Villa O Higgins to Lago Deserto
I was late. I was cycling to catch the boat at 04.30, but it had already passed half past the hour and I was stressed out that the boat would have left when I arrive at the harbour.
I woke up and grabbing my phone-see the time is 03.24. One hour until the boat goes. My legs swing out of bed and feet hit the floor to go to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea before leaving. The bike was already packed ready before going to bed, only needing to get on and ride.
The street-lights of the village fade behind me and the sky in the east has a glow of light of the coming day. I don't have any lights but there is enough ambient light to see the gravel road many metres ahead to ride safely. My hands are cold and I wish I had thought to wear my full finger gloves. In any case its only a few kilometres as the road twists this way and that with the lake opening up on the left: the light of the harbour already visible ahead.
Cosmos, a Polish cyclist who arrived at the hostel yesterday, set off about 5 minutes ahead of me with a headtorch and flashing tail-light, is there when I arrive with his bike by a ramp down to a small vehicle ferry, but otherwise, there is nobody else around. The phone shows 04.38 and Cosmos isn't happy being out so early. He curses and says he hasn't had his coffee yet. Three lights approach from the road and as they get nearer, we see head-torches worn by three Canadian women cyclists we'd met back in town as they walk their loaded bikes down the harbour apron Minutes later a Canadian couple arrive on bikes and all five chat about where in Canada they are from.
Eventually, a mini-bus and pickup truck arrive with foot-passengers and boat crew. It takes a while loading backpacks, panniers and lifting bikes on to a rack at the rear of a small craft with seated cabin and two large outboard motors. It was after 05.30 when it set off like a powerboat crashing across Lago O Higgins. Peter who I sat beside said it felt smooth and flat, but I wouldn't like to see it on a particular rough day, as it was waves swept over the bow and water washed over the windows. Looking out mountains towered up on either side of the lake.
We all disembarked and made our way up the steep winding track to the Carbineros de Chile or police border passport control's green and white house, where we had to wait for the 08.00 opening time. Then after opening, it was a long process as we went in in pairs with a young officer new to the job tapping in every passport detail into the computer. In all it was two hours before I got my passport stamp and was free to go shortly before ten.
I was glad to get moving after the long delay. Straightaway the extrenely steep track onwards had me short of breath, though it soon settled into a more moderate uphill on loose gravel, showing signs of recently being laid, going up a valley and levelling out with woodland either side to end with a turning point at the actual Argentinian border. The divide where a valley goes downhill and streams from here on flow east towards the South Atlantic.
After a sitting down to lunch with all the others from the boat. The walkers having got a lift on a pickup truck. I set off on the old horse trail that continues onwards. Previously having ridden it on a road touring bike with big panniers sticking out at either side, it was hard slow going. Today the Kona made easy work of it. It resembled a mountain-bike trail and thereby, steep slippery uphill sections not far from the start and the many muddy stream crossings notwithstanding, it was fairly rideable most of the way, especially the final downhill section towards Lago desierto, which I reached an hour and a half after lunch at the turning place end of the gravel track.
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It had gone 14 hrs when I pushed the bike over to the small Argentinian migrations house, where the officer copied the details of my passport with a pen in a notebook before stamping the page with the Chilean exit stamp. A process which took less than 5 minutes.
It was then a 3 hour wait for the boat across Lago Deserto scheduled for 17 hrs. I was reunited with friends from the hostel in O Higgins where we hung out by the lakeshore until Cosmos, who carries an inflatable raft, blew it up and loading his bike on it, set off paddling along the shore. After he had left, we crept off, each to their own spot to lay down for an afternoon nap. While trying to sleep many pairs of Cuanquan birds came up from the lake and made a racket and a few drops of rain fell.
During the sailing, Comos was spotted, having pulled ashore with the raft and pitched his tent. Marc with binnoculars pointed him out and another elderly Englishman who said he is a birder, raised his binnoculars to look too. Later we looked in awe at a glacier hanging off the mountainside, with a bare track of morraine in the wake of its retreat in recent years.
We filed off the other side and regroup in front of a hotel. Aparently there was supposed to be a bus waiting, but for some reason it had left and the walkers had a delemma of where to stay.
The Canadians kept riding and soon I followed and wondered into the first place with reasonable camping possibility, woodland along the big river flowing out of Lago Desierto. It had been a long day and once I'd set up camp it wasn't long until I lay down to sleep.
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