Happy 2012!! Two Thousand and Twelve. Wow. We hope you all enjoyed bringing in the New Year in your own special ways.

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

QUICK STATS

* 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