Eight Mile

El Zorzal – Puerto Bertrand, Chile

“When God created the world he had a handful of everything left – mountains, deserts, lakes, glaciers – and he put it all in his pocket. But there was a hole in his pocket and as God walked across Heaven it all trickled out, and the long trail it made on earth was Chile.”

• Sara Wheeler, from Travels in a Thin Country (courtesy of Blog Reader Marie-Luise Teigen)

We have certainly seen our fair share of mountains, deserts (more than our fair share, actually), lakes, and glaciers (or at least snow-capped mountains – I actually don’t know the difference – hoping to find out more on the upcoming ferry-ride). And I think this list is meant to be kind of all-inclusive – so wind, sun, rain, gravel, etc. 

We’ve definitely seen some sun, some gravel, and, after the last few days, wind. 

So I guess we were due for it . . .

Today was about rain . . . And wind. And cold.

But the forecast was definitely for rain.

When we started out from Filomena’s place after breakfast there was actually a little sunlight. Didn’t seem so bad. 

The thing is, we’re not talking about rain and 70 while biking on asphalt in Minnesota or Wisconsin. 

No. We’re talking about rain and 40 while riding on ripio – with no services around. Nada. Like some gravel road from Cook to International Falls in northern Minnesota – only with no snowmobile bars with a 37-point buck on the wall.

A much different animal altogether. 

So before we began we had a little conversation about our strategy for the day. Now, as some of you may know, when Diana is deciding whether activity for the day is a good idea, she can sometimes see the world through rose-colored glasses. 

“Diana – there might not be any food for 100 miles.”

”That’s okay. I have a rice cake.”

“Diana – there’s nowhere to get water for the next 150 miles.”

”No problem. I had some coffee yesterday morning.”

My concern . . . That we would get out on the Carretera Austral – 20 miles – and five hours – from any type of civilization – and the rain and wind would come and we would essentially freeze to death.

Not a pretty way to go . . .

Now, to be fair, Diana was quick to look into this – she is, after all, our chief information officer. What she found: cabana type things at eight miles in, another at fourteen, and then nothing until thirty-eight miles – our theoretical destination – a town called Cochrane. 

Our strategy: Head out, see how things go, and then make decisions at eight, and, again, at fourteen miles. 

So we head out . . .

Wasn’t too bad for a few miles. Almost pleasant.

Then the drizzle started.

And then the rain. 

Then the rain gear.

At first it seemed fine. Yes, it’s raining – but we’re not getting real wet. 

But then three things happened simultaneously. 

First, we started going downhill – which means more rain (like in a car – the faster you go the more you need to turn up the windshield wiper because more rain is hitting the windshield – only in this case your face is the windshield and there are no windshield wipers . . .). 

Second, it actually started raining harder. Like, real rain. No longer a little drizzle . . .

Third, the wind picked up – reminiscent of the last few days.

Within about 30 seconds we – or, at least, I – went from being fairly comfortable to being on the brink of becoming a complete popsicle. (Diana maintains that she was fine . . .) 

Incredibly, all this correlated exactly with our arrival at the eight mile mark and the little town of Puerto Bertrand. 

Within two minutes we found Bertrand Lodge – a little place with a few cabanas (which are essentially little cabins – complete with a little wood stove) on Lagos Bertrand – another beautiful mountain lake.

And it wasn’t two more minutes before we were in a cabana and working on starting a fire . . . 

Cost? Who cares? We would pay just about anything for a little warm and dry at this point. But, actually, it wasn’t too pricy – especially considering how nice the place is. 

So I guess maybe we have made it through the crucible. Yes, still Patagonia Rough around the edges. But today could have been much worse. We might have made it to the fourteen mile mark without rain – and then chosen to keep moving forward. Which would have led us literally into the wilderness – without a minimart, or even an umbrella. 

There are some consequences to our minimal day. We still have to make it to Caleta Tortel by Saturday. So we’ll have some homework to do the next few days. But with four days left to ride – the ferry leaves at 10 p.m. Saturday evening – and just over 100 miles of ripio to go – we should still be in good shape. 

Some chance of rain tomorrow – but otherwise Dr. Liu’s advanced weather reports are calling for fair skies through Saturday. 

Patagonia ain’t easy. But it is so worth it.

And there are worse things than being trapped in a cozy cabana with my wife for the day . . . And watching the sheets of juvia falling on Lagos Bertrand . . . (It ended up raining – pretty hard – until about midnight last night – and it’s about 30 now …)

A little street poetry to commemorate this day . . .

You better lose yourself in the mountains

The moment, we own it, we better never let it go (Go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to ride

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

You better lose yourself in the mountains

The moment, you own it, you better never let it to go (Go)

Special bonus Blog Bonus Points for anyone who can identify why these lines might be relevant to the day . . .