November 20, 2025
Perito Moreno to route 265-km107
I had eaten my fill of the buffet breakfast around 07.30 while on my third coffee, strolling on my phone while on the radio Annie Lennox sang walking on walking on broken glass, which I hum along to. The remote working woman with laptop and mouse at the next table glances over. Annie sang out and Toto Africa plays, followed by the female radio DJ announcing, You're the First, the Last, my Everything. Barry White.
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While cycling out of town, west towards Los Antiguos, I met a Swiss cyclist. I didn't get his name but he was on a mission having cycled from Salta in northwest Argentina since the end of September and nearing the finish in Calafate, perhaps a further week of cycling at the daily distances covered and having already been on the road 3 hours at 8.45. He would head south on route 40 and was itching to continue as we spoke.
A short distance on, the huge blue waters and snow peaked mountain backdrop of Lago Buenos Aires, the second largest lake in South America, opens up before me, contrasting with the scrubland by the roadside. It straddes the border with Chile and would be the main feature to the right the remainder of the way to Los Antiguos which I reach at noon.
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It is a long ride into town through a corridor of tall popular trees providing good shade from the warm sun and to the right is the municipal campsite, where I stop and at reception ask is it possible to use a picnic table in the grounds which the woman oks. Here I lunch, having to finish off a block of cheese before crossing the border to Chile as they have strict agricultural bio-security. In the shade of trees the campsite is empty besides staff working at the service block and a campervan where a woman is hanging clothes up to dry.
It is hot riding through town where I stop in the plaza briefly to take a picture of a motorbike scrulptured from a tree-trunk. Then what seems a longish ride, where I pass the start of route 41 which I rode in 2010.
First I reach the Argentinian migrations complex, whereupon a slip of paper with an exit stamp is given to me. This border crossing named "Paso Internacional Jeinimeni" as it is the Rio Jeinimeni which marks the frontier and its about a kilometre along the river to cross a bridge, then the same back on the opposite side to Chilean migrations, wherein its a longer process: passport is scrutinised and the officer asks about my travels and stamps the Argentinian stamp slip of paper in the box provided. There follows an online declaration to do on my phone, declaring I'm not entering Chile with any fresh food items such as meat, milk products, fruit or veg. In any event, I let the staff look through my food bags, where I'm told I cannot enter with a bag of dried fruit and nuts, so I eat them.
The small town of Chile Chico is a kilometre or so on through a corridor of popular trees. There is a ferry across the lake, which changes name to Lago Carrera on the Chilean side. I stop at a family owned supermarket to buy a few food items followed by a coffee at a coffee shop at the bus terminal. I am glad to see card payment like in Argentina is universal here. No faffing with ATMs and cash. Using wifi in the coffee shop I see that the exchange rate is one pound equals 1200 Chilean Pesos. My food shop was £8.27 and the coffee £2.65.
It is past 17 hrs when I leave town, up a steep concrete ramp with a gradient in the region of 15 percent. Although it was less after the initial few hundred metres and settled to a steady climb; nonetheless, it seemed relentless with every bend. revealling more. Eventually the concrete gave out to gravel and a short distance on I reach a track into a stream at the side; by which stage, having had enough, I ride off and push the Kona along the stream into the cover of scrubs where I come to a grassy level spot and set up camp.
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