I'm on highway 5 from this point, sitting on cruise control on this straight and uninspiring stretch but it gets me moving quickly and effortlessly after the tiring riding and rainy days of the week gone. I'm away from the gusty winds and the stray dogs appearing from everywhere when I have food on my lap. I'm missing that Patagonian feeling from here on, that humble sense of life, the fireplaces, the isolation, the use of recycled materials, those foggiest of mornings, the lakes, the list goes on .....
There's not much going on in Osorno when I stop on a Saturday, just some friendly folk in a bookshop, more mediocre Chilean food and a cheap bed in a dilapidated building beneath a loud family. Before setting off the following day I get in contact with Monica, an aunty of Gilda's, those that have known me long enough may remember Gilda, who kindly put me in contact with family of hers here and before I knew it I was given a warm welcome and offered a fantastic home cooked cordero, roasted lamb over a Sunday afternoon fire. I spent the following few days here in Temuco with a place to stay in Maury and Natacha's home, just a short stroll from the centre of town and their little cafe. I took time away from riding, just wandering around the city which I hadn't done in a long while, hanging out and getting to know Maury, while witnessing the middle class Chilean lifestyle. They were a warm and welcoming family and provided an entertaining time. My next stop was off the highway in the port city of Concepcion, where I spent an evening with Jamie Rodrigo, an avid motorcyclist and the friendliest of gentlemen who took me out for dinner and a tour of the city, devasted by an earthquake a few years ago before insisting I take his spare riding jacket for the journey ahead.
I decide to continue north from here, towards Santiago for some new tyres and a couple other parts from the Triumph dealership and a chance to catch up with Ian who had now taken a rest from riding and settled into an apartment in the Chilean capital. I get my bike stuff organised and spend the next four days hanging out with Ian at his apartment, watching sitcom reruns, walking the streets and a heavy night out with some locals and Ballarat Lauren I'd met in Ushuaia. Five days of concrete jungle living was enough to get me back on the road. I decided from here I would head back for the Argentine Patagonia and find some voluntary farm work where I could stop again and take in the air before the long journey across to Brazil for the football World Cup in June.
I traced my steps of the previous week, covering a massive 850km's to reach the lakes district town of Pucon after dark, to spend a few days of sunshine in a hostel and taking in a half day secluded waterfall hike before crossing back to Argentina. The petrol in Argentina is nearly half the price of Chile so I took a gamble when crossing with little left in the tank, expecting there to be a town and petrol station at the frontier which is usually the case. This small crossing was within a national park however with a stunning volcano on the border. The immigration officer told me the next gas was 70km away. I couldn't convince any one of the customs officials to give me some petrol, everyone seemes to be running on 'diesel' and there was no hose around, as was the case with the army and national park officials further on. So I had no choice but to sit and wait for some help, asking each car that passed until a kind North American offered me the litre of fuel he had for his cooking stove in back of his car. The litre saves me and gets me off the gravel and back on to Ruta 40 towards more lakes and quaint towns.
Arriving in Junin de los Andes - more autumn camping with a soft, leafy mattress and those ibiquitous Argentinian grills to myself until the dogs arrive. More fishing here in the country's capital of trout fishing still brings no luck. I'm happy to be back in Argentina, now the country I've spent the most time in, it's always a pleasure to meet the old men, curious and relaxed and the young guys, polite and friendly. The week's highlight is riding la ruta de los siete lagos, the seven lakes road from Villa de Angostura to Bariloche. It's the imaginable curvy, mainly paved road which hugs the shorelines of several lakes and travels high above them. With afternoon sun then clouds ready to burst there's a lot of views to take in on a satisfying day.
My favourite of the lakes
For all its hype Bariloche disappoints, just a tourist trap sitting on the least picturesque of the area's lakes. I quickly get out, make a Sunday afternoon stop in Colonia Suiza and the village market and treat myself to an all you can eat pit barbeque cooked over stones and covered for a couple of hours. I'm seated with a BA family and a jolly old man who entertain me along with the folklore music for the afternoon.
On arriving in El Bolson, the so-called hippy capital of Argentina, with it's artisan markets, microbreweries, abundance of wild sweet fruits and ideal location tucked within the valley of towering hills, I was hoping to find some work on one of the trout farms near town but all three said they weren't so busy so I hung out with Lucas while waiting for some replies to other farms. We were both camping at the local brewery. The old fella, Juan Carlos owned the brewery and suggested if we made fresh pasta (with rolling pin) he would provide prawns for the sauce and the wheat beer for our last meal together. Happy days.
