HelenThe final push!!
It rains all night and the wind howls through the now broken tent zip, which means we’re awake early, and inside the campsite refugio warming up and drinking tea. We can’t get going until 10am as we have to pick Chris’ blood glucose reader up from the post office (we left it in a hostel on Chiloe!). It’s a cold morning and there’s fresh snow on the nearby mountains.
We eventually get going, I’ve re-subscribed to Spotify and downloaded my old playlist, I feel I’m going to need some motivation to get though this last bit. Although we’re lucky with the weather. The wind behaves and stays behind us most of the day. Out of Puerto Natales and away from the snowy mountains it’s very barren landscape, incredibly flat with little trees or anything to keep my eyes happy. We stop at one of the many ‘protected bus shelters’ for tea and lunch. It’s obvious it can get very windy here! But it’s calm inside our little shelter.
There’s not much to see all day but the road is quiet and we do see a huge condor up close. At first it’s so big I think it’s an ostrich, but then it takes flight, it’s long wings arched elegantly as it soars. It’s magnificent. We cycle 65 miles and end up in a tiny village in an abandoned building. From the outside it looks like it’s just about to collapse, but there’s one room inside still intact, with drawings and motivational words from previous cyclists. It’s ironic really, there’s no way I’d sleep in a place like this under normal circumstances, but here it’s a real bonus to find some shelter from the wind and cold. During the night I can hear a scuffling sound in the room, and then Chris hissing and something scurrying away! In the morning Chris tells me he thinks it may have been a puma! I’m thinking maybe a mouse or a rat!
We’re up early and cycling by 7am. It’s cold but calm, we ride in silence and eventually the sun peeps out of the clouds and warms us. Again it’s flat landscape, but I focus on getting to Ushuaia. Wagons beep their horns and wave, as do some of the bus drivers. At 12pm the wind picks up and it gets more difficult, I’m leaning into the crosswind but it’s hard work. But the sky clears and the blue sky lightens everything. We sit in another bus shelter and have lunch, as I watch another condor above elegantly soaring. I wonder how it’s able to balance in the wind so gracefully when I’m being thrown all over the place! We also see an armadillo scurrying across the road.
The wind changes slightly at some point in the afternoon ane suddenly we’re sailing. It’s an amazing feeling after hours of hard work to suddenly feel like you’re flying through the air. We pick up speed and make the most of the tailwind. We stay in another abandoned house 17 miles outside of Punta Arenas. This one is much cleaner and not falling apart! There’s a heavy goods vehicle weighing office nearby so I knock on the door and ask them if it’s ok to stay the night. The three men are very kind and welcoming. I ask to fill up our water bottles, and they show me to the kitchen, it’s warm and has a sofa! I’m tempted to sit on it but I’d probably fall asleep! They laugh and say I can cook in there and use the bathroom, but I return to our abandoned house, and we drink tea in the last of the sun.
The next day we wake up to rain! But luckily we’re inside so we don’t have to pack up a wet tent! We cycle the last twenty miles into Punta Arenas, we’re right next to the sea but it’s difficult to see as there’s so much cloud. Punta Arenas is far bigger than I’d imagined, and the centre itself looks quite interesting with lots of old Victorian looking buildings. But we can’t hang around to explore unfortunately, as we’ve checked the weather and tomorrow is definitely the best day to cycle across to the east of Tierra del Fuego. So we quickly get some supplies and get to the ferry terminal for the 5.30pm ferry. It’s strange to think this will be the last time we’ll cycle on the actual southern continent. It’s gloomy and cold as the ferry sets off. I’m running on adrenaline at this point, I feel totally exhausted. It feels more like a strategic battle rather than a gentle cycle to the end. Tomorrow we have strong westerly winds which is great but Friday we have strong north easterly’s predicted, which means to make it work in our favour we’ll need to cycle 90 miles tomorrow!
It’s a lovely evening as we get off the ferry, cycle along through Porvenir with its colourful houses alongside the sea, and camp ten miles outside of town beside a lake. There’s a fence around most of the lake but we can see a derelict building in one corner. It’s going dark and we’re running out of options so we camp beside one of the old buildings for wind protection. There are many small buildings with doors missing and windows smashed, and animal skulls on the ground. It’s really quite eery. I have the worst nights sleep since the beginning of our journey. I’m so cold, I keep waking up to put more layers on, my sleeping mat also keeps going down so I have to get up every few hours to pump it back up! Im exhausted in the morning, but we pack up and leave.
The road turns to ripio but it’s a beautiful ride, along the coast in the morning sun, the birds singing with the wind behind us. In the distance I see what look like plumes of smoke coming out of the sea, but it’s actually whales. It’s unbelievable and fascinating to see, so many of them, it really lightens my day. We see foxes, flamingos and guanacos. We eventually rejoin the main tarmac road, and with a tailwind we’re soon at the Chilean customs, get out final exit stamp, cycle another ten miles to the Argentinian immigration office, get our entry stamp and find the waiting room, where apparently we can stay overnight. It’s toasty warm inside, with a cooker and hot water. We have hot showers, and chat to a Mexican cyclist that turns up. Later on a German cyclist turns up, going north from Ushuaia. He complains about the winds and I really feel for him.
After being woken up at 5am by the Mexican, Ifan, slurping his tea and making a meal of packing away, we eventually head off too for Rio Grande, a town where we can re supply. It’s a dull day with the cloud down. I’m initially excited as we can see the sea and fir the first time on this trip it’s actually the Atlantic and not the pacific. But the rest of the day is a struggle as we move away from the sea, it’s an easy cycle physically, but the landscape is so boring I’m really having to try to motivate myself. We eventually arrive in Rio Grande, an oil mining town. We sit in the YPF garage, which has become our favourite place in Argentina to get coffee, medialunas and charge up our phones. We find a campsite on the outskirts of town. Gracilas campsite turns out to be a small space in her back garden. She’s lovely, welcoming us with a beaming smile and inviting us in. We can use the kitchen and lounge to relax and stay warm. It’s a quirky house with a lot of character, and I instantly feel at home. It’s not often I walk into someone’s house and feel connected to them instantly but here I do. Gracila has a kind heart and warm soul, a kind of what you see is what you get type of person. The type I like and understand.
We decide to stay here two nights, as the wind looks strong the following day and not worth the risk. After a good nights sleep I wake up and sit in the warm house with a cup of tea. Gracila comes in and tells me to sit in her conservatory, it’s warm with a sofa and great views over the sea. I feel at peace. I start to read a book written by an English travel writer who rides a 125cc from Ushuaia to New York. It features Gracila as he fractures his ankles crashing in snow on his first day, and ends up in Gracilas hostel, where she nurses him back to health. The book gives me an insight into her younger life and also some of the Argentinian struggles, including the Falkland’s war and political oppression faced.
Later on as we share a glass of wine with Gracila, there’s a knock at the door and a Brazilian couple are asking to camp in their campervan in her driveway for the night. The man Julio chats to us and when he realises we’re British, he laughs and says something in Spanish about the Malvinas and us. Gracila shoots him down. I’m embarrassed I know little about the Falkland’s war, even though I’ve seen much street art about it both in northern Argentina and more recently here. We plan to leave early the next morning to avoid the worst of the winds. Gracila makes me promise to wake her up so she can make us coffee, but I write her a note saying thank you and that we will remember her. I don’t want to wake her up on a Sunday, a rest day precious to Argentines.
My anxieties about the strong winds are unnecessary, and although it rains for most of the day, the wind is on our backs for most of it, and 73 miles later we arrive at Tolhuin, a small town with the famous La Union bakery. It’s famous amongst cyclists as the owner Emilio, has always allowed cyclists to stay in the warehouse of his bakery. In 2021 the old bakery burnt down, but with help from many people including cyclists, a new modern bakery was built. It’s a huge place for the size of the town, employs many local people and is very popular with the local community. Apart from that, the cakes and empanadas are amazing! We’re shown to the warehouse and down in the warm basement we set up our sleeping mats amongst plastic cups, bags of flour and cardboard boxes. We meet other cyclists staying the night also. Joan and Alan, an older French couple, Serena from Vancouver and Harry from Grange over Sands, about thirty minutes from our home town, Ulverston. We have a good night sat in the bakery, sharing cakes and stories.
We all set off one after the other the next morning. The others plan to take a more scenic route along the coast but with one final section of at least five hours ‘hike-a-bike’ to get onto Ushuaia. We’re tired and have done our fair share of pushing through mud, so opt for the main road. It’s not that busy, and with the cloud partially down it makes the mountains and lakes look scenic. We cycle past large forests of beech, rivers become a feature once again and the dry pampas of the previous days feel long forgotten already. We wild camp next to a river about eight miles short of Ushuaia. We’re in no rush to get there and it feels good to wild camp one more time. It doesn’t feel like we’re anywhere near Ushuaia and I can’t quite believe we’ll be there tomorrow, after all this time.
We both fall asleep really early, so exhausted. I’m wide awake by 5am but it’s cold, raining and pitch black, so I stay huddled in my sleeping bag until I eventually doze back off, waking again at 7.30am. We pack away slowly, and head off. Im thinking it will take us at least an hour but it’s downhill and within twenty minutes we’re at the ‘gates’ to Ushuaia with two big signs marking entry! We stop and take pictures, it all feels a bit surreal and a bit of an anti-climax. It’s industrial with lots of trucks around. We carry on and drop down to the coast, an icy wind in our face, as we carry on towards the centre. To our left is the beagle channel and beyond that some snow capped mountains. We stop in town at the YPF and have coffee, just like any other normal day. We’re both quiet and contemplative. I feel a bit numb, ten months of cycling with Ushuaia being the end point and now we’re here I don’t really feel anything! We cycle back along the shore a few hundred metres where there’s a colourful Ushuaia sign. A Russian girl takes some photos of us, putting us into various positions and telling us to smile, almost like she’s a wedding photographer. Then we go for lunch at an old French patisserie on the shore front.
Then we head to our Airbnb, drag our bikes and panniers up two flights of steps one last time. We dash around emptying bags, cleaning pans, washing clothes, difficult to switch off from our routine, even though we have nowhere to dash off to. I cook some roasted veg we’ve been craving for days, celebrate with a bottle of wine and fall asleep in an actual bed with the heating on! It’s 6 degrees the next morning, but we wake up early to a beautiful bright orange sunrise. We cycle the final 13 miles to the actual end of the road, Fin Del Mundo. It’s not the classic wilderness I had imagined for reaching the ‘end of the world’. The road is full of tourist buses, mini buses, and cars all flying past us kicking up dust into our faces. We arrive at a car park full of people, walk to the famous sign and take a picture. Then we cycle back the same way to equal amounts of buses and dust!
So ten months on, almost 7000 miles of cycling, over 250,000 metres of elevation, and 6 countries it’s difficult to put into words how you feel. I guess because in actual fact I feel so many emotions, happiness, relief, gratitude, excitement but also a little fear about what happens next, and a tinge of sadness that for now this journey is over. But memories will remain and like any big challenge, the changes that occur carry you forward to the next stages of your life, and of course to the next adventure!
