Nalca, the sequel

Refugio Rio Cisnes – Refugio Macales, Chile

Kind of a three-part day. Like one of those old fashioned movies with intermissions so that they can change the reels and you can buy popcorn. 

Part I. No-Way-Jose, three condors, and 800 hectacres of Patagonia.

You know that one movie that you like so much you don’t care if you’ve already seen it a million times. It’s still great even on the 73rd showing.

I have a few like that. Breaking Away, obviously. Princess Bride, of course. Love Actually. For movies like these, watching again is actually a positive. It’s comforting to know the lines, and the music and the characters. 

That’s kind of how riding through Patagonia is. Every day is like a repeat in the sense that there are more tremendous views, more snow-capped peaks, and more mountain lakes and streams. 

And none of it ever gets old. 

We pulled up to another amazing lake this morning: Lagos Las Toros. 

Of course we took some nice pictures – but the really cool thing was the two brothers we met there: Juan and Jose. They both grew up in Chile, but Jose made his way to the U.S. and now lives in North Carolina, where he’s a realtor. Juan lives in Santiago. 

Jose is down here on “work.” You see, someone he knows wants him to sell a 800 hectare tract of land near Puerto Cisnes in Patagonia. Asking price – $1.4 Million. Sounded like a good deal to me when I thought 800 hectares was the same as 800 acres. Like $1600/acre for your piece of paradise. 

But here’s the thing. According to Jose – whom his brother calls “No Way Jose” – 800 hectares translates to about 19,000 acres. So now we’re talking something more like $75/acre. 

I think Pa paid more for his land in Little House on the Prairie days. And there wasn’t exactly views of snow-capped peaks or volcanoes or mountain lakes or anything. 

Kind of crazy. 

So maybe Diana and I sell everything we own and start a Patagonia Ranch? If you never see us again, we’ve traded Old Dan and Little Ann for caballos and we’re riding around herding cattle with our Chilean dogs.

Anyway, fun people to chat with, take pictures and admire the lake.

Next stop: lunch a few miles later – at the foot of a giant slab of granite where a bunch of condors live. We haven’t covered much ground at this point – but with the nice cooler weather and the shifted daylight hours – meaning that it’s light until 8:30 or so – we don’t feel like we have to race to be done early or anything . . . Of course, that relaxed attitude meant not finishing our ride until 5:30 or so yesterday . . .

Anyway, we stop, we eat lunch, we unpack our tent and stuff to dry, and we check out a few condors flying around. 

You may recall one time when we were in Panama City trying to see a sloth. It was way up in a tree and the guide told us to look for a little bowl of chocolate (only he pronounced chocolate as “choco-latte.”) When we finally saw the sloth it was like identifying one single leaf in the top of the tree. 

Still, that leaf – that little bowl of choco-latte – had more definition than the condor specks flying around some 2,000’ up the rock face . . .

The other bonus with the cooler weather – we can pack our own butter, cream, and summer sausage – meaning a delectable lunch: buttered bread (the bread is better and better now that these people have ovens to cook with . . .), and coffee and tea with our little stove. 

We may look like homeless people along the side of the road, but we feel very civilized nibbling on our little sandwiches with mustard even, and watching the specks of these amazing birds flying around. 

Part II. Scotland Kim and the patchy no-good inner-tube from Hell.

Well, we eventually do get going. Like yesterday it’s close to 1 and we’ve covered maybe 15 miles. But, whatever. We agree that we have all day and the riding is so enjoyable that there’s no rush . . .

And then we see another bike tourist across the road. She’s stopped and she appears to be waving us down. Of course we go over and introduce ourselves. 

Kim from Scotland. She’s an architect who quit her job about a year ago. She’s been in South America since then, but she only started cycling a few weeks ago. 

She has a flat tire, and she is, herself, looking a little deflated. She explains that she’s gone through both her tubes and multiple patches, but the tires keep going flat. 

Ugh. Bummer.

She takes her cargo off, we flip the bike over and go to work. 

When we get the tire off and the tube out we tell her that she actually has the wrong type of tubes. She has presta valve tubes, but the rims on the bike are made for Schrader valves (I think the American standard). Not a huge deal, but can cause some issues . . .

Well, on closer inspection we see that the newest hole in her tube is right near the valve. Not an easy place to fix. And likely caused by the tube-rim mismatch – because, I think, when you inflate the tube as much as you need to to accommodate all the weight on a touring bike, it maybe ends up causing more stress on the tube near the valve because the pressure wants to push the tube out through the bigger hole – like a hernia. 

We would just give her a tube, except Kim’s tubes are for 26” wheels and ours are for 700 cc wheels – meaning ours are too big and will probably cause a blowout (although a real mechanic might correct me on this . . .). 

We patch the tube and replace it in the tire, and then go to put the tire on the bike. All good. Except now the rear brakes aren’t working – they are rubbing on the tires like crazy. Diana figures out that the tire is not “seated” properly on the rim and that is causing the brake problem.

We deflate the tire, reinflate again, only this time being careful to make sure it seats properly. 

The brake still isn’t working. Eventually we take the brakes apart – but whatever we do isn’t working – the brakes are hitting things all wrong. 

Except it doesn’t matter because the tire deflates again – only this time on its own. 

Take the tire off, inspect the tube, find a new hole right near the first hole by the stem. Remove the patch that we just put on, put yet another, bigger, patch on. And now we take some scrap cardboard and make a “boot” for the tube – essentially creating a smaller opening for the stem so that the tube does not push through again – like a bad hemmorhoid. 

Reinflate the tire, and, drat, now one of Kim’s old patches on a different spot on the tube altogether – a patch type that I’ve had no luck with – basically a piece of tape – gives way. Remove that, re-patch, and reinforce again, being careful that it seats properly, put the wheel back on and try the brakes. Remarkably, they work. Which is good because by this time about 90 minutes have passed and Diana is getting impatient. 

For good reason. Our all-the-time-in-the-world attitude has netted us kind of a bad situation: 3:30 in the afternoon with around 30 miles to go. And we still need to pick up groceries and make dinner . . .

We wish Kim good luck and head out . . .

As we go, I tell Diana I’m not real hopeful that Kim will make it to the next town on that tire . . . But there’s nothing more we can do . . .

Part III. Iron Chef Dinner.

We are no longer looking for condors. We are back in put-our-heads-down and boogie mode. Fortunately, the wind seems to be at our backs and there is a gentle downhill. In no time we reach the next town – some twelve miles down the road. 

We find the mini-market and make up a meal with the ingredients available to us. It’s kind of like being on the Iron Chef every afternoon. 

Today’s Challenge:

You have a few carrots, an onion, exactly one rather old and pathetic green pepper, a tomato, some unidentified sausage, some pasta, a small bag of frozen veggies, and the remains of the cream we’ve been carrying around for a few days now . . . 

Make a meal for two. You have two hours. Extra challenge. The kitchen is 18 miles away, e we won’t tell you what accouterments you have, and you need to carry all the ingredients on your bike to get there . . .

I don’t want to brag too much – but I’m pretty sure we won the challenge. For sure the French team was booted this week. They spent the whole allotted time complaining that it was the wrong kind of sausage. And the Mexicans – they didn’t know how to turn the burners on on a real stove top. It was close with the Canadians – but in the end they couldn’t pay the tariff for the sausage and they were disqualified . . .

Us? A pretty amazing pasta with veggies in the side.

A few final thoughts . . .

We are now almost exactly at the 45th parallel – south. Our house s almost exactly at the 45th parallel – north. So we are now in the South America equivalent to Minneapolis. And it’s funny – it’s only in the last few miles of the ride today that we started noticing any significant leaf changes. Which, I guess, makes sense. We are at the calendar equivalent of September 24 now. You figure that is right about the time that leaves start turning a little yellow in the City of Lakes. So it seems right I guess . . .

One last thought. We jokingly referenced the Giant Man-Eating Rhubarb the other day. But it seems to keep coming up . . .

Bill M told us the real name – nalca – and that it is good for making jam and some Chilean dish. Yesterday, Diego described the dish and says he loves it. And now, tonight, it turns out that we are staying in a little cabin that is literally called the Nalca Cabin – I guess because there are a few scary nalca plants surrounding the house. 

On the theory that we survive the night without the nalca invading the cabin like the “Feed me, Seymour” plant from Little Shop of Horrors, we will make our way to Coyhaique tomorrow – and then prepare for the final phase (the mostly-ripio phase) of our trip to Catela Tortel. 

Can’t wait . . .

Postscript. Received a WhatsApp message from Scotland Kim last night. She made it to the next town with her tire still intact. Pretty happy about that!