Stage 4 - Leg 2: Puerto Natales to Punta Arenas

Inevitably we got up later than planned (Catherine had stayed up late watching Jennifer Aniston romcoms on SkyTV), and when we went down for breakfast we met a couple of French bike tourers. They had begun their journey almost 6 months earlier in Lima, Peru, and they were also about to set off for the south that morning. We left ahead of them as we were sure that they would catch us up, and just as we were revelling in the fact that our walking blisters were painless now that we were back in the saddle, one of my rear drive-side spokes snapped. Two weeks earlier, on the last climb into Villa O'Higgins, my chain had slipped off the largest sprocket and had become tangled in my spokes. The chain had snapped but I hadn't checked to see if there was any damage to the wheel. Looking closer, every spoke had a chunk gouged from it by the chain links and would need replacing. Just as I had the bike upside down, the rear wheel and cassette removed, and spare spokes lying all over the grass by the side of the road, Vincent and Pierrick cycled over the hill covered in heavily sponsored spandex. As luck would have it, they are both mechanics (Vincent is a bike mechanic at a Decathlon store near Lyon - how French), and they made really quick work of trueing the wheel once the spoke was replaced.

We set off together this time, originally because we thought that they would be handy in another spoke crisis, but eventually because (despite being French) they are very nice guys. Today was one of those days where the planets aligned and we really had perfect conditions; a very rare solid concrete road (very hard and very fast), a good tailwind, and virtually no traffic. The lack of traffic meant that we could ride in pairs, and so hardly noticed the 100km go by as we were talking throughout the day. The tailwind even meant that we were cruising at around 35-40km/hr, without pedalling, for long stretches.

We stopped talking occasionally just long enough to notice the rheas running alongside us; huge emu-like birds, about one and a half meters tall roaming the pampa. The birds along this stretch of road were pretty diverse; besides the rheas, we were able to see flamingoes, black geese (sinister / possibly evil), and the ever-present eagles and condors. The latter were always seen leaving the crime scene just before we cycled past more flattened armadilloes and skunks. Seemingly the only land mammals quick enough to escape either the cars or the birds are the beautiful patagonian foxes, looking genetically closer to cats than dogs here. All of these animals live on an increasingly flat plain of grasslands, criss-crossed by fences dividing the land between the sprawling estancias, and punctuated occasionally with twisted trees, blown completely bare of branches on one side by the unrelenting winds. After 100km we stopped at a restaurant in Morro Chico, to ask about camping possibilities nearby Morro Chico is just a collection of 5 or 7 buildings sheltering behind a huge rock protruding from the middle of the plain. Our luck continued when the lady inside said that she had a cabaña on her land that we could stay in for free. It was amazing because it had beds and a log fire, as well as keeping us sheltered from the howling wind. This lady is a new hero of ours because she continued to bring us fresh fire wood throughout the evening to make sure we were comfortable.

The next morning we woke up to another lovely sunrise over the plains, although it quickly clouded over and threathened to rain. The landscape had sucessfully ironed out the previous day's lumps and bumps and we were now cycling through an entirely flat and shelter-less windswept plain. It did at least provide us with the quintissential picture of the remote Patagonian wilderness that I had been hoping to see. Like all beautiful and remote wildernesses throughout the world however, it was carpeted with land mines. This enlivened the search for a suitable wild campsite since the warning signs ran at regular intervals on either side of the road for some distance. With the prospect of a potentially lethal pitch, we drew straws to decide on whether we should press on to complete the full 150km to Punta Arenas. Catherine pulled the short straw and decided that we should go for it. We continued south, now in freezing drizzle and increased traffic (the road joins the main road heading towards Rio Gallegos), until we were suddenly cycling alongside the gunmetal grey Straights of Magellan.

It was great to finally see this famous waterway, separating the mainland from Tierra Del Fuego, although seeing the wind whip the tops off the tall black waves filled us with dread for the crossing; just as famous for re-introducing people to their breakfasts. We continued alongside the water, at shore-level one minute and along cliff-tops the next, until we entered Punta Arenas via the sprawling northern industrial parks, the huge wool factories and docks, and eventually the multicoloured suburbs. We rented a cabaña for the four of us, showered and went straight out for beers and burgers to celebrate the 2nd highest daily kilometer count for all of us; 150km through freezing rain and wind ... but at least we didn't have to worry about popping out for a pee during the night in the middle of a mine field.

Despite arriving a day ahead of schedule, we only had one day in Punta Arenas if we were to catch the most convenient boat for Porvenir on Tierra Del Fuego. We agreed that we would cook for eachother; In the morning Catherine and I forced Vincent and Pierrick to 'enjoy' a full English breakfast complete with fried bread and double helpings of tea. Watching their faces as they ate classic English cuisine was like watching a cat having a bath. In the evening they returned the 'favour' by preparing ratatouille. Joking aside, I think we all did a pretty god job at improving Anglo/French relationships with these meals ... they were bloody fantastic.

I will also be forever in debt to Vincent, who quietly and generously re-built my rear wheel, replacing all of the chain-damaged spokes, whilst I was in the internet café. Nice man.

Day 48: Puerto Natales to Morro Chico - 100km
Day 49: Morro Chico to Punta Arenas - 150km