Oh Such A Spring
Día 10: A coastal foray, Jurassic Park scenes and an actual roof over our heads (62km)
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Chapter 2 Live forever in your dreams (4/8)
Komoot GPX Chile: Refugio Río Cisnes-Las Toninas (62km)
Sometimes we play it by ear, scooting along the Carretera Austral only as far as we feel able. Surrendering when the hunger demons come calling.
Today’s objective was more specific. Persistent lluvia forecast by 2pm, expected to last a further two days. Operation Stop Early, Avoid Rain was conceived.
With weak phone signal, we scouted a campsite on the canal de Puyuhuapi, one of the channels which brings saltwater sweeping into the interior Chilean coast. A fresh, glistening land on the Western edge of the Andes cordillera, known for its scarcely comprehensible 43,471 islands. The tour operators offer Orca and dolphin sightings within view of snowcap peaks.
Between us and a rest day on this Celtic, misty land was the small matter of a 500m exit arriba from our forested valley.
Another source of steady inspiration is the achievement of people around me. I’m lucky to call on a wealth of friends who know what it feels like to climb mountains and jog down, run marathons for that finish line feeling, battle half-Ironmans, cycle hundreds of kilometers in one go, and even row across oceans without respite for weeks.
Every time someone I know does something new in this field, it adds an extra morsel of motivation to my mentality. Without an encouraging inner circle, challenges such as these become much more difficult. With one, we thrive.
They can do it. We can do it. You can do it.
This climb is hard though.
We twisted higher and higher, the road hopped up three or four meters in one chicane. Swathes of tarmac the other way were carpeted in red, the need to decelerate starkly defined.
At the pass, a white peak, Cerro Redondo, shot skywards. The icy wind flashed on bare skin and isolated pick ups tooted their approval. As we eased over the rim, the road abruptly changed to a viscous gravel-mud conglomerate. Denying us the satisfaction of a pinging descent but raising the adventure-feel a few notches higher.
A black safari jeep with a Jurassic Park logo thrust past on the other side, a closer cinematic link to the scenery could not have been imagined. A half built road was all that remained for the final 25km and, at last, the advance tentacles of the South Pacific Ocean. Many closed campsites lined the route. Then finally, the one we had searched for the previous day trickled into view.
Salvation! It was mercifully still open.
We were ushered into a log cabin right on the beach.
“Bring your bikes in and set up camp, it’s going to rain, there are hot showers by the main house. I’ll charge you £5, not £10, as it’s off season.”
We arrived at 1.45. The rain started at 1.50. We read on comfy sofas, and watched the waters prickle with tiny droplets through wide glass windows.
Jake and I are used to rain. On Exmoor in our dress rehearsal weeks before departure, we were lashed by Devonshire spring torrents on exposed hillsides. Thousands of agua pinpricks forming on waxy new waterproofs. On that occasion solace was found in a glowing pub in the tiny village of Exford. Tea plus a brutal French demolition of the English rugby team were the distraction from the cold weather on that occasion.
Here we must make our own food. And there’s no television to help past the time. But then again, we’re too full of adventure to be caught staring at screens.
Time for a first indoor night of the trip.
The pot noodle smile shows just how luxurious that felt.
Track: Oh Such a Spring - Fontaines DC
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