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Ushuaia, Argentina

Our time in Ushuaia was spent relaxing in the campground, making new friends, and catching up with old met at various places in our travels down South America! A friend of mine, Josh, from community college happened to be making a visit to Argentina for some fishing as well as an expedition to Antarctica. We spent time with Josh, hiking up to a glacier and paroosing the town, including the docks in search of a sailboat headed for the land of ice. Unfortunately the 28 day sailing excursions weren’t leaving anytime soon, which didn’t fit Josh’s schedule, and we departed before he had made a decision on what he was going to do. (Update: he made it to Antartica and sounds like he had a fantastic time playing with the glaciers!)

We all spent the evenings sharing food and conversation overlooking the windy whitecapped waters of the Drakes Passage. In addition to spending time with Josh, we got to know some other cyclists that were staying in the campgrounds.

During our 5 months of cycling we have met cyclists from Australia, France, Switzerland, Japan, Romania, Poland, Holand, Slovenia, South Africa, Lithuania, Belgium, England, Italy, Spain, Argentina, Germany, and of course our homeland USA. But of all the cyclists we have passed, whether totting a three year-old, or traveling for nearly 5 years, a couple we met from Phoenix, Arizona had a journey that stood out to us the most.

Tauru and Christi, or the twosome from TwoBlindToRide as they will be known, are both legally blind and were anxiously awaiting their departure for what will be around a 2 and half year journey to Alaska. We had heard about this couple from our cycling friends, Yannick and Shirley, who had met them climbing in Joshua Tree a few years back, and we were hoping we were going to cross paths with them at some point before our Ushuaia finish.

The beginnings of their trip have already thrown a few curveballs as they have been awaiting their tandem bicycle for over a month. They were mislead when they arrived at the airport, which caused them to miss their flight as they had to ship their oversized bike instead of fly it. This shipping then had a huge hiccup when it arrived in Buenos Aires as Argentina would not release the bike because of improper documentation. They have battled and argued and unfortunately paid fees before getting a customs agent who tied up the loose ends, and let their bike free.

As of January 18th they are officially bound for Alaska. We wish you so much luck and hope to see you on the road when you pass through the states. Support and follow along at www.twoblindtoride.org (“Like” them on facebook to help in their cause).

~Justino

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Tierra del Feugo… on Feugo

We said our farewells and set out to spend what might be one of our final nights camping alongside a peaceful stream just 10 km outside the town limit. That evening Melissa commented that she smelt smoke and when we asked someone if they had heard news of a fire they stated that it was BBQs. When we woke up we knew this to be a different story as once again we found ourselves riding in a thick blanket of smoke.

The westerly winds were carrying the cloud our direction but when we doubled back to climb the Garibaldi pass, we thought we would have some relief. We ate lunch atop the most southernly pass on our adventure and looking out at what was an incredible view of two lakes on the way in, we knew that riding in these conditions could not be healthy. We had already committed to riding and catching rides if needed so the decision to see if we could get a lift was not difficult. But the actual process was a different story. We waited for over 2 hours trying to flag down cars with our bandana-covered faces, while cars often failed to recognize us.

A few kind souls pulled over to make sure we didn’t need water, but most simply didn’t have room for two bicycles. With our patience thin, and our eyes burning, we were greeted by two Germans, Senta and Christian, who have been traveling in a rented motorhome/ camper. They said we could try and fit us in the back, and I knew this was our ticket, so with our bags and bikes stuffed in the camper, we snuggled up for a few hours ride to the Argentine border. But not without a stop, of course. We made sure to tell them that we would buy some treats if we could pull off at the Tolhuin bakery. Jorge, one of a couple friends we met, was working, and he was excited to see us but not as excited as us to walk out with a bag of goodies, including empanadas, cheese balls, cookies, pastries, and alfajores (caramel-like filled cookie sandwich).

We spent the night in the same waiting room but this time we had company of two Japanesse cyclists. We shared a few stories before passing out after what turned out to be an exhausting trip, little did we know this was just the first leg of a lengthy trip to the capital, Buenos Aires, our departure city.

~Justino

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A final visit to Chile

While waiting at the Argentina border we were greeted with the famous strong winds and the likes of a dusty road, we agreed that a ride was the best option to continue on to Buenos Aires, our final destination on this trip. We had a bit easier of a location to ask for a ride, versus being trapped on the top of a mountain pass in smoke, as we could ask face to face and have a better chance of someone going across the Magellan Straight to Rio Gallegos, Argentina. We chose to ask only pickup drivers since they were most likely to accept and fortunately it didn’t take long before two gentleman working on a fiber-optics cable installation project obliged but said they had to make a detour back to Punta Arenas to straighten out something with a Chilean bank. We were just happy to be in a secure car, out of the harsh elements for a while, so the extra 200 miles didn’t matter that much to us. Turns out, we hit it off quite well with our new friends and they bought us sandwiches at a restaurant. They also spoke terrific English which made our story telling that much easier.

We arrived in Rio Gallegos exhausted from another car ride, it seems that these car trips are wearing us out more than cycling. We headed for the campgrounds, our most expensive yet, and ending up bumping into Ed from Montana, US. The world really is a small place. We first met Ed, the 1st of December, while hiking into Cochamo Valley on the North of the Carretera Austral in Chile. We spent some time chatting about sustainable living, and the trails he has cone down here to help construct for the past 8 years or so.

~Justino

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39 Hours of Sitting

We spent the evening dry from a downpour, tucked away in our cozy tent. When we woke up, we prepared some scrambled egg breakfast sandwiches before purchasing our tickets for our upcoming ride to Buenos Aires. There is only one bus company, Via Tac, that is willing to stow bicycles under the bus, so we really didn’t have a choice in selection. The tickets cost $200 for a one-way, which I thought seemed steep, but the journey is (2600 km) 1500 miles or so, and there really isn’t any other option since high-season is in full-swing and flights are full.

We boarded our bus and departed promptly at 8 pm. When our stewart gave us lap-trays and served us dinner (chicken and potatoes), Melissa commented “This isn’t so bad..,” to which my reply was “Let’s see if you say that tomorrow around the same time.”

Sure enough, after a groggy night of attempting to sleep on semi-reclining seats (called semi-cama), we were served a breakfast of carbohydrates: enriched bread-like muffin, a filled cookie (alfajore), and some crackers. This was followed by the coffee machine calling it quits one person shy of Melissa’s hand and we were already ancy. The views are simply pampas, flat and barren, and the heat was beginning to pick up. By mid-day, the bus was filled with passengers. We did have one stop, for what we were told would be 20 minutes, so that the bus could refill on fuel. It ended up taking twice as long to re-fuel, but nobody seemed to complain. Later we would learn this stop was problematic.

I asked Melissa at the 2/3 mark, with 12 hours remaining, “so what do think now?” We both had a good laugh, and a stretch before our dinner and another terrible film. The problem was that every film that played contained either doomsday feelings, or extreme violence. We felt like prisoners without an option. With swollen ankles, we awoke to the final stop before Buenos Aires, 1 hour remained! This quick drop off was a little different than the rest. We sat on the bus for 30 minutes before I asked what seemed to be the problem. Our driver had gone over on his drive time and they were holding the bus from departure. So close but so far away! We sat for an 1.5 hours, already delayed, without another driver in sight. Finally, they decided to put us on another bus with free space. We moved our baggage, gritting our teeth as they threw our bikes around as if they were headed for the dumps, and soon there after, we were on the move once again! … But not for long, as our bus stopped at a garage to fill fuel once more….. ahhhhhh. Buenos Aires at last, just 3 hours late for a whopping 39 hours of thinking and sitting.

~Justiino

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Magdalena’s Party

Upon arrival, we were greeted by the stifling heat and humidity of Buenos Aires, quite the contrast from Ushuaia. We arranged the bike bags and set off, with our achey bodies and little rest, we navigated the busy streets in search of Palermo. Palermo is a quaint district with lots of shopping, restaurants, ice-cream, and access to the zoo, a small lake, and lots of parks. We were headed for Magdalena’s Party, a restaurant and pub that a friend of mine from college, Sarah, and her brother, Johnny, opened a year ago. They are Canadians who traveled down here and fell in love with the city. They decided to move here, and have partnered with a few local friends to open a chill-cafe serving awesome brunches on weekends. Sarah promised us back in Peru that we had authentic California breakfast burritos awaiting our arrival and she totally delivered. Gigantic, delicious burritos made with fresh guacamole, tortillas, and melt in your mouth cheddar cheese!! To top it off, Sarah treated Melissa to a Mocha and gave me a stack of fresh pancakes made with blueberries and strawberries. The 39 hour bus ride all of a sudden became a faint memory as we gorged foods that brings us back home.

Stay tuned as we will post another blog this weekend detailing some highlights from Buenos Aires.

~ Justino

TOTAL DISTANCE: 9,233km / 5,737 miles
TOTAL RIDING DAYS: 111 days (days when our tushes were on our bicycle seats making forward progress)
TOTAL RIDE TIME: 617 hours 42 min!! (amount of time that our tushes were on our bicycle seats making forward progress)
AVG KM/H FOR THE TRIP: 14.95 km/hr – 9.3 miles/hr
NUMBER OF ENGAGEMENTS: 1 perfect one.

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Here are our final maps!

Another long but good blog here folks!! Below outlines the finale of our journey from Lima, Peru to Ushuaia, Argentina “El fin del Mundo.” Our entries discuss our priceless travels from Punta Arena, Chile on to the island of Tierra del Fuego to the “Southernmost city in the world.”
January 7th – January 12, 2011.

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Welcome to Tierra del Fuego!

Continued excitement and elation as we arrived in Ushuaia, Argentina last night after just over 5 months of cycling. The past week has been incredible filled with joy and enthusiasm after our engagement near Punta Arenas. We celebrated with a fancy sit down meal at La Luna, where the staff all came up to congratulate us with a complementary bottle of champagne. We had king crab and tenderloin with roquefort cheese in addition to the best mocha of my life. YUM.

The celebration continued as we woke up early on January 7th and caught a ferry that crosses the Straight of Magellan to the mighty island known as Tierra del Fuego, our last section before Ushuaia. We began riding around noon after catching the once daily ferry to Porvenir, a delicate fishing town on the western shores overlooking the Straight of Magellan. While on the boat, we continued to eye Mt Tam across the straight in the distance and just kept saying how incredible it was to stand atop and have such a monumental moment take place.

Tierra del Fuego means “Land of Fire” and was named so by Ferdinand Magellan, the conqueror sailing under the Spanish Crown, who “discovered” these islands in 1521. The island’s name has changed overtime from his original name for the archipelago as “Land of Smoke” referring to the smoke coming from shoreline fires lit by the Yaghan natives who had lived there over 10,000 years (they were conquered and became extinct in the late 1800s).

Just 147 km of dirt roads remained on the Chilean side of the island before the pavement of Argentina’s RT 3 which will take us into the city known as “el fin del mundo,” the end of the world. Argentina and Chile’s ongoing rivalry can not only be seen by their division of the island (semi-resolved in the Boundary Treaty of 1881), but also in the battle over the “Southernmost City.” This claim is ironic as there is another city, Puerto Williams, that sits across the Drakes Passage, in Chile, which has a population of just 2000 inhabitants. It was built in order for Chile to compete with Argentina over ownership of access to Antartica. Chile officially does not recognize a town as a city if the population is less than 5000 but, because of country rivalry, they make the claim of the most southern city in the world as well.

As we turned eastward to cross the island, we were hopeful of the famous westerly winds of Patagonia to blow us across but had just a gentle push at most as we did a pretty large amount of hard pedaling on the dips and rollers, admiring the ocean waves in the beautiful sunshine. This lack of wind would be forewarning of future riding conditions we would later learn.

We spent the night near one of the biggest estancias we have seen yet. With over 1000 sheep, this working farm/ranch had about 15 folks herding and shoving sheep through a ramp heading into a huge warehouse style building where i presume they were going to sheering them. It was hard to tell but a lot of noise was happening and they suggested we move our tent to an abandoned vandalized building in the middle of sheep territory. After a closer inspection we denied the offer and moved further down the road closer to a penguin colony we were excited to see the following morning.

We awoke excited in hopes of spotting some king penguins, which we read a cyclists blog from 9 months ago who managed to enjoy a sighting. King penguins are the second largest breed of penguins, second only to the emperor penguins, and are normally only found in 3 places, the Northern tip of Antarctica, South Georgia Island, and the Falkland Islands.

We had a couple varying accounts of where they might be located and hoped they hadn’t gone out fishing for breakfast when we arrived, as we later learned they can fish for up to 9 days while they leave their companion to sit on the egg! Upon rounding a large curve in the road we spotted three campers and some other cyclists we met the day before beside a long fence looking towards a white dome shelter that overlooked what looked like small white spots in the distance…. it was them, King Penguins!

-Justino

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A Rare Visit with King Penguins

We quickly realized times had changed as this was now a private park, where an entry fee of $25 USD was collected before entering. The initial rudeness of the park attendant was later forgiven as you could tell he caught a lot of flak about how expensive the entry was. There certainly is an initial shock, especially when you are expecting it to be free, but it is now obvious that this place is in need of protection from those who are trying encounter better photographs and don’t realize that these are wild creatures.

The guide let us in early as we told him that we were on bicycles and didn’t intend to spend the whole day at the park. We walked along a hardly definable path to get to a 2 x 12″ piece of wood across the river where the penguins had settled. It was obvious that they have not invested much of the entry costs into a more stable bridge. Our first encounter was on the shore where our guide managed to spot them in the binoculars. We slowly approached and crouched down before sitting on the sand about 20 feet away. The penguins were quite fearless, and they acknowledged our presence before diving into the frigid waters and swimming around us giving us a pleasant display and warm welcome. They splashed and trumpeted before submerging and departing for some breakfast.

Our group of 5 then walked to a more stationary group near the rivers edge where a a young penguin was regrowing some new feathers and others just stood quietly. We spent the better part of two hours in silence watching these majestic animals stand still. One would occasionally extend his neck to scratch his chest with its beak and another would waddle a bit closer to recognize our presence.
In the end we felt that this one of the more special experiences on the trip thus far, as we don’t know when we’ll have another such encounter with these rare birds.

~Justino

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Look up “Hospitality” in a dictionary and you’ll find “See Argentinians”

Where do I begin? Argentina, we love you with all our hearts.

After our meditative morning with King Penguins, we hunkered down for a day on gravel roads with an unusual headwind. Yowsers. Of course, by this point, a headwind that is ridable is not all too bad. We road on, high on our visit with the beautiful birds, and made it to the Chilean border at 6:00pm. The “aduana” as the border crossings are called, was filled with frowning workers and a terrible torture movie of some sort on. Get me out of here asap please.

Since both borders are open 24 hours a day, and the Argentinian crossing was only 6 miles away, we decided to continue on since we heard from previous cyclists that the Argentine aduana hosts cyclists! We enter the patrol building and simply laugh. The guards are playing upbeat dance music, drinking mate, and smile to greet us at the door. I am immediately taken back to our New Year’s dinner with the boys of aduana Cancha Carrera. After we do our normal passport stamp into the country, they show us to a waiting area which is toasty warm with a stove and hand us keys to the nicest shower I have had yet on this trip. We slept cozy on the floor as the wind howled outside.

Next morning, with the wind once again on our side although just a light breeze, we rolled to Rio Grande, where we hoped to fish for some big trout. Turns out, you need to spend over $150 for a one day fishing permit, and the cops scan the shores of the river with binoculars. Hmm.. expensive hostels, only a closed campsite, and minimal food. We decided to move along, unsure where to camp and weary because dark clouds were starting to roll down from the Northeast.

As we exited town, we rolled slowly along the suburbs, known as “barrios,” and saw a couple working in a greenhouse. Gardeners are usually nice folk, so we pulled over and asked if we could have a little water and camp near the greenhouse. We immediately became part of the Vargara family, as Julia and Jorge took us into their work shed, that had a table, stove, heater, water canister, radio, tv, and bed, to sit and chat over mate and crackers with dulce. (By the way, how crazy is it that every gentleman that has been a huge help to us on this trip has been named Jorge?)

I felt at home chatting with the Vargaras, even though they did not speak a word of English. They were patient with my Spanish and did not make fun of me when I struggled to talk but rather encouraged me on and found it fun to play charades when I did not know a word. Jorge and Julia have four charming sons, aged 21, 15, 12, and 11. What impressed me the most about their boys is their sincere passion for life and lack of teenage angst. They came over to meet us and we spent the afternoon meeting their chickens, dogs, and playing in the field. They told us we should stay sheltered from the evening rain in their garden house and must attend dinner at their home. We walked with them back to their beautiful casa in the barrios for a delicious meal of large quantities of milanesa (pounded carne with breaded crumbs), 3 large bowls of fresh lettuce from the garden, and 2 kilos of potatoes. Four growing boys and two cyclists… you can imagine the amount of food consumed. “There are never leftovers in this house,” Julia laughed.

Of course, dinner in Argentina is normally around 11:30pm, so by the end of the meal, we thanked our amazing hosts with glossy, tired eyes for delicious food, ping-pong, music, and laughs. They encouraged us to return on our way back from Ushuaia, which we could not refuse. With big smiles and full bellies, we spent the night in their garden house, cozy and warm once again as the cold rain began to pour on the tin rooftop.

The rain continued throughout the night and into the next afternoon so it was not a hard decision to stay another night. After all, we do not leave Buenos Aires until mid-February so we are in no hurry. Jorge came over to pick some spinach and was excited to see us for an afternoon mate break. His two youngest boys wanted to take us on a fishing trip, so we spent the afternoon hiking through thick weeds to the Rio Grande with fishing poles (we were just going to watch them fish). Justin laughed as he felt like he was 20 years younger, as these boys explored just like he did as a little boy.

The family told us we once again must come to dinner, no if, ands, or buts. Turns out, it was Aunt Marie’s cumpleanos (birthday)! We spent the afternoon/evening chatting while cooking a huge feast of spinach cannelloni. We made 60 crepes and boiled spinach, chopped over 12 onions, who knows how many pounds of hamberguesa was cooked in a tomato sauce, and after wrapping the cannellonis, they were baked with fresh cheese topped on each. Talk about melt in your mouth goodness. Holy cow. The best part, we all cooked it together as a big huge family (well the boys would take us away from time to time to show us their break dancing skills, or pictures of their soccer stars). At 11:45pm, we said grace with a total of 13 of us at the table and feasted away.

As we set out the next morning without a cloud in the sky, I had a hard time shutting the garden house door. I would truly miss this family- their warmness and generous ways will stay with me forever. We really hope to visit on our way back (Julia said she will teach me how to make empanadas!). During our morning ride conversation, we discussed our time spent with the Vargaras and noted that while there was little to no food in the house (no pantry), very little space (three bedrooms and one bathroom for six people), there were more than 20 plates stored in their cabinets. It was easy to see the value of this family was sharing time with loved ones, old and new.

Melissa

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Bakery Heaven

From the Vargaras, we only had 98km to the small town of Tolhuin with the slogan “the heart of the island.” This little town is known for its huge bakery La Union which so happens to be a Casa de Cyclistas! We rolled up to the back door of the bakery around 3:45pm and before we even dismounted our bikes, Jorge (surprise, surprise about the name) came running out to greet us with hugs and a smile. Without knowing anything about us, he gives us a quick tour and shows us where to park our bikes in the storage building where a room is dedicated to cyclists with beds and a clean bathroom and shower! We were first shocked by the amount of flour stacked in the building – which they go through in less than two months time! Jorge later explained that they go through about 4,000lbs of flour during the weekend!!!

We set our stuff down, put on warmer clothes, and walked over to the bakery for some good eats. Jorge and D showed us around the inner workings (the place is huge) and then we entered the bakery from behind the counter. Our first pastries and hot drinks were on the house… then our seconds… and when we tried to pay, D just kept giving us the thumbs up and saying our money was no good there. Unbelievable! We were so grateful for our stomachs… and a little nervous for our growing bellies with delicious pastries and ridiculously tasty empanadas (pastries stuffed with chicken or beef).

Our roommate for the night, Nezumi -another cyclists from Japan riding to Ushuaia from Buenos Aires, had a spectacular energy, excited by the little things in life. He did not speak much English or Spanish, but we didn’t mind. When I said, “Hello, my name is Melissa,” in Japanese, a phrase I learned 10 years ago from my friend Yuka Nakagawara while we sat on the bench during a high school basketball game, his eyes widened with priceless excitement and we all had a good laugh. Justin and Nezumi exchanged juggling and magic tricks before we all called it a night with nervous jitters about our next day of riding.

In the morning, we went back into the bakery for more goodies, and again D refused to let us pay! More empanadas, cheese bread, and pastries filled our bellies and we packed more for the road. Each item we asked for a certain amount of, he added a few more for good luck. We love you Argentinians. Did I already say that? Because I could say it 1,000 times more.

We separated ourselves from the delicious treats around 10am and hit the open road for the last time (well, heading South to Ushuaia on this journey at least). We caught up with Nezumi at lunchtime and shared our copious amounts of bread and cheese. He was delighted and shared some cookies as well. Our last climb was nice and gradual with sunshine and a few scattered clouds. The scenery beautiful and the encouragement from cars passing by brought tears to me eyes once again (I have had a lot of happy tears this trip!).

Laughter came from all of us when cars and busses passed by with cameras hanging out of every window to take pictures of us. Justin and I explained as best we could to Nezumi how we sometimes feel like giraffes in a zoo with all the tourists stopping to take our photos. Often times, when we stop at rest areas where a tourist bus pulls over, I prepare myself for a dozen pictures. I find it special that women come and huddle around me to ask questions (which I try my best to answer) and line up one at a time to get a photo with me – I wonder how many countries in the world have digital cameras with me and La Tallarine Verde (my bike) on them.

The best Giraffe moment was back in Bolivia on the Laguna’s route when a jeep skidded to a halt and two Koreans jumped out of a car and just started snapping picture after picture of us on a rough climb. The scariest was in Northern Argentina, when a man driving a car the opposite direction was also trying to take photos of us on a main highway.

“I feel like a Moviestar!!!” Nezumi said with the biggest smile possible. I laughed and shook my head in agreement as we all crested the last climb to Ushuaia… now, it was a beautiful gentle roll to el fin del mundo.

~Melissa

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El Fin del Mundo

Well there you have it, 155 days after landing in Lima, Peru we find ourselves relaxing at the tip of South America with countless stories that touch our hearts and hopefully yours, as well as new friends to greet our future with. This is what traveling is all about – letting loose from the comforts of home, accepting challenges that push you to new levels of growth, and feeling the excitement of truly living in the present moment.

Thank you to our friends and family back home for all your love and encouragement, and thank you to our new friends and family we have met along the road. South America, you have been good to us.

I guess these giraffes are headed back for the open plains of Africa were they’ll fit right in again .

(Oh, and on a bit of a side note, I have spent our first day relaxing here at a hillside campground with a view of Drake’s straight researching wedding details and I am now officially a member of “the knot” website. Ha! We are getting married!!)

With all our Love,
Melissa & Justin

[As I finished signing off, Sweet Home Alabama started playing on this Spanish radio! I feel like it would be the rolling credits if this was a movie... maybe we could change the lyrics to sweet home Argentina!]

When we arrived in Punta Arenas, two days after departing from Puerto Natales, we decided to go on a hike at the tip of the South America mainland. Our amazing hostel host, Eduardo, gave us directions to a remote trail along the beach and we spent the afternoon of January 4th reaching the trail.

January 5, 2012 was a special day for many reasons. The sun was shining with a light breeze, such a rare occasion in Patagonia! We visited a Refugio along the beach where sweet kids who were working for the summer gave us the keys to the light house- this light house was the Eastern entrance to the Magellan straight which all ships pass as they navigate around the continent. Normally, you can not enter, but we were excited to climb to the top and look out at the spectacular view as ships sailed past.

We thanked the staff for the special treat and walked down the beach to a trail which climbs to the top of Mt. Tam, about 2,600ft, at the tip of continental South America. This same mountain was climbed by the famous Charles Darwin around 1831 and overlooks the straight that the explorer Magellan sailed across 500 years ago.

When we reached the top, we celebrated with our normal pictures, hooting and hollering. It was Justin’s mom’s beautiful birthday. We thought of her, smiling down on us from above – we miss you dearly.

“Shoot… The memory card is full,” Justin shouted in the powerful wind.

We hiked a bit of the ways down the side of the mountain to hide from the wind and ate a snack while he changed cards.

“Come on, let’s go back to the top!” he said excitedly.

When we arrived back at the top, a small pocket of snow was headed our way. I pointed to it and told Justin we did not have much time until the next cloud of snow and wind would roll through. He seemed preoccupied and was adamant that we take one more set of pictures at the top. I positioned myself and waited… And well.. You know the rest!!

We danced in the snow storm and laughed as we hopped along the muddy trail back to sea level where we set up camp with an ocean front view.

Spinach pasta (our nightly 400grams of spaghetti) with roasted red sauce (tomato sauce packet), wild boar (sliced salami), freshly grated Parmesan cheese (20 grams of packaged Parmesano cheese), and a flaky piece of bread (it was pretty flaky), made for a perfect celebratory dinner, oh and don’t forget the 190 gram chocolate almond bar after. Our bodies deserved the treatment after such a feat.

With smiles on our face, we skipped back into Punta Arenas this morning to share our exciting news and clean up for a nice dinner on the town.

Happy as can be,
Melissa

Here is our updated map of our location. As usual, ignore the incorrect numbers in the top-right hand corner.

Entries below chronicle our travels from December 25th, 2011 to January 1st, 2012 as we made our way from El Chalten, Argentina to Puerto Natales, Chile.

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Christmas Sunshine

We set out the day after Christmas with a gentle tailwind on asphalt roads, a great combination after 500 of dirt roads in Chile. However, after 90 km the road turned and we immediately slowed from 30 to 8km/hr! We yo-yoed a bit with a cyclist from Latvia who was here for 2.5 weeks and doing some longer days, so when we decided to stop at La Leona Hotel, he continued on with a wave.

We were the only customers in the small historical site and their were so many baked goods, that we couldnt help but eat a baked apple crisp as we attempted to chat with the family on wifi. It was quite ironic that this small estancia (ranch) had better wifi than the whole town of Chalten. La Leona is quite the historical site, as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid took residency for a month here after robbing a nearby bank.

We spent the following hours cooking out front (our stove had a major failure and we spent over an hour tinkering with it to get it to light again). In the later evening, we chatted with the hoards of tourists whose buses made regular stops here along RT 40 between the tourist towns of El Calafate and El Chalten.

The following day we set out with the prospect of reaching El Calafate. A touristy town on the Lago Argentine, the largest single body of water in the country. After turning off RT 40 we again experienced the wrath of Patagonia winds as we slowly moved along the 32 km road to town. Just outside of town we came up on three Italian cycle tourists who had just started from the airport 17 km away. You should have seen their faces as they began their 3 week cycling trip into headwinds that blew us all over the road. Arriving in town was a relief and we went straight to the store for some salami and cheese sandwiches on fresh baked bread.

We took advantage of the grills at the campsite and bbq’d some steaks and potatoes before we turned in, exhausted from the days ride.

~Justino

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Perito Moreno Glacier

We took the afternoon bus to Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the most active glaciers of it’s size in the world. With fewer crowds and some ominous clouds we ate a picnic on the benches on the viewing walkways experiencing the beauty of the spectacular site.

The glacier is 30 km (18 miles) long and 5 km wide, and you are able to get within a stones throw of the 60 meter (180ish feet) high walls of solid ice. The amazing thing about the glacier is that the whole thing advances as much as 2 meters (6ft) per day, which calves (a glacier term: breaks off) gigantic pieces of ice.

The experience is totally surreal and meditative as you wait and anticipate the next piece to fall into the blue waters below. The sounds are as much a part of the experience as the view. Melissa and I just sat in awe, like the rest of the folks, all silent and mesmerized.

~ Justino

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Leaving El Calafate

Departing El Calafate, we again passed the Italian trio on their first official day of riding. Melissa and I chatted about what our first day was like, and how Patagonia would be a pretty tough place to begin such a trip. We climbed a few hundred meters and said goodbye to the snowy peaks in the distance as we once again found ourselves riding the barren pampas of RT 40. The temperatures were cool and fortunately the winds cooperated a bit with a beautiful tailwind and we zoomed along the pavement until we reached our turn. A 70 km piece of unpaved road that serves a short of shortcut when heading towards Puerto Natales, saving 80 kilometers or so of potential headwind road.

We filled our water bottles and set out knowing that not a lot lay in front of us and we had better find a nice campsite with shelter from wind. We made a goal to go 20 km to an estancia we saw on the map. Parts of the road were descent, and other parts were miserably loose with large stones. At one point we veered into the wind and were zigzagging all over when Melissa caught some loose gravel and within an instant she had flipped over and was lying on the ground. I managed to swerve around her and offered to help her up as she was holding her elbow. My first thought was that she may have broken her collarbone, a common injury when a cyclists crashes, but fortunately she had a textbook tuck and roll and just bruised it pretty good. We arrived at the estancia, which turned out more to be just a house with a few trees to protect it from the wind. We knocked and when nobody answered tucked behind the back wall in hopes someone would arrive and give us permission to camp. A sign above the side door noted that this was some sort of police headquarters so we presumed that we wouldn’t be chased out should someone come home soon.

While resting and reading a magazine we brought from Chalten, we were greeted by Fabian. A large broad-shouldered older fella who stuck out his big hands for a shake and immediately offered us to come in. With our dinner preparations already begun, we moved inside as he lit his stove and offered us hot water. He asked us the usual questions and told us we were eating pretty early, 6:30 at this point.

He then proceeded to show us photos and letters he has received from previous cyclists, turns out he hosts quite a few! Following our rice and lentils we heard the Italians roll up and the quite house turned into a cyclists frenzy. We enjoyed the protection from the wind and the bunk bed with his daughter’s toys lying around. Thank you Fabian for your generosity and washing our dishes after you refused to let us do it.

~Justino

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Heartbreak with Headwinds

With 50 km of tough dirt road remaining we got an early start and were riding by 6:30am. The sheep on the hillside were surprised to see us as they scrambled away to the sounds of our thin tires throwing stones on the loose riverbed. By 8:30 the wind was on full-force. We were pushing our bikes and our progress had come to a near halt.

We laughed a bit and joked about how silly this was that we were seriously going 3 km/hr. Riding was deemed impossible, and pushing was so slow. It felt like someone was throwing handfuls of sand in your face and we then started questioning if we would make it to the end of the road where another estancia was for water and relief at the end of the day. A car passed us and didn’t even stop and Melissa and I were taken aback that we are seriously in the middle of a dry and windy land, and people just drive by like we are sheep in the pasture.

The next truck that came by had the Italian woman from the Italian trio. She had taken a lift a few kilometers earlier as the fellas declined. Fortunately they did because it left a bit of extra space for us to have a lift. Our first since Lima, and as we arrived at gas station 18km later, we couldn’t have been more relieved to be off the loose stones and ridiculous windy, and smokey road. The wind was so strong that a big rig truck was blown over a ways down the road.

We had just been broken the news that Torres Del Paine, one of the most popular National Parks in all of South America, had caught fire. Irresponsible tourists disobeyed posted signs and lit a fire in a dry, old-growth area and it was now threatening lives, structures, and incredible pristine landscape. Sadly, with fierce wind and dry grasslands, the fire spread over a large portion of the park.

Unsure of whether we should head towards Puerto Natales knowing that the park was closed was a tough decision but we wanted to celebrate the New Year and not be torn with broken hearts somewhere on the side of the barren road, so we pushed on.

~Justino

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Carrera Argentina Border Post

When we arrived at another border post for Argentina, we took care of the necessary exit stamps and then asked about a safe place to cook and camp from the wind. We walked behind the building and I hollered at two guys working with their heads down in the 120km/72mph winds. I pointed to an empty garage type hut and they laughed and said it was for the horses. One of the men led us over to an old victorian style home with the windows covered with medal sheets (the glass had been busted out by wind) and there was wind howling through the walls. Some hay, grain, and saddles lay strewn about but there was plenty of space to have protection. While eating some spaghetti with a less than par canned tomato sauce one of the guys came in and offered us some water. His name was George and he was a soft spoken gentleman. He shortly returned with a 2 liter bottle, and a packet of tang. He also brought a bottle of cider and explained it was to celebrate New Years.

We did our evening routine and were just about asleep when George came back and clapped three times. He said it would be cold in the building and to come join him in the warm, insulated border patrol building that had just closed.

The border patrol staff were celebrating new year’s a day early as only three people would be on duty the next day. They invited us to join them for a classic bbq meat Argentinian dinner with them. Of course, dinner time in Argentina is somewhere between 11pm and 12am, so we worked hard to stay awake, sleepy from our windy battle, by playing great matches of ping pong and sharing stories. After a delicious meal around 11:30 (with the sun still in twilight on the horizon!), we tucked away in an office room on cozy mattresses for another protected night from the merciless wind. We love Argentinians!

~Justino

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Feliz Ano Nuevo!

We arrived in Puerto Natales on New Year’s Eve after navigating through smoke-filled valleys paralleling Torres del Paine. The wind took a day off and a cold chill settled on the land with a light rain. We cheered on the rain to help with the fire.

After visiting with a sister of a team member from Justin’s Arden Park Swim team back in Sacramento (small world!), we cuddled up in a cozy hostel to bring in the new year with fellow travelers and cider. After banging pots and dancing in the streets, we tucked into bed to get some much needed sleep after two days of staying up past midnight and riding through rough weather.

We are still overcoming our sadness of not being able to see the park. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that the park will never be the same in my lifetime. However, I must be grateful though for all the beauty I have been blessed to see on this trip. We are planning now to backpack through less explored areas at the tip of South America with our extra time.

About 700km to Ushuaia – that could be 7 days or 15 depending on the winds… I do not have the words yet to describe the state of shock I am in as I look at all the maps posted on walls here of the local area and seeing Ushuaia as one of the main attractions.

Hoping for tailwinds and sunshine,

~Melissa

We departed Villa O’ Higgins, the end of the Carretera Austral, on December 21, 2011 and boarded a small boat for a ride across Lago O’ Higgins. Since there is only one company who offers rides across the lake only twice a week, they have a major monopoly and their tickets are quite expensive. We were happy for the shelter of the boat as it protected us from the cold rain we had endured for the past 2 days. Fortunately, the sky turned and the rain let up as soon as the boat left the dock letting us have some impressive views of the towering snow covered peaks that rose from the vibrant blue waters. I admired how there are no roads in these parts, just trails along the shoreline that I hope to one day walk when we return with backpacks.

We spent the 2 1/2 hour boat ride chatting with our new friends from British Columbia, Kelly and Dave, and playing with their precious son Tumelo also known as “Timmy,” “Little Bill” (due to his facial expressions like Bill Cosby), or, my favorite, “Mr. T.” We were excited to learn they have their own outdoor education school in Canada known as TreeHouse Outdoor Education! They are backpacking around Patagonia on the once main horse trails that are now disappearing as roads and cars make their way to these remote parts. We loved hearing their stories and enjoyed the beautiful energy this family exudes.

When we reached the other side of Lake O’Higgins, we wished our great friends happy trails and sunshine as they took off to hike trails near the massive southern ice fields where they would celebrate Christmas. This is where we would begin the infamous Lago Del Desierto route, 22km of trail ending at the border post on Lago Del Desierto in Argentina. The first section of the route was gravel road and more or less rideable until we reached the top of the pass and officially entered into Argentina. The final 7kms was trail similar to what you would find on a hike in the Santa Cruz Coastal mountains of California along a narrow trail.

We had been forewarned about what to expect and since there was a fair amount of rain the previous 3 days, we expected the worst. The trail had a lot of roots to navigate around and a few real mucky spots near water sources but overall we managed to lift our bikes and fit them through the narrow horse paths arriving at the Argentinian border post around 5:30 pm, in perfect timing to catch the final boat of the day across Lago Del Desierto at 6pm.

Most of our 22km trek was spent zigzagging back and forth with a couple we met a few hundred kilometers back in Cochrane where Justin fell ill with a fever. Walter is from the Netherlands and Magda is from Poland – they speak a mixture of Polish, English, and Dutch together and it is quite interesting to listen too. We ended up camping together and enjoying a campfire near the river leading to our next town and discussing our travels. They are spending their honeymoon cycle touring around Patagonia!

On December 22, we departed our beautiful campsite and set out for El Chalten. El Chalten is most famous for its location at the base of Cerro Torres and Mt Fitz Roy. The views of the backside of Fitz Roy greeted us as we travelled the 37 km on poor dirt road to arrive and stop at the first bakery we saw, eating some fresh baked bread and happy to be in a place to rest for a few days and celebrate Christmas.

~ Justin

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A Christmas Hike to Remember

El Chalten, which means “smoking mountain,” shares my birth year of 1985, as it was hastily built in order to stake claim to this area for Argentina during ongoing border disputes with Chile. To this day, there are still places on the map where no line is drawn as the border has still not been resolved. A narly Seattle alpine climber, Collin, who we met on our Lago del Desierto trek, told us he had been living in El Chalten during the winters since 2003, climbing as much as the weather allows, and the city has more than quadrupled in size in 8 years.

It is nestled right next to Los Glaciares National Park, home to the largest fresh water reserve in the world. Interestingly, there are more tourist than locals populating the city at any given time as it has mainly developed as a tourism hub to the park.

We decided to take an overnight trip into the national park to get a good view of Cerro Torres with a massive, active glacier beneath it as well as climbing to the base of Fitz Roy. The scenery is jaw-dropping here and we seem to have hundreds of pictures of the same massive spires as they overwhelm your senses at every viewing.
BELOW: Cerro Torres seen from Lago Torres

BELOW: Fitz Roy

We set up camp with a terrific view of Sir Fitz for the night, scarfed down 400grams of spaghetti with tomato sauce and salami, and then decided to climb the last couple 100 meters to the base of Fitz Roy for sunset around 7pm since the sun would not set for another 3 hours or so. Justin commented how this is one of his favorite places in the entire world, and it will definitely hold a special space in our hearts.

We celebrated Christmas Eve morning by waking up to the sun glistening on the massive granite peaks, a very uncommon occurrence – many come to see these peaks but the clouds rarely unveil the magic wonders.

Along our hike back to town, we bumped into Steve and Kevin, two gentlemen from Ohio who we had met the day before at the ranger station. They offered to meet for drinks later in the day, so we enjoyed Sprites and great conversation in the late afternoon sun. Steve asked if we’d join them for a Christmas dinner the next day which of course we were honored to! After our Sprites, we rolled over to the all you can eat pizza joint and stuffed ourselves to the gills for a Christmas Eve celebration. It wasn’t my grandma’s amazing prime rib meal, but we still rolled home stuffed.

Christmas day we checked into a Bed & Breakfast and gazed at sir Fitz all day as we relaxed with not a worry in the world except poor Internet due to our remote location. Our Christmas dinner turned out to be a real feast and we once again lay overstuffed, extremely grateful for all the kindness and compassion we have encountered in our travels. We can not believe how close we are to Ushuaia!

Merry Christmas everyone. Sending love and happiness your way.

~Melissa

I have a huge lump in my throat as I try to put into words what I have learned about the potential pending doom of Patagonia. I feel, more than ever, the pains of John Muir, the famous naturalist who fought to his death to preserve the wilds of the Sierra Nevada as the plague of civilization oozed into these pristine wilds. San Francisco’s City Council came to the decision in 1913 to build the now infamous Hetch Hetchy dam to provide more water for the growing city. This declaration caused 100s of Natives Americans to relocate and flooded a valley Muir believed to be even more beautiful than the now famous Yosemite Valley. He passed away a year after the decision was finalized. Today, less than 100 years later, only one river in California, the Smith River found close to the Oregon border, runs wild and free without a dam. [List of California Dams] [Dams: Good verus the Bad]

Below is an excerpt from pg.19 of the Lonely Planet’s online guide to Patagonia (a popular traveler’s guidebook) which outlines the issue at hand today in Patagonia:

“Patagonia boasts one of the world’s great water reserves, with deep glacial lakes, two of the planet’s largest non-polar ice fields, and powerful, pristine rivers rushing from the Andes to the Pacific. It’s a dream if you’re a salmon, a nature lover or kayaker. Or a hydroelectric company.
Energy is a hot topic in Chile, where natural resources are few. Spurred by fears of a pending national energy crisis, Spanish-Italian multinational Endesa and Chili-based conglomerate HydroAysen are laying plans for large scale dams throughout Patagonia. By come estimates, 12 Patagonian rivers, including the Baker, Pascua, Futaleufu, Manso and Puelo, are threatened. A study by the University of Chile found that tourism, the region’s second-largest industry, would take a severe hit if the dams are built. While the damns would provide a short-term solution, in the long-term they would transform one of the greatest wildernesses on Earth into an industrial engine.
Popular views construe the project as necessary to protect the nation’s energy reserves, but in fact the public sector uses only a third of Chile’s energy – over half is consumed by the mining industry. Pristine ecosystems and rural farms are at stake, but an even greater issue is building the world’s longest transmission lines.
Thousands of high-voltage towers would run 2415km to bring power to Santiago and mining operations in the North.
‘As a planet we are in a fresh water crisis and global warming will make it worse,’ assures Aaron Sand]gers of International Rivers. ‘These rivers are immensely valuable. We should safeguard our remaining sources of freshwater.’
In the Puelo Valley, the flood zone would put the farm and family burial ground of third-generation subsistence farmer Segundo Cardenas underwater. A century ago, the government gave citizens incentives to populate this remote region. In a reversal, it’s now asking Patagonians to give up their waterways, and in some cases their livelihood. Some feel that the country is pillaging the resource-rich south to feed the energy-hungry north.
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Cardenas wondered. ‘When you build a house, would you take a board from one wall to patch another? That’s what Chile is doing.’
For more information, contact Patagonia Sin Represa (Patagonia without Dams: www.Patagoniasinrepresa.cl) or the US Based NRDC (National Resource Defense Council; www.nrdc.org).”

ABOVE: A dam and man-made water canals have already been built in the Lake’s District of Chile’s Patagonia

History, time and again, shows that money and greed trump the protection of our wildernesses and ecosystems. The earth seems to be balancing on a steep apex, and it is only a matter of years before human life on this planet is drastically impacted, if not destroyed, by our own consumptive behaviors. The scariest part to me, is that the majority of the whopping 7 billion people worldwide (as of October 2011) are not even aware of the problem. **Interesting population growth fact: in 1900, the population of Earth was 1.6, and just 99 years later we flipped those numbers to 6.1 billion Learn More About Population Growth).

When I worked for the City of Vacaville last year teaching outdoor education to children, I had a rough encounter promoting my program at a city fair. A man came up to me, a bit of alcohol on his breath, and started yelling that I better not teach that global warming bull—-. I just stared at him in shock, and often on this bike ride I wonder to myself, what should I have said to help him see that there is a problem without spurring more anger?

Is it too late?

There are shimmering glimmers of hope shining through the scars of plastic inundated oceans and clear-cut hillsides caused by the overwhelming growth of man. The Tompkins, founders of the clothing brands NorthFace, Espirit, and Patagonia, live on their properties in Chile for a majority of the year. They have purchased thousands of acres which they are turning into remote protected land for public use. Miles upon miles of fencing have been removed and invasive plant species spread by cattle are tediously picked out of the landscape by hand. The Chilean and Argentinian governments are in a constant battle with the Thompkins, feeling their actions as a threat – Learn More About the Tompkins. Many people wonder is the only way to protect our wilderness land to privatize it? Something does not seem right about that. However, the Tompkins are just two of many more philanthropists and small organizations working to educate the masses with a focus on lowering our rising rate of consumption.

How do we separate politics, for example, the harsh Berlin wall between Republicans and Democrats stagnating the United States, from the protection of our planet and our future? Tompkins has pointed out, “Environmental problems arise from the mistaken notion that humans come first. They have to come second; this has not sunk in to the political and social leadership.”

I will continue to ponder these questions as we roll along and hike in the wilds of Patagonia.

~Melissa

“These temple destroyers, devotees of ravaging commercialism, seem to have a perfect contempt for Nature, and, instead of lifting their eyes to the God of the mountains, lift them to the Almighty Dollar.” ~ John Muir’s Protest of the Hetch Hetchy Dam

*Total Distance: 8,002 km / 4,972 miles
* Number of jars of Peanut Butter consumed on this trip: 6
* Number of fevers above 103 fahrenheit: 3
* Jaw dropping waterfalls: Innumerable!

Current Maps

* Please note numbers in top, left-hand corner are incorrect.

Below are stories documenting our travels from Puerte Monte to Villa O’Higgins, Chile from December 7-19, 2011.

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The Navimag Ferry – Setting Sail on the open Sea

December 7th-9th,2011

We couldn’t be more excited to board the ferry south and leave the unfriendly port city of Puerto Montt. When we bought our Navimag tickets a few days prior, we decided not to purchase tickets for our bicycles since we found it quite ridiculous that our tickets were $75 but our bikes would cost an additional $60 each. If we could find a truck that would allow us to put our bikes on their bed, well then they would travel for free and we’d save $120.

After three hours of sitting at the cargo entry port for vehicles, a Chilean cop dressed in civilian clothes, prepared to go on vacation with a suitcase, asked what we needed help with. When we explained our situation, he brought us over to the port, and proceeded to go from truck to truck seeing if anyone could help us out. A big thank you to Andreas, who was transporting huge panes of glass, for letting us board our bikes on his truck! We hope you enjoyed the chocolate treat!

Our ship originally was set to board at 10pm and take off at 12am. Around midnight, the crew finally came around to pick up the 25 or so passengers in the wait room who were strewn about chairs half asleep. We boarded the massive ship, learned where our room was and promptly fell fast asleep in our comfortable bunk bed with clean sheets and pillows, and a private bathroom! We awoke around 7:45am and realized that we were still in port and not set to leave until maybe 9 am, 9 hours later than originally planned! Breakfast was some delicious baked bread, runny scrambled eggs, and yogurt, but we didn’t complain much.

I enjoyed meeting some other travelers as we grew quite close living in such small quarters. Melissa’s favorite friend was a puppy who also made his way in a carrier box to Andreas’ truck, which was parked next to a massive tractor. We also spent some time in the bridge gally chatting it up with the captain and watching him track our progress on paper maps, in case the GPS failed, which I guess it had in the past.

We arrived in Puerto Chacabuco 24 hours later after some bumpy seas but pleasant scenery of the snow capped peaks in the distance. Happy to be off the boat, we set off in the afternoon mist hoping to meet some cycling friends in Coyhaique. As we gradually climbed up a valley paralleling the Rio Simpson, the purple lupin on the road thickened and before we knew it there were fields of lupin, covering the valley floor, one of the most beautiful displays I had ever witnessed.

~Justin

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Cycling the rugged Carretera Austral

We are so happy to finally be riding our bicycles through the remote lands of Patagonia. Magnificent, multi-tiered waterfalls decorate the rugged glacier capped mountainsides as the clearest blue rivers I have ever seen snake through glacier carved valleys below. The trees are home to many different species of birds, including parrots, who sing to us as we roll down the bumpy, dusty dirt roads.

The weather is quite hard to get use to down here. It changes on a dime- one second it is so hot you think you are melting, then a huge gust of wind picks up and it drops below freezing with you covered in sweat, now shivering. Add to that a dash of rain when their is not a cloud remotely close to you… and presto! You are in Patagonia, my friend. I finally stopped jumping for my rain coat every time I felt a sprinkle start up. If you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes… or maybe seconds.

~Melissa

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New Friends along the Road

In the past 10 days we have seen more cyclists than the prior 60 days combined. The Carretera Austral is a magnet for those seeking adventure, remote riding, and incredible vistas. Each cyclist we approach we always give a very big hello too and ask the usual questions of where you from and where are you heading? We have met cyclists from all over the world Canada, Poland, Slovakia, France, Romania, Belgium, and England who are all enjoying the bumpy ride and pristine waters.

The cyclists I would like to highlight are a couple from France and their 3 year-old daughter, whose birthday it happened to be on the day we met them. They began in Ushuaia and are heading north to Quito, Ecuador over the course of the next year. We wish you luck and safe travels!

An English cyclist we met is cycling 6 continents, now working on his second, kind of hard to wrap your mind around 80+ thousand kilometers and 5 years of biking. At this point in our first tour it is no wonder so many people are into seeing the world by bicycle, the slow pace, simplicity, and freedom makes it a top choice.

Overall this part of the world has seen some huge changes with the new roads as locals have traded and sold their horses for more modern pick-up trucks. Tourism has it’s grips on the economy and cyclists seem to treated like any other paper spender, but have a bit more freedom in not relying on the infrequent buses. Still the preferred way to travel is cycling as long as you pedal fast enough to evade the horse flies.

~Justin

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Fever in the tiny town of Cochrane

When we woke up about 20km from the town of Cochrane, Justin complained of a stiff back and achy legs. I thought that maybe he hit a pot hole a bit too hard the day prior and hopefully he’d feel better once we got moving. When we arrived in the cute little town, we enjoyed cucumber, tomato, and cheese sandwiches on the shady, grassy plaza.

“Jeeze, it is cold right now!” Justin said as he pulled out his wool sweater while shivering.

Uh oh. It was close to 90 degrees, one of our hotter days yet on the trip. I immediately made the executive decision that we were staying in town for the day, and went in search of a campsite for the night. I set up the tent, and Justin laid down to sleep, still shivering with a piping hot body. He came in and out of a snooze while I worked on washing laundry and cleaning up the bikes a bit.

Around 3pm, I could not take it anymore! Justin had a serious fever and was completely achy. He started asking me the same questions, moments apart, and was surprised to see our laundry done, when moments earlier he had watched me finish. I ran to the hospital and entered the dark hallway, covered in sweat, wondering where to go and what to say in Spanish. A doctor walked up to me (we are so far from the States!) and asked what I needed help with. I explained Justin’s symptoms and he said to bring him in IMMEDIATELY – we both feared it was the mortal Haunta virus caused by inhaling particles from dried mouse urine.

I grabbed the only wheelchair in the hospital, and ran the four blocks back to our campsite pushing the wheelchair along while getting quite a few stairs from the locals. As I pushed Justin over to the hospital, he at least was cracking jokes which made me feel a bit better.

The nurse immediately took his temperature with an old school mercury thermometer, and indeed he was up to 39 degrees Celsius. They drew blood and determined it was definitely an infection but too early to see other possible symptoms. Back on Cipro our dear Swift goes… They at least calmed my nerves and reduced my blood pressure by half when they stated he did not have the symptoms for Haunta. WHAT A RELIEF!

When the nurse went to administer a shot to reduce the fever symptoms, Justin looked away and squinted his eyes. I came into the room after grabbing some paperwork, and went to hold his hand. When I looked down at it, his fingers were PURPLE! I screamed about ten times, “His fingers are purple!! His fingers are purple!!” in English, of course, and a few moments later the nurse figured out what I was panicking about. Was this the next symptom?! He can’t lose his fingers!!

I then proceeded to run up and down the hallway screaming, “Where is the doctor?! Where is the doctor?!” The doctor later joked that I needed Valium – who wouldn’t need valium after seeing their loved one with a high fever and purple fingers in a remote village the farthest you could possibly be from your home?

We laid Justin down on the examining table and raised his legs. The doc explained Justin reacted to having a shot and was going into shock. Justin later told me that the nurse missed his vein and it really hurt. The finger discoloration subsided as we finished getting the paperwork together and paid a whopping $41 for the hospital visit. Justin hobbled back the four blocks to our campsite but he still made me a bit nervous as he had trouble walking in a straight line.

After some simple lentils and rice for dinner, he lay peacefully to sleep and slowly the fever waned.

In the morning, he was back to his usual antsy self, raring to continue on. After a blood test confirmed the infection had reduced, we set back off on the open road.

~Melissa

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More scenic views of glacial carved valleys led us to the cozy town of Caleta Tortel, which is navigable solely by boardwalks – no cars, or bikes clog noisy roadways. After a good bite of food and a great visit with new friends from British Columbia hiking with their sweet 2 1/2 year old child, we rolled on to Puerto Yungay. Another ferry found us en route to Villa O’higgins where we now lay resting for a day before taking our last ferry and slog through mud to our Christmas destination – El Chalten, Argentina.

Quick Stats

*Total distance traveled: 7,250 kilometers
*Number of days traveling in South America: Day 118
*Fish caught: 1 tiny guy so far…
*Number of times our laundry has been washed by a washer machine in South America: 0 (we hand wash our laundry whenever we get a place with a little water and time to air dry).

Map Update

*Note Numbers in top left-hand corner are incorrect

Hospitality that melts the heart

We started riding through Chile from Pino Hachado Pass on November 22, 2011. Today is December 5, 2011. Of the 13 nights we have spent in this country, only two did we have to pay for a place to sleep. Once, we overpaid in the tourist town of Puerto Octay, along the second largest lake in Chile which overlooks the mighty Volcan Osorno. I say we overpaid because we gave 6,000 chileanos ($12) for simply a spot of grass in a campsite where stray dogs run rampant and bark next to your tent ALL night long. I even walked up to the camp host at 11pm to discuss the problem as one dog followed and sat at my heels smiling. The host just laughed and said it was not her dog and closed the door. Awesome. The second time was some of the best $8 US (4,000 chileanos) we have spent on this trip. I will talk about the valley that I believe is closest to heaven a little later.

My point bringing up money is that the hospitality and support we have felt in this country thus far have brought me tears of joy more than once. The sun sets around 9:45 pm nowadays for us and so we find ourselves riding a bit later. Riding along the PanAmerican Highway one night, we crossed a river with beautiful willows swaying on the water’s edge. We decided to turn our bikes (which was a tad scary on a major highway) and backtrack the bridge to a trail leading to a property line and a string of homes, similar to an apartment complex, next to open fields where sheep and cattle graze. Three men working on a car stood up and came over to us as we pushed our bikes up the driveway. We explained that we have a tent and were looking for a place to set it up for the night and pointed to the willows. They said of course we could stay at their place and proceeded to ask the many common questions we receive about our journey. Excited, we ran to the willows, set up our tent, and started taking turns working on cooking our usual lentejas con arroz (lentils with rice) with whatever fresh vegetables we found in the last pueblo we passed through. The fishing pole we purchased over 1,000 miles ago, before Salta, Argentina, is finally getting put to use! Whenever we find a stream, river, or lake, we take a break and through our line in a few times. That night, I caught our first fish, a tiny little guy that flopped onto the shore and made Justin and I giggle with excitement!

After circling the mighty Volcan Osorno, we moved along a valley that is not trampled as much by tourism. We found a little note in a book that mentioned a valley similar to Yosemite and our curious minds decided to wander over to it as a side trip. Along the way, we stopped for the evening at a spectacular sight – the smell of sea salt filled the air as we viewed an estuary with volcanoes soaring above it showing the way to the magnificent Pacific Ocean. I have not seen the ocean since August 14, 2011, 110 days prior. This is the longest I have ever been apart from the ocean. I kept humming to myself a phrase we use in the outdoor education world to teach kids the word estuary, “ES-TU-AR-Y, where the river meets the sea! ES-TU-AR-Y, where the river meets the sea!”

Justin chatted it up with local fishermen sitting on their porch and soon we found ourselves a campsite on their riverfront property, fishing the late evening away while eating fresh baked cookies!

We also were blessed to tuck away for a night in a boat maker’s workshop to hide from the heavy rains. Jose welcomed us into his home for coffee, tea, and fresh baked bread with homemade honey and butter. Wow! Miel (Honey) is big in these parts and most families have their own bee boxes in their backyards. It is the most delicious honey either of us have ever enjoyed. It came at a price for me though as I was stung in my bicep and learned that I have a pretty good allergic reaction to bee stings. My arm swelled until I looked like a body builder, and then proceeded to turn an assorted variety of reds and purples.

Oy. The honey and company was worth it.

~Melissa

A valley close to Heaven

On our way down to Cochamo Valley, we followed a paved road with intermittent dirt patches. Admiring the views of volcanoes in every direction, we slowly rolled along the hillside. All of a sudden, a rabbit jumped onto the gravel path, looked at us, and took off up the road. Justin and I pointed it out to each other and thought nothing more of it. At the next corner, there it was again sitting waiting for us!! It took off once more for the next curve in the road and waited. I rubbed my eyes and took a drink of water. After following the bunny for 3 kilometers or so, I started thinking we were either entering Wonderland, or had eaten some funky food in the last pueblo and were sharing delirious images.

The bunny bid as a farewell without ever speaking english or telling us he was late for a very important date so we continued on. Just a little ways down the road another odd occurrence, this time tugging on my heart strings. A kitten cried loudly in the middle of the road, crouched down and shaking. I could not leave it there and decided to wrap it in a bandana and figure out what to do with it in the small town a few kilometers ahead. Sparkle, a name Justin and I independently thought of for it and later realized, cried and cried as I tried to ride her down the bumpy road in our cooking pot. When we arrived in town, we found a small cardboard box to place her in, and I bought a small carton of milk for her. Justin convinced me it was not plausible to have Sparkle ride down the Carratera Austral with us and so we wished her the best of luck near a store with many animals and people nearby to help her.

Cochamo Valley. A sister to Yosemite with massive Granite walls cradling a green valley with crystal clear water. The energy that this place emits is heavenly and pure.

There are only two ways to get to this valley, horseback or foot. We opted for feet as horseback was quite costly. The 12km/7.5 mile trail climbs through rainforest next to a mighty river with waterfalls at every turn. The trail is rocky, covered in mud, and I lived out a childhood dream of swaying through vines and crossing rivers to reach the valley floor.

The entire valley had 10 inhabitants in it, including myself and Justin. We laid in the grass in astonishment and planned our next backpacking trip to hike throughout these lightly touched valleys. I hesitate to even write about the valley as I hope its purity remains and pavement stays far away.

We only had enough food to stay the night and hiked out the next afternoon before another rain storm arrived and made the trail almost impassible.

~ Melissa

Mono y pato (Monkey and Duck)

The forecast was rain but when we awoke, the ground was dry and the air foggy. We set out for another day along the bay when the drizzle began. An hour later we decided to stop at the the tourist information kiosk in Rio Puelo as the drizzle turned to pouring. We pulled into a large garage where a mechanic was hard at work on this Saturday perfect for snuggling up with a good book and cup of hot chocolate. He called out his wife, the tourist information guide, and offered us some coffee and tea.
They asked us the typical traveling questions and we learned their names were Pato (meaning Duck) and Mono (Monkey). Pato, originally from Japan, was a mother of three including the most adorable 3 and 6 year old, and Mono was a fly-fishing guide and mechanic from Argentina.

Our short conversation turned into relaxing by a fire and drying out, before being offered a warm shower. Hesitant to resist and postpone more wet weather, we obliged and also did a quick wash of a few clothes. Laundry then turned into an offer to eat a late lunch.

Pato has a dream of opening a restaurant and after eating what was our most delicious home-cooked meal here thus far, we can see why. She made homemade Chilean fried-bread, grilled chicken in onions, carrots, and some other tasty veggies. We had potatoes and endless cups of fine tea.

Our bellies full, the afternoon late, and the rain still on she offered to take us to the store in her car, a short 5 km, but at this point a heafty trek by bike. The car ride turned into a tour of the countryside and visit to Lake Tagua Tagua, a large lake near the border of Argentina.

After our car ride Pato and Mono, and their lovely kids, who grew a strong liking to Melissa’s playing with them, offered us a place at their riverside cottage. A construction project on the banks of the Rio Puelo, home to Mono’s 28 kilo record Salmon.

Our experience with this happy family is one that we will definitely cherish, as they model great parenting and a hope of health and joy for their precious young ones. A trip back in the future will hopefully hold true to a summertime fishing trip with Mono when the Shinook Salmon are running, where one awaits my catching.
Thank you Mono and Pato for sharing your time and compassion and making our journey all the more special.

~Justin

Gear Malfunctions

Alright, here is where we cue the whining violins to start whimpering a sad song in the background…

Our gear… ah.. our gear… we have had quite a whirlwind of gear issues, failures, and losses. I will list a few of them in no particular order below.

—

Tent

- Our Nemo tent has two doors on it, which is a nice change from our smaller Nemo on the PCT that had only one for us to squeeze by eachother to enter and exit. Well from the dirt and grime of our travels, 3 of the 4 tent zippers no longer work. We only use one door at this point, and hold our breathe every time we open and close the tent. It makes us extremely nervous to enter one of the most remote places in the world with only one tent zipper functioning… but we have faith. Oh yea, and our tent has picked up the stinky, been wet too long stink…
—

Sleeping Mats

– Our Thermarest sleeping mats have a protective layer of the foam to make them waterproof. This layer has cracked in many places leaving our mats vulnerable to soaking up the rain.
—

Ortlieb Back Panniers

– Both of our back panniers have ripped at the top where you synch them in order to make them completely waterproof. We have sewn them back together with dental floss but their waterproof capabilities have been severely compromised.

—

Derailleur

– My rear derailleur has been cranky since Peru. Going the cheaper route with a Deore derailleur may not have been the best option as I only get 8 out of 9 gears.
—

MSR International Stove

– We used our international whisper lite stove as it is able to use both white fuel and gasoline from gas stations (which is more readily available. Unfortunately, the gas seems to have trouble burning with the stove and clogs it up pretty darn good while being very inefficient with heat.
—

Shoes

– Justin’s velcro no longer holds on his cycling shoes, and my base plates that clip my shoes to my pedals are both cracked.
—

Spoons

– I broke Justin’s spoon that he has had the entire trip cooking lentils and rice one evening. I have gone through about 14 spoons at this point and we are now on the hunt for a utensil of some sort (we have a McFlurry spoon currently)
—

Clothes

- I lost my trekking pants pushing my bike through the altiplano sand dunes of Southern Bolivia. They are dearly missed. I also lost my long sleeve black wool top in a hostal where another guest mistakingly took it as theirs. It too is dearly missed. We have found clothing stores in Chile called “Ropas Americanos” which are thrift stores similar to Goodwill but with clothes from the states! I have a $2 wool Banana Republic sweater as a good replacement, with the plus side of looking a bit fancy! My wool pants have a mighty hole in the butt that I have not had time to sew up yet.
—

Socks

– All three pairs of my socks have multiple holes in the toes
—

Hair Tie

- My hair tie snapped in Villarica. For some reason I only brought one hair tie on this trip, which is odd because I usually always have two on me at all times. Well I decided it was a challenge and hoped to use the same hair tie our entire trip! When it snapped, I was heartbroken… but then decided to tie a square knot on it, and it is almost good as new.

The list that keeps growing has prompted us to write serious gear reviews that will be posted some time in the future.

~ Melissa

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Today, Tuesday December 6, 2011 we are spending a day relaxing with a view of good ol’ volcan Osorno awaiting our ferry that departs tomorrow for farther South in Chile. The roads here become non-existent in the winter with the large amounts of rain, and we have learned that ferries are a better option for parts of Southern Chile. We decided not to head back to Argentina as Volcan Puyehue has been active since July of this year, thickening the sky with ash and making it difficult to ride. Below is a picture of Puyehue from my current seat at a cafe typing this blog and then a picture from the internet showing a closer image (I HIGHLY recommend google image searching Volcan Puyehue!!).

We are boarding a ferry for Puerto Chacbuco…… and headed for the rough and rugged Caretera Austral. We need to get riding sooner than later as we sit here packing on the pounds with monster appetites! We shall write as soon as we find internet once again.

~ Melissa & Justin

Each time we set out a goal and reach our destination, it brings us joy and excitement about eating some food and giving our bodies some well deserved rest. Villarica was no exception. As we pulled into town and saw the streets filled with city-goers, eating at the outside lake-view tables, and walking with ice-cream cones in hand, we couldn’t help but be so excited about our potential couch-surfers offer to stay a few nights.

We are proclaiming that we will indeed leave tomorrow, after 4 nights, and copious amounts of tasty food. We have been lured to spend another night to share a ratatouille meal prepared by two French-man who joined us on our third night of couch surfing.

Our host Bernardita, a high school Biology teacher, has been incredible. She has opened her home and given us a set of keys, we come and go, mostly to the supermarket, and enjoy talking about how difficult Chilean Spanish is to learn, speak, and understand, and about environmental issues, which she is also very passionate about (she took her students on field trip to visit the landfill on this beautiful saturday morning.

Thanksgiving was spent washing our bikes, our laundry, and shopping for a big feast. Melissa experimented with a Chilean casserole, which supplemented our baked chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread. Don’t forget desert, an apple crisp that was also an experiment with the help of Melissa’s mom and grandma via video chat on the ipad. We are so grateful of our loving family, friends, and fellow travelers who share stories from the road.

When our French friends arrived (one has been traveling by VW bug from Mexico to Villarica and the other joined a few days ago), we shared our evening leftovers with them and they planned a fun Saturday for the five of us. They prepared us sandwiches, and we picnicked along the shoreline with sandwiches, wine, and chocolate while admiring the mighty Volcan Villarica and taking deeps in the refreshing lake. Le sigh…..

The afternoon was spent doing arts and crafts with Bernie, making new wallets out of milk cartons! Love this girl!!

Now with bellies full of Ratatouille, we rest, chat more with our dear family, and prepare to head out into beautiful Patagonia.

~Justin & Melissa

(oh… and while I update this in the morning… Julien is making us CREPES with Nutella and bananas! Can someone pinch me again?!)

Charquican Recipe:

Click here to access recipe

Ratatouille Recipe:

* Start with olive oil, onion in a big pot
* Slowly add these vegetables in the order listed:
- Eggplant
- Bell Peppers
- Carrots (cut very thin)
- Zucchini
- Tomato
- Garlic, Oregano, Thyme, and salt & pepper to taste
* First boil covered as the juices from the vegetables release and fill the pot with water. When the pot is full, uncover and let boil for as long as you have patience, longer the better. Delicious!

* Total Distance traveled by Bike: 6,655 km / 4,135 miles!!
* Number of Flat Tires: Melissa – 5! (3 in two days); Justin- 2
* Number of broken Spokes: 2 for Melissa due to an unlucky horseshoe falling into the middle of her rear wheel. Grr.
* Quantity of Argentinian ice cream consumed in 30 days: Over 24lbs (but hey… it was split between the two of us!)

Stories below chronicle our travels from Mendoza, Argentina to Villarica, Chile – 1,100km/683.5 miles over 11 days (November 13-23, 2011). Here is a picture of our travel route thus far!

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November 13, 2011
Mendoza to Ugarteche, Argentina (at a GNC Propane fuel station)
41km/25.5miles ; 2:45 hrs of riding

Leaving the comforts of Mendoza’s charming city for the rough, uncertain road ahead took quite a bit of motivation. We have decided we want to reach Villarica, Chile in PATAGONIA! for Thanksgiving day, where we have a couchsurfing [LINK] host willing to take us in for a few days. With over 1,100km / 683.5 miles to go, we do not have much time to dilly dally if we want to accomplish our goal.

That being said, as we packed our bikes back together this morning, the pouring rain outside was making us grit our teeth as we said farewell to Agustin, our Couchsuring Mendoza host, and his peaceful flat. Agustin surprised us and decided to come along for the ride out of town!

We enjoyed sharing the road with a local, and were thankful he joined us as we became a bit lost avoiding the “sketchy” part of town where we had reports of cyclists being robbed. Agustin led us back to Route 40, gave hugs and kisses wishing us the best of luck for the rest of our journey, and road back into the large metropolis.

The cold rain steadily drizzled on us as we pedaled along a beautiful tree-lined road surrounded by vineyards and adjacent to the 40. When we reached the end of the land of suburbia, and saw only the flat plains of the 40 ahead with no sign of structures or protecting from the elements, we decided to take it easy for one more night.

We giggled as we pulled into a highway-side gas station with less than 2 hours of riding for the day. The station seemed to still be in construction, so we asked the two attendants, Sebastyan and Zack if we could set up our house in one of the concrete stalls at the back of the building. They were more than happy to let us stay back there and offered for us to come up front after setting up shop for hot drinks! Perfect.

Throughout South America, gas stations do not allow self-service, so we watched from the front room of the station as Sebastyan and Zack took turns filling tanks. I found it odd that people had to exit their vehicles while the attendant filled the tank and soon put together that it was not a gas station, but rather a propane station! Propane is much less expensive than gasoline and they fill the tanks by metric gas pressure. All of a sudden, I realized we were standing over a huge, explosive tank filled with propane gas. Holy cow.

The boys were intrigued by our story and we chatted away. After Zack showed Justin a magic trick, Justin grabbed our deck of cards and proceeded to “oo” and “ah” our new friends.

Another night of pasta for dinner, followed by a beautiful sunset, and we tucked away to our back corner for the night, as the attendants worked the night shift at the 24 hour Propane station.

~Melissa

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November 15, 2011
Antenna with surrounding wall for shelter to side of road with no shelter
167km / 102.7 miles , 7:32 hrs of riding

It has been such a tease riding along the lightly rolling hills of Argentina, with spears of snow-capped mountains lining the way to our West. We are so close to Patagonia, we can smell it! But still, we carry on in the dusty, sandy roads of route 40, with little water or green vegetation, and 80 to over 100 miles between towns.

So excited by the prospect of being close to our dream land of blue lakes, green valleys, and gorgeous snow-covered mountain tops, we seemed to have a much faster clip today! Ok, well that in a terrific tailwind! We rolled along at our usual pace, doing about 50km/30 miles before lunch in the town of San Rafael. Then off we went back into the desert, with tired legs and still hungry bellies, when all of a sudden our speed was boosted over 10 mph! It felt as though someone was gently pushing my back, aiding in the tiny climbs and descents.

Around 6pm, I found myself counting up 97… 98…99…100 miles!!! We did it!! We broke 100 miles, our first century ride on our journey and my first time riding over 100 miles ever!

Our celebration ended quickly, as we watched a massive, ominous cloud in the distance grow bigger and slowly creep over our heads. Stopped in our tailwind, it’s power was no longer helpful, but a hindrance, as we looked for a site to quickly set up camp, cook food, and hide from the storm. We just couldn’t understand how the storm was moving our direction as the strong tailwind was heading into – shouldn’t it be headed towards the mountains?

After no luck finding a place to hide from the wind, we pitched our tent less than 20 feet from the highway along a horseback riding trail made of good ol’ sand. When pitching the tent, we made sure to face the wind and staked the side fighting the wind, while leaving the other side free (we do not have enough stakes for our entire tent). In addition, we covered our bikes, and I tucked away the tarp in cracks in the bike so they would not break lose and flap all night in the wind.

Food – lentils and rice seasoned with sand, Check. Tent set-up, Check. Bikes locked and covered, Check. We jumped into the tent and started to eat while the wind howled from the East. And then… there was silence. Absolute stillness, as if someone turned off a switch. The temperature dropped dramatically and our breath started to show as we spoke. I looked up at Justin, “I feel like we are in the eye of a storm.”

Drip… drip… DRIP… BOOOOM. And just like that the storm hit our tent with maybe 30 seconds of sprinkling before we were engulfed in the black cloud. Our biggest issue? The wind came FROM THE OTHER DIRECTION! We had a 180 degree wind direction change, and now it was twice as strong! Our tent was not staked well on this side, and Ms. Nemo’s poles started bending to the point of cracking under the pressure of the wind and flooding rain. In addition, our tarp started flapping like crazy in the wind as it was pitched the opposite way.

We both shifted to the West side of the tent and held up the poles against the wind. THWACK… “Ouch!” I screamed as it felt like a rock hit my head that was leaning against the tent.

The rain turned to marble and golfball sized hail. “I’m scared!!” I screamed to Justin who stared back at me in shock.

We have nowhere to run to, no shelter to hide in, and no idea how far we are from another town (although riding would be impossible at this point anyways). We decided we needed to pack all our dry gear, incase our tent did shred into pieces from all the pressure. We took turns holding up the tent against the relentless wind as we packed our waterproof panniers back up and put on our rain gear. We also are fortunate to have our helmets, and we put them on to try and protect our heads from the deadly hail.

About 8 minutes later, the hail subsided to a light drizzle of rain, and then absolute silence once again. We exited the tent and wavered back and forth between waving down a car to get to a better shelter and staying put. One car did stop and Justin explained our situation. They did not have any room for us, but tried to comfort us by saying the storm was over.

Justin laughed, “Well, some guy in a car just said it’s over so we’re fine, right?”

I laughed too. It indeed seemed the worst was over, even though the lightning and thunder show was just beginning. We took deep breathes and walked back to the tent to try and get some shut eye.

We will never forget this night and this storm, the absolute worst either of us have ever endured.

~Melissa

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November 19, 2011
Municipal Camping in Barrancas to Municipal Camping in Chos Malal, Argentina
130km/80.7miles; 8:07hrs of riding

Today we left our free municipal camp site in Barrancas, our first town in the region of PATAGONIA!, although we are still in the low desert lands of Argentina. Our goal today was to head for the next “bigger” town of Chos Malal, 130km/80 miles away. The tiny town of But a Ranquil was the only other town along the way, about 30km out from Barrancas, so we decided to stop there for a snack.

As we neared what we thought was the town we turned off the pavement and onto dirt where I stopped a local policeman to ask where a bakery or store was and he simply pointed straight ahead. We ventured towards the tiny little stores in front of people’s homes about 300 meters away only to find them closed.. we knocked on the door of one before trying the small tienda next door, but same thing, no answer.

We finally saw someone venture out and asked where another store was or how far to possible another small town (doubtful there was one). She said that town was just over the hillside, less than 1km away. We had stopped too early and were in a Barrio or suburb with nothing open. Ha! We have traveled in Peru and Bolivia too long and assume small little mudbrick homes lined on dirt roads to be “bigger towns.” We happily rode another kilometer to find many more stores, and a typical meal or salami, bread,cheese and ice cream.

We set out for the remaining 90 km which we were told by two different sources was up and down for the first 40 km and then steep downhill the remaining 50 km.
By about km 70 when we were still going up, Melissa shouts out into our headwind “these people need to get their heads checked because this is not downhill.” I burst into laughter and we battled the headwinds to find only the last 12 km downhill to Chas Malal where we feasted on lentils and rice in the grass and at too much ice cream.

1:30am.
At first when the man working at the campsite wavered the obscene fee of 30 pesos (10 per person and 10 for our tent), we were stoked on our site! However, at 1:30am, we were happy we didn’t pay, knowing we would have been furious had we done so. The lights of the municipal campground shine bright down on our tent. Kids as young as 10 are running around playing soccer around our tent, laughing and screaming. Music blares rapid, Latino beats as teenagers party on the picnic benches. Oh yea.. we are in Argentina where 1:30am is the American 8:30pm.

Neither one of us can sleep or has slept for a few hours. We decided to move our tent to the river about 100 yards away outside of the campground to distance ourselves from the noise and lights. We have a big day of riding tomorrow/today… and little sleep. What a night.

~Justin

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November 20, 2011
Chos Malal to Dave and the Rhino Bus near Las Lajas, Argentina
137km/ 85 miles; 7:32 hrs of riding

Riding along the shoulder of a road for hours a day, we are pleasured to witness some incredible scenery and take notice to the small things as well. Solitary resilient flowers popping up in the cracks, baby goats running around their mothers, and catapilars migrating on the white line, but on this day I took notice to something I hadn’t seen yet. A young fella with a bit of scruff and a pair of glasses was walking in running shorts, a light synthetic long sleeve and a pair of lightly worn asics running shoes. The thing that was odd is he was carrying nothing, no water, no snacks, and no set of car keys or gas can. I stopped from behind and said “Hola” before asking, in my broken Spanish, “how far until the next town.”

“I think English will be easier, Mate” he replied.

Little did I know then that this encounter would be the start of a new friendship and source of inspiration and hope. His name- Dave. His country- South Africa. His mission- to run the length of route 40 (5200 some odd kilometers) before arriving in Ushuaia where he will board a boat and run the Antarctica Marathon. His cause- raising funds and awareness to help save Rhinos and Jaguars in his homeland.

Melissa and I chatted with Dave for a few moments until we could no longer stand the wind chill, but before departing Dave said to stop by his camper about 6 km up the road and top of our water bottles with his girlfriend Natalie. So we wished him good luck and set off, but in all my awe and amazement I realized I had forgotten to offer him a splash of water or a snack, so not even a blink later, we whipped our bikes around and I gave him a sleeve of cookies.

In his final words he said “If you need a place to crash out of the wind we can see about squeezing you in the camper.” We didn’t think much of it because we had hopes of pushing on a bit further than 6km to get closer to the next town for morning.

It was hard to miss the out of place jungle setting painted on the sides of the camper, with a gigantic Jaguar facing the traffic. We stopped and introduced ourselves to Natalie and took comfort from the wind enjoying a warm drink. Within a few moments Dave seemed to come running up with a half eaten sleeve of cookies (the rest he gave to his girlfriend… nice guy!). We conversed a bit more and Dave said he would like to go another 6 km up the road because he wanted to get to town as well where he would have to renew his stamps for his time in the country. The sun was getting low in the sky as the winds whipped the camper back and forth as we were floating on a boat in choppy water. We were now really contemplating his hospitable offer. He once again said it would be no problem, “I had 3 Argentinians living in here with us for about a month, it was a tight squeeze but we loved it!”

Six windy kilometers later we stopped alongside the road and in moments our accommodations for the night came pulling up. Not far behind was Dave, a huge smile on his face after 46 km/ 28.6miles on the day. Dave told us about his travels to 50+ countries, his job as a diving instructor, and his hopes to pursue running long distances around the word to help support causes he believes in. We were so happy to share a meal together and sleep out of the wind on what seems to have been one of the windiest nights so far.

Hope the wind is on your side Dave, and looking forward to passing you again soon. To see more about Dave’s run check out his blog at www.runargentina.wordpress.com

~Justin

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November 21, 2011
Before Las Lajas to Pino Hachado (border town), Argentina
75km/ 46 miles; 6:49 hrs of riding

We woke up on what we learned was Dave’s birthday and made him one of our morning routine hot cocoas before a couple photos and a farewell. The wind didn’t rest long, but with town in sight we made our way straight to the supermarket where we inhaled some of most fresh baked bread on the trip thus far… we ate a few extra pieces in honor of Dave’s birthday before setting out to cross the Andes for Chile.

Our hospitality didn’t end with Dave as we were invited to sit down and share a tea and coffee with a nice store owner, Hector, who stopped us in the street to ask where we were headed. We had a few more baked treats and chatted with Hector, and his wife, Alejandra, who he called to help translate. Our final town stop this time in around in Argentina proved to be a great goodbye, even though we passed on the ice-cream (it was still a bit early in the day).

With the mountains in front of us we began to climb out of Las Lajas towards Pino Hachado. The gradient never really got too steep but with each pedal stroke the wind seemed to get a little stronger. Afternoons can be ruthless in Patagonia but there really was’t any option at this point. We had hopes of getting to the border post where we could seek a little shelter, before descending down to the Chillean side in the morning.

The closer we got, the steeper it became, and the harder we battled. By around 4pm the wind was so strong we were head-down pushing our bikes, getting tossed around as if we were rag-dolls. The desert pampas had transformed to tree covered foothills, and snow-covered peaks, water was everywhere cascading down the cracks into the river below. Our hunger had escalated and we ready for asnack before what we knew would be the final push of the day. Upon stopping at a large snow-plow garage we looked for someone to ask permission to see about camping inside. Melissa noticed a fella in a nearby window of a house and I walked over. I was pleased to meet Juan who said “why would you want to sleep in a tent in the garage when you can sleep in this house I am remodeling with me.” I rushed back to give Melissa the exciting news and moments later we had refuge from the wind, a hot drink in hand, and a seat next to a gigantic fire Juan had built in one of the largest fireplaces I have ever seen (seems to get pretty cold in these parts in the winter). We learned then that the winds at this time of year are regularly 80-100 kilometers an hour/ 60mph. Translation= ridiculous on a bicycle with panniers that feel like sails.

Another night out of the wind and another reminder of the compassion of others. Melissa and I just admired the wind for behind a plane of glass as we enjoyed a meal prepared with a few less grains of sand, and shared photos of our travels with Juan.

~Justin

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November 23, 2011
Covered Bus Stop along a dirt road to Villarica, CHILE!
138km/ 85.7 miles; 8:38 hrs of riding

Breathtaking. I am speechless. Yesterday and today’s riding have been worth the entire 4,000 miles it took to get here. Waterfalls at every turn, huge snow-capped peaks, lush, green vegetation surrounds the dirt roads we bump along through as we pass scenic cottage-like villages. Three days ago I was talking with a good friend, Boey, telling him how I was extremely homesick and borderline wanted to throw in the towel – the brutal desert was playing mind-games with me and stripped away of any remote sense of comfort. “Hang in there,” he said, “You have just two more days!! Go to a zen place.”

I am so glad I did. This is worth every pedal. And even more sweet is the sense of accomplishment knowing we biked here from Lima, Peru. Wahoo!! Time for fishing, trekking, and exploring Patagonia!

Similar to Argentina, I believe the Chileans drink a bit too much wine when figuring out the distance between towns and posting signs. In Argentina, we once passed a sign that said 152km to the next town, and 30km down the road said 189km to the same town. Impressive. As we rolled deeper into the woods, there were less signs or none at forks in the road. Fortunately, a car typically rolled by within a few minutes whenever we reached these indecisive points. We need a map. Desperately.

Last night, as we watched storm clouds roll up a valley we were descending, we decided to take refuge in a bus stop.. that’s right a bus stop. There were maybe 3 houses in site within the 20 miles around us, is there really going to be someone at this stop before we take off in the early morning?

The rain started pitter-pattering the roof of our pretty shelter after dark, as tucked away in our sleeping bags for the night, thinking the morning would be clear and the storm would pass. Wrong. The rain was still going strong at 6:30am, and a puddle had found its way under our tent so everything was pretty much soaked. We were slow to pack, and of course, a kid came up to the bus stop with his grandma to head to town. Justin moved our bikes and we kindly spoke with them, although I sat in the tent extremely embarrassed. They were in awe at our gear and the boy was happy to meet us.

By 8am we were riding, in the cold rain, soaked to the bone. I was struggling once again to stay warm but not sweat. Such a hard balance to find. Around noon we made it to the small town of Cunco, and had anywhere between 30 and 70km to Villarica depending on the 7 people we asked (30, 35, 45, 50, 65, 70 – not in that order). Alright. We REALLY need a map. We found a tourist map at the town center and hoped it would get us the last who knew how many miles to Villarica.

Unfortunately, there were signs to Villarica… what did I say about signs?! You NEVER listen to them. Sadly, we did and soon enough we had no idea where we were, but the countryside was beautiful at least. Exhausted, soaked, and hungry, we pushed on for again one of our longest days of riding. The road was rolling, STEEP mountainside that we had to push our bikes up, and around 7:40pm, when were about to throw in the towel, PISTA! Pavement lay ahead with golden reflectors leading the way to VILLARICA!

We met our dear host Bernardita at the top of town. She rode on her bicycle to meet us, and we chatted the last five minutes to her beautiful home. We have our own bedroom! Hot shower! and a kitchen to cook a delicious thanksgiving meal tomorrow. Hallelujah!

Oh, her cat just had kittens 12 hours ago too. Somebody pinch me please.

~Melissa