Trip Report One:
Tierra del Fuego
January 1-12
see pictures from this trip report
Trip Report One:
see pictures from this trip report
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January 1 - I leave Seattle via Miami, Buenos Aires (airport change), Trelew, and finally arrive the next day in Ushuaia. The Miami / Buenos Aires flight has personal video players and I watch several stupid movies instead of getting the sleep I need. January 2 - I arrive in Ushuaia, meet
Hans at airport, build my bike outside the terminal, and cycle 8 km
to downtown. Ushuaia feels like Jackson Hole, replete with rich tourists
(Argentinians from Buenos Aires), boutiques, and souvenir stores. It
is beautiful, though.
January 3 - We buy groceries, bike to
Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego (15 km), go for a brief swim in the
Beagle Channel (cold water), then return to Ushuaia to begin biking
north. I start with about 25 kilograms in bob trailer. About 30 km north
of Ushaia, the bob trailer nearly jacknifes on my first steep downhill.
Hans comments that the trailer was oscillating back and forth about
45 degrees from the direction I am biking. He is sure that I am going
to crash. Instead, I learn an important lesson -- go slowly and cautiously
with heavy load in bob trailer -- at least until I know how it handles.
The maximumu safe speed is only about 35 km per hour. At 40 km from
Ushuaia, the pavement turns to gravel, the road climbs to the Paso de
Garibaldi (approximately 800 meters elevation), then descends to Lago
Fagnano. Scenery is magnificent over the entire distance -- jagged mountains
and glaciers everywhere. We make camp off main road near the shore of
the lake. Total distance 81 km.
January 4 - We get a typical late start
(noon) and bike along gravel roads through small community of Tolhuin
and on to a campsite near the Atlantic coast. In the bakery in Tolhuin,
we meet three friendly Mexican cyclists who have been biking through
Latin America for the last 2.5 years. Their bikes and panniers weigh
70 kilograms. Once they arrive at Ushuaia, they plan to turn around
and bike back to Mexico. Just beyond Tolhuin, the road becomes paved
once again. Total distance 74 km.
January 5 - We wake up to poring rain, a sopping wet tent and sleeping bags. We pack up in a hurry and bike to the city of Rio Grande where we splurge on a hotel room (30 dollars). During this section I am wishing that I had scrubbed my nether regions a little better during my last shower in Ushuaia. After swimming in the sea, I knew to wash off the salt, but Hans showered first and used up the hot water. My cold shower was too brief to allow sufficient scrubbing. Oh well, a little chafing never hurt anyone. Total distance 75 km. January 6 - Our latest start yet (1:30
PM). The road heads north along the Atlantic coast directly into a relatively
fierce headwind (20 to 30 km per hour). After about four hours of cylcing
the wind lessens a bit, we leave Argentina at San Sebastian and benefit
from a nice tailwind all the way to the Chilean border post. Border
patrol carabineros are incredibly friendly. We cross the border at dusk
and set up camp in the lee of a farm building. We enjoy a fantastic
dinner at the local cafe (roast lamb, potatoes, salad). Our kind hostess
undercharges us significantly for the meal because she like us and the
fact I am fluent at Spanish. We go to bed under clear skies. Total distance
94 km.
January 7 - It rains during the night
but we are able to dry everything off in the morning sun. We watch some
of the sheep shearing operation and a little boy shows us a handful
of about 100 severed sheep ears -- they cut them so that they can differentiate
Chilean and Argentinian sheep. We bike against moderately severe headwinds
and crosswinds to the community of Cullen (where we get a late lunch
-- 6 PM). Topography is mostly flat with some rolling hills. There are
enormous sheep estancias every 25 km or so. The farms are neatly kept
and consist of 10 to 25 buildings surround by miles and miles of open
fields, filled with sheep, some cattle, and the occasional horse. The
roads we are biking are all gravel in pretty good condition. Drivers
are very courteous and give wide berth (about 1 car or truck every 10
minutes). Most of the drivers know enough not to honk when passing,
but instead flash their lights in greeting. We bike about 30 km beyond
Cullen (in and out of rain squalls) and camp in a brand-new yellow shephard's
hut (still smells of paint) at the side of the road. Total distance
83 km.
January 8 - Today we bike through the oil
and gas mining community of Cerro Sombrero. A nasty headwind (30 to
40 km per hour) and washboard roads making the going real slow (as slow
as 8 km per hour at times). After Cerro Sombrero, route 3 curves north
for 37 km to Bajia Azul, the ferry crossing to the mainland. By the
time we reach the ferry, our aches and pains are worsening. I have a
sore leg, tired back, and hands that get numb if I bike for more that
30 minutes straight (I grip the handlebars too tight in the crosswind).
Hans as other minor ailments. Foremost in both of our ailments are the
aches emenating from our butts due to an average of 6 hours a day in
the saddle. The ferry crossing over the Straits of Magellan takes about
an hour (approximately 15 km across). The sea is awesome with whitecaps
and swells and windblown spray. There is no charge for us to cross with
our bicycles. ***Note that our route from Tierra del Fuego to the Continent
is different from the route initially planned. We decided to go north
and cross at the Primero Estrecho, rather than take the 4 hour ferry
between Porvenir and Punta Arenas, because ferry service to Punta Arenas
is relatively irregular and doesnīt go each day***. The pavement begins
at the other side of the Straits of Magellan. Our butts thank us for
the reprieve from the washborad gravel. We bike another 16 km to a road
junction and stay in a 100 year old farmhouse converted to a hotel (Hosteria
Telhueche). It is a beautiful place with high ceilings, a great restaurant,
and beautiful gardens. Imagine the movie Casas de los Espiritus -- rent
the movie if you havenīt seen it yet. If I had been traveling with someone
other than Hans, the Hosteria we stayed in could have been very romantic.
Total distance 78 km. January 9 - The paved road stretches 102
km from our hosteria to the Punta Arenas / Puerto Natales road. Not
a problem to do this in one day, right? Our progres is smooth for the
first 60 km, with beautiful coastline, scenic estancias, and a couple
of impressive beached ship wrecks. Then, about 40 km from our intended
destination, the wind hits. The sleet during the squalls isnīt so bad,
but the constant 50 to 60 km headwinds are distinctly depressing (especially
since we are heading southwest -- away from the Caribean!). We camp
in the only shelter we can find, a roadside kiosk positioned at the
junction with a country road. The last twenty kilometers of the day
took about 4 hours! Total distance 77 km. January 10 - We awaken at 6:30 AM to take
advantage of a hoped-for early morning lull in wind, bike the 26 kilometers
to a road junction and turn north towards Puerto Natales. At the road
junction, we enjoy a breakfast of the most nourishing (the only) food
we can find - Pringles, chocolate cake, and orange sugar water. Winds
is pretty moderate in the morning, but picks up in the afternoon and
later becomes a significant crosswind. Fortunately the road is still
paved. After a lunch stop, we decide to continue another 50 km to the
next road junction. Lo and behold, we benefit from a beautiful tailwind
and it takes us just over 2 hours to do this section. We camp in an
abandoned shed near the carabinero immigration post. Total distance
125 km. January 11 - We decide to wake early so
that we can escape headwinds and arrive in Puerto Natales for a much-needed
rest day. Progress is great until about noon when the wind picks up.
By about 2 in the afternoon we have an oblique crosswind with gusts
in excess of 80 km per hour. It is hard to walk in winds this strong.
Our bikes get blown into the gravel at the side of the road several
dozen times. I only get blown completely off my bike one time. Luckily,
when you are biking at 5 km per hour, it is hard to get hurt too badly
if you crash. The wind appears especially strong because it is coming
in directly off the Pacific Ocean. Apparently there is nothing between
our bicycles and New Zealand to slow down the westerly wind. The thought
of warm, plentiful food in Puerto Natales keeps us going. We average
7 km per hour (not including stops) for about 30 km of windy highway.
The last 14 km into Puerto Natales, scenically located at the edge of
a fjord, is relatively protected by the wind. Nevertheless, it is a
long tough day and we stay in one of the first hospedajes that Hans
finds. Total distance is 102 km. January 12 - In a city full of tournists
and numerous economical hospedajes, Hans has managed to find the most
economical (and disreputable) establishment in town. We canīt decide
if we should be more worried about the fire hazard or the earthquake
hazard. A single match could have sent our cardboard guesthouse into
an inferno or alternatively, a healthy blast of wind might have toppled
the casa. We sleep in a second floor cubicle with a floor that sags
several inches when we cross from the beds to the door. Our hostess
is a 40 year old friendly but excessively talkative woman who offers
frequent innuendoes that could be construed as a joke or as an invitation
to her bed. It occurs to me in the middle of the night, that the house
of cubicles could be a prositbulo converted to a tourist guest home
in the recent past. And our hostess and her leering women friends (all
of whom have mouths full of gold fillings) may in fact have been the
previous tenants. In the morning I suggest to Hans that we relocate
to more respectable lodgings and we quickly find a spotless hostal run
by an old Chilean couple. We clean out our rooms and pay off Patricia
(our host / prostitue), letting her know that we are changing residences
because we have met with some friends (a necessary lie). Nevertheless,
Patricia is offended, yells a litany of expletives, complaining about
the chronic homosexuality of North Americans, and pushes (not too gently)
Hansīs belongings out the door. During this last encounter, I talk to
an amused vendor outside Patriciaīs home and he explains that the woman
is a bit nutty and her home was in fact a whore house before she determined
she could make a living off of tourists. The rest of our rest day is
much more mellow. Puerto Natales is only the third real town that we
have seen since Ushuaia and it is good place to eat, drink, and email.
We are restocking our supplies, resting our gluteus maximi, and listening
to horrific stories about the wind we will encounter. Tomorrow we bike
north along endless gravel roads to the fantastic National Parks of
Patagonia. In a week we should again be in email contact in the Argentinina
town of El Calafate. Adios for now.
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