Tag: Puerto Natales

Day 4: Lago Río Blanco – El Amarillo

Distance: 41.38 miles

Time: 6:39

Elevation Gain: 2,293 feet

For those who read my blog about my trip to Norway in the summer, you will no doubt remember that I had a slight challenge with regards some tent poles being damaged in a storm. Well, after many months without contact, I received an email from Big Agnes to say that they would like to send me some poles so that I could get my tent back in action!

Thankfully, they arrived at the end of November, so I was able to bring the Copper Spur on this trip, along with a lot of duct tape, just in case…

After a reasonable night in the tent, despite the hard, stony, terrain it was pitched on, I slowly roused and took my stove and cooking kit down to one of the lakeside shelters that had now been vacated by some early leaving campers. Pablo joined me and started boiling some water for some of the many packs of freeze dried semolina that they had been gifted for the trip. A thoughtful gift until you consider the extra weight of carrying 50 food pouches around on your bike.

Marlen had a bit of a fever and had been in the tent for around 12 hours at this point, but she did manage to take on a little food before promptly dropping back off to sleep. I was a little concerned that she wouldn’t be feeling fit enough to ride, today, but Pablo still seemed to be readying to go, so I followed suit.

It sounded like Pablo and Marlen’s plan was to try to get to Chaiten, 20 miles away, and find a hotel or Cabaña to try and get some recovery. Seeing as the typical mileages I’d been planning around were double that, I realised that I should really push on to El Amarillo, 15 miles farther on, having first made sure that Pablo and Marlen got to Chaiten without a hitch.

Eventually, back on the road, at 12:30, the rough track along the lake continued, before climbing up steeply to a bridge over the Ríos Rayas, in what felt like a fabulously remote area.

First one cyclist, and then a pair of cyclists, passed going the other way, before a trio of large trucks threw up a massive dust cloud that took some time to settle, forcing us to stop.

At long last, the tarmac returned, and it felt magical, smooth and fast, and shortly afterwards, I had phone signal for the first time since Hornopirén.

Soon, the sea came into view, as we dropped towards the coast at Santa Barbara, before instantly turning back inland and grinding up a severe climb onto a plateau backed by stunning views of Volcan Chaiten, before we enjoyed one last descent to Chaiten.

The small town seemed deserted, and many places were closed, but then we found a small restaurant open, and it was excellent, with friendly staff and huge portions, for what would be our first proper meal since the pasta we’d had in Hornopirén two days prior.

It had been very enjoyable riding with Pablo and Marlen, but Marlen’s trip was to finish in Balmaceda, near Coyhaique, in about the same timeframe as I was hoping to reach El Chaltén, which was double the distance. Pablo would be continuing south afterwards, with some friends.

As we stepped outside, it started to rain, which didn’t make parting ways any easier as Pablo and Marlen pedalled the short distance to, what looked like, a very appealing cabaña, whereas I looked at the grey skies and made for the supermarket, before crossing the bridge over the Río Blanco – which signified the edge of Chaitén – and started off in the direction of El Amarillo, quickly stopping to put on my waterproofs. It was a pleasant cycle along flat tarmac roads, through fields backed by mountains, the only issue, in fact, was the rain.

Until a team of dogs in high spirits departed a farm up ahead, that was, with two racing away up the road to get in front of me, and the rest chasing me from behind, easily covering the short distance. I veered all the way over to the far shoulder and pedalled as fast as I could, but the dogs that had pushed ahead now came rushing across the road and were in a direct collision course with my bike, until I feinted in their direction, which caused the lead dog to pause just long enough for me to get by, and with a change up of the gears, I was gone.

After covering the 15 miles to El Amarillo, I was thoroughly damp, and with the rain not abating, I was very keen to avoid camping, so I checked out all of the locations where Cabañas were marked on the map, but they were all either closed or full. So I made for the campsite at the end of the road, in Parque Pumalin, crestfallen to see that the campsite areas all appeared to be many kilometres upriver, and beyond a road closed barrier which could fortunately easily be circumvented on a bike.

So, passing many large grassy areas en route, I struggled up the rough track to El Grande camping area, with the signposted 5 km, actually 6, and feeling like much more. On arriving at the large open grassy area, I was pleased to see an open toilet block and a scattering of other campsite users, as I readied myself to set up camp in the now torrential downpour.

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time I was ready to hide myself away inside the tent, cooking up a large pan of lentils and tuna in the vestibule, the tent mercifully doing a good job of keeping out the deluge from above.

Day 3: Hornopirén – Lago Río Blanco


Distance: 22:26 miles

Time: 4.11

Elevation Gain: 2,536 feet

Just along the road from the ferry port, there was a sign for a cabaña – or cabin – and Pablo quickly entered into a dialogue with the owner. It was quite large, on two levels and had 4 bedrooms, certainly plenty of space for the three of us, and relatively inexpensive. It looked like we’d evaded setting up our tents for another evening.

Being 100 yards along the road from the ferry port certainly came in handy in the morning, too, when we had to be packed up and at the ferry terminal at 9:00 to get our ticket dates amended from whatever they had been set to when we booked for this ferry the day before.

It was a glorious day, so I was not complaining at the prospect of a lengthy ferry journey in such a picturesque location. The fact that cyclists had to board first, a full hour before departure, did seem a tad excessive, though.
After 3 and a half hours of cruising down a stunning sea lake in bright sunshine, the curve ball of the bi-modal ferry was about to come into play. All we knew was that, shortly, we’d be alighting at Leptepú in the Douglas Tomkins National Park and we’d have 10 km to cover before the next ferry, potentially half an hour later.

As Pablo was a little worried about pushing hard with a sore knee, a plan was hatched with one of the drivers on the boat, that he could take our panniers between the ports in his pick up truck. The only issue with this was that the driver wanted to rush to make the first ferry, so a new plan was hatched where Marlen would go with the bags – and her bike – in the back of the pick up truck, and get out at the port to wait for us.

The first ferry? So there was a second ferry, then? That was the thought that played on my mind as we raced across the island, arriving at the port to find a long line of cars and the other cyclists who had been on our ferry, but no Marlen. We had to assume that the man with the pick up truck had made the first ferry, then, but without time to let Marlen out, perhaps she’d be waiting on the other side?…

While we waited, I spoke to a father and daughter from near Gold Coast, in Australia. The daughter had been backpacking in Chile, when the father had said he would come and visit, but only if it involved a cycle tour, so this was day two.

Eventually the ferry returned, and we were pleased to find Marlen waiting with all of our possessions on the other side.

The plan had been to carry on for 27 miles to Chaiten, but having had to wait for the second ferry, it was now nearly 4 o’clock, and we could see that the road ahead looked like it would be fairly rough gravel, so it was decided that we should aim for a campsite at Lago Río Blanco, some 16 miles away.

The road was rough and rocky, at times a challenge to keep going on a loaded touring bike, and I considered a new barometer for whether my 45 mm tyres were sufficient. If they made it to the end of the route in one piece, they were.

After Pablo had told us, on several occasions, that it was downhill for the next stretch, just before the track rose again, we arrived at a stunning viewpoint overlooking the Lago Río Negro, not long to Lago Río Blanco now, and still the road climbed and perhaps the steepest slope yet.

Eventually we plummeted down to the lakeside and turned into the campsite, which was in a beautiful spot, but unfortunately only had a very few camping spots, mainly on decking beside the water’s edge. Luckily one of the other campsite inhabitants offered us part use of their parking space, to set up our tents, and another couple brought us over a table and chairs to use, turning it into quite an acceptable ad-hoc campsite.

Day 2: Mañihueico – Hornopirén

Distance: 32.18 miles

Time: 3:59

Elevation Gain: 2,644 feet

After a good sleep in the ‘Glamping’ pod, I heated water to have with some quite pleasant granola with cranberries that I’d picked up at the supermarket, before packing up to leave.

The entire stay including the evening meal and a local craft beer, had cost around £20, which definitely seemed like good value, especially when combined with our host’s good humour.

Setting off, with Marlen and Pablo again, we enjoyed a short stretch along the coast, the weather was fair, but there was a stiff breeze in our faces as we headed in the direction of Contao.

Soon, however, the road turned inland and started to climb, and we struggled up steepening gradients, working our way through the trees, into ever strengthening sunshine.

The windchill took the edge off as we crested an undulating plateau at 800 feet elevation, and views back out towards the sea emerged.

A lengthy downhill followed with Pablo and Marlen rocketing into the distance, confidence inspired by their background in mountain biking, and also their far superior hydraulic disc brakes.

Shortly afterwards, we stopped at a local minimarket for some snacks, the sign suggested that it was open, but there was no one inside, not until the shopkeeper emerged from the house nearby to open it up for us.

Pickings were slim, but I ended up with a packet of small scones, the hardness of which gave the impression that they’d been in the shop for a considerable amount of time.

Surprisingly, though, they did taste quite good, especially after Pablo produced a squeezable pouch of Manjar Tradicional as an accompaniment. It’s a type of Dulche de Leche also common in his home country of Argentina.

Another climb led to an attractive and fertile open valley, with horses stretching their legs in the fields that lay either side of the road.

The last descent, down into Hornopirén, was joyous, with a great road surface, and fantastic views of the happily situated bay starting to unfold.

First port of call was, in fact, the ferry terminal, as we strove to source the elusive tickets for the next part of the route, the Bi-modal ferry to Caleta Gonzalo. Elusive, in that we had spent the entirety of the previous ferry crossing – the day before – attempting to buy tickets online, before realising that the system would not be working any time soon.

And in case you’re wondering what a Bi-modal ferry is, it’s a ferry journey, in which we’d have to get out and cycle in the middle. I’m sure it’ll catch on…

Day 1: Puerto Montt – Mañihueico

Distance: 33.6 miles

Time: 3:41

Elevation Gain: 1,719 feet

Unsurprisingly, I got off to a slow start, rushing to get all of my equipment packed and out of the room by the midday check out time. Rolling down the hill to the large shopping centre down by the waterfront, I was optimistic that my bike seemed to be working quite well, and it felt quite comfortable after the last minute handlebar stem swap out.

Although the forecast was promising showers for the day, the hot weather of the last couple of days had made me regret only bringing merino wool baselayers as they could be a little warm in the sunshine, so I rushed back into Decathlon to pick up the lightest synthetic t-shirt I could find, and followed that up by hunting down the Unimarc supermarket to pick up some supplies and a lighter, for my stove.

Finally, setting off along the coastal cycle path at just after 2 o’clock, I was now officially pedalling along the Carretera Austral. Less than a mile later the main road climbed steeply over a bluff, and I continued along the coast to avoid it, being passed by a couple of cyclists going the other way, which gave me hope that this could be a passable route, a hope that soon evaporated when the road turned to dirt a few metres later, and even more so when I encountered a large puddle of standing water covering the entirety of the road.

Never keen to retrace my steps, I climbed tentatively around the edge and carried on my way, passing a large number of surprisingly docile dogs, one of which looked like it’d jumped out of its fur when I emerged at its side, and pedalled by. Finally, the shoe was on the other foot.

Eventually, I rejoined the main road, Highway 7, and as I stopped at a bus stop to have a snack, the pair of cyclists that I’d seen going the other way earlier on, cycled past, having presumably also encountered the large puddle on the dirt road, but taken evasive action.
Shortly after I stopped for my first Empanada of the ride, similar to pasties, this one was of the chicken and cheese variety and was very pleasant.

Back on the road, I was soon hot on the heels of the cyclists from earlier, and I was gaining on them as I tackled the first climb of the route, one that proved tough in the warm sunshine, especially as I was still wearing my waterproof trousers after the earlier downpours.

Catching up with the pair as they stopped outside a shop, we quickly became introduced, they were a couple from Switzerland, Marlen and Pablo, although Pablo was originally from Argentina.

There was some debate as to whether any of us were planning on pushing on towards the Caleta La Arena ferry this evening, or whether we were hoping to find somewhere to camp sooner. Pablo had cycled this stretch in the opposite direction the year before so was hoping to stop at a campsite this side of the ferry, but in the end we missed it, so carried on up and over a couple of short hills to the ferry port, conveniently just as the ferry was arriving.

Disembarking at Caleta Puelche, it was only 4 km to what Google Maps showed – mysteriously – as ‘Camping y Glamping’, and our hearts sank when we arrived and it was deserted, but we made good use of Pablo’s native Spanish language skills to call the number in the window, and the host rushed along to make us feel at home.

In the end, we all decided that our tents could wait for another day, and the ‘glamping’ setup would do the trick, in this case, a large tent with bed, lights, and power. He also offered to make us burgers for dinner, so my stove could also remain happily ensconced within my panniers.