Autumn in Patagonia

 

 

 

Video footage of my past couple months in perhaps my favourite part of the Americas. Play with music.

A highway named Austral, a park named Pumalin

 

Leaving mighty Mt. Fitz Roy behind

 

 

I return to Ruta 40 following earlier stints further north on this glorified adventure highway which runs the length of Argentina. It takes me up most of the way to the crossing back into Chile. There's some sections of freshly laid gravel with little compaction which makes for a slow journey, the landscape is flat with little to see other than watching the guanacos scurry away as I approach and stopping to witness a condor circle above me.     

Within a couple of days later I was focusing on working my way up Chile's narrow corridor. My stint of hiking days on end may have taken a breather but there was so much more of those Patagonian forests to experience and the roads were about to get more interesting, more curves, more gravel and less wind.  It's a fascinating country geographically - it's thirteen times longer than it is wide, the Pacific stretches along its entire western frontier until it meets the Atlantic, the Andes soar to its east, the desert to its north is the driest place on earth yet cloudy and cool and the south is islands, mountains, glaciers, fjords, plains, lakes and pristine temperate rainforests. The beauty of the south resounds in the words of the national poet, Pablo Neruda - 'He who does not know the Chilean forests, does not know the planet'. If the variety is not enough the country is famously prone to natural disasters - it sits near an earthquake prone belt and is home to over 2,000 volcanoes, 48 of which have erupted in the last 100 years.

I'm sure I've written this one before, it's yet another Latin American country where the U.S supported a military coup. Within three years of Allende's democratically elected Marxist government coming to power in 1970 under a policy of nationalisation of industry it was overthrown by the armed forces and federal police with strong backing from the U.S. Nowadays, it's cleary the most progressive country in Latin America at face value. Things seem to work and move here, advice is more reliable, my pockets are full of unnecessary receipts and it's difficult to bargain with people. Hostel owners are more likely to walk with me down the street to a cheaper place rather than settle for my slightly lower suggested price.     

Naturally, it's also the most expensive country, for food, a campsite, a hostel bed and putting petrol in the tank. It still confuses me that a litre of beer and a litre of petrol are of similiar price. I've learnt to stock a bag with bread rolls which suprisingly stay edible for few days and go well with a glug of argentinian olive oil and a tomato or two.

I crossed back into Chile, maybe the fourth time now, from near the southern end of the Carretera Austral, that famed southern highway which was built by the military during the 70's and 80's to connect the isolated communities of southern Chile with the rest of country. I'm told that before this, there were very little people living down here, the extreme weather conditions even kept the indigenous away. With improved access, the government gave land away to those willing to maintain it in an attempt to encourage development and protect the country.  

I wish I had better photos but I clumsy left my camera atop my bags when I was filling up on my first day on the Austral, once I eventually realised I found it a couple hundred metres away crushed on the road, memory card still intact. I should have some footage from the video I'm putting together though. My ipod also stopped working that day and to top it off, I snapped my fishing rod in half when I tried to loosen the lure from a rock on an evening fish. I found a great secluded spot to camp by the river than clear night, gaining solace in my ideal surroundings.

I rode a 500km stretch of the highway for over a week along mainly unpaved, curvy roads through the steep mountains and thick forests, stopping at isloated villages and taking several ferries across a lake and through the majestic fjords. It's a quiet, adventurous road with very little traffic, mainly trucks, some cyclists, hitchhikers and the odd stop for roadworks. When a car passes, there's always a wave. On taking some back trails I find some untouched areas, perfect for fishing in the clear waters or to stop for lunch. I also found an interesting trout farm to visit.

 

 

I stopped in Chaiten one evening, a so called ghost town since the nearby volcano erupted six years ago and covered much of the town with a metre of ash, reaching the windowsills of homes. It's previous eruption was 9,000 years ago. The devastation occured after the second eruption, four days after the initial one well after the town, 20km's to the south, was safely evacuated. Chaiten remained unoccupied for two years until with permission, residents began returning. Six years on, the population is less than 20% of what it was. After camping at a friendly lady's front yard, I stocked up on supplies (bread, pasta, tomato paste, tuna, sardines, chocolate and nuts) and entered into the nearby Park Pumalin, a paradise of temperate rainforest which is home to Volcan Chaiten and another larger volcano along with stunning lakes, rivers and diverse flora. 



The Park was set up several years ago by Doug Tompkins' Conservation Trust - he's commonly known as the founder of 'The North Face' outdoor clothing label. His ambition is to protect the native area from logging, his larger focus is to protect and save vast areas of Patagonia, the world's last remaining wilderness. It's a brilliant park, truly beautiful. I hide away here for four days, having a campsite and most of the park to myself, getting to know some of the workers, feeding the birds, watching the rain fall for four continuous days and celebrating Sixto's first birthday with some cask wine. There was great trails to hidden waterfalls and lakes but the highlight was hiking up to the crater of Volcan Chaiten. It was quite an eerie and exciting experience, few of the trees are more than trunks but alot of the plants have re-grown. The foggy and misty weather made the track quite unclear so I needed to made deep footprints in the soils in order to trace my path back down, reminded of what happened when I last climbed a volcano solo in Nicaragua. I finally leave the rain behind and push north through some blisteringly cold and windy days of ferries and muddy roads, reaching Puerto Montt. Sadly, raw Patagonia disappearing behind me but I'll be back shortly I hope. 



 

Only in Patagonia: 8 days of Paine, a field of ice and a mountain peak like no other

 

Los Cuernos

After the recharge in Ushuaia I reunite with my travelling group as they lounge around Mario's living room at his home in Punta Arenas waiting for him to return from parent teacher interviews so we could organise dinner. It's a tough twelve hour ride to arrive, freezing conditions on the mountains above Ushuaia where the early morning icy road comes without much warning, the strong head winds, border crossings and poor road conditions mean I miss the scheduled ferry and take a detour to get on board the smaller boat across the strait. In such a scarce location I wonder where the next gas station is when returning to the continent with less than half a tank so I decide to pull over and wave down the next car that eventually passes. The man stops, winds down his window and says it's not for over another 100km's or so which leaves me in a bad spot. At second though he remembers one which may be open off the highway and tells me to follow him until the crossroads where I should turn to the left. I eventually find it and not long after he's pulled over on the side of the road with his boot open waiting for me and showering me with a can of coke, coffee from a thermos, biscuits and a long chat. Gonzalo is yet another middle aged Chilean man who makes me feel welcome for entering his country. I only stayed at Mario's for a night, heading off with Phil, Ian, a new backpack and four litres of engine oil, we lost Jayne who was heading east but now included Dan, a friendly Californian, who we met in Ushuaia. The four of us pushed it through to Puerto Natales that afternoon stopping halfway as the lack of any petrol stations forced me to siphon from Phil's tank before running out. The joke was on me when Ian offered me a big black hose to use which make it difficult to not get petrol caught in my mouth and the taste to remain through the day. Only once I had struggled did Phil presented a much thinner translucent hose to finish the job. Phil and Ian's schedules brought on a farewell and one last night of drinking and Ian offering up his guitar skills at the open mic bar before Dan and I prepared for our ventures in the nearby Torres del Paine National Park.

 

 
I planned on spending eight days or so in the park and I'm glad I managed to get through it. It was one of the most enriching experiences of my trip, to wander amongst legendary mountains and granite walls, along turquoise lakes and glacial fields, across rivers and up and over the John Gardner pass to descend into a heavenly valley. Eight days of confronting whatever the unpredictable Southern Patagonian autumn weather wanted to through at me, setting up camp every night, trying to outsmart the camp rangers to avoid paying the fees, growing tired of dehydrated meals, running short of chocolate and nuts and hiking through 120km's of the full 'Q' circuit and one of the worlds classic hiking routes. It wasn't too difficult other than the 5:30 subzero rise for the sunrise view of the Torres, hiking through snow on the 1,200m ascent on reaching the pass and the ever strong winds on Day 4 which kept me up all night to preserve my tent whilst others around me tore away and forced my neighbours to sleep inside the refugios. I commenced alone with my 45 litre pack with tent strapped to the sides and although I preferred to walk mostly alone, I joined up with some friends I made early on every evening to share dinner and portions of some days walking. Cherlotte and Jean-Beautiste we're experienced hikers, being around them taught me to take in as much as possible of what was around me. Sharing the arduous hike together on the second day up and over the pass followed by a long descent through a deep valley and muddy woodlands will stay with me forever. I was so exhausted that evening that when I woke to a deserted campsite the following afternoon I realised I had slept 16 hours to recover. 16 hours in a tent on hard ground in a cold forest. The other group on the same circuit was an American-German trio who were also great company to have dinner with and have a laugh and share each others reactions or struggles over the day's events.

 

 

A few days in I really began to appreciate this different approach to experiencing the natural world and seeking a fresh peace of mind. I walked for hours, stopping to drink from the clear streams, to sit silently at a viewpoint above a lake or glacier or to take a breather to chat to a hiker coming the other way to discuss conditions after passing no one for a couple of hours.

Hiking thus far had not taken me to such wild places for such a period of time and although I've always enjoyed the views and perspective from the seat of my motorcycle and still do as much as ever, the physical and uncompromising effort was having a real impact. The surroundings felt more peaceful, it was wet but I was far from cold, there was no man made engine between my legs to move me, no tank of fuel where it's energy was derived from beneath the earth and certainly no clutch and gears to adjust when the climb was adding a little strain. There was just my legs, a series of clothing layers and unavoidable sweating. I was reminded of and found some clarity to what an avid hiker I met in Ushuaia said to me, that she was a better person when in the mountains. Places like these, moments like these, keep us honest and humble, the physical exertion frees our mind and the wilderness speaks a raw truth which cannot be avoided.

Above are the 'Torres del Paine', the signature piece of the park. Jean-Bautiste woke me before sunrise for the hour hike up to the lakes surface in anticipation for the moment when the sun would rise over and reach the towers. This vision will also stay with me forever, the sun's rays striking the granite towers as if declaring the dawn of time.

 

 

 

Hiking along Glacier Grey for two days which is on the edge of the Southern Patagonian ice field, the world's third larger continuous sheet of ice after Antarctica and Greenland.  

 

 

 

 

 

I took a couple of rest days on returning to Puerto Natales before crossing back to Argentina for an early morning visit to Glacier Perito Moreno further north. A great view of the ice from the balconies, hearing a thundering crack and anticipating a large chunk to crash into the waters but not quite as enjoyable as being able to walk alongside it for hours like in the park.

 

 

 

 

I was next on my way to El Chaiten, the home of two of the Andes most prominent peaks, Cerro Torre and Mt. Fitzroy. It's a cosy little town, not as overrun as it could easily be with the tourist interest and find a warm young family to stay with. I spent three days hiking around the park here, the autumn chill had really turned campers away so I find my tracks aren't covered much by others who have mainly arrived for day trips into the park. I experience some cold nights and wake to snow covered forests. The hiking here is as good as I've come across, the woodlands, strong and healthy rivers and some breathtaking mountain tops.       

 

 

Reaching the lake at the base of Mt Fitzroy mid-morning in the glistening sunshine makes you feel on top of the world. I hope the photo says enough here, my best attempt at describing the Patagonian Andes. Makes you dream of wanting to become a rock-climber. I had the pleasure of gazing at this part of the mountain range for about 70km's on the ride into the town which sits directly below it however, at this proximity the detail and complexity in the rock is so vivid, leaving you in awe and difficult to take your eyes off such a incredibly imposing and dramatic masterpiece.

 

Cerro Torre in full view after the snowing and clouds disappear