Carrying On: Coyhaique to bridge-riverbank campsite.

March 9, 2016

The sun is up when I get out of the sleeping bag first thing. Inside the tent it feels a warm enough day to go in shorts, but once out, its a cool autumnal day, too cold for bare legs.

The thing about breaking camp after many days in the one place is everything is strewn around the tent, also supermercado receipts and other pieces of paper and other rubbish to sort through. You feel a kind of out of the rhythm of things. The efficient decamping routine when doing it everyday on the road.

It is ten o'clock and the sun just hovers over the mountain to the east making it feel a lot earlier, as I discover the inner tube valve is a bit on the short side protruding from my new deep section rim wheel to get good purchase with my mini-pump. Its a problem. By solving one problem, replacing the split rim, another problem is created. I didn't notice on my daily ride into town, but notice now with the bike loaded, the front tyre could do with a top up; nevertheless, it isn't too bad. I'll just run the risk of a pinch puncher and cross that bridge of fixing it when it comes.

The time here in Coyhaique seems an awful long time; sixteen days in total. The bill, 5,000 per day with full hostel facilities, come to 80,000 pesos (£80); but Tim, the hostel owner settles for fifty thousand, seeing I didn't break anything and got on with everyone.

Tim takes a keen interest in my bike as I'm finally ready to leave, saying "Dawes Galaxy. The Roll Royce of touring bikes." My bike is used to this type of attention and flattery from people that know. I say goodbye and ask him to say goodbye to his wife Maria, who is off into town; and say "now, I'm off to the supermarket."

Shopping in the Umart supermercado was part of my daily routine while here, followed by a cappuccino in Mamma Gaucha. This is the last day, its hard to believe. I stock up on all the basics; pasta, breakfast porridge, bread and salami for lunch. Claude, Tim's father-in-law, warned me the small shops in the few villages ahead on the Carretera Austral are pricy.

Route 7 as the road is numbered follows the curve of the Rio Simpson round to the left, drops steeply down into the river valley and climbs back out. A few kilometre long climb, fairly steep in places, but the main irritant is the gradient keeps changing from steep to levelling out on a shelf to rise yet again steeply, meaning constant playing around with the gears to find the right gear to be in, that allows me to spin.

Its lunchtime when the road finally levels out by a mirador (viewpoint) parking area on the left. Here I lunch on the grass and watch the various people come and go, taking photos of the view back down toward town. A tour leader with a bus load bellows "Welcome to my city, Coyhaique. Forty thousand inhabitants live here...."

The road on is a precariously steep descent back down into the Rio Simpson valley with sheer vertical grey rock faces among steep wooded slopes on the left across the river, which is more spread out and meandering than back at Coyhaique, where the valley is a deep gorge, whereas here the valley opens out with cattle pasture and small farms. There is a little too much traffic to comfortably enjoy the scenery though, mainly local commercial vans and light trucks running between Coyhaique and port town Puerto Aysen, which don't slow down nor give much room on passing. There is actually an alternative, route 7, I'm now on route 240, the former turning off at the top of the hill, but its unpaved and supposed to be fairly rough. In any case it isn't far until the northbound road turns off on the right, where there'll be a lot less traffic.

It stopped going once and over the years since, people have carried off parts to fix similar cars.

The other valley opens up on the right where I turn off.

About five I reach the right turning, another river valley opening on the right. The traffic all continuing to Puerto Aysen, while the road north is peaceful. There's barely a car.

I meet the only other cyclists of the day. A Canadian couple, from the west coast province British Colombia, or BC as they shorten it. We talk as usual, telling each other about the route ahead in our own respective directions. Then riding on I soon come to a bridge over the river to the right of the valley, with a track down to the riverbank and lots of possible camping spots. By the looks of things it has already been used for camping during Summer with rubbish left behind, but the place I choose by an ancient tree is clean and tranquil.

I pitch the tent with a few hours of daylight remaining. I like lying down to sleep when its still daylight.

Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 6,504 km (4,039 miles)

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