Sometimes the intense joy that comes from bicycle touring can be almost too much to bear.

Last Sunday was such a day, riding down the magnificent Camino de los Siete Lagos (Road of the Seven Lakes) in Argentina between San Martin de los Andes and Villa la Angostura.

Known as one of the most scenic bikes rides in the world, we were fortunate to enjoy it on a calm clear day beneath a cloudless sky. It began with a long climb out of San Martin, winding up the mountain for over 10km. Full of energy, we would have made it to the top in one go had it not been for a beautiful Mirador (lookout) looking back down the valley.

At the top it felt like being launched into the high Andes as we swooped across mountain plateaus, down through dark ancient forests and past lake after lake of breathtaking beauty and crystal clear purity.

We paused at the Arroyo Partido (the divided stream) where a few innocent rocks have caused the stream to split into two separate channels, one flowing to the Atlantic the other to the Pacific. It’s an important moment … if you’re a drop of water!

There was an old mountain restaurant for coffee, the only one we saw all day. Then a picnic lunch next to the still waters of Lago Villarino. It was perfect!

After 78km we arrived at a junction leading to Lago Traful, reputed to be the most stunning lake of all, where we had booked a hostel. A paved road led invitingly up the hill that guards the entrance to the lake. Unfortunately it soon turned into the dreaded ripio!

Having now spent several hours bumping along the infamous South American gravel tracks, here’s our guide to the 4 different types of ripio we’ve experienced:

1. Good Ripio  Hard packed mud, often kept damp under trees with just an occasional stone. A slightly bumpy but pleasant ride.
2. Bad Ripio  Fairly hard packed gravel and stones, like a good farm track. Feels like being shaken around on a fruit sorting machine.
3. Very Bad Ripio  Corrugated and full of ruts, huge stones and sand, like a very rough farm track. Feels like riding through a minor earthquake.
4. Impossible (sometimes hilarious) Ripio  Deep sand or stones, as on a dry, soft beach. Causes the rider to grind to a halt and walk, or to catapult over the handlebars.

When riding uphill they adjust by one category (good becomes bad etc.). There’s no such thing as good uphill ripio. The volume of traffic is also a factor as each passing car creates a unpleasant dust storm.

The road to Lago Traful started out as good ripio but quickly deteriorated into bad, then very bad ripio with an unhealthy dose of traffic. We managed just 3km in half an hour with another 20km still to go. As Andy paused for a drink to sooth his parched throat an anguished howl rose up from the dust 50m behind him.

I … AM … NOT … RIDING … ON … THIS … RIPIO … ANYMORE

(Actually there was a more descriptive word between THIS and RIPIO. We’ll leave you to fill in the gap!)

The decision was made … we turned around and started hauling our bikes back over the hill. After all, it was only another lake!

There was still 35km to reach Villa Angostura for two now-very-tired cyclists. But there was a silver lining ahead … an extra rest day!

It didn’t spoil a wonderful bicycle touring day which included three new personal bests:

• 115km cycled
• 2040m climbed
• 78 lake views

Two days later we cycled a mere 84km along the shores of the vast Lago Nahuel Huapi to the town of Bariloche, the centre of the Argentine Lake District. This included a brief introduction to the steppe, a windswept barren land of vast distances and big skies that stretches from the mountains to the coast.

Deciding that you can never see enough lakes we then spent a scheduled day off riding around some small but very pretty lakes near Bariloche on the Circuito Chico (small circuit) with time for both a long lunch and a little canoeing.

Bariloche itself was something of a surprise. Built by Swiss and German immigrants it’s Argentina’s chocolate capital and is the base for one of the countries most popular skiing areas. There’s certainly no shortage of chocolate shops but instead of alpine quaintness we found a working town with some interesting rough edges.

We thought the town planners must have gone for a long Argentine lunch instead of working on a few architectural guidelines!

After just one week in the country we’re not really qualified to comment on Argentina … but here are a few observations anyway.

It’s very different to Chile, partly because it attracted a lot of Italian as well as Spanish migrants. This is evident in great coffee and pasta, even better gelato but also in more aggressive drivers that are noticeably less tolerant of cyclists. Several times we’ve been angrily hooted off the narrow roads onto the gravel hard shoulder.

Supermarkets are dominated by three things – beef, beer and red wine – all vital ingredients for asados (big family barbecues) that are seen, smelt and heard across the country.

We’ve now travelled on both the Seven Lakes Road in Argentina and the Seven Lakes Circuit in Chile. We’re not sure if the names are just a coincidence or a bit of rivalry between neighbours?

Whichever it is, the Chilean lake circuit is smaller, gentler, more peaceful. The Argentine version is bigger, bolder and more dramatic. Perhaps this is a little like the psyche of the two countries?

Clare and Andy

Sitting under the smouldering eye of Volcan Villarrica, Pucon is a South American mecca for adventure sport junkies. Here you can climb the volcano with crampons and an ice axe, raft down white water rapids, skydive or ride horses into the outback.

We left all these activities to more adventurous types and went for a bike ride instead, up to some beautiful waterfalls and on to explore Lago Caburga. Much of the ride was on ripio (gravel tracks) where predictably Andy went too fast down a slope, skidded in some loose sand and catapulted off his bike. Maybe a more extreme sport would have been safer after all!

February in Pucon is peak holiday season when this small town of 20,000 welcomes over 180,000 visitors. Full of life and great restaurants we loved it, especially as our visit coincided with an excellent Jazz and Blues Festival which entertained us late into the night.

After leaving Pucon we slowly cycled around part of the Circuito de Siete Lagos (seven lakes circuit) managing to visit five of them and staying in some interesting small towns on the way, each very different in character.

Lican Ray is a small lakeside resort full of young working families. We stayed right on the beach and enjoyed both an extraordinary sunset and a chilly morning swim.

Staying in a cabina meant we could prepare our own food. As Clare shopped for a rotisserie chicken, Andy watched a family set up stall to sell their homemade sopaipillas (fried bread topped with mustard or ketchup). So popular, they sold out in just 10 minutes but not before we’d grabbed one … it was not the healthiest snack in the world but was absolutely delicious.

Only 20km down the road was Conaripe, home to Termas Geometricas the most authentic hot springs in the area with 21 pools all at different temperature (35 to 45 degrees celsius) and set in a beautiful, narrow gorge.

Panguipulli, the last stop on our mini lake tour was full of weather board houses that gave it the feel of an America frontier town. Here we enjoyed huge rainbow trout straight out of the lake.

Some of you have have been asking about a few bits of Andy’s kit that we’ve mentioned in previous posts. He’s still wearing his favourite cycling shorts, now sporting a shiny new button but still with the French safety pins holding up the fly. The fishnet undershorts have also made the trip but now have too many holes for a photo!

Unfortunately, Andy’s super-expensive-imported-from-America leather saddle stretched and sagged so he needed a new one. After trying out lots of uncomfortable saddles in different shapes and sizes, he remembered his Dad’s old one gathering cobwebs in the corner of the shed.

Instantly it felt like sinking into a favourite armchair.

OK, it looks a little ridiculous with it’s two layers of padding and attracts many derogatory comments from real touring cyclists. But with a comfy bum after 6 hours riding, who cares!

From Panguipulli our gentle cycle around the lakes came to an abrupt end as it was now time for two days of serious riding up into the Andes. It turned out to be a bleak introduction to this famous mountain range.

We set off on a beautiful new road along the lake with lots of viewpoints to enjoy. A feature of new roads in Chile is that the distance from the start of the road is recorded every 100 metres. Unfortunately, different surveyors measure the road slightly differently making the distances more of an approximation than an exact measure.

It wasn’t the road, nor our legs, nor the many hills that marred this first day … it was the relentless rain and cold. By the end of the day Clare had hit the wall and even our bikes were complaining about the grit that had built up under their brake pads.

After 40km we came across the first sign of life and stopped at a tiny shop hoping for a hot cup of coffee. Even though they weren’t a cafe, the family took pity on these wet and bedraggled strangers and invited us to sit in their front room for a very welcome cup of Nescafé.

Still raining, we arrived at our destination – the wonderfully named Huilo Huilo (pronounced WEEL-oh-WEEL-oh and always with a smile) a private bio-reserve. Too exhausted and too wet to explore the spectacular waterfalls, volcanic museum and extraordinary hobbit inspired hotels it will be worth coming back on a sunny day (in a car!)

Early the next morning we caught the Hua Hum ferry (pronounced WAH-oom and always with a whoop) across Lagos Pirihueico and into the wilderness.

Crossing the border meant for an early lunch as we were not allowed to bring any fresh food into Argentina. They were clearly worried our tuna sandwiches, tomatoes and bananas would import some deadly disease.

It was then a tough 55km ride along a ripio track through a lakeside forest, followed by a two hour climb up to the tree line until we eventually dropped down into San Martin de los Andes. With very few lake views, it became a bit of a grind.

However, yesterdays pain was todays gain – the rain had made the track firmer and prevented dust clouds blowing up from the occasional passing car.

We were grateful for the company of the only two other cyclists crazy enough to tackle this challenge on this particular day. Pierre and Alex are two dashing young French touring cyclists, both seasoned adventurers who have already clocked 9000km on their journey from Bolivia.

Following his crash, Andy was a lot more careful on ripio, staying unclipped and in the granny ring for the whole day. Clare impressively ground her way up the hills by listening to Spanish-for-Beginners on a loop. Despite the improvement in her language skills, she’s decided that cycling on motorways is much more preferable to cycling on ripio!

Today the sun has come out and having enjoyed several beers by the lake we’re now looking forward to cycling further into the mountains and exploring more of Argentina.

Clare and Andy

One of the great things about travelling slowly through a country for the first time is that there are always things about everyday life that are normal to locals but surprising to a visitor.

Here are a few of our favourite curiosities from Chile:

Making the most of every beach
On the cold Pacific Coast families played in the surf or sunbathed in coats and sleeping bags while further south in the mountains we were surprised to find a little piece of Rio. In Pucon thousands of holidaymakers flock each January and February to this beautiful black volcanic beach on the shores of Lake Villarrica. It isn’t a peaceful experience … hundreds of hawkers tramp up and down selling everything from rubber rings to that ideal beach snack, Mote con Huisillo.

Shopping
Shopping in chain stores is the same here as anywhere else in the world but it’s a completely different experience in small local shops and bars.

Let’s say we’re buying some lunch in a Panaderia (bakery).

You start by telling the assistant what you want. She writes it down and gives it back to you. Then you take the order to a stern looking lady in the caja (cash booth), hand over your money and she gives you a different receipt. With this you return to the counter and give the receipt to the assistant. She studies it carefully, picks out what you want and eventually hands it over.

It’s a long process for a couple of empanadas!

Nescafé is treated like gold
Whilst there are lots of lovely cafes in the more touristy towns, the rest of Chile has yet to fully embrace the global coffee culture.

Coffee here is usually made from weak instant powder but what it lacks in flavour is more than made up for by the ceremony. Nescafé, milk powder and liquid sugar are solemnly brought to the table so you can mix the ingredients exactly to your taste in tiny china cups. Only when you’re satisfied you have the right combination will the waiter carefully add hot water.

In several supermarkets we’ve even found a locked cabinet containing ‘special goods’ … in this case bars of chocolate and yes, jars of Nescafé. Regular, not even Gold Blend!

Comfort Food
Whilst we’ve enjoyed lots of delicious fresh fish and meat, some Chilean food could be described as hearty or even stodgy. Many dishes are accompanied by large quantities of bread and rice and chips.

It seems to us that some popular foods simply remind people of a visit to their grandmother on a Sunday afternoon.

Two girls from Santiago told us about Manjar, a delicacy that no self-respecting Chilean would ever be without (they had a jar in their backpacks). “Have you tried Manjar yet? … No? … Well, have you eaten Nutella? … Yes? … Honestly, that stuff tastes like sh*t compared to Manjar!!”

With this glowing endorsement we rushed to a supermarket to find that whilst it’s not made from chocolate and hazelnuts, Manjar is indeed a sweet spread. The recipe is condensed milk and sugar so it’s basically a spreadable fudge. A delicious reminder of tea with Grannie!

Sunday morning entertainment
Whilst the enjoyment of all this comfort food has become obvious in a few Chilean waistlines, we’ve found them to be really warm, friendly people. Sometimes a little shy and reserved to start with, they’re always polite and genuinely kind to strangers. We’re in no doubt that we’d get plenty of help should we get into any trouble on our bikes.

Chileans are rightly proud of their culture and heritage. This traditional dancing demonstration on a Sunday morning after church was not for tourists but for the sheer joy of it.

Street Signs
Some of the street signs have kept us amused, perhaps because we’ve not been to parts of the world that need to advertise evacuation routes from volcanoes or tsunamis.

More confusing has been the absence of no-entry signs which has fooled us a few times. Instead there’s a polite arrow on the street sign indicating the direction of travel. Only in extreme examples do they feel the need to use a more forceful sign.

Street Dogs
Rubbish bins are placed on platforms all over Chile.

This was a mystery to us until we realised it was to keep the trash away from the enormous number of stray dogs (2.5 million by one estimate). Unlike street dogs we’ve seen in other countries they appear to be relatively healthy, well fed and docile. We understand this is because neighbourhoods feed and care for them as unofficial communal animals.

Cycling on Highways
There’s one big highway (Ruta 5) that runs from North to South as the main artery through the centre of Chile, traffic flowing at over 100kph. We were surprised to discover that it was both legal and common for cyclists to ride down the hard shoulder, sometimes for long distances.

We were only brave enough to give it a go for a quick 20km dash when there was literally no other road. It was unsettling to have trucks and buses passing by at such high speed but good fun to go through the toll booths at no charge.

Carmenere and Pisco Sour
Carmenere red wine has been a pleasure to drink. This was a grape variety from Bordeaux that was wiped out by the 1867 phylloxera plague and thought to be extinct. As it happened, cuttings had already been brought to Chile but they were mistaken for Merlot for over a century. Carmenere was only ‘rediscovered’ in 1994 and is now the darling of the Chilean wine industry.

Our favourite drink in Chile is fast becoming Pisco Sour, a cocktail made from pisco (a type of grape brandy), lemon juice, syrup and ice. The stronger Peruvian version adds egg white and Angostura bitters and is also very popular here. We think both are delicious … especially as a sundowner after another cloudless day.

So raising a glass of Pisco Sour we say salud to Chile and its many curiosities.

Clare and Andy

Hurtling down steep cobbled streets and stairways, the world’s best mountain bike racers will compete for the Redbull Valparaíso Cerro Abajo this Sunday 11th February, leaping over obstacles in their race against the clock.

We faced the problem of climbing the 20-25% gradient up those very same streets with our fully loaded touring bikes. Of course we cheated and found a very nice taxi with a bike rack.

This made for a very pleasant 70km cycling day down the coast to the small seaside town of El Quisco.

Refreshed from a fish supper straight out of the sea, we cruised through several more seaside towns the next day, watching families enjoy all the traditional activities. With cool air temperatures from the cold sea and a rocky coastline it felt a bit like Whitby!

From the port of San Antonio we climbed slowly up the brilliantly named Ruta de la Fruta (Fruit Road) which brings a procession of fruit trucks from the interior to the ports laden with all our winter strawberries and blueberries.

These trucks are huge. Fortunately we could hear them coming from a long way off, roaring like dragons until they showered us with dust as they whooshed past. After an hour we were glad to turn off onto a side road and head back to the coast.

I’d warned Clare that this would be a long and winding 100km day. I hadn’t warned her about the sting in the tail … mainly because I didn’t have a clue it was coming.

Needing to recharge for the final 20km, we stopped for peaches, bananas and yoga in a shady bus stop. There are lots of these in Chile, all identical and they are fast becoming our favourite picnic spots. As Clare completed her sun salutations to help ease her back, I studied the map and elevation charts … and almost choked on my lemon soda!

Ahead of us were 7 … SEVEN!!! … Bath sized hills to climb before we got to our destination, the surf village of Matanzas.

I decided to soften the blow a little so told her there were “just a few small hills” ahead. At the bottom of the second hill I then pretended to look hard at the map before announcing there might be a “few more”. I only admitted to the full horror of the situation at the 5th peak.

To be fair, Clare was an absolute trooper even as we pushed our bikes up the 10% gradient into a strong headwind on the last climb … well and truly knackered.

Looking again at the map that evening it seemed that the terrain for the rest of the coastroad was going to be much the same … lots and lots of ups and downs. Time for a) an unscheduled rest day and b) a new plan.

After a very pleasant day on this strange, wild, foggy coast we decided to head inland through what looked like wide undulating valleys. The only problem was that there were hardly any hotels or casas on the way … so the daily mileage was still going to be big.

Passing lots of signs for rodeos, we were clearly in cowboy country as we wound our way past small wooden homesteads each with a tiny field overflowing with produce.

The smooth paved road then abruptly ended and we had our first taste of the legendary Camino de Ripio (gravel roads) that criss-cross Chile. These become corrugated on the flat, loose and sandy uphill so they are not at all the ideal cycle path. Not bad on a mountain bike, impossible on a road bike they were just about manageable on our touring bikes.

Two hours and 30km later, we were very relieved to get back to a normal road at Litueche.

“As God looked at the world he had created in seven days, he realised that there were still some things left over: volcanoes, virgin forests, deserts, fjords, rivers and ice. So he ordered the angels to dump all these things behind a long mountain range. The mountains were the Andes and so Chile was born. The most diversified country in the world!”

Anon

From Litueche the cycling was magnificent as we swept through the wide Colchagua Valley on the smoothest of roads. This is big, beautiful, earthy country with wide horizons across farms and scrubland dotted with rocky outcrops.

It seems that Chile is adopting all the best trees from across the world. Australian eucalypts, American giant cacti, Scandinavian pine, Caribbean palms, European poplars make for an eclectic mix. We often looked out at beautifully nurtured vineyards on one side of the road, acacia bushes on the other. France to the left, Africa to the right.

One night we stayed in an old Jesuit Hacienda (estate) at Marchigue. The next in a glamping pod set high above vineyards south of the old colonial village of Lolol. Both were the only accommodation within a 50 mile radius, both lovely in very different ways.

Now we’re further inland the days are hotter. On the day we reached Talca, we both drank seven litres of water … and it was still a long time until we needed to pee!

Perhaps it was heat and dehydration, perhaps it was the last steep hill or perhaps it was the stress of having to use the main highway to cross two rivers … but we were both very, very tired when we staggered into the city. Consecutive days of 90km across hill country had proved too much for us.

Fortunately we found a lovely German oasis, Casa Chueca (the wobbly house), set in beautiful grounds with many quirky features that include an outdoor bath, a go karting track and an arboretum. A bell is rung at 7pm each night for delicious vegetarian meals that are served at a communal table.

“I don’t want to leave” says Clare, “I’m not ready to get back on my bike.”

Perhaps we’ll stay an extra night … or two?

Andy

Our route so far …

What do you pack in only two panniers?

That was the most difficult task I had before we left for Chile. The main difference between my kit and Andy’s (apart from a lot of pink & purple) is that a woman does actually need more clothes and toiletries than a man.

So far everything I packed has been used many times but that extra warm top that Andy wouldn’t let me sneak in at the last minute has been sorely missed!

The most useful bits of clothing have been my fleece, jeggings and a multi-purpose sarong. Surprisingly my most useful piece of bike kit has been a red bungee. It makes a great washing line!

The weather here has been one of real extremes.

Inland temperatures regularly reach 38 degrees and the UV rays are so powerful that we’ve already run out of suncream.

In contrast, the Pacific coast was surprisingly chilly and windy for high summer. The cold Humboldt current which surges up from Antarctica dramatically reduces both land and sea temperatures.

The coastline south of Valparaiso is rough and raw with huge Pacific rollers attracting more surfers than sunbathers. Some local women even lie on the beach in sleeping bags!

Sitting on a foggy black sand beach a few days ago looking out over the rough Pacific Ocean I realised that New Zealand is the next nearest landmass. Physically, culturally and mentally I felt a long way from home.

Cycling has been a real challenge, especially on hot days. Big distances between accommodation have meant that we’re doing a lot more miles than we normally ride at home. But we’ve enjoyed both the physical challenge (well … most of the time) and the beautiful scenery.

However, Andy has really helped me by carrying all the spare bike parts and other heavy stuff so my panniers weigh in at just under 10kg.

We’ve also enjoyed the simple, fresh food of Chile.

Ceviche is a delicious local speciality made with raw fish marinated in citrus juices and spiced with chilli peppers, onions, salt and coriander. Fish along the coast is plentiful, served in big portions, simply fried or grilled.

We really like a local white fish called Reineta that often features on a Menu del Dias (daily lunch menu). Our favourite meal was in a small family cafe on the beach where reineta, chips and salad together with a bottle of good Chilean Sauvignon set us back only £10 each.

Every roadside stall we cycle past sell Empanadas (pastie style pies) and Pan Amasado (homemade bread), staple foods in Chile. And that Mote con Huesillo (peach and husked wheat drink) we tried in Santiago is everywhere!

Fresh fruit is so plentiful. Look at the label on your blueberries, strawberries and avocados and there’s a very good chance they’ll be imported from Chile at this time of year.

Adios
Clare

Tumbling down precipitous mountain slopes to the sea in a mass of uncontrolled curls, it’s fair to say that the city of Valparaíso has never needed a hairdryer.

“Valparaíso, how absurd you are … you haven’t combed your hair, you never had time to get dressed, life has always surprised you.”
Pablo Neruda, Chilean poet and Nobel prize winner

Valpo is one of the most extraordinary places we have ever visited.

It grew as a welcome rest stop for 19th century steamers on their way to the California Gold Rush and was built by the passengers that loved it so much, they decided to stay. But the boom was short lived as it was almost destroyed by a devastating earthquake in 1906 and worse, by the opening of the Panama Canal.

Today the good times are back with the city regenerated into a bohemian tourist destination and a major port once again, exporting fruit from Chile’s fertile agricultural interior.

A maze of steep sinuous streets, escalares (stairways) and ascensors (short funicular railways) connect crumbling mansions to shanty dwellings in a chaotic, democratic jumble. In technicolor too, for Valpo has embraced the Latin American passion for street art and graffiti more that any other city. Few buildings are spared a vibrant mural.

To be honest, cycling the route from Santiago to Valparaíso was a little tougher that we expected.

Cruising out of the city was easy and pleasant as we negotiated several cycle paths all the way out to the industrial outskirts. Here we were pleasantly surprised to find it a bike repair shop to tighten Andy’s back axle that had come loose on the flight.

Then came a steep 300m climb in the searing midday heat. At over 12% gradient in parts we were both forced to walk, watching our arms turn red as the sun burned down on us through the Antarctic ozone hole.

We were very relieved to reach our Cabinas (cabins) set amongst gorgeous orange groves and run by an eccentric French chef. The only accommodation for 20 miles, and the best meal for 50!

Sorting out the axle had put the gears totally out of sync. Tuning them the next morning took a lot longer than expected and this meant we had to tackle the two climbs that act as a gateway to the Casablanca wine valley in the hottest part of the day yet again.

But it was OK as we had an incentive. We’d booked a wine tasting at a small family vineyard and even had time to check into our Hostal (B&B) first.

Unfortunately when we arrived in Casablanca, the Hostal didn’t exist. The address was correct (Chacabuco Street), the Google blue dot was exactly where we were standing but there was no hostel, no welcoming shower.

It turned out there are several Chacabuco streets. This one was actually in Valparaíso, 40km away and the little blue dot was simply in the wrong place. In a car this would be fine, a small mistake … but on bikes, in 35 degrees heat, hot and bothered after a long day it was definitely, unquestionably, 100% NOT fine!!

The only alternative accommodation was 10km away. Typically, the winery was 5km in the opposite direction. It was a tough decision.

Of course the prospect of a chilled glass of fine Chilean Sauvignon followed by a spicy Syrah won the day. This meant it was much, much later in the day that we peddled the 15km to our new hostel, both a little wobbly!

The early Sunday morning ride across to Valparaíso was lovely, gently pedalling along quiet country roads in the cool morning air. We bumped into Raphael and Emilie, two young French cyclists who had ridden all the way from Ushuaia (near Cape Horn) and are now on their way to Lima in Peru. It was fun to share the ride down through the vertiginous cobbled streets all the way to the port … but genuinely scary!

As Emilie said halfway down … “this is nice, but how are we going to get back up?!” A problem for another day.

Valporaisa does not need a hairdryer and neither does Clare.

The small hotels and hostels we’re staying in are not the sort of places that supply one, so she’s been making good use of her pink roller instead.

And just like Valpo, it’s liberating!

Clare and Andy