Futaleufu to Villa Santa Lucia (Sun 2/14)

Stats:
- 49 miles (all dirt)
- 3200 feet of climbing 
- roadkill: 2 rabbits & 2 cars
- precipitation = zero
- winds = none to mild headwind 
- road surface quality = @&$%#!!!!!

I know. There is new data in the roadkill count, but we thought they should be included. We passed two cars that were off the road and totaled. The first looked like a new SUV. Windows were shattered. Two wheels were bent straight outward from the car. And, the rear bumper was ripped off. The second car was an older sedan. It looked like it rolled, landed back on it's wheels, pointing back in the direction from which it had come.  Now, how did these cars get to where they were?  It is not hard to understand when I tell you a prime "feature" in today's experience, but this is getting head of the story. 

We were rudely awoken very early this morning by a woodpecker. He was perched outside of our window, scratching on the glass, and banging away on the wood. Despite my banging on the window he continued with his wake up "call".  It was hard to be annoyed because he was a beautiful bird AND he woke us up to completely sunny blue skies. 

During breakfast, we talked about the weather, our A Plan for the day,  and the forecast.  We decided the right answer was to push south for the next three days and to not stop at the Bio Bio kayak and rafting camp.  Should the forecast be correct, we can get to a reasonable town in three days and wait out a bad stretch of weather if needed.  So, I first looked at breakfast as fuel for ~20 miles and then went back to fuel up for ~50 miles. But cereal and toast only goes so far. 

After breakfast, we stopped at a mini-market of sorts to buy bread and cheese. The temps were crisp, but the sun was warm on our backs and there was NO wind.  The setting of the Futaleufu River is very magical. It is a relatively narrow valley with high walls at times and beautiful mountains. This morning, we kept saying, " there wasn't this much snow last year".  We also didn't remember all the lakes. It was a great treat to see everything from the seat of a bike. We heard symphonies of frogs near the road. We enjoyed the wildflowers and occassional peaks of the river. 

We decided to take our first break as we passed the Bio Bio camp. It turns out that today was the first day of the season they didn't have a trip running. The guides were in town having taken the last group to the border very early this morning. So, we continued to the first bridge over the river (at the start of a section called "Bridge to Bridge"). Arn paddled it last year and wanted to see what it looked like at high water. From the bridge, we looked at Entrada rapid and ate alfajores (cookies). While we knew we were in for a long day, things were going well. 

Our next landmark was the second bridge. This is the take out for the "Bridge to Bridge" run. We stopped on the bridge to "admire" some stout and scary eddy lines. However, this was not what I will remember about the bridge. The second bridge is where the ripio went to hell.  The road grader had recently pushed the dirt around and it was miserable riding.  Yeah, I know, "how bad was it"?  Well, I had MANY hours to contemplate how I would describe this hellish surface.  Here is how you can recreate the experience. First, cover a dirt road in 8 inches of baby powder. Next, drop bushels of rocks the size of lemons and limes. Then, get on your bike with a (not so) small child on your back and ride it!  Now, when you finally get the hang of it, give the road a slant (bank the road around corners) and see if you can hang on without sliding into the ditch. To make things more "interesting", the nature of the suffering changed. To recreate this experience, start with an Olympic sized swimming pool. Fill it with golf balls. Again, get on your bike and ride from one end of the pool to the other. Should you not fall off, then you are ready for the section of the ride that has been labeled "the final insult" --- golf balls in the pool on a steep uphill grade. 

This punishing surface went on forever. We began to talk about when we would have lunch (bread and cheese).  With 30 minutes to go before our scheduled break, we reached the junction in the road. Our turn would be from the west southwest road through the Futaleufu River valley, to the road that would take us west northwest to join the Carretera Austral. At the junction, we found a woman selling sandwiches out of her house. Being the opportunists that we are, we stopped. She invited us into her dining room. Given what we looked like, I wouldn't have invited us into the garage -- never mind the dining room. She left us with two cold cokes while she went to get sandwiches. Next thing we knew, we heard the clatter of pans and the sound of something sizzling. She could have fried shoe leather and we would have gladly eaten it. She returned with two sandwiches each the size of my head!  I am not kidding. They reminded me of a poboy sandwich in New Orleans. It was a homemade bread roll with lettuce, tomato (some of the best I've eaten), a hamburger, and roasted chicken!  As the girl who has been on the hunt for protein for breakfast and lunch, I was convinced I had found my saviour!  Arn declared he was going to eat the entire sandwich. He did. I gave it a good shot. Let's just say I prioritized and there was not a gram of meat left behind. 

Refueled, we returned to "battle with the ripio".  Our views were superb. The vegatation started to change. We began to see ferns along the road. The trees began to change. We continued to see lakes, rivers and streams. The mountains were topped with snow. As we pushed on, it was clear we were moving into temperate rainforest with lakes and mountains. I know this is lacking in creavity, but it looked like a scene from Jurrasic Park. I expected to see dinosaurs chomping on the trees. The road was lined with these plants that have tall stalks. Each stalk ends in a single leaf the size of a car door or car hood.  Really, I think dinosaurs would have liked this stuff. We saw clusters of foxglove flowers in white and purple.

We passed a lone cyclist heading the opposite direction to ours. He was traveling light with a handlebar bag, a backpack, and a seat post rack carrying his tent. His plan was crazy. Today, he planned to ride nearly 90 miles from some hot springs near El Chitan to Futaleufu. Then tomorrow, he plans to retrace his steps back to the Carretera Austral and continue south to where we plan to be in two days!  This is a 125 mile ride on dirt!  Someone told him there was a nice place to stay in Futaleufu. And, he explained that he has a ticket for the ferry, much further south, on February 27th. So, he doesn't have time to waste. He was from Germany and we thought that might explain his advance purchase for the ferry. Every other rider plans to sort out ferries when they make it that far south.    

The ripio battle continued. It was both mentally and physically grueling. With no way to go other than forward, we perservered. When things really suck on a bike (and let's face it -- in life, stuff just sucks sometimes), I play math games. I play the, "at this pace I will be there X more minutes".  This game can be grinding on the brain because as you get tired you ride slower and the number of minutes increase. This game is a brain bender until you get close enough that the minutes are really starting to reduce. There is a pep talk that helps this game -- "come on, anyone can ride a bike for 180 minutes".  Then, I play the "bottles of beer on wall" game. I calculate the remaining distance in tenths of a mile (15 miles equals 150).  I take this number and start mentally singing, "150 bottle of beer on the wall, 150 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 149 bottles of beer on the wall....". Now, this game is usually very good.  You play for a while, look at the bike computer, and think "wow, only 135 bottles of beer to go".  So, I played math games. 

Then, we reached the "final insult" --- a long, steep, uphill grind through golf balls. At the bottom, we saw two large roadkill. It was the two cars in the ditch.  Given how some people drive, it was really no surprise to see two cars rolled off the road by the golf balls. I can't remember the number of times we both nearly went to the ground trying to ride either baby powder or golf balls.  I know we both had a few slips and managed to get a foot down to catch the bike before a crash.  As we climbed up the golf ball ramp and I ranted, "There is no place where this crap is compacted". Soon, I was breathing too hard to ride and complain at the same time. So, I shut up and continued to take my punishment. 

Eventually, we looked into the distance and saw a car traveling on a road perpendicular to our road. It was the Carretera Austral!  We had arrived at the road we have talked about for nearly a year.  At this point in the day, we were actually much more excited about the fact that this meant the day on the bike was over.  At the road junction was the "town" of Villa Santa Lucia. "Town" is a hard word to apply to the place. We were not expecting much.  The German cyclist said he couldn't even buy food in Villa Santa Lucia. Our goal was to find a place to sleep inside.  We stopped at a hosteria -- full. We stopped at a hostel -- full. Luckily, the woman wanted to help. She sent us to the "supermarket" as they have a room for rent -- no answer and the store (about the size of a single car garage) was closed. We returned to the hostel and this time she sent us to the house where the lady makes bread and sells it from her kitchen.  She wasn't home either. Again, we returned to the hostel and this time she sent us to the elementary school. Given that it was Sunday in the middle of the summer, we were not surprised to find no one at the school. One more time, we returned to the hostel. This time, the young woman went to a neighbor's house and found a man that rents a cabana. Lucky for us, it was available. He showed us around, plugged in the gas can to heat the water and to provide fuel the stove, gave us the key, and left us to get settled. 

With everythig unloaded, I took first shower. At one point, there was a hint of warm water. And then, it was liquid ice. Really, any colder and the pipes might have froze. After showering, Arn took a walk to see if the store might be open. He returned with two sodas, butter and eggs. We warmed some bread and enjoyed bread with butter.  I washed our clothes in the kitchen sink.  Arn cooked dinner --- pasta with olive oil and a dried pesto mix.  

Someone in the store explained that the wine in town is sold from someone's house. While I cleaned the dishes, Arn decided to walk around to see if he could pick off a stray WIFI signal and to find the "wine" house. I laughed -- if you could have seen this village of ~50 houses, you'd know WIFI wasn't happening. Still, info on the weather would have been helpful. About 15 minutes later, Arn returned with no WIFI and no wine, but he did have a fellow cyclist with him. He had found Santiago headed to the elementary school. You'll remember, Santiago is the guy from Barcelona that jumped out in the street in Futaleufu and asked, "Are you the two Americans from Seattle?" So, with an extra bedroom in the cabana, there was plenty of room for all.

With more determination, Arn and Santigo headed out to find beer or wine to go with this evenings festivities --- the celebration that we are all inside and not dealing with tents, camp stoves, and gas bottles (let me tell you --- burning unleaded gas to cook dinner is an extremely messy and dirty process).  They returned with the conclusion: it is Sunday and no one sells beer or wine in Villa Santa Lucia on Sunday.