Carretera Austral Day #1 Puerto Montt Airport to Lenca

January 15, 2020

December 27, 2019

Puerto Montt Airport to Lenca

46.63Km

Ride Time 4hours

Tour Total 46.63 Km

At long last, I’m back on tour!

After an eleven hour layover in Santiago, and over 24 hours since I left New York, I am finally in Patagonia.

It’s been raining all day in Puerto Montt. Scott arrived two and a half hours ahead of me. I dosed off for a moment on the plane ride and got a chill of excitement when the plane broke through the clouds. It’s was so green and enchanting below.

Exhausted and running on adrenaline, I reassembled my bike in the airport arrival area. Scott had put his bike back together in ninety minutes and then rode into town in search of camping gas.

I had gone overboard with the zip ties when packing up my bike in New York. Without a pair if cutting pliers I injured myself with my knife trying to cut them.

I was surrounded by a crowd of excited arrival area greeters at the small airport. People were walking through the area where I was trying to work and it was annoying. I tried to be as neat and orderly as possible but also tried to establish a work area perimeter.

I had my bicycle assembled in two hours and left the airport at 9:30pm. It was getting dark so I turned on my lights. I was wearing my cycling shorts, Trans Am short sleeve jersey, and Bouré sweater. It was a little chilly but I was racing at 22K to get to town. Scott was hungry.

People were out along the highway waiting for collectivo rides and getting dropped off. There was a massive snow covered volcano to the south east. The wonderful smell of cooking fires wafted through the air.

I had had some problems with my pump at the airport which had sprung a series of small leaks. I was able to repair it with electrical tape, but I couldn’t get my tires inflated to my liking. A custodian was removing our bike boxes as I departed. When I hit the asphalt, I realized that my handlebars were still loose.

It was a 15km pedal to Puerto Montt. Scott told me that there had been protests earlier at our meeting point.

Not far from the airport I passed a small wooden shrine with lit candles visible from the highway.

There were lots of barking dogs and they all seemed behind fences. My pepper spray made it through customs and was in my handlebar bag.

Pedaling in the dark was not as bad as riding in the rain. I adjusted my headlight so that I could spot pot holes.

I connected with Scott in the center municipal plaza where there had been massive demonstrations earlier. Scott witnessed protesters throwing rocks and police in riot gear with tear gas and water cannons. Scott made a video of it all. By the time I got there it was quiet. Scott had a giant hotdog waiting for me. We met a friendly young gentleman who told us that they’re trying to introduce cycling here. The problem is that it rains a lot. He took a photo of us and I gave him our card. We rode over and got our picture taken in front of a large monument called Lovers, which commemorates a popular song and is locally viewed as an eyesore. Then we begin the Carretera Austral, AKA Chile Route 7. We passed by kilometer marker zero, but didn’t stop to document.

There was a nice bike lane rolling out of town along the water. Here Route 7 was divided and four lanes wide. We passed dozens of stray dogs.

We stopped at a small bodega on the way out of town to pick up Gatorade, water, and nuts.

It was a beautiful starry night. We admired the constellations above and enjoyed the pleasant smell of cooking fire smoke. Locals still had their Christmas lights up.

We had difficulty finding a stealth camping spot, and Scott got chased by a dog. The iOverland app indicated an abandoned pitch of grass to camp, but there was a locked gate. We were both exhausted and there was nothing for miles.

We tried a small gravel road, but it was tricky to find a place to stealth camp because of all the barking dogs.

Scott’s front derailer was screwed up which was making the climbs difficult. We were mostly going along the coast, but cut in over land masses that jutted out into the sea.

We finally found a spot along the Gulf of Ancud not far from the Lenca River. We were exhausted, and pitched our tents on small pebbles because the grass was too wet. We were concerned about tides, because of the nearby rows of wet seaweed. We locked our bikes to a fence and crawled into our tents. It was 2am.