The waiting game 🇦🇷 🇨🇱

So I’m not exactly sure how many weeks it’s been since I’ve last written something, but a lot has happened, I’ve experienced so much, and the thought that I now have to try to encapsulate it all in writing is a bit daunting. The longer I’ve put this off, the more the feeling has grown but I’ll give it a shot now. In summary, just know that I’ve been enjoying myself immensely and whenever I thought I’d found the time to write I had instead spent the evening chatting with someone, or reading, or been consumed by something else that had come up. As I sit here, I’m currently waiting out some rain in Ancud on Isla Chiloe.

I remember in my last post writing about itching to leave El Chalten, to just hop back on the bike and carry on. I had seen what I wanted to see and was ready to get moving again, although the weather was not cooperating. Riding through wind and rain, I left El Chalten headed for the border. I had read a bit about this border crossing before leaving because it’s quite unique in that you have to cross a first lake by ferry, check out of Argentina, hike your bike up some steep trail up and over a pass, then ride down toward Chilean border control, and finally cross a second, larger lake by ferry. The matter is complicated by inclement weather, which means you may be stuck between the two ferry rides for a considerable amount of time as the second lake is rather large. Essentially, you have to commit, bring plenty of food, and have the time to wait it out. It’s a good thing I’ve got nothing but time.

The weather was already quite bad as I left El Chalten. A gust of wind blew me off my bike and while thinking I was alone, proceeded to summarily lose it by screaming and swearing the world together. A lady in a parked car gave me a concerned look and I smiled, waved, and collected myself. I proceeded to walk my bike across most bridges because there was no sense in risking being blown off and going into the big, swollen rivers. Eventually it did turn out to be true that after El Chalten the wind gave way to rain. For now it was wind and rain.

It took me an afternoon or so to reach the pier from which the first of two ferry crossings would depart. I stopped just short of there and wild camped in an absolutely pristine spot. I watched a few salmon swim upstream and enjoyed an incredible night sky. The next day I traversed the first lake and was now committed to the crossing, let the games begin. Back in town, I had heard rumors of people trying to cross and having to wait a week or more for the second ferry. It felt good to be getting on with it and setting off to see for myself. I saw a familiar face on the ferry crossing and made two new friends with whom I’d be spending the next several weeks.

I decided to camp at the edge of the Argentine border and wait to make the crossing to Chile. The spot offered some sheltered camping and a nice section of trail to hike. There were three people who appeared to be working the border post, each taking turns donning the uniform for a day while the others performed non-official tasks. In the evening after the post had closed they offered us a plate of hot food and a spot by the fire for a small, reasonable price. Friendly guys who I think we’re just selling off their government rations to earn a buck. My most memorable border crossing to date was off to a good start.

After two final nights in Argentina we set off for Chile having heard that the ferry hadn’t run in several days and we were beginning to see travelers turning back to find another way around. We hiked up and over an unrideable section of trail through no-man’s land and then coasted down a flowy gravel road toward Chilean customs. After collecting our stamps we rode the last little bit toward a campground near the pier.

When I write that I find it hard to encapsulate the past few weeks into a long form post, it’s mainly on account of the week that I spent waiting at a small, informal campground that brings about a seemingly insurmountable writer’s block. That time was spent together with an amazing group of people all on their own journeys with whom, together we spent a week living the simple life picking berries, fishing, baking bread, rationing food, and waiting on a boat. On several occasions rumors of a weather window and a potential passage gave cause for premature celebration, which was followed by disappointment. Eventually that boat did come and from the other side we could together reflect on what a special time it was. It was a week that had me thinking about the life that I’d return to after the trip, because evidently life could be pretty great with just the basics.

Together in a small band of four we rode the Carratera Austral, a section which I knew I really wanted to slow down and savor. The intention of the road is to connect several small communities in the otherwise incredibly sparsely populated Aysén region with the rest of Chile. Practically, for the cyclist, this means winding gravel roads through incredibly picturesque landscapes. Behind each turn is a vista worth taking in; it’s an incredible bit of nature that’s made accessible by a gravel road that I’m glad I took the time to ride slowly. Along the route there are plenty of small towns and national parks worth a sidetrip.

Having taken my time, I’m beginning to notice the seasons now catching up to me. Instead of the usual March/April start to spring in the northern hemisphere, I’m now contending with autumn here in the south. This has meant a few closed campgrounds, snowy peaks, and rainy days as I once again try to pick up my pace. The increasing prevalence of bad weather has also meant making decisions on what to see and what to skip. I enjoy seeing the life metaphors in my daily decisions like I’m in some kind of Robert Frost poem. “You can do anything, but you can’t do everything.” I’m finding myself content with having gone left and enjoying what comes, meeting new people, and seeing something beautiful all the while not getting hung up on how awesome that road to the right may have been.

Toward the end of the Carratera Austral I began to catch glimpses of my environment changing. I had heard from residents up the road that further north toward Coyhaique and Puerto Montt the people were more akin to “city folk,” a bit rough around the edges with a potential increase in delinquency. I had a few odds and ends stolen off my bike, which I tried to see as an inexpensive and fortunate wake up call. The road that I’ve been riding through Patagonia has at times felt like a carefully cultivated outdoor theme park for Europeans and Americans. As a result, a lot of the locales and experiences have been at odds with my expectations. As I now gradually make my way northwards, places like Puerto Montt and Isla Chiloe have felt more like the South America I had set out to find. It’s a welcome change.

I spent a few days waiting on the ferry from Chaiten to Puerto Montt and took that time to hitch up to an old growth Alerce stand. The trees there are several thousand years old and I found it to be an enchanting experience, even if just for the thought that these silent sentinels standing here in the fog have done so for nearly all of recorded history. Big, quiet, but eerily present. I stayed a bit too late wandering the grove by myself and had to hitch the 50 km back to town; not an insurmountable distance to walk but I’d rather not. It feels good taking those small, calculated risks and knowing that I can handle whatever may come. I caught a ride back to town from not one, but two big rigs and enjoyed the small talk with the drivers about cargo, a hatred for diesel emissions systems, and that the flashing check engine light is probably nothing.

I feel as though there’s so much I want to cover and share with this post that it once again feels overwhelming. Having made this little website to practice writing, I’m finding that it’s most difficult to encapsulate a subject when that subject has been so meaningful to me; I look forward to telling you all about it in person some day and do please specifically ask about this stretch. As I continue biking, I get the sense that I’m really into the trip now and a few times a week I’m still struck by a massive wave of satisfaction for having gone through with it. Often it’s when I’m by myself on some long stretch of road and I’m walking back to my bike, or the wind’s at my back and the weather is perfect. I’ll scream something to myself and stomp on the pedals a little bit harder. Currently I’m on Isla Chiloe because I’m curious about the many old wooden churches that dot the island. It’s a small late season detour before crossing back into Argentina and continuing northwards. ¡nos vemos!