Trevelin to Futaleufu (Sat 2/13)

Stats:
- 31 miles (23+ on dirt)
- 1100 feet of climbing
- roadkill: 1 bird & 3 rabbits (all blown to death by the wind)
- precipitation = ZERO
- season = summer!!
- wind = a total blaster of a head wind
- ripio quality = butt breaker

After last night's rain, we were hopeful but unsure if the forecast would prove correct. It did. The skies were blue with only a few clouds. While our room last night was very tight with two bikes and all our gear (I had to crawl out the bottom of the bed to avoid the bikes), our hosteria served up the best breakfast of the whole trip. My legs have been ready to declare a strike when presented with toast and sweets for breakfast. They have been in search of something with more holding power and it was served up today --- hardboiled eggs. Awesome. 

We loaded up and headed off in the direction of the border with Chile. The temps were warm and Arn never even put on arm warmers today. Initially, we were headed south. When the road turned west, we knew a head wind was likely. Well, it didn't disappoint. It was a head wind. At first, the dirt road surface was pretty good and head wind wasn't too ugly. At some point, we crossed a stream and it really picked up. This is where Arn yelled, "Oh yeah, no more girly wind.  It's a man's man wind".  For me, I prefer girly wind. In fact, I think a sissy prissy girly wind is best. Now, to make things more "interesting", the road surface went to shit --- loose, washer board, and more loose. Last night's rain kept down the dust. Traffic was light. Traffic that passed from behind was very light and very courteous. The jerks were in the head on direction and most failed to realize the option of using a brake or just not standing on the gas. 

As for the scenery, it was another feast for the eyes....wide valley (good fetch for the wind), stunning mountains, snow up high, winding river, ranches, the ocassional farm, and a few gauchos riding horses along the road.  After 18 miles, we found a small store in the front of someone's farmhouse. We stopped for a drink and a few minutes out of the wind. What happened next was inspiration for becoming a vegaterian. The store was a small room with glass counters and cabinets and a wooden floor and ceiling. It reminded me of a place near my grandparents were my brother and I went as kids to buy nickel bubblegum cigars. There was a collection of old scales on the counter. In one corner, there were baskets with fresh bread and tortas fritas (fried dough).  In the other corner, there was a butchered lamb hung to dry (I guess) and a saw. So, we selected a carbonated grapefruit flavored drink and three tortas fritas to share. As we enjoyed our break, a local man arrived to buy red wine and 4 kilos (8.8 pounds) of fresh lamb. Really, I wish I had video of the sight and sound of 8.8 pounds of lamb being sawed off (come on you know it --- she sawed right through bones).  And then, the whole slab of lamb was hoisted onto two different sets of scales to calculate the weight and price. Tonight, I think I am looking for fish --- or anything that comes to the table without bones!

We hopped back on the bikes and continued to take our beating in the wind. At one point, I asked Arn, "You can only have one of the following and you have to choose one. You can either have no wind and this road surface. Or, you can have a great dirt road with this wind". I had been thinking about this for a while and didn't have a clear answer. My butt was killing me. It is called a "hardtail" mountain bike because you need a hardtail to ride it. Fully loaded, it is a real spanking!  The wind dried out my nose and throat to the point that both felt like they were on fire. So, my theoretical question was a tough one.  Arn couldn't decide.  He said it was a very difficult choice. 

Eventually, a car passed us and then stopped. It was the Israelis from last night. They piled out of their car offering drinks, apples and bananas. They were like a sag wagon of good cheer. We chatted for a bit and then all headed off to the border.  Sure enough, they were in the customs line when we arrived. There seemed to be two different processes to leave Argentina. We completed the first and they declared we could leave because we were on bikes. Next, we reached the Chilean side. The constrast between the two is marked. Think a cluster exercise versus a neat line. Between the two stops, it took 30 minutes and we were back in Chile. While I love Argentina and I find the people easier to understand than in Chile, there is just something about Chile that runs deep in my heart.  There was definitely a sense of "aaahhh" --- we are back. 

The road leaving the border headed to Futaleufu was paved!  No ripio!  At first, neither of us commented. It was like, "Hey, if I say something about 'isn't this the best chip and seal road in the world', then it will return to ass smashing ripio".  And by the way, with the tires we are running, chip and seal pavement feels like riding glass it is so smooth. Finally, Arn just had to break the silence. "When we cross that bridge over the stream, you know this is going to ripio".  It didn't!  In fact, it stayed as pavement until we reached town!  Along the way, we passed this huge rock grinding operation. I think they are making the  means for chip and seal. Okay, I get it. Places in the world should remain as they once were and dirt is better than pavement. Well, tell this to the people that live and breathe ripio dust. And if your butt felt like ours right now, you would vote to pave the road to hell and find a different kind of torture for the rest of time.  Enough about butts, ripio and pavement. 

As we come into the town of Futaleufu, this guy jumps out in the street and started yelling after us. So, we stopped. He ran up and said, "Hey, are you the two Americans from Seattle?" Didn't expect this one. He explained that he heard about us from the Swiss couple (we passed them head on several days ago) and then he heard about us again from Alex (rode with him a few days ago).  So, he has been on the look out for us as we are headed the same way. His name is Santiago and he is from Barcelona.  Santiago was headed off for an afternoon of rafting on the Futa. Now, we looked at the river in a flat section on our way into Chile. It is cooking --- bank full with some ripping eddy lines in the flat stretches. You couldn't pay this Chica to get anywhere near a raft and definitely not a kayak. As for the Chico, he is currently saying the same thing.  

We scouted out a very nice place for the night. It feels like a log cabin with some very interesting fixtures. The overhead light is an upside down tin funnel with a light bulb. Sanded tree branches are mounted on the walls to hang towels and clothes. The bathroom sink is mounted in an old sewing machine with the manual treadle at the bottom (I hope that is what you call that thing).  The other lights look like karosene latterns except with bulbs. 

Our forecast continues to look good; however, we are headed into a zone known for bad weather. We met a guy from Argentina this afternoon. He spent 20 days where we are headed. It rained for 17 days. He spent 4 days in a row in his tent hoping it wouldn't leak.  So, we are hoping to get lucky. Tomorrow, we plan to continue westward. We are going to stop at the Bio Bip camp were we stayed last year for a  week of kayaking on the Futa. I have been put in charge of our "begging" plan. This is where we beg to stay two nights -- paying for a tent cabin (if available), food, and hot showers.  We are both having fantasies of Cookie's cuisine. And, it would be great to see some familar faces from last year. If this doesn't pan out, there is a B Plan and C Plan.  After this post, I will put up a link to our photos for the last several days. From here, we don't know when we will be back on the grid.  So, let's hope for luck and if not, let's pray for a sense of humor.