[012] Bikepacking Los Siete Lagos
I'm travelling in South America. Here's what I'm up to, some photos and other bits
Already on the busy road out of Bariloche I had a smile on my face. I hadn’t been on a bike in such a long time, and the joy of riding returned immediately.
It’s hard to describe why riding a bike is so much fun. Maybe it transports us to early childhood memories of freedom when we first felt able to reach far flung places - the cricket pitch, our friends house, Coxley Woods - independent from our parents.
Maybe it’s the elementary pleasure of moving at great speed using only your body’s strength. Feeling a strong connection with your bike and the road, as your muscles transmit energy through pedal to chain to wheel to ground.
There is the problem solving too. Moving fast on a bike is a bit like Temple Run. Obstacles come at you quickly and you need minute adjustments to your balance to navigate them. Focus is required, but it feels automatic and second nature once you’ve ridden a bike long enough.
There is also something special about your relationship with things you pass. Your connection with the guy selling tomatoes from a table on a roadside seems more magical. You give him a wave, sometimes he waves back. And the landscape evolves at a steady speed. On foot the picture in front of you may be frozen for hours, and in a car the view vanishes as quickly as it comes (plus, you're inside a car). But on a bike your perspective is always developing, and there is something beautiful about this.
A bike’s weight and balance is important for the joy of the ride. For this reason I avoided panniers and kept my set-up light. I was riding for five days over 200km to San Martín de los Andes; tent and sleeping bag strapped to the handlebars, clothes in between my frame, and food and stove in my saddlebag and light rucksack.
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My first three days were unpaved roads in the dry Patagonian Steppe. I started on a track which followed the contours of the hillsides. High to the right were smooth hills, the harsh sunlight softened by the grasses which had made their home there. Craggy outcrops cast large inviting shadows. Sometimes magnificent rock formations burst out of nowhere - a bit like, erm, the cheese moon in Wallace and Gromit - if that’s the comparison I’m after.
Below me ran the glassy blue Rio Limay which defined the border between the Neuquén and Rio Negro provinces. Sometimes it slipped out of view but remained marked by the bright green willows which lined its banks. The river pooled in places and a fishing guide navigated a rowing boat with deft touches to the oars as an angler cast his line to the bank, feeling for trout. On the road lizards scampered into the grasses and hawks perched atop telephone poles.
The poplar trees marked Villa Llanquin in the distance, my first overnight stop. The leaves on the Poplars were yellow but hadn’t fallen yet. I set up my tent by the river then went for a swim upstream of the fishermen who were wading up to their waist. The water felt cold but pleasant on my collarbone, and the flow was steady so I could keep my position against the bank with a strong breaststroke.
I stood on a rock and let the sun dry me as it finished its inevitable descent behind the hill to the west. I closed my eyes, felt the warmth on my eyelids and listened to the river descending to the right of me. When I opened them the sun had disappeared and the valley was cool in shadow. Only the house on the hill behind me was illuminated by the sun’s glow. Two cormorants headed upstream, flying straight and holding close to the surface of the river.
For five days I kept my routine of making breakfast, working at the pedals, setting up camp, swimming then stretching.
At times I felt heavy, tackling the uphills like a tubby man on a one-person ski lift. Other times I pedalled with fury, fuelled by the good tunes playing from my phone. Listen to the first twenty minutes of ‘Joy As An Act Of Resistance’ by Idles and your legs can pedal beyond a rhythm you feel capable of.
I spent my afternoons at the 'work station'. Wide handlebars, water bottle kept cool in it's holder, and my phone either directing me, recording my ramblings, or playing music.
In my water bottle I had the latest innovation in my life: SPRIM. Tell me if I’ve missed this on the shelves of UK supermarkets, but it’s a game changer. Add this powder to your water and it tastes like rocket fuel. Probably there is nothing performance enhancing in it. Certainly the added colourings are carcinogenic. But it provides a sweet hit when you need it most. Top three flavours so far: orange & banana, lemonade & lime, watermelon.
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Halfway into the ride the road turned to tarmac. The rivers became lakes, and the landscape changed to Lenga and Pine forests. I made big distances on the downhill and turned a low gear on the uphills. At lucky moments a breath of cool air greeted me on the hills and the big pines threw shade onto the road. I breathed in their refreshing aroma, distinct from the pine trees on the Steppe which were parched and smelled like summer holidays in Mallorca.
The tarmac rewards you with small changes to the roads gradient. There is probably a metaphor for life in here. You can be slogging it for hours on a very small incline, and then an imperceptible change in the road allows you pick up speed without effort. I think the best thing to do in these moments is to stop pedalling and enjoy.
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As I descended into San Martin I felt like Tom Pidcock on Stage 12 in 2022. The road ran high above Lago Lácar where the white sails of a yacht flopped in the breezeless afternoon. I celebrated my arrival into San Martin with a swim from the beach. I was the only person in the water. I swam for the rope and breached it, heading to the mountains on the horizon. A lifeguard’s whistle tooted at me. I reluctantly swam back to the rope, stood up in waist deep water, then performed my Rage Abatement Breathing technique.
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San Martin is a pretty town with nice architecture. It has the most modern feel of anywhere I’ve been in Patagonia. There are goths and people with Fjällräven backpacks
I’m ten weeks into my trip and this bike ride has to be one of the standout moments alongside sunrise on Fitzroy and Patagonia National Park. I'm keen to do some fishing here then I’ll probably wind back into Chile towards Pucón and Valdivia.
Have a lovely Easter everybody
Love always
George
PS, I listened to some fantastic tunes on my ride and put them into this spotify playlist, including:
- Graceland by Paul Simon - the sun’s warming your skin, you’re taking a sip of lemonade SPRIM, how can you not be happy?
- Trinity: titoli by Annibale E I Cantori Moderni - imagine yourself as the hero in your own Western, but you’re riding into town on a bike not a horse, and in place of a gun you have a big appetite and penchant for cervecerías
- Key West (Philosopher Pirate) by Dylan - run a bath or pour a whisky and enjoyyy
- Style & Fashion by Ogbonjayar and Pa Salieu - tune
- Old Note by Lisa O’Neill - this song has indescribable beauty