and cake first, and then going for lunch straight after. Sounded like my kind of plan.

The cake was delicious, and the boardwalk around the harbour offered up fantastic views of the layout of the town, as it reached upwards from the coast. A short chat with some construction workers informed us that the wooden boards used in the creation of the walkways required to be replaced every 12 years, no doubt maintaining the place was a year round occupation.

We moved on to El Mirador restaurant for lunch, and when the waitress pointed out that there were only 3 items on the menu, and one of them was salmon, it was a fairly easy choice in what to have, for both of us.

It was almost 4 PM, before I finally moved on, but it had been a very pleasant day so far, so I wasn’t regretting not getting back on the road in the morning when the forecast was good.

It was a tough stretch back out of Caleta Tortel, into the wind, and I hadn’t got very far at all, when I passed the Colombian couple from 2 nights before on their way into town.

If I thought that the initial part was tough, I hadn’t seen anything yet. Conditions had worsened when I reached the bottom of the climb over to Puerto Yungay, and the sign at the bottom warned of 20 km of dangerous curves. Sounded fun.

The opening hairpins were unrideable and I was forced to push up what seemed like a steep open boulder field. As the road climbed, the views back down towards the river had virtually disappeared into the gloom.

The next part was direct, steep and narrow, and with the addition of a few cars making their way over the pass, it was a tricky part to navigate, but eventually the road climbed onto a plateau and swept past Lago Caiquen.

Dropping down the other side, I had to manoeuvre my way around a truck that had skidded into the safety barrier, and was now stuck, at times having to battle with my bike to stop it doing the same, thanks to brakes that were struggling in the wet conditions.

Eventually, at almost 9 o’clock, I rolled down the hill towards the ferry port at Puerto Yungay, dragging my bike up a ramp towards a building with a porch which offered some shelter from the rain, while I looked for somewhere to pitch my tent.

Soon after, I heard voices from inside, and then someone opened the door. You can sleep in here if you want, said one of a pair of German cyclists, Fabian and Noah, who were inside a waiting area that was apparently there for the usage of cyclists.

Fabian and Noah had teamed up while waiting, for several days, for the boat, at Candelario Mancilla, perhaps a precursor of things to come for myself as I’d be taking the same boat in the opposite direction. Yes they had the phone number for the ferry company they said, and that was the first I’d had the correct one, it was evidently a very popular service, I didn’t have a booking and now I was stuck a day away from Villa O’Higgins, without any signal. There was a boat scheduled for the day after next, and unless I was very lucky, I wouldn’t be on it.