The Peanut Butter Quest

Thursday 1st

We awake and are breakfasting as a military guy turns up in a 4x4 and checks us out. Oh no - caught again and maybe serious this time! But then he just drives off without a word. Strange think we, but hopefully not for reinforcements or superior officers we think.

5 minutes later he returns, and unlocks the building. Now we are worried and wondering whether he´s gone for the paperwork to book us, or maybe a gun, but then he has one of those on his belt anyway - they can be pretty twitchy in these border towns. A minute later he re-emerges - says 2 words "El baño" and gets back in the car and leaves. He´s just opened the bathroom for us - nice guy, if rather economical with words. Guess we just look too dirty and desperate to berate and he figures we just need to clean up for presentation at the border.

Esquel is 85kms away and there is a rumour they have peanut butter!! Michael is out and I have one spoonful left - a perilous situation as it has only been avalable in Chile so far and we are quite worried. Even if it didn´t taste soooo good, it´s just the best cycling fodder known to man. My diet is the reverse of a normal one and I simply buy food with the most calories to weight ratio - kind of a biggest bang verses lugging difficulty ratio. Peanut butter scores the tops!! Anyway there is no other reason to get to Esquel and it´s only a 50kms diversion - better get a few jars to make it worthwile.



We cycle more idillic scenery in perfect conditions to Trevelin, a supposedly Welsh settlement, which looks nothing like anywhere in Wales I have been. I look for signs of Welshism and see very few apart from a (rare) flag sighting. It´s a "tourist" thing we decide and pass through.



And hit tarmac!! Oh how flat and smooth your unrippled loverlyness unfolds before us, like a slate bed. It´s been a while since the last piece of road as delicious as this, like having your bottom wiped with velvet as you cycle.... The sense of speed is dizzying....

We make Esquel in no time and hit an organised accomodation site for the first time since Puyhuapi.



And the rumour is true - this town has peanut butter. We toast our victory with a few beers!

Godbye Beautiful Carretera - and a Fork in the Road

Wednesday 30th

We leave our gorgeous lakefront villa and debate about crossing the border further North and heading on to Chalten to see more of the Carretera, but decide on the turn off to Futaleufu. We get to see more of the National Parks on the Argentine side this way and the valley is supposed to be amazing - a decision that proves momentous in a couple of days.

We get yet another great day and the ride is easier than expected as the pass proves to be lower than expected. Some of the day is even downhill and we have time to dawdle and gawp at the river valley. Futaleufu is famous for it´s river rafting and the blue green water boils and whirls it´s serpentine course down a narrow wooded gorge. How I wish I had packed a kayak in the panniers!



This is the cow that took fright at Michael´s passing and nearly took him out when it bolted. He eyes me up as a second chance.



Alternate transport?



And alternate photography. I have so many great shots from this day, mostly of mountains and the river, and I never thought I would say it, but there are enough already from Carretera.



Finding free accommodation is an ongoing challenge and we find a locked military hut with lovely flat ground for this night after rejecting the doorway of an abandoned building. Risky, but after checking, we figure it hasn´t been used in a few days. We camp just beyond Futaleufu with the border a couple of kms away. Tomorrow Argentina!

Luxury Lake Front Property

Tuesday 29th

The border crossing at Futeleufu is 160kms of hilly ripio away and we reckon on making it in 2 days, but we need to ride. Fortunately Roger is back at work the next day dawns with clearing skies. Fully loaded with supplies we happily leave Puyuapi behind.



We slowly leave rain forrest terrain as the air dries and approach more lakes, rivers and mountains. It´s just a beautiful cycling day and the miles come easily. We reach beautiful Lago Verde (Green Lake) and just as we begin to look for a site to pitch the tents we find a palace by the lake.



This is a room with all mod cons - a wood stove and a ready supply of fuel, and talk about a room with a view! We take it....

Waterfalls and Leaves

Monday 28th

We leave our beautiful Rose Maria behind at the Hostel of Roses and cycle out into a grey rain forrest. The air is damp and cold but supports some impressive oversize vegetation.



Impressive waterfalls....





And the horseshoe curse hits Michael again as he investigates that squeak that´s been bothering us for 10km - only to find it´s one side of his rear pannier rack rubbing against his frame. Bad news, the bolts have sheared off.

We call an early end to a good days riding to kill 60kms of sticky ripio and make a damp camp outside Villa Santa Lucia, on a river. I get a fire going whilst Michael goes to catch the whopper for dinner. It´s obviously not his day, when he snaps his fishing line and loses weight and fly. He takes mine and returns with a huge curse, a huge tangle of line and no huge whopper.

We eat pasta instead... Again.

These Lucky Horseshoes Are Broken

Saturday 26th Sunday 27th

After an early start, considering the 3 course breakfast - omelete, porridge, peanut butter and banana sandwhich we cycle back to the main road and continue through the construction work for about 10km until Michael gets a puncture. His horseshoe is definitely proving to be unlucky and we stop to repair it (the bike not the horseshoe) outside a salmon fishing factory built by Jurgen Winter - a german settler. Mine is obviously working as I discover there are bathrooms; complete with shower. I figure removing the smell benefits other people more than me, so I can shower and shave with a clear concience while Michael sorts his bike.



We cycle on 3km to find the road closed for high explosive blasting - until 2pm. It´s only about 10am so we decide to kill time cycling back to the salmon farm and eating lunch. For 3 hours....

The road duly opens at 2 and we carry on through the remains of the road. And now Roger has also stopped working as the weather gets back to normal and the heavens open.



We only make about 40kms before it´s getting dark when we get to Puyuhuapi, a small town known for it´s five star spa resort. Sounds promising, except the 5 star resort is out of town and a boat ride away across the lake - the town is tiny and a dump. We settle for the cheapest accomodation we can find and hole up to get dry. Hospedaje de las Rosas (Hostel of the Roses) a misnomer if ever there was one, the owner Maria is definitely not one.



The 9 days of food we bought in Coyhaique is gone in 5 days - guess we tried a little too hard to save on weight by eating it. So we stay another night to resupply and wait out for better weather. Roger - why hast thou forsaken us?

Sweet Carretera

Friday 25th

We wake - we leave our abandoned house (with a gift of new firewood ready in the wood stove) and see this.



The roads descends steeply into a deep valley. Roger is still working hard the day heats up and I cycle in shorts and t-shirt for the first time since Tierra del Fuego. We criss cross the river affording great views along the valley.

Then suddenly out of nowhere we climb 600m. The ripio is horrible and we both crash out on the steeply cambered bends cursing and walking sections, unable to remount on slippery sand. The gradient is as steep as anything so far and we crawl sweating in bottom gears for an hour and a half. All good cycle touring stuff....



Then the summit and a change in vegetation. Up until now it´s been the usual mix of lenga (beech) trees and dry grass that´s been the feature for the last 2000kms. Suddenly the vegetation grows dense and almost tropical rainforrest like. Huge ferns and giant leaves now support an army of insects and giant bees and wasps drone around our sweaty heads. Clearly there is water here and as we descend into the next valley we look to the crystal clear, condor filled blue skies in bewilderment.



We reach a stretch of roadworks and pick our way through strength sapping sticky mud to the entrance to National Park Quelat. We see a sign for camping - and a part built administration building. No contest really - it has a roof and we don´t have to pitch the tent for another night. The park ranger who arrives to close the barrier to the park is a little confused by our choice of accomodation, but seems to go away happy, so we settle in for another night under a roof.