Six Weeks on the Carretera Austral

Day 11 – Monday March 8: Relaxing in Cholila

So today was planned as a day of rest, but the fishermen among us and a couple of hopeful hikers decided to head to the nearby (20k) huge and beautiful Los Alerces National Park. Some of us stayed back at our splendid Hosteria El Trebol (The Shamrock). As things turned out , those who stayed were ahead. No fish were caught or released, and the taxi dropped the hikers at the wrong site. Everyone, though, seems to have had a good time.

A surprise lay in store for those who stayed. Outside on the dusty gravel road (El Trebol is about 2 miles from the town of Cholila) came the sound of hooves, and first it was a runaway horse, chased by a woman on a bicycle; then it was an entire herd of cattle, helped along by Gauchos, moving slowly along on horseback with their chaps and ropes and rebenques, or leather whips. Throughout the day the road remained a major source of interest and amusement.

Those of us who hung around the house got some work done, washing the heavy dust and grime from the bikes, taking care of laundry, or just hanging out. Late in the day the fishermen and hikers returned, and we gathered for another stunning meal cooked up for us by our 82-year old hostess.

Tomorrow is a big ride, 80km (50mi.) through the Alerces Park and all the way to Trevelen on mostly unpaved roads.

Day 12 – Tuesday March 8: The Park, the unpaved road, beauty, and sickness stalks the crew

Up early, around 6:00am(!), for coffee, breakfast and packing. Taxis at 8:00 take us the 20k to the park (the same beautiful Los Alerces National Park that the fishermen visited yesterday), and our guides met us with the bikes on the trailer. Our ride extended another 80k to Trevelin, and we set off from the park entrance around 9:30, making our way on the dusty and rocky gravel road. Unbelievable views of Lago Rivadavia, then Lago Verde, then Lago Menendez, and finally Lago Futalaufquen as we passed alongside them, one by one. The sequence of the lakes was broken by an hour and a half hike down to a suspension footbridge and a trail along the shores of Lago Verde. We looked down from a viewing platform and saw our first trout being caught. Not by us.

Then the riding continued in earnest. We had let air out of our tires and softened our suspension to deal with the roads, and that was a wise decision, since the going was rocky and slow, but gorgeous. After some 60k we exited the park, stopped for a mid-afternoon lunch, and arrived at a stretch of pavement where we picked up the pace. Then, at last, after 11k of rocky and gravelly downhill we arrived at our hostel, La Estancia, in Trevelin.  Joe and Greg and Dario had scooted ahead and already colonized the hostel for us, though it cost them the hike and the lunch. Reunited, we began the party again.

During the night Ray came down with chills and fever and there was great concern. Steve ministered to him like he would any sick animal and that seemed to help. All would be clear come morning.

As usual, words are inadequate to describe the scenery we are passing through, or the effort it takes to make our way through it. But both are sources of some fantastic high. Indeed, I’m adding some extra photos and a second posting with a video to help convey some of that. Note, btw, that if you use the slide show option to view the photos they will be displayed in a larger format.

Tomorrow we leave Argentina to arrive in Chile. On to Futaleufu!

Day 13 – Wednesday March 9: Westward Ho: Chile, Futaleufu; hey, is it windy in here or what?

And I don’t mean the blog. Today began with an excited after-breakfast rush to put fenders on the bikes because it had begun to rain in Trevelin. To everyone’s relief Ray recovered enough to give our trip to Futaleufu a go. It promised to be a relatively short ride – 54k (about 32 miles), though there would be the border control to deal with. All suited up, we left La Estancia hosteria by 10:30, setting off westward along the pitted gravel road. The scenery changed now from the blue and green glory of the lake district to more sere golden fields, farms and ranches.

The road snaked its way upwards slowly through the diminishing rain, and we took it easy. Far in the distance lay ranch houses perched on hillsides, and eventually we reached a narrow pass of sorts, a slot through the mountains, and, predictably perhaps, the headwind picked up. After some 42k we crossed a Rio Grande – very grande – and suddenly there was the border. It took longer than we anticipated to get through, facing both Argentinean and Chilean border guards. At the Chilean station we made a good friend of a border guard, Marcos, who educated us about a terrible river infestation in Chilean rivers called didymo. Dreadful stuff transferred by anything that moves from one river to the other, like fishing gear. The good news at the border was that Futaleufu was only 11k away and the road was completely paved.

Initially exuberant, we soon discovered that Chilean roads seem to be built to quite different standards than Argentinean roads. In Argentina the grades are never steep except in the national parks; here the grades simply follow the contours of the land, and that means some very serious grades. Plus the serious headwind on this road. Still, Futaleufu appeared soon enough and we moved into the little cottages of La Escondida.

The small town of Futaleufu, it turns out, is famous worldwide for kayaking and rafting on the sometimes raging Futaleufu river, still a wild and scenic and largely remote watercourse. With this news in fact, by dinnertime we had changed our plans for the following day travel.

As with the last post, I'll include some other photos in another post right away.