El Calafate a El Chalten con El Wind

Stayed with Dan and two Kiwi cyclist who also hitched on that bus to El Calafate at ´Los dos Piños´ hostel.  Got good maps and good advice.  I left El Calafate alone as I was tired of waiting for Dan´s grandma-like pace.  Rode 30km to famous Ruta 40 again.  I had an apparently miracle day of no wind, and made 110 kilometres.  On the way I met two English, Ben and Laura (Belarus) riding Thorns ("Hey I built those!") and camped together at some expensive estancia where legend has it, Butch Cassidy and Sundance hung out.  Didn´t see them.   The pasta dinner was good though.

The next day was different.  Wind back with a vengeance.  The three of us made it to the turnoff to the road to El Chalten sans difficulty.  El Chalten was to the west of us, 95km.  The wind was roaring east.  Laura lasted 1km before having a breakdown.  They hitched because they were clever.  At first it was spring chicken, in gears 3-5 but not so bad.  Music.  After four hard hours of cycling through boring scenery against the wind, I lost hold of my grip on reality when I saw a sign "EL CHALTEN 60KM".

Can´t decide whether to end it all or not?  Forget visiting Palmerston North, just grab a

 bike and cycle to El Chalten.  Answer will be clearer than a nearby glacial river.

The world spun.  I lost the ability to see in any colour bar red.  After perhaps another 30km, my thumb was also out.  No-one had pity, no-one pulled over.  I ran out of food, pulled my bike over somewhere in the middle of some desert, laid down by my bike and awaited death.  I awoke to a man saying "¿Señor?" "¿Señor?"  Someone obviously had thought me dead, and had pulled over to loot my corpse.  When I awoke I asked for a lift, he accepted.  Lucky.  Two other cyclists and their bikes were already in the back of the gaucho´s pickup.  No-one was riding to El Chalten today.  To my suprise and light fury, we were only about 10-15km away from El Chalten when I got the ride.  Damn innacurate road signs!  How hard is it, really?  Wished I´d cycled the whole lot, then realised nobody actually cared either way, not even me.  Two english cyclists on Thorns were basking in the sun at the town campsite, there all day.  They were the smart ones.

Myself and some antipodean cyclists banded together the next day for a walk in the Fitz-Roy national park.  As usual I had luck with the weather when walking, and snapped some great pics of Cerro Torre and the rest of the park.  Beat Torres Del Paine hands down.  Two nights of Pizza libre, and Belarus and I hit the Ripio towards Laguna Del Desierto and the infamous border crossing to Chile.

Torres Del Paine in the Arse

I booked into a cool hostel. Had one last dinner with the Germans, and said goodbye to them. At the hostel, I got down to business meeting all of the chaps there. Daniel, an American cyclist was heading north, as I was, so we decided to cycle together. We planned to leave at 6:30am the next morning but by 5pm, this loafer was still not ready. finally we left in the evening and cycled 40km past Cueva Del Milodones, got chased off by a moto-cop after trying to camp there, but soon found a nice spot with a river nearby and an improvised bench for cooking (curried rice).

40-60km into the next day ripio roads, great views, and hard climbs we were at the entrance to park Torres Del Paine and after some deliberation we decided to hide begind a bush, have lunch, then sleep until 11:30pm. All this was for a sneaky attempt to sneak into the exhorbitantly expensive national park for free. We crept through the entrance without our headlights on to avoid unwanted attention, avoided the CH15,000 fee and pushed our bikes along a road for an hour or so before finding a spot off the road (couldn´t actually see anything in the dark) and unpacking our sleeping bags, no tents. We were undiscovered the next morning. A black horse appeared out of the morning mist, alone, in the plains. Ominous. Found I had lost CH30,000 after the wind blew it from my pocket. Karma.

A beautiful ride through hilly ripio ended at Hosteleria Los Torres. We stashed our bikes and kit behind a nearby bush, and with packs on our back, began the 7km walk up the mountain to meet with Max, an Aussie cyclist, and Rebecca, Dan´s friend, at a free campsite. The campsite came into view just as the sun set, after a hike through stunning surrounds. We cooked dinner, met our friends and exchanged news.

On the cards for the next day was a return walk to ´Tres Torres´, which was certainly worth the difficult boulder scramble to get there. We Tres Torres in the morning sun, beautiful spires of granite rising from a glacial lake. Climbed back down, heading to the hotel, I mighty walk. Danny and I packed our bikes and left the park (no problem getting out) and camped in some wind-wracked spiky field. The rain had come to say hello too, so we both sat in the vestibule of my tent and failed at cooking a rice dinner.

At about midnight I heard the crack. A bad feeling. Minutes later half my tent had collapsed due to the rubbish weather. I decided to ride out the storm inside the busted tent until morning. I awoke when Danny screamed "Oh no!" after looking at my tent. Awoke in a bath of water. If it werent for my waterproof MacPac sleeping bag, surely I´d have had hypothermia. The sharp broken pole had torn a two foot wide gash in the rainfly. Had to choke back the anger at how this had happened to my ´wind-proof´ swiss tent, and laugh. The day continued badly, roaring wind and poor ripio. Hasty lunch in a bus shelter. Got to Cerro Castillo (south) and discovered it was rubbish. "Like Nevada" exclaimed Danny. After two coffees and three hours around a stove in a cafe (were fed by a stranger who took pity, his sons a mountaineer) we made the decision to take the bus to El Calafate.

Bike looking lovely after the abuse of Torres del Paine

Day one of cycling was full of anticipation and excitement. I hadn´t thought of the pass. The first half of the day´s ride was nice, a decent road and all that stuff, but then came the incline. Bad fitness level + mountain pass + first day = unhappy cyclist. After an exhaution-nap, I struggled over the puny 500m pass. Scenery was nice, and I camped in some bushes next to the road just outside the hamlet of Tolhuin.

The following day was again nice for the first half, then it got old rather quickly. My tires were mostly flat, my pump broke, and I was not happy. I sprained my ankle in anger at the pump problem. Got over all that and after the distant memory of Tierra Del Fuego (not worth it!), relaxed in Punta Arenas.

More updates later! This is already really old news!! :)

Dulce de Leche

***PHOTOS CROPPED WRONG, CLICK FOR FULL RESOLUTION***

I landed in Buenos Aires without problem, the flight itself actually wasn´t disagreeable for once. After a bus into the centre, I met with my host, Guillermo at his home, in which I was treated as if I were family. After exploring BA for four days, and swimming in Gil´s parents great swimming pool (it is hot here, like Brisbane) I booked (twice) and took a bus from BA to Rio Gallegos.

BUENOS AIRES











The bus trip began with a false start, due to washing my pants with the precious ticket in the pocket, then showing up to Retiro terminal and hour and a half after the bus had already left. Luckily the lady at the ticket office gave me a vastly reduced fare for the next morning, likely due to my pitiful show. The 38 hour trip was comfortable but boring, endless pampas (plains) as far as the eye could see for days.

BUS TRIP















I then took another 12 hour bus from Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, and trekked with some new-found friends to a nearby glacier. The glacier itself was not breathtaking, but the surrounding scenery certainly was. I plan to leave Ushuaia on my intact and assembled bicycle tomorrow (update: the day after tomorrow). Wish me luck!

USHUAIA

















GLACIER

















TREKKING