Sunny Skies on the Carretera Austral

Leaving Coyhaique, I felt like a puppy forced outside in the rain. I wanted to be inside my hotel room, warm and dry, but it was full, and I had no place to stay, so I decided to ride. Throughout the day, rain would come, and I would hide in the bus shelters while it passed.

I was climbing up to a well-known abandoned campground into a headwind and misty rain, feeling a bit silly biking in sandals and no gloves as my hands and feet were freezing cold. As I pull into the campground, I see a familiar face of Simon and Anna, a German couple I had first met months ago in Bolivia. They must have heard I was coming because they had a warm fire ready for me.

The following day, I descended out of the cold clouds towards Villa Cerro Castillo, where I was welcomed to incredible views of jagged mountains and wide river valleys. The blue skies were starting to win the war against the gray clouds as more light began to shine through.

In the town of Villa Cerro Castillo, I reconnected with Zach. We spent the afternoon catching up while admiring the dramatic peaks of Cerro Castillo come in and out of cloud cover. He was trying to convince me to stay in town with him, but as more sun came out, I felt energized to keep riding. We said our final goodbyes, our paths now going in different directions, but we were hopeful they would cross again. I camped a bit away from town, with excitement building in me as the weather forecast for tomorrow was the best I had seen in weeks.

At 6 a.m., I peeked out of my tent and saw the sun kissing the peak of Cerro Castillo backdropped by a glorious gradient in the sky. The equivalent of three cups of coffee of energy jolted me from my tent as I marveled at the view. In the previous weeks, it was a battle to get myself out bed before 9 a.m. This was a welcome change.

All the incredible mountains and glaciers that have been hidden in the clouds finally revealed themselves to me. The sun enhanced every feature; the rivers were bluer, the jagged mountain peaks were sharper, and the snow between the peaks was brighter than ever.

Every turn exposed a seemingly identical view, but offered a new perspective that never ceased to amaze me.

I was closely approaching the town of Rio Tranquillo, when I realized I’d much rather free camp on the lake than pay to camp in town. I found a lovely spot and spent the rest of the evening wrestling with my seemingly endless list of failing gear, all the while watching fishermen effortlessly reel in salmon, one after another.

As I nestled in my sleeping bag, I checked the weather and learned that the rain was coming back in the middle of the night. How foolish of me to assume the clear skies would last. I reluctantly moved my tent inside a nearby abandoned house so I would stay dry.

in the morning while I waited out the rain to ride the rest of the distance to Rio Tranquillo.

I patiently waited in the morning for a pause in the rain to ride to Rio Tranquillo. With the forecast looking grim, I stopped there for the night. While there was still rain, it was starting to get much better than the northern section, with more sunnier days riding in between.

The rain cleared the following day to another exceptional day. My motivation had returned, and my mood was great. The challenges of the previous section were gone and I was able to focus all my energy on enjoying the present moment.

The best days are those where I have more pictures than words to write, as the number of pictures I take each day is directly correlated to how beautiful I found the day. I don’t have many introspective thoughts or insightful realizations to share, only some beautiful photos.

I noticed the next day had a forecast of heavy rain all day, so I talked to some cyclists I had met on the road, and we planned to rent a cabaña together to wait out the rain. With a couple of people, you can get a nice and cozy cabaña for a really good price. The day off was incredibly relaxing, I love nothing more than being in a warm house during an awful storm.

I awoke the following day with all too familiar symptoms of a light digestion illness. After years on the road and countless afflictions, I feel less affected by them and decided to try and ride. After about an hour, the discomfort grew, and I tried to hitchhike the remaining 30km. I attempted for nearly three hours, which would have been enough time for me to arrive by bike. I gave up and slowly pedaled the rest of the way to Cochrane.

Another grim forecast for a few days of heavy rain forced me to stay in town for a couple of days, which I spent editing photos and writing my blog.

Leaving Cochrane, I was starting the final section of the Carretera Austral. 240km with practically no resupply between meant I was loaded up on food, including 10 burritos that I had made in the morning before leaving.

I had a late start, thanks to my burrito-making spree, and the weather was gloomy as my motivation. So when I stumbled upon a nice river to camp on that had cell signal, it took little persuasion for me to call it a day. While I love being disconnected, it can be hard to break out of the grasp of the connected world. I often find myself romanticizing traveling in the pre-smartphone era. To have to navigate with nothing but a paper map and only a rough idea of where you are. You would have to engage more deeply with the people around you, asking for help and directions instead of hiding and Googling your anxiety away. Someday, I aspire to spend a week traveling like that, but tonight, I succumbed to the familiar embrace of YouTube until I fell asleep.

The brisk and cloudy morning kept me in my tent late, I didn’t start riding until around 11 a.m. I had plenty of time to make it to Villa O’Higgins for my reserved ferry, so I wasn’t in a rush.

I was planning to camp halfway up a big climb before the final ferry port, but while riding, I just kept going. I felt strong, and there was plenty of sunlight left, so I just kept going. Next thing I know, I make it to the ferry port where the road ends, and I camp on the beach to wait for the first ferry in the morning. It felt great to push past goals again after weeks of limiting myself due to the weather.

I met two Brazilian cyclists waiting for the ferry in the morning, Gabriel and Alexandre. They had ridden from Cochrane to here in one day and arrived late in the night, a bit too much for me.

From the other side of the ferry, the riding was perfect. The ferry acted as a bottleneck for cars, so there was hardly any traffic the rest of the way.

Alexandre and I spent most of the afternoon riding and talking together. He was a few years older than me and worked as a programmer outside of São Paulo, the biggest city in all of the Americas.

Something about this section that stood out to me was the endless waterfalls. Every couple hundred meters, I would pass another waterfall. When I could look high up the mountain, I could see hundreds of little streams and falls leaking down from the glaciers to the rivers and lakes below.

As sunset was approaching, I caught back up to Alexandre, who had found a perfect shelter for the night. These picnic shelters are new and are the perfect place for cyclists to camp, especially if it is raining.

In the morning, the sun was shining without a cloud in the sky. A perfect day to finish the Carretera Austral, I thought. There was only 30km left to Villa O’Higgins, but I wanted to go slow and enjoy them.

Thinking about the end of the Austral had me thinking about the true end, Ushuaia. I thought about how I would feel if this was the last ride to Ushuaia instead, and it was hard not to get emotional. The end is getting closer every day. A goal I set two years ago seems to be right at my fingertips. I wondered how much I had changed and how much I had learned, or if I even did at all. The purpose of this trip was to evolve into a better version of myself. I aspired to be confident, empathetic, motivated, curious, and strong. I know I have improved in a lot of these aspects, but it’s hard not to see how much more I can improve. I hushed my thoughts and pedaled on.

Alexandre and I arrived at the end, and a celebration was in order. We went to the first restaurant we could find and treated ourselves to a fresh salmon and a couple of beers. A horrendously overpriced salmon and beers, but delicious nonetheless.

The celebration was short-lived, as I got a text from the ferry I was due to take in the morning, which had been moved to this afternoon due to weather concerns. I rushed to get my groceries for the next few days and then rode the final 8km to the ferry port. There, I discovered 20 other cyclists were waiting as well. It was a reunion of friends who had crossed paths on the road in the weeks prior. Laughter filled the air as we exchanged tales from our journeys along with anticipations of the challenging adventure that lay ahead. Another exciting border crossing that I will save for the next blog post.

Thank you all for reading along :).