Carretera Austral Day #3 Hornopirén to Chaitén
December 29, 2019
Hornopirén to Chaitén 61.1 Km
Ride Time: 11:30
Pedal Time: 4:26
Tour Total Pedaled 176.95 Km
I don’t know what time the rooster started cockle doodle do-ing, but it was dark and it seemed like I had just fallen asleep. It seemed as if the fowl were right outside my tent. I eventually fell back asleep only to awake at 7am. The plan was to get up at 8am and I hadn’t set my alarm. I set it and got a few more winks.
There had been a lot of condensation and the outside of my tent was soaked. There were small droplets inside, and the foot of my sleeping bag was wet from rubbing up against the end of my tent.
We had 90 minutes to pack and be at the ferry terminal. Actually we had only 75 minutes, because I didn’t start yelling for Scott to get up right away.
The sun was strong so I began hanging my tent fly and wet laundry on a fence that divided the camping area from the geese and roosters.
We methodically tried to harness the powerful sun rays to dry our wet equipment while we packed and waited until the very last moment. Scott assessed the broken clip on his rear pannier. At 9:29am we set off back into town.
There were incredible majestic views of snow capped mountains surrounding the small town. The steep narrow fjords had obviously been cut by glaciers.
There were cyclists and backpackers waiting for the ferry at the cafe, where we ran into the friendly server we had spoken with last night. I ordered a cappuccino and slice of Malta pie, which is particular to this region and made with berries from the area bordering Argentina. The slice was generous - New York City pizza slice size. Good coffee two days in a row.
We queued with the other cyclists and showed the official our slip of paper showing that we were on the waiting list. He told us we needed to return to the office and purchase tickets. We had gotten so much conflicting information about this ferry. We rode back to the office, bought our tickets, rode back to the ferry, and leaned our bikes in a corner of the bow, where all the other bikes were stowed. We noticed a pair of cyclists working out a deal with someone with a truck. I had read stories about a 10km stretch that cyclists arranged for motor vehicle transport, because there wasn’t enough time to make the connection by bike.
The ferry was going Caleta Gonzalo. It was large and accommodated a lot of cars, trucks, and people. There were two levels above the motor vehicle deck. Level two included comfortable seating with tables and large monitors to watch movies.
We found WiFi on board, ostensibly through someone’s hot spot. I used it to upload photos and publish yesterday’s report.
We plied through the middle of a narrow fjord surrounded by steep snow capped mountains. Massive water falls could be seen in distance.
Our map showed two routes to Caleta Gonzalo. We assumed we would take the direct open sea route, but we were obviously going through a narrow fiord. If this ferry was going to Vodudahue, aka Lepetu, we were going to have problems making the second ferry to Caleta Gonzalo.
We met a couple from Seattle, who were touring the area in a car. They confirmed the 10km problem we would have when the ferry reached the Vodudahue. They happened to have and extra electrical adapter and gave us theirs. We were able to plug in our power packs and phones to recharge.
I ordered a Neapolitan empanada and a large cappuccino. Scott was reading his 3 inch thick rocket science book.
I met cyclist David from Bushwick Brooklyn, and originally from Prague. He was going all the way to Villa OHiggins but at a less aggressive pace than us. Along with David, I met cyclist Lucho from Santiago who was cycling to Tortel and then taking a ferry to Puerto Natales. He said that our last stretch to Punta Arenas, at the end of our trip would be cold and windy. David explained that the ferry company had arranged a bus to transport us the 10km from Vodudahue to the next ferry. Big 10km problem solved!
It was a 3-1/2 hour ferry ride and then a mad dash to cram all our bikes and gear into the bottom of the bus. The driver was barking at us to hurry up, and it was frantic. My odometer fell off and Scott realized he had a rear flat. The bus sped down the gravel road, passing the other trucks and cars so that we would not hold up the second ferry. This kind of seemed like a gap, but Scott made the argument that it was part of the ferry transport.
Scott attempted to repair his flat tire on the second ferry. He suspected the valve was broken. I lubed and cleaned my chain, and I tightened my screws and found a few loose ones. There were ridiculous steep mountains to either side of the fjord.
Once we reached Caleta Gonzalo Scott replaced his defective inner tube while I dried my tent fly. From there it was ripio heading south. It started with a 10 km climb surrounded by huge jagged mountains.
I found my eyes straying from the road because the views were so magnificent. The ripio was less treacherous than yesterday. There were less crater holes to dodge. I still had to really keep a sharp eye for large rocks and pits. Sometimes I noticed the craters too late and braced for the impact. Ramming into the rim of a hole was better than trying to dodge last minute and wiping out. One fall and this trip could be over, either through injury or mechanical breakage.
What’s more important - dry and dusty laundry or clean wet laundry? That was my quandary and I tried to have it both ways. Eventually all my laundry went into my rack pack. It was brutally dusty out on the ripio.
Cyclists were stopped in the middle of the road, and we paused to offer help. There was a problem. Lucho from Santiago, whom we had met on the ferry, had his rack broken. It was made of aluminum and couldn’t handle the brutal terrain. We offered to split and carry his gear to the next destination. He opted to hitch a ride with a motorist.
We stopped at a beautiful breathtaking overlook where we took spellbinding photos. We met a father and son from Brazil.
We passed through an area where all the trees were dead. I had heard about this and believe it was related to volcanic activity. Passing motorists gave us the thumbs up.
After 40 km of ripio I was blessed with the pleasant surprise of tarmac. It was smooth as butter. And I could finally see all the brown fuzzy caterpillars that Scott had been talking about. They were everywhere.
I could now fly. I was no longer dodging crater sized holes and washboards. I played a game with the reflectors on the white line. There was a comfortable twenty inch shoulder.
It felt untouched here, like the land before time. There was no litter - no beer cans or cigarette cartons - nothing.
It felt like we were the only ones out here.
I climbed up over the top of a hill, and was greeted with a headwind. As I rounded the summit, I spotted the sea in the distance.
We stopped at a small store in Caleta Santa Barbara, where I purchased Gatorade, walnuts, and raisins.
The next 12 kilometers had more motor traffic and my first observation of litter- cigarette cartons and soda cans.
When we finally arrived in Chaitén we were starving. The first order of business was food. We asked some travelers for advice and were sent to Pizzeria Reconquista, which was fantastic. Both of us ordered full pies. I enjoyed numerous bottles of Cerveza Austral lager.
We rode over to Tiera Viva camping, which was located in someone’s yard in a residential neighborhood. It was filled with backpackers and cyclists.
We were informed of the eruption of Chaitén volcano in 2008.
We pitched our tents hemmed between others. I was able to recharge my devices and hang my laundry.
Hornopirén to Chaitén 61.1 Km
Ride Time: 11:30
Pedal Time: 4:26
Tour Total Pedaled 176.95 Km
I don’t know what time the rooster started cockle doodle do-ing, but it was dark and it seemed like I had just fallen asleep. It seemed as if the fowl were right outside my tent. I eventually fell back asleep only to awake at 7am. The plan was to get up at 8am and I hadn’t set my alarm. I set it and got a few more winks.
There had been a lot of condensation and the outside of my tent was soaked. There were small droplets inside, and the foot of my sleeping bag was wet from rubbing up against the end of my tent.
We had 90 minutes to pack and be at the ferry terminal. Actually we had only 75 minutes, because I didn’t start yelling for Scott to get up right away.
The sun was strong so I began hanging my tent fly and wet laundry on a fence that divided the camping area from the geese and roosters.
We methodically tried to harness the powerful sun rays to dry our wet equipment while we packed and waited until the very last moment. Scott assessed the broken clip on his rear pannier. At 9:29am we set off back into town.
There were incredible majestic views of snow capped mountains surrounding the small town. The steep narrow fjords had obviously been cut by glaciers.
There were cyclists and backpackers waiting for the ferry at the cafe, where we ran into the friendly server we had spoken with last night. I ordered a cappuccino and slice of Malta pie, which is particular to this region and made with berries from the area bordering Argentina. The slice was generous - New York City pizza slice size. Good coffee two days in a row.
We queued with the other cyclists and showed the official our slip of paper showing that we were on the waiting list. He told us we needed to return to the office and purchase tickets. We had gotten so much conflicting information about this ferry. We rode back to the office, bought our tickets, rode back to the ferry, and leaned our bikes in a corner of the bow, where all the other bikes were stowed. We noticed a pair of cyclists working out a deal with someone with a truck. I had read stories about a 10km stretch that cyclists arranged for motor vehicle transport, because there wasn’t enough time to make the connection by bike.
The ferry was going Caleta Gonzalo. It was large and accommodated a lot of cars, trucks, and people. There were two levels above the motor vehicle deck. Level two included comfortable seating with tables and large monitors to watch movies.
We found WiFi on board, ostensibly through someone’s hot spot. I used it to upload photos and publish yesterday’s report.
We plied through the middle of a narrow fjord surrounded by steep snow capped mountains. Massive water falls could be seen in distance.
Our map showed two routes to Caleta Gonzalo. We assumed we would take the direct open sea route, but we were obviously going through a narrow fiord. If this ferry was going to Vodudahue, aka Lepetu, we were going to have problems making the second ferry to Caleta Gonzalo.
We met a couple from Seattle, who were touring the area in a car. They confirmed the 10km problem we would have when the ferry reached the Vodudahue. They happened to have and extra electrical adapter and gave us theirs. We were able to plug in our power packs and phones to recharge.
I ordered a Neapolitan empanada and a large cappuccino. Scott was reading his 3 inch thick rocket science book.
I met cyclist David from Bushwick Brooklyn, and originally from Prague. He was going all the way to Villa OHiggins but at a less aggressive pace than us. Along with David, I met cyclist Lucho from Santiago who was cycling to Tortel and then taking a ferry to Puerto Natales. He said that our last stretch to Punta Arenas, at the end of our trip would be cold and windy. David explained that the ferry company had arranged a bus to transport us the 10km from Vodudahue to the next ferry. Big 10km problem solved!
It was a 3-1/2 hour ferry ride and then a mad dash to cram all our bikes and gear into the bottom of the bus. The driver was barking at us to hurry up, and it was frantic. My odometer fell off and Scott realized he had a rear flat. The bus sped down the gravel road, passing the other trucks and cars so that we would not hold up the second ferry. This kind of seemed like a gap, but Scott made the argument that it was part of the ferry transport.
Scott attempted to repair his flat tire on the second ferry. He suspected the valve was broken. I lubed and cleaned my chain, and I tightened my screws and found a few loose ones. There were ridiculous steep mountains to either side of the fjord.
Once we reached Caleta Gonzalo Scott replaced his defective inner tube while I dried my tent fly. From there it was ripio heading south. It started with a 10 km climb surrounded by huge jagged mountains.
I found my eyes straying from the road because the views were so magnificent. The ripio was less treacherous than yesterday. There were less crater holes to dodge. I still had to really keep a sharp eye for large rocks and pits. Sometimes I noticed the craters too late and braced for the impact. Ramming into the rim of a hole was better than trying to dodge last minute and wiping out. One fall and this trip could be over, either through injury or mechanical breakage.
What’s more important - dry and dusty laundry or clean wet laundry? That was my quandary and I tried to have it both ways. Eventually all my laundry went into my rack pack. It was brutally dusty out on the ripio.
Cyclists were stopped in the middle of the road, and we paused to offer help. There was a problem. Lucho from Santiago, whom we had met on the ferry, had his rack broken. It was made of aluminum and couldn’t handle the brutal terrain. We offered to split and carry his gear to the next destination. He opted to hitch a ride with a motorist.
We stopped at a beautiful breathtaking overlook where we took spellbinding photos. We met a father and son from Brazil.
We passed through an area where all the trees were dead. I had heard about this and believe it was related to volcanic activity. Passing motorists gave us the thumbs up.
After 40 km of ripio I was blessed with the pleasant surprise of tarmac. It was smooth as butter. And I could finally see all the brown fuzzy caterpillars that Scott had been talking about. They were everywhere.
I could now fly. I was no longer dodging crater sized holes and washboards. I played a game with the reflectors on the white line. There was a comfortable twenty inch shoulder.
It felt untouched here, like the land before time. There was no litter - no beer cans or cigarette cartons - nothing.
It felt like we were the only ones out here.
I climbed up over the top of a hill, and was greeted with a headwind. As I rounded the summit, I spotted the sea in the distance.
We stopped at a small store in Caleta Santa Barbara, where I purchased Gatorade, walnuts, and raisins.
The next 12 kilometers had more motor traffic and my first observation of litter- cigarette cartons and soda cans.
When we finally arrived in Chaitén we were starving. The first order of business was food. We asked some travelers for advice and were sent to Pizzeria Reconquista, which was fantastic. Both of us ordered full pies. I enjoyed numerous bottles of Cerveza Austral lager.
We rode over to Tiera Viva camping, which was located in someone’s yard in a residential neighborhood. It was filled with backpackers and cyclists.
We were informed of the eruption of Chaitén volcano in 2008.
We pitched our tents hemmed between others. I was able to recharge my devices and hang my laundry.
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