He thinks it's all over: it isn't yet.

April 11, 2011

Saturday morning sees me half way along a busy road which links Valdivia back to the Pan-Americana. I most likely won't reach to day, but, the plan is to get to Villarrica where there's a white conical volcano. The ride is monotonous as there isn't mush to see as the road is enclosed by a canopy of trees; thought, occasionally there is a gap through which I can see wetland and wooded slopes.

It's well the road has a good shoulder as cars and trucks speed past constantly. The sun is shining and so it's warm but I amble along lacking enthusiasm. In-fact I'm bored. I feel tired of this cycle-tour. In part that could be not getting mush sleep last-night as the party at the hostel went on to the early hours. I feel, I just want to get to the finish and fly home. So, I resolve that within the next week I'll cycle across the border to Argentina and take a bus to Buenos Aires where according to my research, it's half the price to fly home from, than, from the Chilean capital, Santiago.

Food is another thing which is getting me down. While fresh food such as meat, fruit and veg are superior to Europe, all processed foods, the kind needed on the road and camping, canned food, biscuits and the like are rubbish. Tuna which I love at home I don't bother buying here as it's a can of oily sloppy mess. Biscuits are too sweet. And the list goes on. Consequently while camping I'm reduced to living on rice.

Additionally, many food item are as expensive or more expensive than Europe. Cheese being one, in both Argentina and Chile it's bland and rubbery, yet prohibitively dear. Sandwiches in the plastic triangles are another which cost more, yet are poor value consisting only of awful sliced nothing bread filled with bland cheese and ham. By lunch time Is on the Pan-Americana and stopped at a service-station where I'd such a sandwich, a chocolate bar and a coke, price 4.000 pesos (£5).

Shortly after lunch, I stop to take the day's second photo. It is a house of worship with white walls and red roof with a wooden bell-tower and pointy spire. It was a distraction from the straight monotonous dual-carriageway that is the Pan-Americana which Is glad to turn-off at a place called Lanco. This was a usual Chilean town where the houses are all of decaying painted wood with tin roofs. Everything here is build of wood as forestry seems to be the main industry. And indeed earlier, I past a huge wood processing plant with the associated tall pipe billowing a plume of white smoke.

A few heads turned and some people stopped to stir as I cycled past. A few shouting out "hola". There was a big official looking sign for a campsite on the way into town but no sign of one thereafter, but anyway, there was still another hour before I'd have to stop for the night. So I continue on in the direction of a place called Panguipulli. The road has on either side low bramble with ripe Blackberries and tall popular trees which are yellow and shedding their leaves. Beyond which, are small fields with grazing cattle and then wooded slopes. I pass an occasional wooden farmhouse where dogs bark and run after me.

I took some photos while the sun began to cast long shadows, then soon I'd have to be on the look-out for a place to camp, but, either side was enclosed private land. Though, in good time I came to a rest-area by a riverbank with enough trees to shield me from the road.

Sunday began grey and would remain so with a few spots of rain in the afternoon. I turned right, 5km before Panguipulli, on a road due North which I expected would lead to a place called "Lican Ray". The road on the map was red the whole way supposedly meaning that it is paved and skirted Lago Calaquien, but in reality when I got as far as the lake, the road turned to compact soil and lose stones and it dropped steeply towards the lake-shore where there are lots of weekend cabins. Furthermore the road became narrow and split so there were two alternatives but no signpost to indicate which is the right road. I doubled back to a turnoff just where the pavement ended and a signpost with Panguipulli 12km. This road led, as I'd thought, after more compact soil and lose stones, to a T-junction with the road following near the South shore of the lake and with the village of Conaripe signposted which is another way to Villarica.

This road was paved to begin with. And shortly before the pavement ended I'd my only human interaction of the day so-far. A group of young teenage boys on a bridge, bored and wanting to be mischievous they taut me as I cycle by. It began with one on a small motorbike that had rode out to meet me asking me in a disrespecting smirking manner where Is going while his friends laugh. Then, he pulls a stunt by suddenly locking the front wheel, resulting in the bike pivoting up and forward to balance on the wheel while looking past me for approval from his friends. I tell you I don't mush like these groups of little hard-men and was glad to get by without incident.

The ash-felt came to an abrupt end and there followed a terrible track between thick tree canopy on either side. The rest of the afternoon was spent off walking up hills which wasn't easy pushing a bike pulling a loaded trailer; more so because of all the lose stones sliding underfoot. On reaching the top, I'd look down a dip to yet another wall of a climb to be walked up. And riding downhill I clung firmly on the brakes frightened should the front wheel suddenly slide on the lose stones and I lose control resulting in me painfully wiping-out. There were also the cars which I cursed as they frustratingly came along when Is on the few parts I could ride, as I'd have to move to the side where it wasn't possible to ride in order to let them past. I met also with a primitive cart pulled by oxen led by a farmer. I didn't want to startle the animals so pulled well in to the side.

Eventually, the road dropped down towards the lake and I could see Conaripe around the lake-shore. It was time to stop and I wanted to find a place to camp before reaching the village, but again everywhere was either steep hillside or fenced in private land. I did however, just a couple of kilometres before the village spot a narrow track leading into the wood wide enough to get the panniers by. When I investigated it, it led to a clearing where chainsaws had been busy felling trees cutting firewood which had been neatly piled in rows.

I set my tent up by a felled log which I used as a seat and was eating supper of rice when a local couple came along to gather sticks for fire-kindling. The man didn't look pleased to find me here and said something which I couldn't make out. I had now put down my supper and had walked over to where the couple had stopped on seeing me hoping that they wouldn't tell me to leave. He repeated what he said and I said "no entende." His wife uttered something to him and he lighten up saying "tranquilo" and turned away and began gathering sticks.

Later when I lay down to sleep, I began to think about the next few days. The climb across the Andes to Argentina to the town of San Martin de los Andes, and thought again, no, no I don't want to end there. What I really want is, to see cactus again and old adobe houses, the traditional colonial America of North West Argentina. The province of Salta where I began back in August; and what better place to finish, in Salta la linda, where I began having completed a circuit.

Monday dawned with a red glow on a few remaining waifs of cloud and it was a sunny morning during the 50km ride on a good ash-felt road to Villarrica. I'm now booked into a hostel in town, Torre Suisa, which was found by a Swiss cycling couple. Nina the German cyclists is here too.

PS: while I struggle with time, during the final leg North updates will become less regular because time is short and consequently mush of the final pages of this journal will perhaps be written-up weeks later when I've returned home.

Today's ride: 193 km (120 miles)
Total: 12,625 km (7,840 miles)

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