To Chile Once Again

I have been called back to Chile, yet Argentina tugs at me. I had decided in Angostura to only ride on Ruta 40. The girl had said Argentina was very special, and I agreed. But I have come to understand some things.

First, I understand what the pampa is. I rode the pampa for the last 2 days and it brought back many memories. It's incredible how the pampa runs the length of the country. It just changes temperature. I camped under a bridge last night in the midst of the heavily fenced off Pampa. I do not like the fencing of Ruta 40 in this section of Chubut. It has something to do with the tribal territories here, or the oil and gas interests. In the middle of nowhere up North, there was no fencing. In the middle of nowhere here in Chubut, the fencing is intense. As an example, there were two layers of fence to protect a beautiful lake, one I could have used to camp or to filter water.

Urs had implored me to seek out the Carretera Austral. And then today, in the midst of the desolate pampa, with the memory of sleeping under the bridge fresh in my mind, I saw a man approach me from the south on a bicycle. He crossed over to my side. I asked him where he was from. Bulgaria, he said. Without even telling him my name I asked him which part. Pleven, he said. Peycho had ridden two months from Ushuaia, had pushed his bike across the vicious headwind as he travelled West to Chile, saw the glaciers, rode the Carretera Austral. I told him I struggled with my route each and every day. I would let the Bulgarian decide for me. My heart and soul have always been with the Bulgarians and I told him I trusted the judgement of a Bulgarian. He said for my first time I would be remiss to miss the beauty Carretera Austral. He said Ruta 40 is pampas. I knew the pampas, and I knew the wind. What was more, I knew I would still have to ride a good chunk of Ruta 40 to get to Ushuaia, and what was more, I would have to cut back into Argentina anyway and still ride some of the toughest parts of Ruta 40. How could I ride to Ushuaia and *skip* the Carretera Austral? Here I am, riding along the border, with the ability to dip in and out of the frontiers. I hadn't liked the paved Chilean roads thus far. I really like the mountain passes, though, and the small towns and roads near the mountain passes. But the Carretera Austral is the gem of Chile. It is mostly unpaved and has some of the world's greatest wonders. You get to take boats in sections. There is drinkable water from the streams and open camping. It was the route that got me excited in the first place of heading to Patagonia.

I have ridden Ruta 40 from Salta to Mendoza. Then from Las Loicas to Las Lajas. Then from Junin to Esquel. I don't know the exact tally but about 2500km of Ruta 40. I won't let Ruta 40 dominate my riding. I will pass back and forth the mountains. Once more tomorrow, and then again, perhaps 700-1000 kilometers South. After that I will have another 1000-700 kilometers on Ruta 40 to get to Rio Gallegos, where it ends (or where it begins, actually, at kilometer 0). From there, about 400km to Ushuaia.

I suppose there is something great about following Ruta 40. Not for the title. No, there is a good reason for only staying on Ruta 40 in these parts (as opposed to the beautiful parts of Ruta 40 that make Northern Chile pale in comparison). The reason is this: by going to the severe and desolate parts, you encounter a rare group of people who haven't been bothered by many outsiders. They are more generous and spontaneous with their time. They are more curious and less harassed. I understand that I will be missing out on this. But I want to see some wonders on the Carratera Austral. How much time do I have left on earth? When will cancer, a car, or the state strike me down? To reach Ushuaia, to experience the greatest of Ruta 40 and the Carratera Austral, after that I can't see what they could do to me to ever take away the wonder I will carry with me for my life, whatever its length or content.

So it is tomorrow that I cross over the Andes once again into Chile. It will be a different Chile this time. How can I refuse the earnest advice of a Bulgarian?

The last 4 days of riding:

My ride from Barliloche to Esquel was pleasant. I camped North of Bolson my first night with a family that owned an old Almacen and museum of native culture, then camped on a lake owned by a French family the next night, and then camped under a bridge in the pampas the third night. A hostel in Esquel at the moment, studying the maps over dinner with three Argentineans, one a cyclist from Chilecito, a town I know well.

As Ruta 40 departed the Andes and made its way into the pampas, wind replaced all that was green. Most animals went away but a few birds remained. The new water filter worked very well, although an native from Leleque told me I could drink from the streams.

Temuco a San Carlos de Barliloche

Santiago has always been tranquil to me. It doesn't have the violence of some places, but you can get your stuff lifted. In January I 'lost' a camera and couldn't recall how the device had parted my hands. Last week, in line for the bus to Temuco, I was vulnerable. The bike was in a box, the bags were in a suitcase, the two rear panniers next to my feet. I was vigilant, and only had 20 minutes until the bus arrived. An old man stopped to ask me directions for the secondary bus station. I was proud to tell him, and turned around to ask a couple next to me if I had it right. Just then the man said he was fine and began to walk away. A fella next to me asked me if I knew someone had just taken my mochilla. Instinctively I ran towards what I thought would be an escape. I ran for about 50 meters, stopped the old man, but he had nothing. I needed to find whoever had my bag. 5 meters later, there it was, in a corner of a hall. His accomplice must have dropped it when he realized I was going to chase.

I recalled to early January when an old woman asked my for directions to a bus stop. Damn it, what Chilean would ask a foreigner for directions. Of course I gave her directions, and of course my 10 year old camera was lifted with all my pictures from San Martin de los Andes. Gotta keep the hands in the pockets when I talk to old people.

Temuco was very modern town that had many universities. I filled up my MSR bottle with gasoline for 500 pesos ($1). The attendant wanted to know if I planned on drinking the gasoline, but I told him it was for cooking.

I rode to Villarica in the morning. It rained the whole day and the new rain gear worked well. I camped at a campsite on the lake and hid my food and shoes from the dogs. If dogs took my shoes in the South, I might be dead or lose my feet.

From Villarica I rode to Pucon and it was dry and sunny and about 15 degrees and I passed a large snow capped volcano. I stopped by the home of two Americans who worked at a school. There were 6 buildings, all hand built from wood and stone. The children brought fruit to school and cooked their breakfast together and sang together and want on hikes together and then by the time their brains needed science or math or reading, they were ready and thirsted for knowledge. The school overlooked the lake in Pucon.

I said goodbye to Annie and Andy and rode towards the border. About 40km outside of Pucon I began to look for places to camp but most everything was fenced off and I was in Mapuche territory. I stopped by a home with camping signs and talked down the price, as it was low season and there was no one to be seen. The place was beautiful, overlooking an Andean river with beautiful trees. A small, old dog immediately became my friend, and appreciated any scraps I gave him, wasn't aggressive, and didn't go after my food or shoes. During the night, other dogs tried to get at him, but he hid near my tent and I protected him.

Not far from my campsite began the ripio which led up the pass of Mamuil Malal. The Wikipedia entry on the pass is not correct. There is 25km of ripio: 17km leading up to Argentina, and 8km on the Argentinean side. The riding was steep and the ripio consisted in packed mud in places. Strange pine trees appeared. The Lanin volcano appeared and dwarfed all volcanoes I had seen in Chile or Argentina.

I reached the Chilean control. The young men wore casual clothing and had expensive laptops and listened to Chilean rock and one young man watched a movie. I rode 1km to the Argentinean control and the men wore olive drab wool fatigues and the building was spartan. I was asked if I had payed the reciprocity fee, and told the woman the fee only applied at the airport. A casually dressed man, the Western handler, told me everything had changed recently. Now everyone had to pay. Someone should have told me, he said.

I had crossed the border twice already and all I encountered was advice and goodwill. The man was embarrassed, and said he was a cyclist too, and lived in Angostura. He worked 15 day stretches and then returned home down south. He was able to fill out the paperwork online for me and I paid the reciprocity fee and avoided my being sent back to Pucon.

I was tired and 70km from Junin de los Andes and it was 6:30 in the evening. I rode 4km from the control and found a riverside site draped in the strange pine trees and overlooking the massive Lanin volcano. I washed in the cold river and cooked the dried potatoes given to me from the couple at the campsite in Villarica. The stars at night revealed a layer of the galaxy I hadn't seen before.

The final 4 kilometers of ripio the next morning were thick and difficult to ride, yet downhill. In the final kilometer, as I checked the rear spare tires on the back rack, I hit a patch of thick gravel and went down on the left knee. I checked the brake levers, the most vulnerable parts, then the front racks and front panniers, then my knee, bloodied and later bruised. 

Next were rolling hills in cool air. I arrived in Junin de los Andes in bright sun. I spent the night in a hostel run by Alvaro, a native of Buenos Aires. At night he left to see his pregnant sister and I held down the fort and assured 4 guests waiting to check in that he would return.

I rode to San Martin de los Andes the next morning, changing into warm socks and the rain suit in the first hour and rode in light rain which subsided when I reached town. I bought media lunas and lunchmeat and ate at a familiar small park in the cold wind. As I was about to leave, a woman brought me café con leche. She said she would have invited me inside but her husband said I was a stranger. I returned the mug to her door across the street and she came out holding a large poodle. As I departed, Jennifer told me “tu siempre estas en mi alma.” Same here, I said.

I ascended in the mountain inhabited by the Mapuche and camped on the shore of Lago Hermoso that night. With cold, gasoline covered hands I attempted to repair the stove pump in the dark, to no avail. A cold dinner and cold coffee the next morning.

At Lago Falkner the next day I rested in a warm almacen on the shore. Huapi park was very open to camping, unlike Lanin park, which was mostly fenced and the territory of the Mapuche. On the way to Villa la Angostura I rode through 30km of ripio and passed many blue lakes. I spent the night in a hostel at Angostura and my two roommates, a couple from Buenos Aires, convinced me I should stay in the mystery of Argentinean Patagonia to Ushuiaia.

To Bariloche, the following day, rolling hills along blue lakes, with a steep climb in strong wind 20km outside the city with a fast descent the final 10. I had crossed in the territory of Rio Negro.I spoke with an old woman, a retired literature professor from Buenos Aires. She cut open about 30 packets of sugar with a razor blade and poured the packets into a plastic bag. She had been to India 4 times and every time she sould describe a political or cultural problem she would grasp a part of her body to which there was a corresponding chakra.

 Zoom in on the kilometer signage

 Villarica

 Warning sign for volcano

 School house in Pucon

 Just outside the ascent to Mamuil Malal

 Volcan Lanin

 Climbing Mamuil Malal

 Volcan Lanin

 Camping on Argentine side of Mamuil Malal

 Lanin in the background

 Lago Hermoso

 Jennifer's cafe con leche

 Climbing outside Lago Falkner

 

 Rio Negro province

moon

“When the yin and the yang go awry, then heaven and earth see astounding sights. Then we hear the crash and roll of thunder, and fire comes in the midst of rain and burns up the great pagoda tree. Delight and sorrow are there to trap man on either side so that he has no escape. Fearful and trembling, he can reach no completion.  His mind is as though trussed and suspended between heaven and earth, bewildered and lost in delusion. Profit and loss rub against each other and light the countless fires that burn up the inner harmony of the mass of men. The moon cannot put out the fire, so that in time all is consumed and the Way comes to an end.”

Way

“The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you‘ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you‘ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exists because of meaning; once you‘ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can have a word with him?“

Heaven

    Yen Hui said, "I'm improving."  

    Confucius said, "What do you mean by that?"

    "I've forgotten benevolence and righteousness!"

    "That's good. But you still haven't got it."

    Another day, the two met again and Yen Hui said, "I'm improving." 

    "What do you mean by that?"

    "I can sit down and forget everything!"

    Confucius looked very startled and said, "What do you mean, sit down and forget everything?"

    Yen Hui said, "I smash up my limbs and body, drive out perception and intellect, cast off form, do away with understanding, and make myself identical with the Great Thorough-fare. This is what I mean by sitting down and forgetting everything."

    Confucius said, "If you're identical with it, you must have no more likes! If you've been transformed, you must have no more constancy! So you really are a worthy man after all! With your permission, I'd like to become your follower."