Cycling to Patagonia

I was looking forward to exploring Mendoza, but that would have to wait until I returned for New Year’s with Paula. For now, I had to continue my mission to go as far south as I could before then. I avoided the traffic out of the city as best as I could, taking a small highway through vineyards and farmlands.

Soon all the side roads funneled to Ruta 40 and I had no other option but to ride on the side of the hectic highway. After a few hours, the road slowly turned into the lonely Ruta 40 I know and love.

I finished my day in the small town of Pareditas, where I set up camp in the municipal campground. This town was the last resupply for 150km, and seeing that as more of a challenge, I decided I didn’t want to bring supplies to camp between and push myself to ride it all in one day.

I have eaten more lentils and rice on this trip than anything else. It is such an easy and affordable meal to cook that can be modified in numerous ways to keep things exciting. I would say that by now I am a bit of an expert in cooking my preferred recipe. It starts with soaking the lentils in water for 3+ hours before you cook. This will cut the cooking time down from 40 minutes to only a few.

I now always start with sautéing onion, garlic, and ají molado (Andean chili powder) in a very generous amount of olive oil. The flavor this adds to the rice and lentils is essential to be able to stomach the same meal every day for weeks on end. After sautéing, I simply add rice and soaked lentils, then boil for about 5 minutes, and then I turn off the stove and let it sit covered to finish cooking for about 15 minutes. The result is a delicious meal I never get tired of.

I was only an hour or two into the long day, having a second breakfast on the side of the road when another cyclist pulled up next to me. His name was Micheal, from the Netherlands. We had met the day before, just outside of Mendoza, but he had continued riding as I had just sat down to eat my lunch. This time, he caught me at the end of my meal and we decided to ride together. We both had the same plan of pushing through the long remote section, and now we would do it together.

Micheal was a great guy and we got along quickly. He was a strong rider and I had to up my pace to keep up with him. Normally, I prefer to ride alone, with a podcast or audiobook in my ear, in a meditative zone while the hours and kilometers pass by. With Micheal, it was nice to ride and talk, getting to know each other as we rode. He had also been traveling for a long time, around two years. He had done some riding in Europe and then flew to South America next. He originally had big plans to keep cycling around the world, but had recently met a girl back home and was now in a relationship and his desire for solo travel had changed.

Good conversation and conditions made the day go back fast until it came to the last 10km. We had to turn away from our lovely tailwind and head directly into it, slowing us down to a crawl while we were at our weakest. The last section took the rest of our energy, and by the time we arrived, we agreed to get a comfortable cabaña instead of looking for camping.

The next day, our paths would diverge. I was heading to the town of Malargue, where I needed a bike mechanic to fix a problem I was now a bit too familiar with from Costa Rica. My rear hub was developing some wobble, which meant that the bearing needed to be replaced. The bike shop had to call around town to find the right size bearing, but they managed to get the only one and put it in quickly. Everything seemed great until I rode to my hotel, and the bearing seemed to break again. I took it back to the shop, and they were equally confused as to how the brand-new bearing could have broken already. They would have to call some bike shops in nearby cities to have a new bearing sent the next day, which would mean I was stuck in town an extra day. Thankfully, it was a cool ski town that I didn’t mind being stuck in.

Along with my perfected dinner of rice and lentils, I was perfecting my lunches. I was eating endless sandwiches and fruits, which helped fuel me and made me feel powerful and healthy. Nutrition is such an important aspect of these tours and the smallest change in diet can have big effects on your strength.

The arid northern Argentinian desert was slowly giving way to flowing rivers and small amounts of green shrubbery surrounding the water. Most of the rivers I had seen before were empty beds, a sign of a different season when water used to flow.

I rode all day until the sun was about to go behind the mountains and found a nice beach to camp on for the night. I was deep in a rhythm with the sun and the land around me. The sun told me when to start and when to stop, but it was up to me to see how far I could go in my allotted time.

For the first time on this trip, I saw the word “Patagonia.” I had entered the providence of Nequen, which was part of the Region of Patagonia. Still, it didn’t feel like I was in Patagonia. I had an image in my head of dramatic mountain ranges of jagged peaks, with glaciers tucked between melting down into cascading waterfalls and streams that fed into large, rushing rivers that wind through a lush forest. That is the Patagonia I was desperate to see, but a few hundred kilometers stood between us.

Near the end of one day, I pull into the small town of Barrancas where I stop at a hotel for a few minutes to bum some wifi. I was about to leave and look for a free campsite when the owner invited me to camp in his backyard. Along with me and the owner, George, there were two other Argentinian guys, a motorcyclist named Gustavo and a guy named Jesus, who was running the entire 5000km length of Ruta 40. We spent the evening talking about travel, life, and politics. I talked when I could but spent most of the time trying to follow along in their very animated discussion about the current president of Argentina, who creates a similar divide in the country as Trump does in the USA.

A funny moment in the evening was when I excused myself around 6 pm to get groceries and cook, as I was getting hungry, but George offered to order us all pizza so we could eat together. I never turn down pizza, but two hours later, when I could barely contain my hunger, I asked George when the pizza was going to arrive. He said he had ordered the pizza to be ready at 9 pm. I joked about how late that was and how hungry I was, but he only said that he ordered it earlier than usual, just for me. Argentinians, for some reason, don’t eat dinner until 11 pm, a hard cultural norm for a hungry cyclist.

During my time riding these remote stretches, I was constantly being helped by the wonderful Argentinian people. Practically every day, someone would stop and give me some food or water, or at the very least talk to me and make sure I had everything I needed. In one town, I was sitting in a park eating my usual sandwich when a young man pulled up to talk for a minute and offered me something to drink. While he went to buy the drink, another man pulled up and gave me some fruits. Once the first guy returned, it turned out they were friends and even worked together at a bakery. They headed to work and told me to come visit on the way out. After eating, I kept on my promise and stopped at the bakery, where I met all the coworkers and sat and talked for a while. They shared with me some special seasonal bread and some mate.

Mate is an iconic Argentinian item that is difficult to compare its cultural importanace and popularity. Practically every Argentinian person travels with a thermos for mate everywhere they go. It is an herbal drink made from the dried leaves of the yerba mate plant and is caffeine rich along with some other health benefits. It is usually shared and is a great reason to stop and take a break. I think it is an acquired taste as it has a very earthy taste. I would almost rather have a cup of tea or a coffee.

I was only 30km from the next town Chos Malal, my goal for the day, but it was all pure headwind. I could have continued to push through it, working twice as hard for half the speed, but why hit my head against a wall when I could sit and watch the sunset while I read? The decision was easy, and I camped behind a bush on the side of the road. In the morning, the sun was bright, and the wind was gone.

Shortly after Chos Malal, I passed the midpoint of Ruta 40. I wasn’t following the entire route, but it still signified that I was nearly halfway to the end of Argentina, and to the end of South America. In less than a month I had crossed half of Argentina, which is nearly the length of the USA. The second half would take probably nearly three times as long, as the road gets tougher and the climate gets colder.

For now, I would still enjoy the long days and endless stretches of road. On this day in particular, I felt the need to keep going and going. I got to my first goal for the day around 2 pm, but I couldn’t stop there, I had a wonderful tailwind. I arrive at the next goal, 40km away. It’s still too early and I still have a tailwind, I must keep going. Could I make it another 60km? I only had a few hours of sunlight left, but I had to try.

After over nine hours of riding, the sun finally starts to set. It is easily the best and most beautiful part of the day to ride, as the final light of the sun illuminates everything with a golden shine. I arrive in the small town of Bajada del Agrio, still still full of energy. If the sun wasn’t setting, I would have kept going. I had ridden 182km (113 miles), which was a new record for me. I felt unstoppable, stronger than ever.

In the morning, that feeling faded and the exhaustion and soreness hit me hard.

I could only manage 40km the next day. I went to the next town and camped at the local Balneario, which is a type of summer vacation resort next to a river. It was closed while I was there, but it would be amazing to see all of the nearly 100 BBQ pits full of Argentinians cooking and partying, as it will be in a few weeks when summer starts.

The next day I took a detour off of Ruta 40 to visit the Laguna Blanca National Park. It was a beautiful park and while I was resting there, another cyclist pulls up. His name was Claudio and he was from Argentina, but currently lived in Mexico. I felt rather bad for him, as he had started late in the evening when the headwind became strong. So what was my easy two hour ride, took him nearly four. He still was full of energy and we enjoyed the lovely sunest over dinner before resting in our tents.

The following day, another small change in the landscape had my excitement growing. Not only was there a flowing river, but the water in the river was absolutely crystal clear. I could see right through the water and see all the wonderful colors of the rocks below. No longer was there muddy brown water or dirty slime covering the rocks. It was a water so pure and clear, a clearness I haven’t seen since Canada. Along the rivers, the vegetation was growing more diverse and taller. Now, trees would follow the river along its path through the valley.

It was my final day riding before my holiday break. I had changed my destination to Junin de los Andes, the town just before San Martin de los Andes because it would put me right before the landscape really changes, saving the best for when I return.

In Junin de los Andes, I was welcomed by many other cyclists. Gone are the days of not seeing a cyclist for weeks or even months, now it will be normal to see more than 10 other cyclists every day, as this region is extremely famous for travel, especially by bicycle. One of those cyclist was Micheal, who I hadn’t seen in a while. We caught up over beer and pizza before I did all my final prep before leaving for two weeks.

A Holiday Break

For Christmas and New Year, I was meeting Paula. Most of you will remember Paula from when we met in Colombia nearly nine months ago or when she came to visit me in Peru. Our relationship has been amazing, but also something rather hard for my mind to accept. After traveling for so long, I adjusted to the fact that I would make deep friendships and connections, only likely never to see these people again. I had enjoyed these fleeting friendships, as the knowledge that it was temporary made them stronger. I had closed off a part of myself that wanted to develop anything more than that.

However, after meeting Paula, my mind slowly changed, although not easily. I fought the feelings for a while and even tried to deny them. Yet, no matter how much I tried to push the feelings away, I always found myself unable to forget about her. I was under the belief that I had to pick between one or the other, my bicycle or her. I didn’t think it was possible to have both, and I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of completing my dream. Now, here we are, seemingly managing both. While it has its difficulties, we have been making it work. I’m very lucky that she is so understanding and supportive of me.

Our time together was fantastic. We spent most of our time exploring cities and enjoying our time together. We relaxed and cooked dinners together, then read aloud to each other with a bottle of wine. We celebrated Christmas in a small beach town in Chile and then New Year in Mendoza. Gustavo, who I had met earlier, lives in Mendoza and showed Paula and me around, and we even spent New Year’s Day together with him and his family. Before we knew it, our time together was up. She had to return to work, and I had to return to the road.

Entering Patagonia

The holiday break with Paula was much needed, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to continue. My dreams of biking through Patagonia were in the back of my mind and I knew that in the next few days, I would truly be in Patagonia.

From Mendoza, it was a long 18 hours on two buses. I was expecting to arrive exhausted and in need of rest, but instead, I arrived full of energy and ready to hit the road. I retrieved my bike, put on my cycling clothes, and started towards my first Patagonia lake.

It was a short 40km to the lake, and immediately, I felt the change from the barren landscapes of before. Now, I was always near a pristine natural water source, surrounded by tall trees and thick brush. I camped on the shore of the lake, watching the sun set behind the mountains while eating my rice and lentils. A feeling of deep satisfaction flowed through my body as I acknowledged I had achieved another item on my bucket list: I had biked to Patagonia.

The next morning I was heading towards a small, but famous, Argentinian Patagonian town, San Martin de los Andes. I had been told by many it is a lovely town and worth stopping. It wasn’t my plan to stop there, as it is also expensive, but as I arrived and rode through town, I couldn’t help but feel a desire to stop and spend the rest of the day here. I went to a hostel where I paid an exorbitant $30 for a shared dorm bed, the most I have paid for a dorm bed on this entire trip.

Walking around this town was an entirely different feeling from everywhere else I had been in South America for the past year. It felt like a European mountain town in every way from the architecture to the prices. Where I was paying around $3 for six empanadas in the north, I was now paying $3 for a single empanada here. I ended up meeting some other cyclists in town and we all gathered around a table at a local brewery to share travel stories with a couple pints of beer.

I had two routes to Bariloche to choose from. I could follow Ruta 40 on what is regarded as the most beautiful section of it, Ruta de los Siete Lagos, but also the most trafficked. Or I could take a quiet gravel route through equally beautiful terrain. I chose the gravel route.

To me, few things feel more Patagonian than a charming wooden cabin with a mountain backdrop. I have felt a desire to buy land and build a house in many of the places I’ve traveled, but I think Patagonia takes the cake.

I felt a sense of comfort and familiarity as I biked through this landscape. It somewhat resembled what I had traveled through in the Northern US and Canada, but much more dramatic and wild.

I have too many photos to share from this day and not enough words to describe it. After my month of pushing hard through the desert, I could now slow down, breathe easily, and take in the scenery around me.

Nearing sunset, it was time to start looking for a campsite. It turned out to be a bit harder than I thought because practically all of the land out here was private and fenced off. There was a barbed wire fence between the road and these wonderful rivers. It was a National Park, but somehow all of the land was privately owned. In a way, it annoyed me. I understand people owning land for their farms, but to deny access to the entire river feels wrong. After some searching, I found the perfect beach along the river.

While I was on the side of the road investigating a slow leak in my tire, another cyclist pulled up to me. He introduced himself as Zach, and I laughed out loud as I said that was my name as well. Clearly, we had to ride together. He was a 34-year-old from Canada and had been traveling around and bicycling for the past year after quitting his job as a brewer. I was originally planning to take the direct highway to Bariloche as I was worried about the problem with my tire, but Zach convinced me to ride with him on the more remote and scenic ride.

The scenic ride is always worth it. After a few hours of riding, we had to split up, as Zach was stopping to camp and I was pushing onto Bariloche where I was planning to meet an old friend that evening. I had a feeling Zach and I would meet again, though.

Unfortunately, my fear came to fruition. The hole in my tire expanded and my tire wouldn’t hold air. I use tubeless tires which have a liquid glue-like substance inside to patch most holes, but I hadn’t changed the sealant in far too long so it was dry and ineffective at sealing the hole. After a little bit of panicking and thinking I was going to have to walk my bike the last 7km to town, I realized I had been carrying spare sealant for this case exactly. I plugged the hole with a bacon strip (a small strip that helps the tire seal) and filled the tire with some fresh sealant. This did the trick and the tire was now holding air, and I finished my ride to Bariloche.

A Familiar Face

A few weeks back, an old friend reached out and told me he would be in Bariloche around the same time I was. His name is Max, and we met around 7 years ago in New Zealand, where we both studied abroad. We went on a few trips together, including my first trip involving a bicycle and camping, and also a road trip in a van with two other friends. Max is a great friend, and I was excited to see him again.

Max was here to lead a month-long backpacking trip towards a nearby Volcano for a company he works for back in Virginia. He works there most of the year but comes down to Argentina once a year for this trip. We spent 5 days together catching up over many beers and exploring the local mountains.

We hiked up and camped near Refugio Frey one day along with Lark, a local expat who lives in Bariloche and is the owner of the house we were camping at. They are both avid climbers and wanted to take on some challenging climbs while I relaxed at camp and read.

I left Refugio Frey after one night while they stayed up another night for more climbing. On my solo day, I rode around the beautiful lakes of Bariloche and worked on a previous blog.

On my last evening in Bariloche, we had a fantastic gringo asado (white person BBQ) with plenty of meat and wine. Reconnecting with Max was something I needed. We spent so much time laughing and remembering our time together in New Zealand. My trip to New Zealand was an incredibly important time in my life, as it was my first time traveling and helped build the desire I have for traveling today.

I said goodbye to Max and headed towards El Bolson to reconnect with Zach as we were planning to travel together for a week or two. We were planning to cross the border to Chile towards the world-famous Carretera Austral, one of the most beautiful highways in the world through Chilean Patagonia. The route we were planning to take was rather unconventional and would be very tough, but that will be the subject of the following blog…

Thank you all for reading and following along.