Shortly after crossing the border into Argentina I began to realize why this was reserved for trekkers and cyclists only. What was once a beautiful wide and smooth path on the Chilean side became little more than what is at best single track MTB and at worst a literal river masquerading as the route. Argentina’s attitude toward the trail maintenance here could be summed up by the phrase “meh, maybe later” as I had to on multiple occasions carry my bike over large downed trees blocking the way forward. And it was at this time when the rain started to fall.
The day started out promising, as I had a family reunion of sorts when I not only met up with Eszter and Richard but also the French Family, Nathalie, Richard, and their two children as well. We were all in good spirits during the ferry crossing of Lago O’Higgins the actual boat captain let Martin and his brother pilot the boat for a stretch eliciting huge smiles from the two young boys. After disembarking we shared some brief smiles and snacks at the Chilean customs before all setting off on our way to the Argentinean customs on the other side of this stretch of land looking out over Lago del Desierto to the Fitz Roy.
The going was steep but enjoyable for the fifteen kilometers on the Chilean side with a light westerly wind and the sun obscured by the occasional cloud. There were a few crossings over rivers that were made easy by the very nice bridges that Chile had built. I was making excellent time and the weather was lovely, what’s not to love. I was definitely going to make it to the afternoon ferry in time.
[Narrator: she was not]
When I finally arrived at the border the quality of trail changed abruptly and the weather was soon to follow. Barely 50 meters into Argentina I hit the first river crossing, shallow at least but deep enough that my shoes would be swamped so I tied my shoes to the back panniers and it was Chaco time. As I made progress the sky turned cloudy and the path that was already muddy in the damp woods became a literal creek which I had to push my bike upstream against, my pedals then were stuck on the rocks, branches, and trees that littered the path. After I beat one obstacle another would arise, now the trail became a rut that was knee deep and barely wide enough to fit a bike with panniers forcing me to walk on the raised sides getting scratched by the thorny brush keeping travelers like myself from straying.
The streams of old eventually gave way and joined to form actual rivers that were over waist deep and no easy way to cross it. Staying dry was no longer an issue as the clouds had opened up and begun raining on me. The first deep river crossing had a swampy bog leading up to it and I just had to power through the river at the end, thankfully washing all the mud off of me and also grateful that neither myself nor my bike were swept downstream.
I volunteered for this.
A short while down the trail I found a large boulder on the riverside of the path and rested my bike against it. I see a path going forward along the steep hill that makes up the river bank and make the call to take my panniers and bike separately for safety. A trekker helps me by taking two of my panniers saving me a trip carrying them to where the ground flattens out a bit. If I thought the trail was bad before this was utterly terrible. I had to basically throw my bike over a few trees whose trunks were chest high when lying across the path. This goes on for a while until I get to a point where the trail just seemed to disappear along the riverbank with no way to proceed.
I ran into two other trekkers who have a digital map and we realize we all somehow missed a turn a while back. Shit.
After backtracking to the boulder I had rested my bike against before I took a closer look at the pile of downed trees at the bend in the river and noticed a small brown sign attached to a tree sticking out of the river marking the trail crossing. Thanks for making it easily visible. On my first trip across I, my foot slipped and my left leg plunged into the tangled mess of branches and trees that acted as a bridge through this rushing water, fearful of what would happen if my leg got stuck as I could lose not only my bags but also my life if I get trapped below the surface. Luckily I was able to free my leg quickly and made it across to the shallow side where it was a ten meter trip through ankle deep water to the amazing looking path on the other side. My second trip went more smoothly than the first but decided to not take my bike across this mess so I went a bit further upstream just before the bend to ford the over waist deep river with my bike. The entire crossing the river was trying to claim my bike as its own, the current always pulling my steed away from me and towards the tree bridge of doom. Halfway across my fuel bottle came unstuck from the cage and started floating away but my goal keeping skills had not atrophied entirely and I was able to dive after grab it while still keeping one hand on my bike.
With everything safely on this side of the river I looked forward and saw a path that actually looked bikeable and my excitement grew. That little wrong turn had cost me a lot of time but if I hustled I could still make the 5 pm ferry and be in El Chaltén this evening. With all my bags secured in their proper positions on Yonder I started to pedal away annnnd it turns out I can’t do that; my pedals turn but my wheel would not respond. I probably broke my freehub during the abuse in that wrong turn. I only had a short distance to push until I had my final shit river crossing of the day; there was a “bridge” but the quality left much to be desired as it was only a few boards that wobbled as you crossed it. I decided I trusted just walking through the water more after the first trip.
I spent much of the remainder of the trail sliding downhill in the mud, hoping that my rear brakes that were worn down to nothing had enough life to slow the descent enough to be safe. Just when I thought it was all downhill from there I turn a corner and I have what turns out to be the last bit of steep, muddy uphill for the day. I knew from the start I should have taken my bike and bags separately but I was too tired to think clearly and make the right decision. So I start pushing the bike and from the beginning, I was slipping everywhere in the mud and halfway up I fell and the bike pinned me to the berm that made up the side of the trail. I stayed there with my arms and legs pinned awkwardly for a few moments before making one quick movement to free myself and in the process snapping the mount of my bike computer clean off. Future Nat can worry about that.
After finally dragging my bike up that hill I finished the final descent to Argentinian customs around 6pm and set up my tent in the camping area. It turns out I didn’t miss the ferry, it was just canceled due to bad weather but tomorrow morning’s was still allegedly on. When the morning came along with the boat we few loaded in and set out across the lake admiring the views of the glaciers and mountains lining the lake. Finding a ride to town turned out to be quite easy as the first person I asked agreed to take me. It was a German family who rented a pickup truck who were kind enough to help a traveler out.
Next challenge, fixing my bike in a town without a bike shop.