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Dan enjoys a salami sandwich in a cabin behind Estancia San Martin, on the outskirts of San Sebastian.

Three hours into the ride, the sun rises in windswept
Patagonia.

Like bugs in rugs, we break to sleep after 7 hours in the
saddle.

Camp, the night of the 15th.

Iain by the famous fisherman’s shack that saved us from heavy wind and rain for two hours. Never has a wooden shed seemed so luxurious.

Judging from the condition of the boat, the fisherman has abandoned his trade.

Dan by the shack. Very cold but still able to laugh at the ridiculous conditions.

Dan and Iain crossing the Strait of Magellan on a barge (Porvenir to Punta Arenas).

Rio Grande, Argentina to Punta Arenas, Chile (January 15-19)

After resting for a day in Rio Grande we made plans to leave early the morning of the 15th. We packed the night before and left the hostel at 3:45am. The wind had been so bad on our way to Rio Grande that we were willing to start at any hour of the morning to avoid it. In general this plan has given us a few clear riding hours as the sun slowly rises over the desolate windswept plains. But it has also become clear that the wind blows whenever it pleases, and sometimes stops unexpectedly. The morning of the 15th was pleasant and as the day progressed we barely had to fight into the wind. During these windless times we have been determined to push ourselves
to make good time. Fifteen minutes of hard pedalling in calm conditions can equal an hour of pedalling into the wind. We made 80km in four hours and were giggling like school girls as we arrived in San Sebastian, the boarder town between Argentina and Chile. We stretched, which has become a regular part of our routine, and sat down to eat an egg sandwich. As we had done in Viamonte, we looked for the closest estancia to ask for hot water to drink mate and maybe, just maybe, make friends with the cook and stay for some lamb. A drunken man with terrible English excitedly gave us directions to the estancia. He lived in a hut on the beach and had some slurred things to say about the first woman president in Chile’s history. In this case the estancia owner, Julio, was not impressed with us. He didn’t even bother to look at the letter we presented him that explains our trip. We did happen to know that a cabin in his sheep pasture belonged to some of our friends and so we asked to stay the night. He shrugged and pointed us toward the shack. Julio might have been a little under the weather. He looked like hell.

We decided to stay the night in the cabin, which allowed us to pack everything the night before and not worry about a wet tent in the morning.

This time we planned to be up at 2am. The wind was not cooperating, but we started early anyway, passing through Argentine/Chile customs around 3am. The road was gravel and we struggled some with just a headlamp in the dark until the sun lit the curves and rocks and we saw clearly why we had been bumping around so much. After 57 kilometers, all on the bumpy gravel, we stopped at a crossroads, pulled out our sleeping bags, and passed out for a couple of hours. We woke up to a roaring wind, made six salami sandwiches, and passed out again. We were going a little stir crazy by 4:30 or 5:00, so we decided to just push on a little more to make some tracks. We got on our bikes, and as luck would have it, the wind calmed down for about two and a half hours, and we went another 30 km. We came to the top of one particular hill around 8:30 and the wind started up with a vengeance. It didn’t take much conversation to make the “halt” call. We cooked our special tuna dish by the side of the road, set alarms for 2:00 and hoped that we would awake to a calm morning.

2:00 a.m. rolled around awfully fast, and the wind was already beating on the tent. We kept pushing back the wake-up call until 6:00 a.m. and decided we just needed to make it happen. We started down the road with, of
course, the wind slamming us in the face. After a bit of pedalling, we arrived at an estancia and stopped in to get some water. We filled up our vessels and talked to the resident cook for a bit. We told him that we are
planning to bike north through Patagonia back to Paraguay. Looking slightly confused, he proceeds to say (in Spanish), “Cyclists hardly every go that way. They always go the opposite direction. El viaje del norte hacia el sur no anda.” This last little bit means “Going from the north to the south just doesn’t work”. Of course, he was referring to the wind. Ha. Thanks for the water buddy, we’re gone. . .

We did a few more kilometres past the estancia and began to notice that the wind was somehow managing to GAIN strength, sprinkles were falling, and some very serious-looking storm clouds were gathering on the mountain tops in front of us. We were on the coast of the Magellan Straights, and there happened to be a fishing shack made out of sheet metal down by the water.

We fled in that direction and found a small storage “space” that was attached to the shack. We crouched/huddled among seagull dung-covered bags, crates, and plastic drums for two hours while the wind roared and the rain fell. Two salami sandwiches and two large bars of Columbian chocolate were consumed. Again, going stir-crazy, we took advantage of a break in the wind and began in on the last 40 km. to the town of Porvenir, Chile where the ferry embarks to carry cars and passengers to Punta Arenas on the other side of the Magellan Straits.

Now, let us share the joy of finally arriving in Porvenir. After three days of pedalling, the last two of which constituted a total of 19 hours in the saddle, our legs were hurting. Okay. Hurting. There wasn’t much
conversation that night. We went directly to the nearest hostel we could find, secured our bikes and gear, treated ourselves to a steak, stared at the Magellan Straits, and rubbed our legs. We slept very well.

The ferry to Punta Arenas left the next day at 7:00 p.m., so we began the recuperation process by eating chocolate and resting thoroughly, using the computer in our hostel, reading, and generally enjoying life out of a
bike saddle. While in Porvenir, we saw a group of cyclists pass though (going South, with the wind, like any logical human being would do. . .) with a support vehicle carrying all of their gear and their bikes completely
naked of extra weight. Looked like a pretty easy life to us, but we decided we wouldn’t have it any other way.

That afternoon, we loaded our bikes and did a 5 km. jaunt to the ferry port in a raging downpour. Tolhuin, Argentina somehow became the proud owner of Iain´s rain pants during one of the many gear-shuffles that often take place. He arrived at the ferry more than a little damp. We boarded the ferry at a discounted price due to the nature of our Bike 4 BAAPA campaign and arrived in Punta Arenas around 9:30 p.m. We found a nice hostel, unloaded our gear, and rested well again.

We are going to stay in Punta Arenas for a couple of days. We have a couple of things to look for in the stores here. Dan´s shoes are completely falling apart and need to be replaced. Iain is in dire need of rain pants
and a new bicycle seat. We are going to do a thorough cleaning and tune up of the bikes, try to gain back some lost weight, and prepare ourselves for another 260 km. battle with the Patagonian winds on the way to Puerto
Natales, Chile and Torres del Paine National Park. Signing off in Punta Arenas,

Dan and Iain