November 3, Day 26: Hornopirén-Puerto Montt
Lunch today is uncertain. Last night after dinner I had a look around in a mercardo and couldn't find anything that'd make a respectable lunch, but maybe I'm not looking with the right kind of eyes. Today there’s a ferry, and just before the ferry is a town and I figured I might be able to get lunch there. It’s a risky move, it hasn't worked so far this trip, but I'm feeling optimistic.
The forecast predicted wind so ferocious I took a screenshot. (See below: 44km/h, gusting to 77.) It also said there’d be mild rain - a few mm. The rain prediction has already lost my trust; I'd been listening to rain on the roof since I woke up. Might just be an acoustically sensitive roof but it sounds like a lot of rain. And there's lightning too, flashes so powerful and bright the ancient Aztec priests wouldn't have problems with unbelievers for weeks.
Maybe I should stay in Hornopirén another day? The weather forecast for tomorrow is about the same, and every day of the ten-day forecast has rain. So if the weather today is too bad to ride, that sort of thinking might leave me stranded here for the foreseeable future... and Hornopirén doesn't have enough charm to make that a good idea.
I think I got undercharged for my room (last night, at 11pm, when I got back after dinner and they dropped off a breakfast tray) so I'd like to check: but the door to reception is locked and all the lights are off. Guess hotel management has arranged things so they can sleep in? I respect that.
I leave my key in my room, head out to set up the bike - but because of the rain I do all the setup in the only shelter I can find, which is the shed where they keep the rubbish bins. I spend a bit of time trying to get a good picture of the rain to share the experience, or just record how bad the rain is, but I can't make it work. Anyway, it's probably just procrastination. Saddle up and get moving.
There's a service station on the way out of town. It's not Copec but maybe they'll have a sandwich? I pull in, but all the doors into the building have signs saying "authorized personnel only". There's two uniformed staff on the forecourt serving people: until now, I thought that finished in the 1950s. But it means no sandwich.
The ride starts with a long climb. There's 1190m of climbs today, which is a bit on the high side. My only complaint about Chilean roads is that the road designers seem quite happy to set up 10% gradients. Can't they make the road wind a bit more and less steep? 10% means low gear, standing in the pedals, slow progress. Also snaking left and right, which makes it harder to stay on the shoulder.
Fortunately it is Sunday, and the roads are quiet. The sky is filled with thick grey clouds. The rain doesn't stop, it's not a monsoon, but still so heavy that it's difficult to see through my sunglasses.
I've spent a lot of time looking at the forecast wind map, to know when it'd be difficult and where it dies down later: but the headwind never gets stronger than an annoyance. It might be because the road is surrounded by trees? Or maybe the wind forecast overestimated things for once?
Around 12 I get into Contao. This is the village a few kilometers before the ferry; it's big enough to have a couple of cafes/eateries, where I was hoping to find lunch. I pull up Google Maps and have a spin around the village. But the first three options are closed, including one that's on the main road and clearly set up for Careterra Austral travellers so I give up. Is it like this every Sunday? Google has no indication that this is a holiday!
There's an open minimarket a bit up the road (that I'd seen earlier, optimism led me the wrong way - a U turn was involved, don't ask) so I go in to try to find something. They have bread rolls; I get two. I've been keeping my phone in the pocket of my raincoat but it's still so wet I can't unlock it to pay. The attendant gives me some paper towel to dry it off. I have cheese and salami in my bags, but I don't have the motivation to get them out so I eat a plain bread roll under the eaves of the minimarket, that being the only shelter from the rain. (What has my life come to, etc.)
Back on the road, it's a few kilometers to the ferry. I've been wearing my highvis raincoat (and highvis webbing with extra highvis flashing LEDs) all morning so my top half is dry. But everything else is sodden. I've been trying to avoid puddles, because the front tyre kicks up water and it'll spray my shoes. Nevertheless they're wet through, they squelch when I pedal. It also brings grit which sticks on when the water dries, and then gradually brushes off and gets everywhere.
I arrive at a queue of cars for the ferry. It runs every hour so there's probably going to be a bit of a wait, and it’s cold, and I’m in shorts. An attendant walks up the queue and after a mixed English/Spanish conversation sends me ahead, to get a ticket. Just like last time, my phone touchscreen has water on it, it won't unlock. Wiping it with my wet glove and then dry fleece doesn't help - I have to get out a credit card which takes a minute. I receive a thin paper printout which is my ticket. If one good water drop hits it, it's going to turn into a used tissue. I carefully transfer into my pouch with my driest fingertips in the hope it'll still be dry and readable when it's needed.
There's a small shop by the queue, and it's open! Any hot drinks? Sort of: there's a thermos of hot water and teabags and instant coffee - and a pricetag I don’t like. No thanks. I spend a bit of time looking at the bags of chips as pretext to warm up, until I figured I've outstayed my welcome and go outside again. There's some shelter outside the shop so it's out of the wind and rain.
There's three cyclists here. But they're mostly on their phones, and I hear a few words of Spanish so I don't try to make conversation. After a while one ambles down to his bike, takes the wheels off with his multitool and starts tightening or loosening something in the axle. Weird time to do such serious bike maintenance. A bus driver comes past, grunts a vowel meaningfully at the other cyclists - who head down, flip their bikes and starts removing their front wheels too. Definitely getting the feeling I've missed something important here. Like "all bikes have to have their wheels removed and be transported as bus cargo, they can't go on the ferry like normal".
So I head down to my bike. I still have a mouthful of bread roll, so I can’t talk, and start taking the panniers off in preparation for flipping the bike and getting the front wheel off. (What can I use as a spacer for the brake?) Once I can speak I ask the cyclists in bad Spanish if I need to take the front wheel off - and I don't! They paid the bus company to take them and their bikes further north. That doesn’t apply to me, great! I offer around some Oreos and help carry one of the bikes to the bus and it's all good.
The ferry shows up, and cyclists get waved on first. We don't get our tickets checked, which is probably fortunate - when I open my pouch later the ferry ticket has become papier-mâché; I suppose my pouch isn't waterproof.
During ferry loading one of the buses doesn't make the turn onto the ferry right and the nose nearly touches the steel ramp, so it stops to avoid damage. A ferry attendant has a wedge-like ramp for wheels for this problem, it's slotted in front of the wheel on what I thought was the wrong side, but the bus can crawl forward until it's flat and level again without nose contact.
From left to right: another ludicrously high wind forecast, but this one was definitely an overestimate. Getting ready to go. 95km of the Careterra Austral remain. Bike on the ferry. Selfie on the ferry. Some open road and the rain is taking a break.
I'm cold. It's cold and wet and windy out here, and the ferry hasn't even set out yet. Is there an inside area? A few people have gone off exploring but they've all come back so it's not looking promising. Once the ramp has been raised I go for a look myself - there's a passenger cabin! It's not classy but it's warmer than outside, so I get a seat. The door isn't easy to close properly so every time someone enters or leaves the door swings open afterwards. A lady near the entrance closes it a few times but she's getting noticeably more irritated every time. On about the fourth time she's had enough and doesn't get up, so I close the door from there on.
The ferry arrives in "La Arena", a village that's basically a few houses on Ruta 7. There's barely a sidestreet. There is an eatery or two open - but I'm feeling good, and I'm keen to get to Puerto Montt and get out of this weather, so I get going. It starts with a climb; not as steep or high as the morning, but enough that once I get to the top, I'm not feeling cold any more! All the vehicles on the ferry left first, so I'm expecting to have the road to myself for a while - but a regular stream of cars and utility vehicles come past. Since the road ends at the ferry I do not understand where they could have come from. I get on the pavement - no-one is out walking on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon.
There's signs showing the kilometers remaining on Ruta 7. About 40 after the ferry; they slowly wind down. I hear there's a zero kilometer signpost in Puerto Montt, I'd like to get a photo with that.
Traffic is getting busier. The road is difficult: two thin lanes for traffic, and almost no space beyond the white sidelines. If I ride to the right of the white line cars sometimes pass too close for comfort, so I deliberately put myself on the white line so I intrude on the lane. Cars now have to deliberately go around. That stops the pushy cars coming past too close, but it does mean safe drivers have to wait behind me if they can't pass because of incoming traffic. Sorry about that.
Unfortunately that's how the rest of the ride was; elbows out into the lane and being careful not to make sudden movements or stray too far from the line, so there’s no misunderstandings with the passing cars. There were some more steep climbs, staying on the line is a core strength workout I haven’t had since I was training in the gym. It’s still raining and water streams down the road, there's drainage ditches on either side but the rain is bringing down enough water for there to be waves on the road. Still no more space for bikes, and at times the shoulder disappears. I stick to the righthand side, ride a straight line, and almost all drivers give me space. No photos: there's few places I can safely stop, and I'm also wearing my winter gloves. They're quite wet but my fingers feel warmer when they’re on - but they need quite a bit of finger stretching to get them on or off so I'd rather just leave them on.
Zona Urbana. Getting close to Puerto Montt now. A bike path appears, and I'm very happy to take it and get away from the traffic - I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
From left to right: wet and rainy climb. A bikepath! One of the artworks on the waterfront. Selfie with the intersection marking the start of the Ruta 7. An “abba” hotel, presumably licensed?
I'll keep following the Ruta 7 until it ends, is that where the zero-kilometer sign is? I take a minute to do a Google search but it can't find anything. Ruta 7 is the waterfront road, so it'd make sense that the zero-kilometer milestone is one of the ceremonial artworks on the waterfront. I peel off and cycle through the waterfront, past various sculptures, looking out for one for the start of the Careterra Austral. Nothing ... I go past the intersection where it begins, loop back and try the other side. Still nothing! Some more creative Google searches find that the Ruta 7 and Carreterra Austral diverge in the final kilometers, and the zero kilometer marker somewhere else entirely - 17 minutes away by bike. Too far for today, I've had enough. I get a selfie with the intersection where the Ruta 7 ends, that's good enough, and all I can do today.
When I check into the hotel my hands are so cold my writing is nearly illegible. They don't have a place to store my bike, but I can take it to my room.
The room heating is off, I turn it to max. All my bags, my clothes and raincoat and shoes are covered in fine grit from the water spray - they need to be cleaned, but not now. The shower is hot and doesn't have a cold spells, which was unpleasantly common with the showers over the last few weeks. My shoes are still sodden and I have to wear them to dinner, not sure how that's going to go. But I'm now warm and dry.
I'm here for two nights. Although the hotel was one of the best reviewed in town, the number would be average in other places: for a big city it's below par, but in comparison with accommodation I’ve had on the Careterra Austral it's really good.
It's a warm room, I'm warmed up thanks to the shower, there's spare blankets on the shelf so I'll sleep warm. I'm probably overreacting to a long cold day ... but I regret nothing!
