Carretera Austral Day #12 Cochrane to Tortel
January 9, 2020
Cochrane to Tortel 124.2 km
Ride Time: 10:34
Pedal Time: 10:05
Tour Total Pedaled 1025.76
I slept well last night in my tent at Cochrane camping. It was 37 degrees F when I got up, but I had managed to stay warm throughout the night.
Last night after dinner at Cerveceria Tehuelche, where I ate and drank way too much, we found the camping and set up our tents. The shower was interspersed with hot water, and I bathed for the first time in a few days. It was really cold out. There were dogs barking, people talking, roosters cocka-doodle-dooing and yet I was still able to sleep.
I could see my breath in the morning. There was a nice family from Coyhaique in the kitchen. The husband (Instagram @gonzalo_garin) was a photographer who took photos here in Patagonia. His lovely wife offered us pan de Pascua, a sweet bread, and crackers. We talked about Patagonia, which she described as, linda - very clean. Scott and I had been debating whether north or south Patagonia was more beautiful. She preferred the south.
Scott needed to make a change to his rocket science presentation that was being sent to NASA, and his computer was taking forever.
There were numerous cyclists, motorcyclists, and backpackers in the campground. As we were getting ready to leave, two female backpackers left in a taxi.
The campground WiFi had died so we returned to
Cerveceria Tehuelche to scam WiFi so that Scott could send his report. It was humorous to see him sneaking around the premises with an open laptop.
Cochrane boasted pavement throughout town, but as soon as we left it was back to ripio. I had folded my map and now had Villa O’Higgins on the page, which is the end of the Carreterra Austral.
My clothing calculus was completely screwed up today. The early morning had been hot with strong sun. I was able to basically dry my equipment. The sun was mixed with clouds, but I was positive that it was going to be a sunny day. I lathered myself in sunscreen and donned my short sleeve jersey and shorts. We hit the road at 9:41am.
I realized my folly out on the carretera. I was cold and had to add my sweater, rain jacket, and legwarmers.
The road sign outside town read Tortel 124 km, which was different from our itinerary. We were trying to spot 11,000 foot San Lorenzo o Chochrane to the west.
At around 10am I realized that Scott was not behind me.
He had stopped to adjust his saddle. There were snow capped mountains all around us.
We were shared the road with a southbound French cyclist, who seemed overloaded. Scott needed food at noon so we stopped.
A northbound English speaking cyclist told us that we would have tailwinds south of El Chaitén. We were currently battling headwinds and he had very little sympathy.
There seemed to be less motor traffic than yesterday. Scott needed more water at 1pm so we stopped. There was a major switch-back downhill where we dropped 800 feet. Tortel would be at sea level.
I don’t have much braking control in the loose gravel, and the downhills are a bit risky. I can’t stop on a dime - more like a ten foot skid. The same goes the motorists. I aim for the best smoothest path, whatever side of the road it is. Sometimes I take major risks traveling on the left side of the road on blind curves. I’ve been lucky so far.
It began to drizzle at 2:30pm. We crossed over the Rio DeSales and rode along side the lake. I passed a north-bound female cyclist. My feet were getting cold. I crossed over the Rio Carrera.
After 101 km I hit the fork for Tortel. I’d been following the Rio Baker, which is now wide and milky. On both sides were enormous snow-covered mountains that rise up out of the sea. Waterfalls are everywhere and snowfields can be seen up every fjord. 
It took forever to get to Tortel, and the road would have to be backtracked tomorrow to get back to highway 7. The views were majestic, but I was tired. After pedaling 123km on gravel, Tortel greeted me with an uphill.
Upon arrival, I couldn’t quite figure out the town. There was a circle where all the motorists were parked. I was starving and asked a guy on on motorcycle where to get food. He pointed to the information kiosk where I got a map and was still confused. It was 8:15 and raining when we arrived.
At this point I remembered what I had heard about Tortel. The town is a network of linked narrow wooden stairs and boardwalks. We went towards the direction of where the restaurants were located and stopped at the very first one, Restaurante El Chilco. It was in someone’s home and smelled odd. The lights were off and I was freezing. The nice gentleman brought me soup, fried chicken, potatoes, and three Crystal beers. It was freezing, and I could see my breath. I asked for him to turn up the heater, but it was no use. The food was meh- probably sitting in the frying pan all day. We should have ventured further, but it was confusing and we were tired.
Scott wanted more food, but first we had to find a place to sleep. I had on just about every layer that I had brought with me. A local teased me about how little I was wearing by pointing to his heavy parka.
We located Camping Tortel on the map, which seemed close to the parking area, and we could see it. The problem was that it involved a hundred slippery wooden stairs down, and another hundred up. My loaded bike weighs a hundred pounds. I had just cycled 124 km. A very nice man helped me carry my bike part of the way. Carrying a 100lb bike up and down slippery steep wooden stairs in the rain is insane. I unclipped my panniers for the final stretch.
The camping had roofed areas that were crammed with other cyclists. There was no way I was going to set up out in the rain. We would all have to make do. A French cyclist remembered me from Puerto Rio Tranquilo. I did my best to not jab anyone in the eye with a pole setting up my tent. It was ridiculous, and I was exhausted and freezing. Because we were erecting our tents on wooden planks, we were offered nails to use as stakes. I used additional nails to hang my panniers and wet gloves.
Scott was still hungry and needed additional food. I showered and was absolutely freezing. I was exhausted and needed to go to bed. We were camping in a Tsunami zone.
Cochrane to Tortel 124.2 km
Ride Time: 10:34
Pedal Time: 10:05
Tour Total Pedaled 1025.76
I slept well last night in my tent at Cochrane camping. It was 37 degrees F when I got up, but I had managed to stay warm throughout the night.
Last night after dinner at Cerveceria Tehuelche, where I ate and drank way too much, we found the camping and set up our tents. The shower was interspersed with hot water, and I bathed for the first time in a few days. It was really cold out. There were dogs barking, people talking, roosters cocka-doodle-dooing and yet I was still able to sleep.
I could see my breath in the morning. There was a nice family from Coyhaique in the kitchen. The husband (Instagram @gonzalo_garin) was a photographer who took photos here in Patagonia. His lovely wife offered us pan de Pascua, a sweet bread, and crackers. We talked about Patagonia, which she described as, linda - very clean. Scott and I had been debating whether north or south Patagonia was more beautiful. She preferred the south.
Scott needed to make a change to his rocket science presentation that was being sent to NASA, and his computer was taking forever.
There were numerous cyclists, motorcyclists, and backpackers in the campground. As we were getting ready to leave, two female backpackers left in a taxi.
The campground WiFi had died so we returned to
Cerveceria Tehuelche to scam WiFi so that Scott could send his report. It was humorous to see him sneaking around the premises with an open laptop.
Cochrane boasted pavement throughout town, but as soon as we left it was back to ripio. I had folded my map and now had Villa O’Higgins on the page, which is the end of the Carreterra Austral.
My clothing calculus was completely screwed up today. The early morning had been hot with strong sun. I was able to basically dry my equipment. The sun was mixed with clouds, but I was positive that it was going to be a sunny day. I lathered myself in sunscreen and donned my short sleeve jersey and shorts. We hit the road at 9:41am.
I realized my folly out on the carretera. I was cold and had to add my sweater, rain jacket, and legwarmers.
The road sign outside town read Tortel 124 km, which was different from our itinerary. We were trying to spot 11,000 foot San Lorenzo o Chochrane to the west.
At around 10am I realized that Scott was not behind me.
He had stopped to adjust his saddle. There were snow capped mountains all around us.
We were shared the road with a southbound French cyclist, who seemed overloaded. Scott needed food at noon so we stopped.
A northbound English speaking cyclist told us that we would have tailwinds south of El Chaitén. We were currently battling headwinds and he had very little sympathy.
There seemed to be less motor traffic than yesterday. Scott needed more water at 1pm so we stopped. There was a major switch-back downhill where we dropped 800 feet. Tortel would be at sea level.
I don’t have much braking control in the loose gravel, and the downhills are a bit risky. I can’t stop on a dime - more like a ten foot skid. The same goes the motorists. I aim for the best smoothest path, whatever side of the road it is. Sometimes I take major risks traveling on the left side of the road on blind curves. I’ve been lucky so far.
It began to drizzle at 2:30pm. We crossed over the Rio DeSales and rode along side the lake. I passed a north-bound female cyclist. My feet were getting cold. I crossed over the Rio Carrera.
After 101 km I hit the fork for Tortel. I’d been following the Rio Baker, which is now wide and milky. On both sides were enormous snow-covered mountains that rise up out of the sea. Waterfalls are everywhere and snowfields can be seen up every fjord. 
It took forever to get to Tortel, and the road would have to be backtracked tomorrow to get back to highway 7. The views were majestic, but I was tired. After pedaling 123km on gravel, Tortel greeted me with an uphill.
Upon arrival, I couldn’t quite figure out the town. There was a circle where all the motorists were parked. I was starving and asked a guy on on motorcycle where to get food. He pointed to the information kiosk where I got a map and was still confused. It was 8:15 and raining when we arrived.
At this point I remembered what I had heard about Tortel. The town is a network of linked narrow wooden stairs and boardwalks. We went towards the direction of where the restaurants were located and stopped at the very first one, Restaurante El Chilco. It was in someone’s home and smelled odd. The lights were off and I was freezing. The nice gentleman brought me soup, fried chicken, potatoes, and three Crystal beers. It was freezing, and I could see my breath. I asked for him to turn up the heater, but it was no use. The food was meh- probably sitting in the frying pan all day. We should have ventured further, but it was confusing and we were tired.
Scott wanted more food, but first we had to find a place to sleep. I had on just about every layer that I had brought with me. A local teased me about how little I was wearing by pointing to his heavy parka.
We located Camping Tortel on the map, which seemed close to the parking area, and we could see it. The problem was that it involved a hundred slippery wooden stairs down, and another hundred up. My loaded bike weighs a hundred pounds. I had just cycled 124 km. A very nice man helped me carry my bike part of the way. Carrying a 100lb bike up and down slippery steep wooden stairs in the rain is insane. I unclipped my panniers for the final stretch.
The camping had roofed areas that were crammed with other cyclists. There was no way I was going to set up out in the rain. We would all have to make do. A French cyclist remembered me from Puerto Rio Tranquilo. I did my best to not jab anyone in the eye with a pole setting up my tent. It was ridiculous, and I was exhausted and freezing. Because we were erecting our tents on wooden planks, we were offered nails to use as stakes. I used additional nails to hang my panniers and wet gloves.
Scott was still hungry and needed additional food. I showered and was absolutely freezing. I was exhausted and needed to go to bed. We were camping in a Tsunami zone.
Comments
Post a Comment