The Carretera Austral

The trip from Coyhaique to La Junta should have taken, according to the calculations of Andres who gave me the ride to La Junta, about 5 hours. Had I continued by car he may have been right. But I continued on the slowest bus ever. It crawled down the ripio (gravel) road at a snails pace. The rocks were loose and the gravel was wet, the roads washed away in parts from the recent rain storms. I was surprised we made it up some of the hills as I heard the wheels fight for traction below me. I expected to arrive in Coyhaique with plenty of daylight so that I could find my hostel without trouble. When I eventually arrived 10 hours later it was midnight and I was in the middle of Coyhaique, a town of about 43,000 people, and the commercial center of the Aysen region. But at midnight, the commercial center looked decidedly uncommercial and though I had the name of a hostel, it was located a 2km walk out of town and I hadn´t a map or any idea which way to go. I approached two English speaking travelers, Josh from Montana and Bryan from Colorado. They didn´t have a plan either and were hoping for an ideal camping spot next to the river but it was no looking like that wouldn´t be happening. So we decided to grab a taxi rather than attempt to walk somewhere in the dark without a map. The hostel was a log cabin outside of town and felt very ski lodgey with a warm woodstove in the center of the common area, a kitchen to use, and 3 baby kittens to make me smile.

The next day I explored the town and went to the airline office to ask about a flight down to Punta Arenas. The flight was definitely affordable and seemed promising. Until the woman told me the next available flight wasn´t leaving until March 4th. At this time it was around the 23rd of February and I definitely couldn´t wait that long for a flight. Later at the hostel I was telling Bryan and Josh about the letdown at the airline and since they were headed south as well they invited me along. They had a three person tent and were planning on camping their way down the Carretera Austral and eventually crossing over into Argentina when the Carretera ends. They were attracted to this area for the incredible fly fishing it is well known for and had all the gear needed to camp. I had no gear and a weak sleeping bag, but we decided that it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement if we traded my language abilities for their tent. We spent one more night in Coyhaique where we made our ininerary for the next few days. Since my sleeping bag was only graded for +55F they suggested I buy asleeping pad to try to keep off the ground. The only one I could find was not much more than a yoga mat, but it was only two bucks, so I bought it anyway.

Josh and Bryan ran into Greg, a biker who they had met earlier in their travels, and the four of us continued farther south along the ripio road to Villa Cerro Castillo a town with about 500 residents. We inquired about campsites, but most charged money so we set out to find the ever idyllic campsite by the river. We followed signs to Camp 3 Hermanos, but we never saw the 3 hermanos and instead ended up with a great spot near(ish) to the river with an outstanding view of the Cerro Castillo peaks above us, shrouded by clouds as they were. My first night camping I was freezing. I had on two pairs of wool socks, two pairs of pants, a tee shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a fleece jacket, and a hat. I was still cold but woke up feeling rested.

We did a nice 8 or 9 hour trek the following day through pastureland, forests, and windy bluffs. We returned to camp and made a badass pasta dinner and decided to reward ourselves after the hike with a little alcohol. After some beer, some wine, and a copious amount of whiskey around the campfire and the addition of a down jacket borrowed from Bryan I was nice and toasty the second night. After two nights of possible trespassing in Cerro Castillo we got a bus to Cochrane, 343km south of Coyhaique.