20. The last few days on the Carretera Austral

Having erected our inner tent in the cosy confines of the ferry terminal building (which was luckily pretty well used – rarely used buildings were a risk thanks to Hanta virus) we spent the night ready for the early ferry the next morning. We now had two days to do just over 100 km, including 3 hills on the first day. We hoped that the wind would be in our favour for the relatively flat section on the second day of our, sort of, sprint to Villa o’Higgins.

Half an hour before the ferry was due to depart, the day’s passengers started to arrive following an early start from Cochrane or Tortel. Pablo and Marianna were anxiously looking out for potential transport options, as their booked ferry had informed them that they were now planning on sailing Tuesday rather than the original Wednesday. Without a kindly driver, there was no way they could arrive in Villa O’Higgins to get the morning departure. However, they were in luck as one of the passengers included a friendly German hiker who they had met further North on the trail. Already transporting an Australian, there was still room in the truck for their bikes (and them) in the back. We were sad that we weren’t going to have them as companions for the last part of the Carretera Austral adventure, and rather jealous of their lift up the three climbs we were going to face in a few hours time.

On reflection however, we were so glad we didn’t try to find a lift. Although there had been highlights (as an understatement) throughout our ride, the last few days towards Villa O’Higgins turned out to be tremendous, the best ‘snapshot’ of the whole route, coupled with little to no traffic thanks to the ferry. It was two days of condors, glaciers, black necked swans, lakes, mountains, gauchos and long empty roads. A real marvel. However before all that, first we had to take the ferry. This free one hour ferry ride crosses (the unnamed) channel which eventually links us to the Pacific Ocean. Our fellow passengers, also included 4 motorcyclists, a camper van and a car which was missing half of its windows and had managed to obtain concave doors on opposite sides. We decided to let this car disembark first.

As we had joined the Carretera Austral part-way down, we had missed out the earlier ferry crossings, so this was our first experience of transport other than by leg power. Revelling in covering so much ground whilst being able to stretch legs and chat was an unusual early morning experience, albeit ending a little too soon. Arriving on the other side at Embarcadero Barcaza Río Bravo, the only structure a matching ferry terminal waiting room and hose pipe, we waved off Pablo and Marianna, hoping to see them again after we had all crossed over to Argentina. After a quick photo, and the knowledge there would be no further cars until the next ferry arrived at around 3pm, we set off abreast feeling relaxed on the roads for the first time since arriving in South America. Our preference for relaxed cycling is definitely the luxurious off-road cycle paths of Europe.

After a beautiful first hour or so along flat rubble-less roads we faced our first of three hills. Given the length of time since we climbed them (writing this in late April), all I can really remember is that they were long, steep and I (Hannah) was very warm by the end and ready for a break; so pretty similar to all hills on the route! By the time we had got to the summit of the last of our proper hills, both of the day and of the Carretera Austral (!), we met our German friend who had gone to the end of the road, and was driving back to get the evening ferry. Pleasingly, a condor also did a congratulatory fly-past on the summit.

With a beautiful descent, then a slight uphill, we had managed to get the last of the climbs done. Our elevation profile now suggested a flat-pancake run all the way to O’Higgins. Unfortunately the scale meant that this was not quite a return to our Cambridge fen training rides, but it was the closest we had had of the whole trip so far. So tired now that we barely registered the hanging glaciers down the valleys, copious roadside waterfalls and lakes, we went to find somewhere to camp.

Although our intention had been to try and push on to the free ‘refugio de cyclistas’, this was a further 10km away, so the best option available was a flat space; within sight of the road, and a short walk to the nearest running water, but otherwise good. Previous cyclists had erected a little fire place and cut down some branches, so we were relatively well hidden. The downside was the huge number of mosquitos from the nearby lake, forming a mobile grey cloud above our heads. Given our luck in our other wild camps 2 days previously, and how tired we were, we hoped no one would come along and move us. We were lulled to sleep listening to the sound of water running off the mountain glacier above our heads.

Our final day on the CA was a slightly undulating ride with lunch stop (and lake dip) at Lago Cisnes (Lake of Swans), as we battled on to get to Villa O’Higgins before the ferry shop shut, and we would have to wait for at least a few days in bad weather. Robbie decided breakfast was a crucial time to fly the drone (to capture the most remote part of the Carretera), but we lost track of time, and left in a great rush before adequately making use of the trowel.

15 minutes after leaving, Robbie realised that trowel use was now very urgent and darted into a sparse group of trees to the left of the road to dig a hole. It turned out a herd of cows used this patch of ground for the same purpose, which made life more interesting. Life became more interesting still when another cycle couple, heading north, cruised up to Hannah, and Robbie’s abandoned bike. Robbie did the only honourable thing and hid behind a tree, leaving Hannah to explain where her cycle partner had gone. We’ve not discussed what was said, but the couple disappeared very rapidly, Robbie emerged from the wood sheepishly and we continued on our way.

We continued south passed glassy black lakes, waterfalls and herds of cows traipsing along the road verge, pedalling up and down the undulating terrain on the edge of the valley. Thick forest on our right led up to high mountains and glaciers appearing in and out of the cloud. To our left, the wide flat valley bottom spread out down below us, its river interspersed with placid lakes. The road veered south and then south-southwest as we passed Lago Vargas to our left. After crossing Rio Tigre (no indication of large stripy felines as far as we know), we had one hill to climb up and over before crossing another stream and arriving at Lago Cisnes, named after its black headed swans.

Growing hungry now, as we tracked up and down along the steeply sloping western lake edge, we eyed a lunch spot on the southeastern shore over to our left. A line of trees offered welcoming shade behind a wide sandy beach, which we thought might provide somewhere to wash. We arrived shortly after turning hard left at the southern corner, parked up our bikes against a tree and had the usual oaty soup in the shade. Hunger overcome, Robbie stripped off his top and boots and strode into the pleasantly warm lake water for a quick standing bathe. After a little persuading, Hannah followed suit and before long we were relaxing in the sun. We had made good progress and now just 14km stood between us and Villa O’Higgins.

We set off after lunch along the long straight lake shore, heading northeast. 5 km later, we bore slightly right away from swan lake, uphill into some open woods. A short but steep climb took us up and over into the Rio Mayer valley. We descended to the river, crossed a noisy metal suspension bridge and turned sharply southwest down the valley towards O’Higgins. The final 7 km into town were broadly flat, through scrubby woodland, with mountains on all sides.

We were greeted at Villa O’Higgins by rows of Chilean flags lining the road, proudly denoting the loyalty of this far flung outpost to the rest of the world. Scarcely believing we had made it in four days from Cochrane, we headed straight to the ferry ticket office to find out when we might continue onwards to Argentina, the Fitzroy mountains and the infamous border crossing footpath which stood in the way.