Tour of Gondwana: Chile

Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2007 (delayed)

To: touring@phred.org

From: “Michael Ayers” <michael@terminalia.org>

Subject: Gondwana - Calm air, Catching bugs, and a big Climb (finally) in Chilly Chile

Hola Phreds,

Chile was a country that I had been anxious, both positively and negatively, to reach for quite a while.

On one hand, the unique and famous geography of the country, being the world’s narrowest nation, one that is almost all coastline, means that the country encompasses four different climatic regions, sub-Antarctic, temperate rainforest, Mediterranean, and arid, each with some impressive undeveloped natural areas. In fact, if there were one continuous 150 km-wide strip of land in a single political unit from, say, Sitka, Alaska to the tip of Baja California, that would represent an image of Chile mirrored across the equator. That type of variety is something I definitely appreciate, and my route would include all four regions, more or less. Chile is also well known for having built modern infrastructure and services, and while I don’t like to tour in such places 100% of the time, after the often lonely nature of Argentine Patagonia I was ready for some of that. On the other hand, being a linear country there is essentially only one road, running generally north-south, traversing the populated parts of the country, with few opportunities to deviate onto smaller secondary roads. That fact made me worry that I would spend every day dealing with the wind blasts of hundreds of screaming trucks. Also, due to my late arrival from Africa, and my slowness in Argentina, I would be in the country during the last weeks of the austral autumn, a time when the rainy regions start to get really rainy, and the cold regions get increasingly cold. Since some of those areas overlap, I was worried that I might have a lot of bad weather to deal with.

It can be said that Chile is the most “Americanized” nation in the region, which is a rather incorrect phrase since South America is America. More appropriate would be to say that there are more similarities to the United States, both good, such as more accommodating business hours and well-developed tourist facilities, and bad, such as pockets of heavy traffic and sections of grim light industrial suburbs. This translates into slightly higher expenses, but overall costs were still pretty reasonable. However, like Argentina, there is a noticeable increase in prices in the more remote areas. Accommodation was generally to a good standard, often including nice extras such as free wi-fi, with mid-range prices being fairly dependable. Food was similar in nature and costs to Argentina with the selection in supermarkets being somewhat better (instant noodles—yeah!), but restaurant food slightly less good. Breakfasts were usually rather poor, unfortunately.

My route would run from south to north, beginning in the far south, exiting the country for a while to avoid the South Andean icecap, then continuing to the north to a point just beyond the capital, Santiago. The bone-dry far north of the country would have been interesting too, but I could not fit much of that region in this time. The first few days, however, did not involve much cycling, instead requiring some more time on the sea.

To reach Chile from Ushuaia, Argentina by road requires doubling back for two or three days across Tierra del Fuego, another long section of gravel, and then a short ferry to the city of Punta Arenas. An alternative, only available to those without large vehicles, is to cross the Canal Beagle to the Isla Navarino, in Chilean territory, then take a long ferry directly to Punta Arenas, That sounded like fun, so I went that way. There is no regular ferry across the short channel, so the only way to get to Isla Navarino is with a company in Ushuaia that shuttles people across in a bumpy, and rather costly, inflatable zodiac boats. There is a lonely immigration post on the Chilean side that is 55 km away, along a rather poor gravel road, from the only town on the island, and the most southerly town in the world, Puerto Williams. I was planning on riding there, but there was a little drizzling rain, and since there was a van waiting there which had just shuttled passengers out for the return trip, I rode to town in that. I was told that the ferry left at “midnight on Saturday.” However, since I was not sure whether the proper usage of the word midnight was in play there, I arrived on Friday afternoon just in case. As it turned out the ferry actually was scheduled to depart on Sunday at midnight so I had all day on Saturday to spend in the town, which was not really a bad thing.

Puerto Williams is an interesting little town of a few hundred inhabitants, in a beautiful location, whose reason for being is to service a Chilean Navy base, itself being located there presumably to guard Chile’s access to the Atlantic. It has just the look you’d expect of a town at the end of the world, with a several blocks of small wood and shingle homes, some basic shops and a few simple places to stay. A short walk to the east is another small clump of similar homes called Ukika, where the last surviving members of the indigenous Yamana tribe reside. The Yamana were an interesting group, spending most of the time living on canoes in the cold, damp fjords and channels while wearing little or no clothing. Apparently, there is only one Yamana person living today who has no European ancestors at all, but she is very elderly and so now lives in the “big” town. Another example of an ancient culture on the verge of extinction.

When midnight arrived, the ferry, the Bahia Azul, was ready to depart for the 35-hour trip to Punta Arenas. Not much more than a large barge for carrying cargo vehicles to and from the island, there is a row of cramped cabins with bunk beds along one side for the crew and a handful of passengers and a small meal room. In the morning, luck was on our side as the weather was nearly perfect, with clear skies and calm wind, a rarity for this region, though the breeze created by the boats motion made standing out to watch the scenery a chilly affair. It was worth it, however, as the sights were spectacular, surely every bit the equal of Alaska or Norway. Impressive mountains, including the Cordillera Darwin, lined both sides of the Canal Beagle and the surrounding fjords, entirely snow-covered and with a few hanging glaciers. The views didn’t diminish until after the Sun went down that evening. In the pre-dawn hours, the boat briefly entered the Pacific Ocean proper, last encountered in Cairns, Australia. However, now the protection offered by the narrow channel was gone and the boat rocked around violently enough to cause me to dash for the head at one point. Before too long, thankfully, the ocean was left behind for the calmer waters of the Straight of Magellan, and our eventual arrival in Punta Arenas, late on Monday morning. This was the first of many examples in South America where moving forward proved to be slower and more expensive than I had expected, but this time it was worth it as I was happy to have seen this interesting part of the world.

Punta Arenas was a larger, and much more attractive city than I had expected, with a lively center containing many elegant buildings. Which, perhaps, is not too surprising, as its only contact with the rest of the country is via air, sea, or a long, arduous land route through Argentina, and so its residents have added incentive to keep the place up. Still a little sleepy, I stayed there the next day as well, which might have happened anyway since the chilly drizzle and powerful winds that day would have been quite unpleasant. Finally riding again, it was only two easy, though thinly-serviced, days to my next stop Puerto Natales. From there I could have taken another ferry for a three-day journey north, to the more populated part of the country. But I had no desire to skip over that much territory, even though it would have been much easier. The town is smaller and more tourist-oriented than Arenas and is in a very beautiful location on a sheltered bay that reaches in a long way from the ocean. So instead of staying only a half day there I spent one additional day. However, that day was Good Friday, and the place was closed up tight, leaving not much to do.

The next stop was the famous Torres del Paine National Park, a ways to the north. The main road to the park takes a rather lengthy route seemingly going past the park before curving around to the entrance, and includes a long section of gravel. However, there was once a much shorter, direct, route which entered the park through the back door, though it had been abandoned for many years. However, a couple weeks earlier I met a pair of cyclists from England who were just days from finishing a long tour, and they told me that it was now possible to go that way by bike, as the road was being rebuilt and at the time was just weeks from completion. That bit of good fortune saved me 80 km or so of rough riding and though the new road was gravel too, the new, unused surface was smooth and easy riding, and passed through some beautiful scenery. Torres del Paine is sort of a South American version of Yosemite, though the granite peaks are more freestanding and are clumped together in a single massif. It was a nice park to visit, and though it was a little cloudy and too chilly for any long hikes, I had a nice time there. After one extra day of drizzly weather, which I spent sleeping, it was just a long, bumpy morning’s ride out the front door of the park to the nearby border crossing and back into Argentina. This was necessitated in order to avoid the inaccessible and unpopulated region covered by the South Andean Icecap.

My return to Chile came 18 days later, some 700 km to the north. The Argentina-Chile border in this area generally follows the continental divide formed by the southern Andes. Fortunately, the passes in the south are not very high and, even though the roads across are all unpaved, they are open most of the year. The one I used, to the west of Rio Mayo, Argentina, was only 800 m above sea level, with only a 300 m gain from the base. Just after crossing, the landscape changes rather quickly from the windy grasslands of Argentine Patagonia to the calm, southern beech forests of Chilean Patagonia. It was a very pleasing change of pace and the autumnal burgundy color of the beeches spilling down the mountainsides was very impressive.

A short descent brought me to Coyhaique, the only significant city in the region and another surprisingly nice place. The city is beautifully sited in a small valley surrounded by Andean peaks, and contains ample services. Just to the west are the channels, fjords, and islands of the southern Chilean archipelagos. In one of those channels, 10 days earlier while I was still in Argentina, a rather large earthquake, which I did not feel, caused a localized but significant tsunami, which resulted in some loss of life. After the rough section in Argentina, I was ready for another break and planned on staying two days, though that soon turned into five. The reasons being the forecast of three days of drizzly rain, another long unpaved section ahead, the final one for a long while, followed by another ferry that only sailed twice a week. That was a longer break than I really needed, but I really didn’t have much choice. Once on the move again the route followed the famed Careterra Austral, the southern “highway” built in the 01980’s by order of the infamous dictator, General Augusto Pinochet, intended to “open up” the southern wilderness--to resource extraction, no doubt.

It was 400 km north to the next main town, and ferry port, at Chaiten. I had five days to get there to catch the ferry, and though I hoped to get there in four, it actually took four and a half. I sort of expected a road built in the ‘80s to be a little better, but this one was just an unsurfaced one-lane road for much of the way. Actually, compared to the rough road recently used in Argentina this one wasn’t too bad. The surface consisted of hard-packed dirt-fine gravel mix without any loose rocks on top. However, given the amount of precipitation the area receives, there were small potholes all over the surface. The only really bad section was through the, otherwise beautiful, Parque Nacional Quelat, where loose rocks returned during the only significant climb of this section, one that reached up to 600 meters. However, as you might expect for a road that dead-ends at both ends, traffic was pleasingly light. Even better, the wind, which had been beating on me for the previous two months was now mostly calm, a pleasant situation which would, more or less, continue for several weeks. The scenery along the way was really spectacular as well. Fjords, lakes, mountains, innumerable waterfalls, rainforest, and patches of giant philodendron, were constant along the way, and every morning the overnight dampness left a dusting of white snow on the tops of the green and red mountains. This type of environment is certainly one my favorites to ride through.

In contrast to the routes in the western portion of Argentine Patagonia, small villages were intentionally built at regular intervals along this route, to act as service stops. Some are not very useful in that regards these days, while others are a little larger. One of those is the unusually-named “La Junta,” where there is a large, elaborate metal sign saying, in effect, “Welcome to the Careterra Austral - courtesy of Gen. Augusto Pinochet.” The sign has since been defaced by graffiti but it seems the residents are keeping the name of the town for now. There was a nice (and expensive)), new hotel there with a good restaurant that provided a pleasant place to clean up and rest for the evening. Around some of these villages the highway has been paved for several kilometers in either direction, a welcome improvement. It seems that little by little the whole thing is being surfaced, and when, or if, that finally happens it will become one of the world’s great cycling routes. It’s a pretty good one even now.

The town of Chaiten* wasn’t much to look at in and of itself, but it was another place that is beautifully located, on the waterfront with good views of two nearby volcanoes. The day I arrived was also the first day in weeks that was reasonably warm, so I quite enjoyed my afternoon there. The place I stayed had an equipped kitchen, and so I thought that cooking dinner for myself might be a nice change of pace. Tasty, indeed, but after being out of cooking practice for two years I bungled about the process so much it was amazing that I didn’t burn the place down. In January and February it is possible to continue north on the Carreterra Austral to the main part of the country, but that involves a few more ferries which don’t operate during the remaining 10 months. Consequently, there are signs posted all around town saying “Camino a Chile - Ahora!” (Road to Chile - Now!) Funny, I thought I was already in Chile.

The ferry I used made a five-hour trip to Quellon, the port at the southern tip of the island of Chiloe. An interesting place, Chiloe would be a good location for a short, meandering tour around the backroads of the island, though I had no time for that. For hundreds of years Chiloe was a Spanish colonial enclave separated from the rest of Chile by lands belonging to the yet-to-be-conquered Mapuche people. Consequently, a distinct culture evolved there, including a mythology filled with various interesting characters, such as promiscuous forest trolls, ghost ships, and various anthopovorous creatures. Today Chiloe is famous for its collection of numerous historic wooden churches, built to reinvigorate Christian beliefs among the Chilote people. Many of these are in remote parts of the archipelago, but I managed to get a good look at three or four along the way. It was nice to be back in a place with good roads, plentiful services, and generally light traffic. But not being an outrageously large island I was only there for a few days, including a rest day in the small capital, Castro.

The ferry back to the mainland from the north end of the island was a brief 20 minute crossing, but was very pretty due to the setting Sun and the views of the surrounding volcanos. Despite the presence of many more of those along the way, this turned out to be my last sighting of any, due to the foggy skies which settled in for the next couple of weeks despite constant forecasts of sunshine. On one such drizzly day, I rode down the steep hill to the center of the major city of Puerto Montt in order to get a midday meal, and quickly lost my enthusiasm for riding back up the hill that day, then had even less interest in waking up the next morning. The resulting day and a half off the bike put me even further behind where I wanted to be.

Part of the reason for my lethargy resulted from the fact that from Puerto Montt north, the route would be dominated by the big highway, Ruta 5, also famously known as the Panamericana. Four or more lanes, divided, but usually with at least tolerable shoulders, this highway is sort of an odd semi-expressway. Ramps and flyovers are at some junctions, while other small, even dirt, roads meet the highway normally. Busses also stop to pick up people standing along the roadside. So while there was no real question about weather the highway was open to cyclists, though there weren’t many others seen along the way, riding on it had all the lack of enjoyment one normally encounters on such high speed roads. The highway is also a toll road, and it took several episodes of me rolling though the normal toll gates and setting off the alarm sirens before I realized that bikes are supposed to go through an (unmarked) twisting course made by big orange barricades along the right side. Consequently, I took every opportunity to get off that highway.

There were sadly few of those, as many secondary roads either go east into the mountains, or west to the coast and then dead-end there. One diversion was to the coastal town of Valdivia. The road there and back was pretty nice, but not really long enough to make a big difference overall. After a rest stop in Temuco, a city with a significant Mapuche population, and a large outdoor market similar to so many others I’ve seen, seen, another, longer, detour was to Conception, Chile’s second city. It took about three days to get there after leaving the main highway and while there were some nice sections along the way, the weather was a little dreary. The approach to Conception from the south was one of the worst I’ve seen in South America, with heavy traffic for the last 60 km. The final 10 were even worse and I did something I rarely do, and used the separate bike path available over that distance. That particular path incorporated every bad design element found in such constructs to an extent that would make John Forrester cringe, but I used it anyway. The city itself wasn’t so bad to get around, but was otherwise unremarkable. I did enjoy strolling around the University campus which was one of the largest I’ve seen in a long time, and reminded me of some of those I’ve been to back home.

To the north of town the road and the traffic were only bad for about 30 km, then the route curved inland for a couple days, back towards the Panamericana. This section was very nice with usually quiet roads and some pleasant little small towns. The Sun even came out now and then. If I had not taken that detour, I think I would have been rather disappointed with this section of Chile. The next destination was the capital, Santiago, and being back on the big highway, with traffic increasing as I neared the city, I rode that section in a rather business-like fashion. This area is in the Mediterranean climate zone and the highway runs along a valley similar to California’s Central Valley, flat, with occasional vineyards or orchards along the way. Though guidebooks speak poorly of the towns in the area, I found them to be pleasant enough, or at least useful, and certainly preferable to their Californian counterparts.

If this region is a mirror of California, the outskirts of Santiago are a smaller version of Los Angles, and I’m glad I chose not to ride into the city. Though I have frequently changed my normal policy during the Tour and have been riding in and out of big cities most of the time (often due to a lack of alternatives,) I had a feeling that Santiago would be a good place to return to my normal method and take transit in this time. I stopped at the last big town to the south, Rancagua, and caught the train the next morning. There were two choices the “fast” train and the “slow” train. The slow train was bike-friendly (while the fast train was not) and was certainly fast enough, getting me to the city center in a little over an hour. While the rest of the area is mostly forgettable, Santiago’s center is pretty nice with most of the services and attractions within reasonable walking distance.

I had planned on taking a break of a few days in the city, relaxing a little, getting my visa for Brazil, and maybe doing something fun like going to a concert. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, “the best laid plans...” As it turned out, just as I arrived I felt a head cold coming on. Usually that wouldn’t be such a big deal as I usually shake off colds in a day or so. In fact, over the past 10 years I think I have only had 2 significant cold/flu episodes. This was one of them. Perfect timing, and it had the nerve to linger on for over a week. So much for a fun break and any attempt at staying on schedule. In addition, I failed to get my Brazil visa, as the consulate said that without a round trip airline ticket I would have an easier time getting it in Uruguay. The only interesting bit of sightseeing I managed to do was at the absolutely amazing Museum of Pre-Columbian Art. The beautiful collection there got me very excited about (eventually) reaching the northern Andes. One errand I did manage was a little shopping. I wanted a pair of cold-weather cycling gloves, and maybe an extra tire. This is only notable because in Santiago for such items there is only one place to go. Several blocks from the center on Calle San Diego, is where all the bike shops are located, and I’ve never seen anything like it. Over a three-block length there must be literally 30 bike shops. Most of them seemed pretty decent, though as you might guess, not well-endowed with good touring hardware. I did find some gloves, but the selection of tires was pretty poor (usable touring tires were easier to find in Africa than in most of South America.) Still, it was pretty cool walking around a place like that.

After a week spent mostly sitting around waiting to recover, I felt compelled to move on, though I certainly wasn’t at 100%. The next destination was Valparaiso, an historic seaport town to the west. It would have been one long day’s ride, or so, to get there, but since it was mostly on busy highways again, I chose to go by bus this time, which was pretty easy. This was another place I wanted to take just a day or two for sightseeing, but still feeling quite out of form it ended up being three. At least it was a reasonable enough town for time off, with some nice views of the ocean, though the historic area, while interesting, was a little bit frumpy. Finally I felt well enough to ride again, though after a completely unwanted 11 day hiatus, I had no idea what my fitness would be like. With my return to the mountains imminent, that was a real concern.

My original plan was to cross back into Argentina via the Andean pass just to the north of Santiago. However, I had been thinking that since that route was the main artery between the two countries the traffic might be very heavy, and, being the most southerly crossing, might have a higher probability of bad weather that late in the season. So I wondered if it might be better to cross further north. The next pass was 300 km to the north, but since I was planning on turning north once in Argentina anyway, the distance was fairly equivalent. Going that way would also mean a long stretch of coastal riding before turning east. However, the route across that pass was a gravel road, and reached 1,000 m higher than the southern crossing. Nevertheless, I had eventually convinced myself to go that way.

Of course, all of my debating was a waste of time, since with all my lengthy delays the northern crossing had already been closed for the winter. I also learned, after seeing a newer map than the one I had, that the long section of the Panamericana coastal road that I thought would be beautiful ride had now been “upgraded” to another expressway. So, the southern crossing it would be after all. However, just to make things more interesting, and hopefully quieter, I rerouted a little and rode a short way up the coast, then turned east using secondary roads, thereby missing more of the busy highways northeast of Santiago. The short coastal section had some quite nice sections with not too much traffic and some nice ocean views. Despite 4,000 km of coastline available, actually seeing the ocean while in Chile usually requires some effort, and I was glad to fit that last bit in, especially as it would be my last contact with the Pacific for a few months or more. After that, the route to the east was fairly quiet and had generally good roads. This was also my only taste of the arid region of the country, and I saw the first clumps of large cacti of the Tour. However, there was an unexpected 800-m climb along the way, and I definitely felt the effects of illness and 11 days off the bike going up that one. Just for a little extra recovery I made the next day only a half day and stopped at the pleasant little town of Los Andes, just before the start of the climb.

From there the route east heads straight for the Cristo Redentor Pass, at 3,200 m after a 2,100 m climb. For most of the time the climb is not too severe and the traffic, while fairly constant, was not quite as bad as I’d feared. Though not at top form, I did manage to progress fairly well. However, I must say that this climb was not one of the more beautiful ones that I’ve seen. There were lots of ugly power lines along the way, and too much trash along the roadside, though I might have liked it better if the skies had not been grey overcast. In any case, by the late afternoon I was at the hardest part, near the top. There, the road climbs up two terminal moraines left behind from a previous glacial epoch, using 29 switchbacks to do so. At that point there seemed to be a pulse of traffic, mostly big trucks, heading downhill. Standing at the bottom of the switchbacks they look as if they are zig-zagging up a nearly vertical wall. The trucks all started making their way down, fairly slowly for once, and the scene looked just like one of those child’s sandbox toys where sand pours down a zig-zag path. Riding up was actually not that bad as the road was a bit wider than it looked, and the incline wasn’t too great.

Above that section were five fairly long, dark snowsheds, a couple of which had gravel by-pass roads. The others did not, but with traffic fairly light it was easy to look over to the other side of the valley and watch the road to make sure the gap in ascending traffic was long enough to get through. With heavier traffic, these could pose a bigger problem. This was June 10^th, and with the short days at that time of year, it was already starting to get dark at 5:00 P.M. and the snow on the ground made it feel even colder than it already was. So instead of trying to cross the border, just a few hundred meters further on, that night, I stayed in the ski lodge at the summit, which was not yet operating, but still had cabins available for lodging. The lodge is located at the base of Cerro Anconcagua, the highest peak outside of the Himalaya at 6,960 m, though honestly, I’m not sure if you can actually see the summit from that location. In the morning Chile would be behind me.

I did have a nice time in Chile, viruses notwithstanding, and I think that it’s a nice touring destination. However, I think I would have liked it even more had I been there two months earlier, as originally planned. In any case next comes Argentina... again.

Gracias,

Mike

* Sometime in the Summer of 02008, the Chaiten Volcano erupted covering the region and the town of Chaiten with volcanic ash. In fact, that forced an evacuation of the entire population of town. I am not sure whether the residents have yet been allowed to return, or if the town even still exists. If not that would be a shame, as it was a rather nice place.

The Tour of Gondwana

May 02005 - ???

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