Carretera Austral Day #6 Parque Nacional Queulat to Campo Grande

January 1, 2020

Parque Nacional Queulat to Campo Grande 119 Km

Ride Time: 12:26

Pedal Time: 8:16

Tour Total Pedaled 498 Km

I got a pretty good night’s sleep at Las Toninas Camping, 5km from Parque Nacional Queulat. There was a guy in a tent adjacent to Scott’s who snored all night. It got cold and I had to zip up my bag.

I woke up at 7:30am when my tent got warm and I began the drying routine. I had Cream of Wheat and tea for breakfast.

Scott didn’t sleep well. Neighboring campers had stayed up until 3am celebrating New Year’s. I slept through it all. Scott’s bag of Cream of Wheat exploded when he tried to tear it open and the white powder went everywhere. It wasn’t looking like a good day.

I got one more shot of Amarula for the road. Happy New Year! Scott was still packing when I left at 9:15. I was hoping that we’d get away with not having to pay, but Scott got hit up right before he left.

It was predicted that there would be less traffic on the road because of the holiday. The road started as tarmac, following a river up a valley with huge snow covered mountains to either side.

Team Barcelona as well as the two American girls we had met in Puyuhuapi had warned me about a 5km difficult climb. Cycle blogs had also indicated that this was going to be a rough day. Apparently when I hit the big waterfall, it would be all downhill.

I needed to reach halfway to Coyhaique today, and was a little confused about the distance. Yesterday, right outside of Puyuhuapi, was a sign that said ‘Coyhaique 218km’. After 15km I saw another sign, Coyhaique 218km. Surely the first sign was correct and not the second.

I crossed a small steel truss one-lane bridge that seemed like a military-type temporary structure. In the shade it was crisp and almost cold enough for a sweater. But I didn’t stop. Whenever I’d hit the sun I would warm up.

After 5km I passed the camping spot where I had originally intended to spend the night. The South African guys had said that it was gross, so I guess I made a good call. Since my experience with the non-existing Fresia I know that the tent icons on the map are not reliable.

I crossed a small bridge called ‘No Name Bridge. There are countless streams that are crossed by bridges. Every bridge has a sign, even the Puente sin Nombre.

The Ripio started after 8 kilometers. Almost immediately my chain broke. This was the first time I had ever broken a chain and was in disbelief. I removed all my panniers and took out my chain tool and latex gloves. The master link had snapped.

Numerous concerned motorists stopped to ask if I needed help. The two American girls I had met in Puyuhuapi stopped and I couldn’t understand a word they were saying because my earpods were blasting music. My gloves were covered with black grease, so I just nodded my head, and they eventually drove off. I decided to pull out two chain links. The removal went easy, but to reconnect and complete the loop was a pain. I jammed a stick in my rear derailer to give the chain some slack and make it easier to work on. I was laying on the side of the road in the gravel trying to do the most finicky adjustment, at which time Scott showed up.

Scott documented the repair. The pin wasn’t going in straight, so I used the pliers on my Leatherman tool. I’ve never had to repair a chain on tour and it was a little humbling, being so far away from resources. It was a brand new chain, purchased right before the tour. Anyway, I got it fixed, and I tested it out before loading the panniers.

The sun was strong, so I put on more sunscreen. Every time a motorist passed the billowing brown dust was overwhelming. A warning

sign cautioned motorists about the steep grades and the necessary use of chains in the winter. The rough gravel conditions were ridiculous and, of course, I was enveloped by swarm of horseflies during the ascent. I couldn’t outrun them and they kept trying to land on me.

Three hours into the ride I was hot and drenched with sweat. The hill seemed to last forever. The sign had said 5 km, but I was still climbing at 6 km. A refreshing headwind was blowing near the top.

Scott and I found a place in the shade to have lunch. He cooked ramin and I ate

nuts and raisins. I took a little nap on the side of the road, cushioned atop my rear bag.

I got ahead of Scott on the downhill. As it turned out, he had stopped for more food. I paused at a magnificent waterfall where I saw another cyclist and numerous motorists. Scott caught up with me there.

At the turn off to Puerto Cisnes the tarmac started again. In a pasture to the side of the road, I had my first lama sighting.

We were planning a toe dip at kilometer 66, but were instead delighted to find a dessert hut that advertised lime pie. It was literally in the middle of nowhere, dozens of kilometers away from the nearest village. I couldn’t believe my luck. They were out of the lime pie, and offered me a dark berry pie. In addition I got two sugar cookies and two Fantas. Scott made yet another new canine friend, and the horseflies were horrible.

The grades were better on the tarmac and I could crank out some distance. I stopped at Villa Amengual and waited for Scott to catch up. There was another diner bus, but it was closed.

I got a little wet tar goo on my front tire and it rhythmically rubbed against the fender.

I had a magnificent ride around Lago de los Toros, translated as lake of the towers. The rock formations were larger and more impressive than anything in Manhattan.

The pavement briefly turned to a brick herringbone pattern and then went back to tarmac.

I stopped at 90 km to wait for Scott to catch up. I was in striking distance of my destination and food was all I could think about. In front of me was a huge faceted rock formation.

I waited a long time, and decided to go back and look for Scott. He had gotten

a flat tire at about kilometer 81, and had used all of his patches. My 5 km back and forth added 10 km to my ride today. I’m gonna apply it to the 10 km gap between ferries on day #3.

We had passed the place where I had been waiting, and I was hoping we were close to food and camping. Then Scott’s rear wheel went flat again. Hmm. I don’t know about Super Patch. The two of us had a difficult time getting the tire back on the rim. There was a weird wobble, either because his wheel was out of true or because the tire wasn’t seated correctly.

I rode past wonderful towering rock formations, which were fantastic in the golden evening light. I enjoyed the sweet aroma from the purple flowers in bloom.

Aside from a bridge crossing and highway fork, there was nothing in Campo Grande. I had phone service and found a campground down the road on Google Maps. We were excited when we got there because the sign advertised free Wifi. Unfortunately it was closed. It was getting dark and all of the land was cordoned off with barbed wire. A few more km down the road we found a gravel parking area on the side of the highway, where with pitched our tents. A cow pasture was on the other side of the fence.

I saw a fox as we were setting up camp. I cooked pasta with tomato sauce. There were tons of hungry mosquitoes which I was swatting while cooking. Scott’s pot fell off the stove, spilling his dinner on the ground. He was able to gather all the pasta, and said that he couldn’t tell the difference.

I bathed in a small stream prior to going to bed, and hung my wet towel above me in the tent. I fell asleep around 11pm.