Saturday 15th, Oct.
Saying that the ride this morning was much of the same belittles the immense scenery, but it was much of the same. The same silent highway through thick forest and corridors of grey cliffs so vast as to mess with my depth perception. I’m now convinced that the reason we as humans enjoy mountain and ocean views is because of the bewildering sense of scale and time they present, relieving us of the importance of our thoughts and putting our tasks in perspective. I had a goal of Villa Mañihuales 50km away and was cruising along a flat stretch when I saw two figures on bikes in the distance. As I got closer I could see it was the Ben & Tom of the Ratbag Nomads who I’d met with twice before on the way. I’d seen them last at a bar in Puyuhuapi and they had then overtaken me while I detoured to Puerto Cisnes. We caught up as we rode on together as we came out of the foothills and into a new climate. It was starting to feel like gaucho country. Poplar trees outlined ranches ranches and cattle and pick-up trucks became the scenery, a few of their drivers wearing the boina berets of the region.
We entered Villa Mañihuales and sat on the street devouring a mixed bag of empanadas, tuna wraps, fruit and cake from the shop behind us. In the full afternoon heat we rested and digested in the empty town plaza, a couple of lazy dogs sensed our vibe and joined us. On the road out of town we passed more pasture fields with tall waterfalls in the distance, a long straight road through the valley until we hit a fork in the road where the paving ended to the left. We took the dusty dirt road to continue Ruta 7 and it began to take on a different feel, more wild and remote as it wound over streams and past solitary farmhouses. Another 10km, an hour on the gravel, and we reached the night’s camp in a small quarry sheltered from the wind by the steep side of loose rocks.
Austral Spring 