Tag: Scotland

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.

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.

Day 9: Camping El Chucao – Villa Mañihuales

Distance: 53.76 miles

Time: 6:15

Elevation Gain: 3,153

In the morning, my eyes were much better, and I was up and about to see, first the French girl, and then the Swiss couple, leave, each treated like a mini celebrity by the host, in what was the first few weeks of them running the campsite beside their cabin. Located right at the bottom of a very difficult climb for cyclists, I think it should do quite well.

It was a stunning day, with the temperature set to rise to around 27°, and as I pedalled away, I found myself in a beautiful spot, ringed by mountains, and pedalling along a lake.

It wasn’t long before I saw two cyclists up ahead, and spotting an orange triangular flag on the back of one of the bikes, I assumed it was the Swiss couple from the campsite, however on drawing closer, I discovered that this pair were younger, and were in fact a German couple from Potsdam. They had been on the road for a year already, and not keen on returning home in the winter, would be carrying on until at least the spring. They had started, in the Dominican Republic, before cycling around Cuba, and then down Central America from Mexico to Panama, before skipping the north of South America and continuing down through Argentina and Chile. Where was best I asked? To which the response was that Cuba and Nicaragua were pretty great, but that Chile was quickly climbing up the list.

The couple stopped for a break, so I pushed on myself, over some very lumpy miles to Villa Amengual, where I stopped looking for a shop, to find the group of three who I had seen at the restaurant the day before, sitting on a bench in the shade. They joked that they’d just heard about my red eyes from the Swiss couple. The group consisted of males from Australia and the Netherlands, and a female from Germany. They were on trips of various lengths, the shortest being the 6 weeks the German girl had, and they were in the middle of trying to pack large quantities of stuff, including a very large box of wine, into their panniers.

They believed the shop they’d been to was closed for lunch, so I found another, before returning to hide under the same tree, just as the German couple from earlier turned up.

Soon after, a Belgian cyclist turned up, joking about how we’d all likely met the same people over the last few days, solely knowing them as ‘the Australian guy’, or ‘the two Germans’. However true that may be, this sense of community within the cycle touring fraternity was always a highlight of a trip.

Eventually, I made to leave, and it wasn’t long before I spotted the group of three about to go for a swim, down off the road, in beautiful Lago Verde. It was a hot day and the water looked inviting, but the call of the road was too great, and I was keen to start chipping away at the distance to Mañihuales.

The backdrop to the ride was sensational, with snowcapped peaks and abundant wild flowers, lining the fields.

Just as I was about to stop at a bus stop for a break, the Belgian cyclist, turned up, his name was Julien, which disproves the myth that we never know each other’s names, and he said he had 6 weeks to do his trip. Sounded very reasonable I thought, until he told me his trip was from Santiago to Ushuaia. He was planning on continuing a few more miles to a campsite at Lago Aguirre Cerda, ‘maybe he’d see me there’, he asked. That sounded great I responded, but I’d only covered 35 miles, so I was hoping to manage a few more.

I’d covered nearly 54 miles by the time I reached Mañihuales, stopping at a bakery, for a small pizza and a doughnut, before moving on to a shop, where I discovered a large group of cyclists from New Zealand and Australia. ‘Oh you’re from Scotland’ they asked, ‘whereabouts, we’re travelling with someone from Fife, and someone from Dundee’. Right. Well I’m from Fife too, as it happens…

Day 5: El Amarillo – Villa Santa Lucía


Distance: 36.27 miles

Time: 4:06

Elevation Gain: 2,920 feet

As I made my way back out of the national park in the morning, there were quite a few vehicles coming the other way, so it was a surprise to see that the wooden barricade was still across the entrance when I reached it, until I saw the inhabitants of a motor home parking up to move the barrier aside, that was.

For the first few miles, on leaving El Amarillo, the going was good: bright skies, flat roads, minimal traffic, and a bit of a tailwind.

My notes suggested that this stretch should be poor gravel, so I was wondering when the bubble would burst. But 10 miles in, as I crossed an impressive looking bridge over the Río Yelcho, the wind had threatened to turn against me, and droplets of rain had hinted at showers to come, but the tarmac didn’t look like it would be ending any time soon.

The road undulated along the side of Lago Yelcho, a fine range of mountains towering over the far shore providing a majestic backdrop to the scene.

Beyond the lake, I climbed up to a bridge over a heavily swollen river, reminding me of the previous evening’s downpour, before a brief shower caused me to pause in a roadside shelter, donning my waterproofs for a short spell.

Still the tarmac endured, so when I reached the last ten miles, I wondered what the catch was, before quickly finding out, when I started to climb at an alarming rate, the road ramping up steeply, before turning into an unrelenting grind. My legs had little more to give and I wondered why this seemed so tough when climbs had been feeling relatively good up until now. Then I remembered I’d let some air out of the tyres for the gravel roads, that could be it.

Eventually I summited the pass at over 2000 feet, and quickly I was descending on fantastic roads into the valley on the other side, pleasant running all the way to Villa Santa Lucía where I hoped to find accommodation for the night.

Making in the direction of Campsite El Mañio, my eye was drawn to a food stall offering Empanadas across the street, so I opted to sort dinner first, and deal with where to sleep, after. My empanada arrived quickly, but the papas fritas took a little longer to materialise, by which time a fellow cyclist from Australia, named Andrew, had turned up.

He had started in Bariloche on the day that I’d arrived in Chile, but had been suffering with illness so had been staying in Villa Santa Lucía for three nights, now. He was hoping to make it all the way down to Ushuaia right at the south of Argentina, and had no real time constraints.

He recommended the place he was staying, Hostal El Mate, and at 25,000 (£20) Chilean Pesos for bed and breakfast, with a private bathroom, and bikes locked in a shed, that would do for me. Would I like for him to show me where it was and communicate with the owner on my behalf? Well, yes, that would be ideal.