Komoot: 63.1 km; Uphill 1,140 m Downhill 980 m
On Wednesday 5th February we bid Puyuhuapi farewell and set off south along the Canal, soon basking in glorious sunshine. We resisted a second dip in the thermal baths and crossed past the ferry terminal for the Puyuhuapi lodge and spa, a luxury hotel accessible only by boat. As we cycled along the edge of Queulat national park, the forest clad slopes on either side of the water wouldn’t have looked out of place in Jurassic park.
Sun after the storm 
After 20km we neared the junction for the south park entrance and Ventisquero colgante (glacier). In the wood to the right, Robbie glimpsed a hummingbird flitting between the trees. We turned off to the park, 2km along a track to the park entrance where a queue of people were waiting to pay for park entry. It moving very slowly, we settled into the queue and munched some bread and cheese for lunch.
Finally having made it inside the park we continued to the camping reception booth and were allocated a space sharing with two other couples. Tent pitched, we set off for a stroll up towards the glacier viewing areas. Hannah asked Robbie if we should take any snacks and we decided no, we wouldn’t go for long and in any case it was only 3 km to the Mirador. We’d be fine…
Four hours later, we were tripping, stumbling and squelching our way down the steepest, muddiest path either of us could remember. Whilst only 3km one way, it also involved 300m climbing up terrible terrain. We had missed the peak day rush, during which people had queued for an hour to cross a rope bridge that had capacity for only 4 people at a time, but the path was soaked after the recent rain and overrun with tourists, many of whom had clearly underestimated the intensity of the climb. We passed quite elderly walkers coming back down in jeans and trainers who looked like they had been up Everest and back.
How muddy is too muddy? 
Hannah is no longer allowed to organise ‘quick pre-lunch strolls’.
The views of the hanging glacier were spectacular, and the occasional thunderous rumbling of ice movement within even more impressive. But by 6pm, Robbie was hit by overwhelming hunger and associated emotion. He charged down the hill furious with himself at the lack of snacks sitting uselessly back in the tent and poor Hannah bore the brunt of the outburst.
Back at the bridge crossing, with only a few other campers around by now, the views of the lowering sun on the water were very beautiful and revived our spirits somewhat, as did the thought of honey peanut oaty balls now minutes away. Having survived the mud bath, we gorged ourselves, showered and started preparing dinner.
That evening we met a Chilean couple studying forestry in Santiago who had just finished volunteering at a national park near Puyuhaipi. We chatted about conservation and compared notes on the paths, and they mentioned another shorter, quieter but even steeper and muddier route to a glacier viewpoint. Whilst eager to get going south, our most recent weather forecast had suggested more rain and headwinds tomorrow before a nice day on Friday. The next stage south involved a big climb crossing the Queulat pass on poor ripio gravel. With a complete lack of internet in the park, we decided to wait until Friday and try out the other walk tomorrow.
Camping so close to the glacier, we heard the occasional deep thunderous rumble throughout the night, sounding above the background rush of river water. In response to some of these the river seemed to become louder and Robbie wondered how likely the hanging glacier was to drop off completely and flood the whole valley. Considering it unlikely enough, we dropped off to sleep.
Thursday morning dawned damp, and we set off in full waterproofs for protection against rain and mud. Completing the short and much easier valley walk to the glacial lake first, we watched some boat rides depart for a closer view of the glacier. The boat ticket seller confidently asserted the weather tomorrow would be worse than today so we should buy a ticket now. We decided not to wait for the next boat and hoped his forecast was wrong, and then set off to find the steep muddy view walk. On the way we passed through a very interesting information room and learnt all about the geography and biology of the national park. One surprising display stated that all forest fires in the area originated from human activity because there was never any lightning here.
They were big ferns. 
Spot Hannah 
The steep mud walk did not disappoint, scaling the thickly forested valley side straight up, and was a spectacular climb through the temperate rainforest. Once again, seeing dinosaurs appear through the trees would not have been surprising. We stumbled over roots and along mud sunken logs until emerging at a view of the glacier all to ourselves.
That afternoon we spent washing the mud off our clothes, bike maintenance and preparing for the next few days. By early evening rain arrived more heavily and we decided to investigate a restaurant near the park entrance, 10 minutes away by bike. Multiple cars were still trying to enter the park not realising it shut at 5 and performing u turns at the gate. We arrived to see a group of people eating inside but with a closed sign on the door. The rain pouring down, the owner took pity on us and let us in for some delicious meluza, salmon and an enormous plate of chips as well as some local beer.
We ate watching cars still queuing outside, hitchhikers trying one last attempt at a ride before re erecting their tents, and the restaurant’s 5 year old son play fighting with imaginary enemies around the room. At meal end Hannah stepped up to give him some real life target practice, switching between light saber and ray gun until the bill came. The rain had now stopped and we took a detour on the way back at dusk to the closest glacier viewpoint for one last look, again all to ourselves.
Friday morning dawned damp but not wet and with some blue sky in the distance. We packed up as quickly as possible, exchanged travelling tips with a Spanish English couple who had arrived by car the previous evening, and set off to take on the Queulat Pass. We enjoyed a few more km tarmac in light rain that seemed to be falling from blue sky above. Our road still in shadow, it was cold cycling but with stunning views across the inlet.
Soon ripio gravel arrived, the sun came out, temperature shot up and we were tearing off our full waterproofs in the warmth. Just starting to feel more confident about the day, Hannah came to a grinding halt with a fully flat rear tyre. Somewhat out of practice, this one took us some time to fix, but at least the damp road kept dust to a minimum as occasional cars and lorries passed. Wheel and paniers reattached, we set off and, after passing a procession of skittish cows walking down the road, soon arrived at the foot of the climb where a pair of older male cyclists were having an early lunch. We determined to save ours for the top and waved them by.
All went well until the first of the hairpin bends to the right, when our moderately loose sand and gravel track turned to a mush of large pebbles on the inside bend, utterly impossible to cycle on. We dismounted and dragged our heavy bikes through the road whilst cars gave us a wide berth. Finally round, the prospect of lunch or even dinner at the top looked bleak, as another 15 or so bends lay ahead, but we pushed on. The next left turn hairpin wasn’t so bad as we were on the outside, more compacted surface, and for the following right we more tactically waited for a big gap in traffic before moving over to the other side of the road and pedalling for as long as possible. It was tough going but the forest around us was beautiful and views of surrounding mountains became ever more impressive as we climbed.
We were quite intrigued by the number of lorries proceeding up the hill, struggling almost as hard as we were, and amazed they were able to make it. Two thirds of the way up, we discovered that fairly often they were not able to make it, as we met a queue of traffic. With a little quiet smugness we crept passed the line of cars that previously had cruised past us grinning as we sweated, until at last we came to the tightest hairpin of all where a large HGV was completely stuck, its cab at 150 degrees to its load, half its wheels off the ground. This appeared to be a perfectly usual situation, as a team of road workers was in place with an enormous yellow digger attaching a rope to drag it around the bend. We considered passing it on the inside but with the lorry listing alarmingly to one side, decided it best to wait, and settled in to watch some very impressive towing whilst refueling with some snacks.
20 minutes later the lorry was on its way but another directly after it still blocked the route. Cars becoming impatient, this one sensibly reversed to let traffic by, starting with the descending queue. At last it was our turn and before long we were at the final bend, one km away from the top and lunch. Views behind us of the glaciers back towards ventisquero were spectacular, and soon we were greeted by a road sign marking the summit, covered in touring stickers, and a wide open gravel area dotted with fallen tree trunks perfect for sitting on.
We tucked into crackers, bread rolls, cheese, nuts, fruit and cake and saw another cyclist role up, stop briefly and carry on. The two cycling gents also puffed by just before it started to rain heavily. We rapidly packed up and found shelter under a tree whilst the shower passed, putting all our warm clothes back on as the temperature dropped. With a long ripio descent ahead we didn’t want to hang around and soon were sailing downhill, thankfully on relatively well compacted road.
Before long the sun came out again and the descent went on and on, passing a waterfall to one side. Down at the bottom we were hot again and stripping off layers as a lone female cyclist went past at high speed. We entered the Rio Cisnes river valley, crossed some rapids and began climbing slowly once more, now back on blissfully smooth tarmac. Patagonian swallows flitted around us as the sun moved lower in the sky and the valley opened out. After 57km of cycling we were ready to stop, and not keen to take on another hill before Villa Amengual. A farm campsite appeared with the most beautiful setting we had seen yet and an advert for fresh bread and eggs, so we turned off down a flat track to the farmhouse, greeted as usual by two friendly dogs and their owner, as well as chickens, pigs and sheep.
Tent pitched, we enquired about showers and were told to come and knock on their door for hot water. Robbie was sent to go first in case the hot water turned out to be a bathtub by the living room fire, but no, he was shown into the family bathroom, complete with washing machine and drier, and left with some pantene shampoo. Hannah followed suit and then we cooked up the usual fayre as the sun went down behind the surrounding hills. It had been a very tough day but we were relieved to have made it across the pass and with a “cruisy” section to come, according to Bicycle Patagonia.
Pedalling_Patagonia 