| Jeff Poulter & Graham Tillotson: 8th November 2004 |
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Santiago to Orsorno
The thousand kilometres from Santiago to Orsorno are entirely forgettable.
It took two days with earplugs in and we experienced a dreadful headwind
all the way. The wind was so strong and coupled with the Hondas aerodynamics
being akin to that of a brick outhouse, we suffered the worst fuel consumption
of the journey so far, down 30% to 45mpg. At Chilean prices, too!
Chile is very thin and very long but they never told me it was also very
expensive. All these things are relative, of course: it's not as expensive
as London but it's a shed load pricier than anywhere else we've been, except
Alaska. The contrast was felt especially keenly having just left Bolivia
which was just about the cheapest. A small beer in La Paz cost 25p, but
it's eight times more expensive in Santiago; fuel is 48p a litre, three
times what we've been used to paying. (We haven't used any less fuel, either)
Outrageous! Can resume saving the planet after this trip is completed,
please?
On the map Orsorno to Bariloche is 250km east across the Andes with the
most significant feature appearing to be the Chile-Argentinean border.
The tail-end of the Andes can hardly claim 2000m and we've ridden at more
than twice that height. Peasy. Except when we left Orsorno yesterday's
glorious weather had become a mizzly, messy, cold today. As we headed east
it got wetter and more miserable, straining to the limit the thermal efficiency
of our kit. And we had a lot on: we fairly waddled to the bikes this morning,
larded in as many layers as would allow us to wiggle fingers.
Chile border crossing
We climbed to the Chile border and dealt with the simple formalities, injected
some hot caffeine and set off across 40km of no-man's land to the Argentine
border. No-man's land turned out to be aptly named. We climbed higher and,
to our surprise, started to notice snow by the side of the road. Odd, at
under 200m. The snow proceeded to get thicker and thicker until the entire
landscape was white in deep drift in all directions. At least, we assumed
it was because we could only see about 50ft through thick cloud and wet
fog. With that amount of snow piled high on either side of a wet road my
tiny brain worked out that the likelihood of ice... On a bike you find
out it's ice after you've picked yourself up of your arse so, as lead bike,
I decided that discretion is the better part of sliding down the road on
de bum, so I slowed right down. Scanning the road for ice warnings required
sufficient concentration to almost forget about the cold. Almost. After
about 10km of crawling around hairpin bends waiting to slide off into oblivion,we
started to descend and the snow subsided and weather improved. It didn't
exactly warm up but the wet was replaced by wind, a fresh little number,
too.
Lago Nahuel Huapi
At about 800m we rode onto a plain and eventually alongside the beautiful Lago Nahuel Huapi, the surface of which was whipped by the wind so destroying reflections of the surrounding snow-peaked mountains . The sky cleared and sun came out so the wind picked up further in recompense. We circumscribed the lake clockwise to approach the town of Bariloche from the east to be greeted by...a ski resort. Fair do's. It's Argentina's most popular holiday resort with lots of skiing, so it obviously needs huge chocolate warehouses, discos and designer sunglasses shops. Those who know my prejudices will appreciate my horror at such a monstrosity but it has compensations: internet cafes, espresso coffee and cake...
Bariloche may well be the last serious dose of civilization for a while.
Now we head due south through the wilds of Patagonia to the frozen wastes,
sampling en route the joys of a thousand kilometres of Ruta 40, the infamous
dirt road.
Jeff 08.11.04 |
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