February 20, 2016
Chile Chico: near Perito Moreno to Puerto Ibanez.
It is another night of drifting in and out of periods of light sleep. Kept awake much of the night by strong wind which continues unabated through the night. For a while I fear for the tent's safety, the wind bearing down ferociously, shaking the tent with such violence, I think if it gets any stronger, it'll rip the tent to treads.
A couple of nights ago, a similar wake sleep night, towards dawn I dream of a wild boar coming into my campsite and a litter of piglets breaking into the tent and attacking my food, until I shoo them out. This time we are a group on an outdoor winter activity thing and at this instant we are cross-country skiing. The instructor tries starting us off on an uphill. All when standing upon their skis slide backwards, except me who knows how to place the skis in an arrow formation with tail end of skis together and leading end apart and alternatively pressing into the slope with the ski and skating forward and up. "Ah, yes" says the instructor "a natural". I ski uphill, ski on the level, but then, there's a big downhill and suddenly it feels like I'm going a million miles an hour. I can't control myself. I cannot brake and slow and I'm on my arse trailing through the snow, screaming for help. Then wake to the wind, though it has quietened down somewhat. The watch shows 06.45.
Looking out there's a big dark bank of rain coming in from the west, while the sun has just risen in clear blue sky to the east. Returning inside I soon hear rain drumming down on the tent and dread that I'm in for a wet day. Consequentially, I take my time over breakfast while the rain continues. But by eight, it has gone quiet and looking out the cloud is breaking up and the sun is shining.
I break camp and get on the road at quarter past eight. There's a light breeze from the north west. The cloud low down on the mountain ahead and morning sunshine having dramatic effect. Off to the right is a canyon which leads to the start of Lago Buenos Aires, the second largest or perhaps, I don't know, the largest in South America. An inland sea I would make a guest and say roughly a tenth the size of the Irish Sea. The breeze has strengthen to an inhibiting crosswind at this point and looking down there's white caps on the lake.
The road further descends and follows along the lake shore with waves lapping in on my right. There are many tracks into a narrow strip of thinly-spaced pine trees between the road and beach, to places which would make a great campsite, except there isn't much shelter. To the left inland side of the road are granite clifts. Then further the road climbs away from the lake and ahead are huge stands of Alamos, those tall popular trees planted for windbreaks on both sides sheltering estancias, while the road become a sheltered tree avenue. The estancias with names such as, La Serena and La Maria; women's names, perhaps the spouse of the pioneers who settled here around 1900. The Alamos planted in straight lines enclosing rectangular fields. And also in the road margin are ripe rosehip bramble and evergreen bushes.
Ahead though the road goes back out upon open steppe and the wind now stronger, pushing from the side as I struggle up a long gradual rise. Needless to said the pace is once again reduced to a slow walk. I thought I would be reaching Los Antiguos, around eleven, but its after midday as I ride along a long avenue of trees into town, where I stop at the YPF petrol station to have a wash and replenish the water supply, then continue toward the border.
The Argentine exit stamp is straightforward. Then after a detour up the narrow Rio Jeinemeni valley, the river being the frontier, to cross a bridge and double back the other side of the river to the Chilean frontier complex, there's a long queue and when I finally get to the counter, I've to fill in three forms. All with the same details about myself. Then, take the panniers in off the bike and run them through an xray machine.
Then a long ride through tree avenue into the Chilean town of Chile Chico, feeling hungry and exhausted. In the town centre is a supermercado with a café. I throw caution to the wind budget-wise, and take a seat at the later and have a dish of the day. I have an expensive, not very satisfying lunch. A chicken drumstick and instant mash potatoes with soup starter. Though there I meet a Polish touring cyclist, how did the right thing, buying ingredients in the supermercado, but then he has to find somewhere sheltered for his stove to cook. The man waiting tables says he can cook in the lea off the outside decking in front, until the owner come out and tells him he can't, because its a fire risk.
I had feared that the ferry across the lake, now called Lago Carrera on the Chilean side of the border, would have left earlier, but am lucky to learn it doesn't leave until six. So I shop for a couple of days, then ride down to the quay, buy a ticket and board. The crossing is slow and out on deck a no-go area unless you don't mind getting soaked with spray, as the ferry rides across huge waves. For most of the crossing I'm inside the cabin laid down across three seats.
The crossing takes two and a half hours and riding off the other side in Puerto Ibanez, is freezing cold with wind chill. The road out of town climbs a steep south east facing mountainside, where I find an excellent, well sheltered campsite against the rocks just up from the road.
Today's ride: 63 km (39 miles)
Total: 6,327 km (3,929 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |