devotion frees: ride, ferry, ride, hike, ferry: back in Argentina

We had to get up at 6:00am to catch the second to last ferry of the season out of Villa O'Higgins pedaling the final 8km of the Austral Highway ending on the shores of Lago O'Higgins. The day promised to be long - a 4 hour ferry ride, a 22km hike-a-bike over a small pass and down to Lago Desierto to hopefully in time to catch the last ferry across to the road. We had been hearing accounts from cyclists heading north. Knee deep mud, river wades, thick brush, horse path ruts that swallow your bike, lions, tigers, poisonous snakes, cannibals etc . . . So I was jazzed to go.

We rode to the ferry and gathered into a group 11 cyclists waiting for the ferry. I pulled the left over wine out of my rear pannier and passed it around in celebration of finishing the Austral - besides I did not need the extra weight on the hike a bike.

Lucie and Torrie pulled up who I had not seen since the Cordillera Blanca, Peru and I managed some more jump pics over the course of the day without injuring myself.

The ferry was comfortable moving towards a clearing day and we milled about taking photos, chatting in anticipation of the trail to come.

Nine of us disembarked at Candalaria Mancilla, two continuing on to see the glacier, and we chatted with a Swiss cyclist washing his bike in the lake - same nightmare stories, "you will never make the ferry today!"

We headed up to the Carbinero Post to stamp out of Chile.

The first 15km was a straight forward climb on a rough dirt road that brought us to the start of the trail on the Argentinian border.

By this point we were wondering how bad could this really be? Can 7km really take another 4-5hours? A Spaniard arrived in a spastic stumble up the trail wild eyed and muddy.

We asked, "Como estas?" He moaned, "mal! muy mal!", adding, "have fun while you can!" Hmmmm. . . could we catch the ferry? "NO! es impossible!" Jesus Christ! it took him 4.5 hours and he looked reasonably fit. He said we would not be able to ride any of it and Matt will never get through with his trailer - you should strap it on your back! Well nothing like a good challenge and we were off.

The trail started off with a muddy brushy narrow bang that had me thinking if this continues it will be a very tough little trail . . . but the trail also relented to some great single track! Three of us had a blast on our mountain bikes riding close to 40% of the trail when we were not pushing through bogs or fording rivers.

Most bike tourists are just not mountain bikers . . . especially East Coast mountain bikers - this was just like an upstate NY spring!

Matt and I dusted the puppy in two hours with ear splitting grins the whole time.

We all made the last ferry across Lago Desierto with time to spare after stamping into Argentina.

Ten bikes packed into the back of the boat we passed underneath the glaciers overhanging the Lago Desierto.

We disembarked and camped by Lago Desierto - all pretty happy to be back in Argentina. The campground charges 25 pesos or about $6-7 but a number of us had no money left. The caretaker said no problem pay what you can and if you want you can use the shower inside my house - typical laid back Argentina - definitely not Chile.

The next day Matt, Robin, and Alex hiked up to the nearby glacier and Matt took my camera with . . .

I went fishing in the river across the road that was the out flow for Lago Desierto. We only had a half bag of rice left . . . good motivation to catch fish! After catching 8 small rainbows, I was about ready to give up and eat plain rice. First, I would drag a streamer through a hole that I knew must hold a large fish . . . 4th - 5th cast and wham! I saw a big brown slash and gulp my woolly bugger. The fight was on for the next 10 minutes while I tried to keep him from breaking my tippet . . . lacking a net I jumped in the river grabbing the fish to catch the largest brown of my life at a solid 23 inches. Normally, I would release such a nice size fish but we were hungry. My feet are never gonna be dry in this place . . .