From Anchorage to Ushuaia by Bike

Guest writer: Heather Keachie

It's been almost two weeks since I've been riding with Sara and Sébastien. Everything that you've read in their blog is true, and it's a pretty accurate description of their trip. But they sometimes leave stuff out. A lot of the day-to-day stuff doesn't make it into the blog and so I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell you a few short stories from my point of view.

The Rain

The life of a cyclo-voyageur is not as glamourous as you might have first imagined. Some days it rains. Since leaving, we have had quite a few days of rain. Tuesday morning, we were a day behind the original schedule. We had to leave, and it was pouring rain. Pffft, you think, what's a little rain! It rains here all the time. Rain for a cyclo-voyageur is different. First, you have to think about all your stuff. Are my bags waterproof enough? Will the bread we bought for lunch survive? Then, what to wear. Sara and Seb have high tech stuff, but I tried to come on the cheap. Borrowed rain pants and a rain jacket from Canadian Tire. The sleeves leak. They have rain boots, but I don't and wet socks are no fun, no matter how scenic the landscape. Pictures were taken – I looked ridiculous but when we arrived that night my feet were mostly dry.

Sebastien is always the optimist – the rain, it's clearing up, he says. I believed him at first, and now Sara and I are both sceptical. That same afternoon Sebastien had a flat tire (the second since I arrived). Practically no flat tires until I came, and now they been having a few equipment problems. Well, after 18000 km, the tires have lived a good life and don't owe them anything. The rain had just let up a little, and we stopped for a quick snack break. Just as we were about to get going again, Seb's back wheel was flat. It takes about half an hour to change a flat, and naturally, by the time we finished, the rain had started again.

Eh oui, that's a day in the life of a cyclo-voyageur.

Fishing Trips

Not all the good stories are about bikes. Two nights ago, we decided to camp – second night in a row of bush camping. We landed a sweet spot. By a winding river, and still in sight of the famous Lenin Volcano, by whose foot we camped the night before (well represented in pictures, btw). It was a little close to the road, and we weren't sure we could really camp there, but there were no signs posted. Better to beg for foregiveness than ask permission, right? Prescient words, as you will see.

We stopped earlish, and set up the tent around 7. Sébastien decided the moment was right to break out the retractable fishing pole that they had been schlepping around in their bags since Vancouver. Not one fish caught to date. Seth and Kirsten (from Santiago) had told us that fishing without a licence is generally no problem in Chile, but that in Argentina we should be careful since they can be quite sticky. First, the set up. The line needed to be set and the lure attached. Fortuntately for Sébastien, Sara's patience with those kinds of details is much greater than his. He freely admitted that the whole operation would not have been possible with his “assistant.” Then, the essay. The reel is broken, and doesn't work very well, which means that it is hard to cast and hard to reel in the line. After much discussion and some studying of the instructions, we decided on a lure and on the appropriate way to cast. First time out,  stuck in the weeds by the side of the river. Then the bobber got disloged and started to float away downstream. Undaunted, Sébastien handed me the pole and lept along the river bank, stopping only to pick up a long stick. The bobber was retrieved just in time, and no one fell into the water. We could see the the trouts jumping out of the water just downstream of us, mocking.

In the end, no trout were caught, and the whole fishing attempt was abruptly ended when the lure got caught in the tree. No amount of jumping, running, or waving around with sticks would disentangle it. And so we abandoned our dreams of fresh fish for dinner, and happily cooked pasta on the camping stove. Another time perhaps?

The next morning as we were packing up, an official looking car stopped by the road and two men began walking towards us. Did you spent the night here? they asked. Clearly we had. Camping is not allowed next to any of the rivers in Argentina, they said. We apologized, saying that we didn't know and hadn't seen any signs. While we spoke with one of the men, the other was touring our campsite, paying close attention to the river bank. Finding nothing, he walked back to towards us. Oh well, he said, that 's ok. Don't worry. You're not here to fish though, right? Sara answered: oh no, mostly definitely not.

The food

Camping, you say? Travelling by bike, you say? You must eat a lot of pasta and rice – two things that pack light, fill you up, and can be cooked relatively quickly on a camping stove. Well, you're right – but only by half. When we're on the road, we often have pasta for dinner. But when we're not camping, it's wonderful to be able to cook a little something different. Sébastien is a quite a good cook, and willing to make the best with the ingredients available. And of course, as you already know, this is prime wine country.

On Easter Island, we had access to the kitchen (barely; but that's a story for another time...) and we cooked every night. In Santiago, we cooked a ratatouille for Seth and Kirsten. I made a strawberry tart, pie crust from scratch. In Villarica we had two nights with a kitchen, and we made pancakes and steak (different meals, natch). We also made quiche. Not our best attempt since the oven didn't work very well. The quiche took forever to cook and then (my) crust got burnt. And we ran out of gas for the oven and the hot water.

We're in San Martin de Los Andes now. The night before yesterday we went out for a parilla – a kind of barbeque that is served at the table with all different cuts of meat. It was the only thing that kept us motivated yesterday, through 70 km of headwind. (Well, that and a hot shower!). Yesterday afternoon we met some French backpackers in the grocery store and we invited them over for dinner. We made gratin dauphinois with grilled red pepers and a tossed green salad. They brought dessert. And wine.

Up next

We're heading out tomorrow morning (sore legs and potential hangovers notwithstanding) to do the Seven Lakes Road. Apparently very beautiful. And the first couple of days we'll be in the forest – sheltered from the wind, says Sebastien. Vamos a ver!