A Zig-Zag Route.

Leaving Mendoza, it was obvious that I had to head over the hills to Santiago in Chile where the new hub oil was waiting for me with Connie, the beautiful young Chilean girl who girl who graced table tennis in Cromwell a few years ago.

It was a beautiful trip, up into the hills, the landscape was so interesting and the climbing quite manageable especially for the first two and a half days. Passing well established vineyards, which seemed to offer more than the ones I visited with a wine tour one day in Mendoza, the establishments on offer there were rather ordinary and the wine more so, especially in comparison to the exquisite wines of Cafayate.

And not without the continued generosity of the Argentinian people. Here Patricia, who saw me resting by the side of the road, appeared with a large bottle of fresh water, concerned for my wellbeing.

The mounds of plastic bottles beside roadside shrines has always intrigued me and finally I now have the reason. The legend is that a woman travelling with her baby, died of lack of water in the desert, but the child survived by sucking from the breast of the dead mother. Considered a miracle, the people of Argentina now put bottles of water by the shrines to ensure that no one else should suffer the same fate.

A bonus of crossing the border here was to gaze at the highest peak of the Southern Hemisphere, Aconcagua. Blessed with a clear morning I did not have to walk far to enjoy a look at the South face.

Down, down to the flats of Chile, I had been advised to take the bus into Santiago from Los Andes, a town at the foot of the road to the border with Argentina. I did not need prompting! The traffic on the motorway was certainly heavy.

So entering Santiago was kind of a circle completed, as this was where Jan and I had landed after our flight from NZ in May, all those months ago. It felt good.

Christmas Day, I was invited to Connies family in the evening and so with some time to enjoy I took a bus to Valparaiso, a city that many had recommended I visit. Interesting for its coloured houses and beautifully decorated stairways, sadly they did not really disguise a rather rundown town but perhaps being Christmas Day I am not being fair.

However I was really disappointed not to be able to visit the very beautiful tall ship in harbour. Called the Valparaiso, I think, I have always been aware of this ship since sailing on the Scottish equivalent, The Captain Scott, many years ago. The guard on the Naval dockyard gate just laughed at my request to wander in for a look. Thank you very much Osama.

The evening with Connie’s family was wonderful and the next day we met and she accompanied me to her friends bike shop, where given free rein, I was able to affect the required oil change on the yellow bike. A shop attracting a mixture of keen cyclists and mountain climbers it was a very vibrant and fun place to visit.

Where to go next? The equation was simply how to get to Bariloche in time to meet Jan off the plane, and also connect with Javier, my Spanish friend currently circumnavigating the world on his bike. He was coming North as I was travelling South and to meet up was a priority. To this end I decided to take a bus to the coast of Chile, beginning on the bike again in the town of Concepción, some 400 kms South of Santiago.

Along the coast I found my first beach for a while, black sand was the carpet to the sea. The next day the fishing village of Lebu had many boats moored on the estuary and the most amazing welcome from the hostel family, pictured below. They were so excited to have a foreign visitor and made a great fuss of me. The younger generations were all learning English and had a very reasonable grasp of the language which really helped me.

From Lebu to New Year’s Eve on the beach at Tirùa. Bad move. Sleep, what’s that? Car horns, load music and general mayhem ensured a restless time as my dance moves are way out of date.

At this point contact with Javier was made and after ten continuous days of rain on the Chilean side of the border he had decided to head into Argentina to dry out and was heading to Bariloche, where I needed to be anyway, but had not expected to go there with my bike, it was to be left in Chile for the resumption of my journey South after Jan’s departure. However a glance at the map, it was easy to make the decision to head back to Argentina as I would now pass through the Chilean lakes district and be able to visit the National Park of Huerquehue, one highly recommended by Connie.

Two, totally unexpected lifts from kind people sped me on my way to Pucón and the park. Both were timed to perfection. The first, I was riding along a road under construction and the underlay of these roads is medium sized river stone, mostly uncompacted. On a bike, hell on wheels!

Passing a small, stationary stock truck, an elderly gentleman said something as I passed. Stopping, I explained I had no Spanish. It soon became clear that he had seen the struggle and was offering a ride. No fool (?), I accepted. Bike bodily lifted on board, these people are so strong, I was extremely grateful for the ride and fourteen kms later I was off loaded and on my way.

Two days later, nearing Pucón, I had stopped for a rest in a bus shelter. The skies were really dark and threatening ahead, so waterproofs were being adorned. I had observed a flat deck truck passing with a small sailing boat on board. “Now a sail on the lake would be nice”, I thought, and thought no more. Distracted with putting on waterproofs, I did not see the truck turn around, turn again and draw up beside me. A very pretty French accent asked, did I want a lift?

Never one to look a gift horse……the bike was loaded and I was piled into the cab with four others. Delphine, from France, Rodrigues, Juan Carlos and Eduardo were my companions. Bee keepers, they were simply beautiful people, full of life and cannot wait to visit NZ. The rain was torrential, I had been saved again, so lucky.

The next day, knowing the weather was to improve, I took a local bus to the Park Huerquehue and had a great days walking and photographing amongst the Monkey Puzzle trees that looked so right there, and look so out of place in NZ, in my opinion!

From there, leaving Pucón the next day it was over Pass Mamuil Malal and back into Argentina. A long climb saw me under the beautiful volcano of Villarrica, across the border and with the wind behind me (bliss), I road until dusk and camped by a lovely clear river.

At this point I was entering the stunning area of the Seven Lakes. Three days easy riding was to see me in Bariloche amongst some of the most chocolate box scenery you can imagine. Just like Queenstown Lakes area, clear water, blue skies and snow patched mountain tops. All the usual suspects are here as well, Broome, gorse, lupins, Scotch thistles, Californian poppies, briar, and I even saw two rabbits, ugh!

Other great meetings on the way, Marie and Silvarno, who have stayed in the Cardrona Valley with Ray Anderson. He farms the Branches (?) there and also rugby mad Pablo, who loves watching the All Blacks as much as I. I must add that the respect for the All Blacks here is enormous and as my current French family companions said last night, “it is not hard to be an All Black fan”. There is no doubt the AB’s are great ambassadors.

Finally, I am not really fond of food photos but those who know me well will understand that I am driven forward on a daily basis with the hope of coffee and cake.  En route in the Seven Lakes I came upon the perfect lemon pie, so apologies to Jo, but here it is,

I now await Jan’s arrival and company for two weeks of rest and then I continue South. More about Javier in my next blog. I hope you are all well and the new year has got off to a great start for you all.