Esquel to Corcovado

November 12, 2025

I left Esquel at 09.30, not early but I'm trying to restore an early start routine. Trevelin is only 26 kilometres southwest upon the 259-the road I rode into the city on Monday, pass the junction that I turned off and continue on across a broad valley followed by a long steady climb

Crossing the valley before the climb. This photo preceeds the above picture. Its how it loaded

Trevelin La Jardin de Patagonia a sign reads and in a field on my left on the approach to town, are green rows of fruit bushes spreckled white with the sunhats of a gang of fruit pickers. Much of the fruits are made into jams, which I am served at the tearoom on the plaza I stopped at for late breakfast of scones, butter, jam, orange juice and coffee. Out the window a Tero Tero bird avoids being squoshed by hopping to the side of the approaching wheels of a military jeep and truck convoy. That is why I never see Tero roadkill. The bird is forever alert.

I haven't seen one of these for a long time

Amongst many old instuments on shelves including a 1950s cashregister and photos of early 60s music icons, are three key events in Trevelin's history in framed black and white photos in chronological order, with the corn mill inaugurated by John Daniel Evans in 1918, which is how the name: Trevelin came about. Welsh for mill-town. The second photo dated 1926 is a large group of men in best dress and top hats outside the openning of the first village shop. The third dated 1937 of a group of women and children outside the openning of the first cinema.

I continue through to La Anonima to shop and fill both panniers ro the brim as it could well be a week before I'm passing another supermarket. The ride out of the car park was full of drama. The weight caused the right pannier to swivel in and catch a spoke in the rear-wheel locking it and bringing the Kona to a skiding halt. So I had to reposition both panniers, moving them forward so the rack supports them better.

Route 259 continues and I soon turn off upon Route 17, which will take me up the hill ahead.

These cows have very keen sight as they can see every detail on me and the Kona from such a distance

About 5 kilometres of dead straight road on from Trevelin, the tarmac ends and I go left off 259 up a steep climb into the hills on Provincial Route 17. There was quite a bit of traffic like a vehicle per minute, either labouring up from behind or oncoming with wake of dust. However, it only lasted for the first early afternoon hour before mellowing out to a few an hour.

I stopped at a stream to drink mate mid afternoon

Once on a plateau the countryside is fairly pleasant with dwarf Lenga trees (Southern Beech) and stands of pine-trees along the roadside in among which are ocational pasture fields and small farmhouses.

I rode on until 19.30, covering almost 100 kilometres, descending steeply to Corcovado in a deep basin having passed a campsite on the way downhill, thinking there may be affortable accomodate in the village, but having cycled around there was only cabins for 3 or 4 persons, so I doubled back up the hill to the campsite sign which also advertised pizza. It wasn't too far anyway. The pizza restaurant wasn't open yet due to it being out of season, but the family who run the place invited me to eat with them.

An hour later when I'd set up camp and the cold began to be felt, I headed into the house at the appointed time where there was a warm fire in the hearth and Oswald the family father was grilling meat, while his wife Samatha prepared salad. Their two idential twin boys age about 4 played unfazed by me. Kevin a friend and 3rd generation Welsh had come to eat too, sat at the fire looking at his phone while making the odd ironic remark about my Spanish.

Dinner was served and bowls of salad where passed around. A bottle of Malbec was opened and a glass poured. Oswald was drinking Fernet and we chatted about life while on the TV an Argentine travel program was showing with the presenter in Iceland.

Later I returned out to my bivouac warm, full after having eaten well and merry from drinking Malbec. A swiss cycle-touring couple, the only others on the campsite were asleep.

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