Today in 2014: February 3rd (and 2nd)

View from El Mirador Restaurant, Panguipulli

 Villarica

 Villarica

 Temuco

 We weren't supposed to be here.

This Day in 2014 - January 26, 2014

This Day in 2014 - Part 1

 El Rincon, Los Angelas, Chile

Osorno, Chile

Days 19 - 22 - Storm Chasing

There is little fun to be had while riding through rain. What enjoyment exists is elusive at best, and non-existent in most cases.

We left Ancud, believing that we had timed the showers. This was true, right up until the ferry began to dock on the mainland, when the skies opened up. Donning our rain gear, and in the process turning ourselves into moving traffic pylons, we headed north towards Puerto Varas. Unfortunately, we followed the band of rain for about 50 km, getting significantly wet until we gave up and stopped under a bridge. Eventually the skies cleared and we continued on. After filling up with gas just before the town, we figured that the 5 km we had left was a short enough distance to make it before we were rained on again.

This proved to be an incorrect assumption. As we were going slowly riding in town, there was no slipstream to keep the rain going around us, and simply got all our gear wet. Fortunately, the hotel (1920s German colonist house) was splendidly warm.

The rain continued the next day, though at first it appeared to be dry. We pulled off the main highway towards with the plan to see three of the seven lakes (A group of lakes in Chile), and possibly two more, but the rain dashed our enthuisasm for the additional distance.

As we drove through Paguinpulli, I saw a restaurant that met two conditions:
1. It had a roof
2. It was open

We pulled into the parking lot, which turned out to be several inches of loose gravel, and the owner (Luis) dashed out to help us move the bikes to the more solid parking, then invited us inside, and promptly moved a number of chairs and hung our wet gear to dry.

It is not often that I am willing to drive a significant distance for a meal, however I encourage anyone who is within distance to go to El Mirador (S 39 38.578, W 72 20.426) and eat. Stopping in randomly, we had the best meal we have eaten in Chile and Argentina. I can here the critics saying that it was because we had a welcoming place to come in from the rain, but by the time the food arrived, we were already warm, dry and happy. Both of us had the Chicken Curry with rice (Chile grown) which was delicious to the point that my mouth is watering as I write about it. I should also mention that it happens to be built on a hillside and overlooks the lake.

Our bellies full we continued on as the rain had reduced itself to mere mist. Had it been dry, and there been no traffic (an accident backed up most of the 30km before Villarica), the road would have been a dream ride. As it was, we puttered along in second gear and admired the scenery.

Just after we arrived at the hotel we were joined by a Swede who is on a multi year trip around the world. Ken left Sweden in 2012 and rode all the way to Thailand, then shipped his bike and left Valpariso (Near Santiago) a few days ago, and by luck, was at the same hotel. Over dinner we shared our experiences with the roads and things to go see in Sourthern Chile, and taught him a few Spanish words (He speaks none).

The following morning, we aimed to wait out the rain for a couple hours by walking around the town, visiting an antique store that had been closed the day before (Some nice stuff, all unfortunately expensive), then set out when it looked dry.

Now, one would think that bringing a meteorolgist with you would result in good forcasts. It seems that the southern hemisphere is different enough that it merely gives a false of confidence, what we think is right, isn't. It rained all the way up until we hit the Routa 5 (About 60 km), and despite waiting under a tree for some time, the rain didn't lessen much. The hop to Temuco was short, and allowed us to go see the railway museum (It was closed), and wander around the town enough to realize that it is like Edmonton, if you don't work there, or have family/friends there, your reasons to end up there are pretty limited. So after a good sleep and a hearty breakfast (Nectarine pie among other things) we made the hop to Los Angeles, Chile, which is also a town like Edmonton.  So we left and returned to El Rincon, the location we stayed our first night on the bikes, and have spent the afternoon drying our gear and wandering the extensive property.

Under the bridge

Inside the El Mirador

The Curry

They grow everywhere down here

A view of the common room in Villarica

Days 8-10 - Steady as she goes!

As we were riding along today, I did something I never wanted to do. I sneezed in my helmet. It wasn't a case of "let's try this and see what happens", I tried to stop it. Fortunately it wasn't serious, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

In Bariloche, I woke up at 6 AM to the sound of the outer window banging against the building, and I thought to myself, I really hope the wind dies down before we leave. It didn't. The wind on out of the town was already strong, and it got worse as we rode towards the pass. We were down to 40-50 km/h for most of it, and the gusts were blowing the bike back and forth, apparently I was leaning at 30 degrees or more in some places. After battering (and being battered) our way to the relative calm of the valley, the riding got better, until we passed Argentinian exit customs and were headed up the pass, which we hoped to take some cool GoPro footage and enjoy the numerous corners and switchbacks. The wind rejoined us having brought rain along to play as well, and what we had hoped would be a delightful ride changed into an endurance test. For a few brief kilometers after Chilean customs, it was dry and calm. Then it began to sprinkle, which quickly became a steady rainfall. From this experience I can report two things: 1. The waterproofing on our jackets and pants does hold up well 2. The big Carhart rain jacket is mostly impervious to wind and rain, and as a plus, doesn't flap around much.

We reached Osorno feeling cold (and believing that we were wet), and after a brief map consultation pulled into what they call an Apart Hotel, which I think is what they call a motel, or anything with seperate entrances to the rooms. For the folks back home, Osorno seems to be equivalent to Red Deer, an agricultural based city.

Seeking nourishment we walked around and found a grocery store and since we had access to a kitchen, purchased a cooked chicken (same price as Canada), and a few other pieces. The next day was not so intermittent showers, and we toured downtown, tried to go to the museum, only to have it closed for renovations. I'm beginning to believe that someone is actively working to keep me from going to them. Chile, being primarily a Roman Catholic nation, has cathedrals in most cities, in Osorno it is V 5 (V 1 was destroyed by an indigenous attack, V 2 & 4 by earthquake and V 3 by fire. Or a combination like that). Construction was started in the early 60s so it has a very different feel from the Bariloche Cathedral. I would have taken pictures, but as there were people actively in there, I chose not to.

Peurto Montt (where we are based out of for the next three nights) seem sto be a fairly typical coastal city, though with a large number of German bars and restaurants. We ate at the Alaman Club for dinner, and the food was delicious, likely as it had been soaked in butter.

Tomorrow, the plan is to head for the Osorno volcano (Dormant since 1869).

Days 4-7 - Miles, Decisions, and a Change of Plans

Day 4 started out poorly. I slept badly for the second night (Third if you count the plane) in a row, I think if I had looked over at the clock consistently I would have seen all the hours multiple times.

Picked up the bikes from Ride-Chile, which took about two hours so we were on the road by 11. Our destination was at KM marker 494, a guest house recommended by Tomas at Ride-Chile.

Riding out of the city was fairly easy, at the last minute I chose to rent a GPS, which for the 310 USD seemed to be a good idea. This was confirmed less than an hour later as it guided us through a complicated series of exits to go south on the Route 5. We rode straight for 160 km, as I was leading and despite the spedometers being in miles, I didn't clue in that the odometer would also be in miles. We stopped for gas and I realized that we were making better distance than I thought. Gas is about 820 CHP per liter, or about $1.85/L.

The drivers in Chile are fantastic, there is no other way to put it. They are courteous, know their vehicles, and respect the others on the road that may not be doing the same speed. With respect to speed, the limit on the #5 is 120 km/h, but not everyone does that, (Busses are limited to 100, Semi trucks to 90), but even normal cars will putt along at 80 or 90 in the right lane. Everyone drives in the right lane, only pulling out into the left lane to pass.

We arrived at mile marker 494 and took the exit and down a gravel and sandy road got to a little guesthouse called El Rincon. It is a small patch of paradise. The beds were comfortable, the hosts (A German/British couple) were impecabble and the price was reasonable. They helped us out with maps and suggestions, and we booked a hotel for Osorno (About 400 km south) for the next night.

Unfortunately, Friday night wasn't much better in the sleep department for me, I think I got about 4 hours. At breakfast I still wasn't feeling well, the host Wendy made me a cup of a local tea which helped and I lay down for an hour which meant that we didn't get riding until about 1030.

We arrived in Osorno, and once at the hotel, my father and I were chatting about how much fun we were having. Which is to say, not much. For seasoned riders 400 km in a day isn't much, and while we can do it, it simply isn't very much enjoyment in it. We did 507 km the first day, and 438 the second. To shorten a longer discussion, we decided to ride to San Carlos de Bariloche (~240 km) the next day and make a final decision about if it was worth the discomfort to go all the way to Ushuaia (rain, wind, many long days back to back). Finally that night with the help of earplugs and exhaustion, I finally got about 6 straight solid hours of sleep in addition to a couple more on either side.

I'll spoil that next part and say we have changed the plan and have decided that touring southern Chile with shorter days but being free to stop and see things is more to our liking. On that note, about 20 km towards Bariloche, I saw an Auto Museum and decided to pull over. This turned out to be a fabulous decision. It is the first car musem to open in Chile back in late 1995, and is run by Bernando Eggers who loves cars for their beauty and memories. We got a personal tour from him, who had quite good English (despite his protestations). We heard his story about his love of cars as child, the loss of the passion when his parents were killed in a car accident, then he left them further behind when he got married. Then his wife urging him to return to them back in the early 1990s. His collection is primarily Studebakers, with other brands mixed in, as well as vintage cameras, and a few other things that "Interested him when he saw them". The museum came out of the fact that he had acquired 15 or so cars and his daughters and wife thought it would be nice to show them off. In fact, they agree so much that they agree that the cars will not be sold, they are for the museum so people can see them.

Bernando is the kind of man that I love to see collecting cars, it is for the simple love of them, not as investments or trailer queens, a good number of them are still road worthy (Others were in far too poor shape mechanically to be worth fully restoring), and he still drives them.

A very worthwhile stop, and a wonderful experience. We kept on, and the road began to be a little twisty, and into the mountains. Then we passed through the Chilean border (Permisson for you, then permission for your bike/car to leave Chile), with a little help from Mattias from Moto-Aventura (Who explained a few quick process questions and ended up doing a quick translation and chat with a guy at Argentinian customs, a big shout out of thanks to him!

Unlike Canadian/US customs, there is a bit of a gap between leaving Chile (Officially) and entering Argentina. In this case it is a mountain pass with switchbacks, hairpins, volcanic ash and stunning scenery. We crusied along at 60-70 km/h, enjoying the ride, the scenery, and the pace, as we knew that we only had 240 km that needed to be done for the day. For the non-bikers out there, we tend to meet each other, and we chatted with a gentleman and his wife from Argentina who were headed home, who has a friend taking two years to ride up to Alaska. I gave him my card and mentioned that I might know people who might be interested in meeting up with him (Ahem, Travis, Kyle, Trevor), as he arrives in Canada in 18 ish months.

We both left, he got out ahead of us and rode off. We caught up to him after more stunning scenery in what seems to be the Banff of western Aregentina, and I caught him just leaving a gas station (If you find gas in Argentina, you fill up. Period.) I asked if this station took visa, and he kindly asked the attendant who said no, and he told us to follow him to another gas station down the road that did. After waiting in line for some time to get gas (A novel experience for me) we headed out for the last 90 km to Bariloche. After about 50 km of riding along a lake, we opened up into what I believe is the Argentinian altaplano. Wow. You go from forested lake area to open desert in about 5 km. The pictures I doubt will do it justice.

The wind has a long lake to build up speed, and it buffets quite a bit as you turn to head south to Bariloche, and once we arrived at the hotel and parked our bikes (which was an ordeal in itself), we talked about dealing with that for days, and decided that a change of plans would be far more fun. So, we found a different hotel for the second night in Bariloche.

So all of today we spent being tourists in Bariloche, found new sunglasses for dad (his broke when they fell off the bike), exploring a church that was initially built in 1944 in Gothic style and is still under construction today. We tried to go to the Patagonia museum, but it turns out that it is closed on Mondays. Dang.

Tomorrow we head back towards Osorno for a couple days, then down to Puerte Montt.

My Father, Bernando And I Next To His Prized Avanti

Cathedral In Bariloche

Lake with Lenticular clouds

Day 13 - A Day in the Life of Alex Wiens

The alarm rings at 7:59 across the room, and I'm forced to move clumsily across the room to silence it. The honesty is, I've been dozing for the last two hours. It gets light at 6 AM, and the heat follows quickly. If I stay, it will become unpleasant to be in bed, and besides, I'm due at the dive centre in 31 minutes.

I rub my eyes and head into the washroom to grab my toothbrush, putting on a small bead of toothpaste I head to the kitchen, a mere two steps away, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle that has been chilling all night. I pour a small amount of the frigid water over the brush and scrub my teeth, using the potable water from the fridge to rinse my mouth and the brush. The water here isn't drinkable, I was told that the first day I arrived, but they said "It's ok to brush your teeth and cook with, just don't drink it". I'll err on the side of caution and use the clean water I bought in a 18L jug for $2 instead.

Grabbing my swim suit, I pull it on, then unlock the door to grab my rash guard from where it is supposed to be drying, on the porch. It is less wet than when I put it there yesterday afternoon, but despite several hours of sun and a night outside, the only way you could consider it dry is in comparison to an ocean. Honestly, I step out of the shower less moist. Supressing a grimace I pull it on, little tugs and slides being necessary to get it into position.

I head inside, grabbing my dive computer off the counter and strap it to my wrist, then pull on my hat and check that my backpack has the required items for the day: Mask, towel, duct tape, room keys and a couple dollars in local currancy to buy a cup of coffee or tea between dives.

I close the windows in a vain attempt at keeping the heat out, lock the door and walk to the street. Turning south the sun shines on my face as I walk the 400 or so meters to Reef Gliders dive shop. I say hello to the unfortunate dive master trainee who is raking up the leaves  that fell overnight. He leaves rows of parallel grooves that make the front area look like a zen garden.

As I pass through to the back where the divers sit and wait, I kick off my shoes in the designated area and respond to the bellowed greetings from the staff and other divers who arrived before me. For the next twenty minutes we sit around the table, chatting, most of the staff smoking. You would think that in a profession that requires breathing underwater that the professionals would be more concerned with their lungs, but you'd be wrong.

Near 9, the head divemaster gets up and gives a little briefing about the area we will be diving today, the layout, expected route, and whom is diving with whom. At the conclusion, there is a flurry of activity as people finish putting on wetsuits, and grab gear as they head to the boat.

Less than twenty minutes later we are underwater, marveling at the magnificence of the reef and the marine life. Assuming no air hogs or problems, we should be able to get an hour, perhaps a little more of bottom time before we have to surface.

Just under an hour later, we sit floating in the ocean as the boat heads towards us, the 200 horsepower Yamaha issuing the sharp bark heard on bodies of water across the world. As we should have expected, everything didn't go according to plan, the current was pushing us a different direction than we had initially intended to go, so our group decided to alter the plan to a drift dive, allowing the current to do most of the work. The other group, more stubborn, had ventured into the current and had arrived where the boat expected all of us to be.

I probably shouldn't call it a problem, it meant that we got to see more than normal, while expending significantly less effort, aside from avoiding the flow of the water pushing you into the reef. This is to be avoided for a few reasons, chief among them being it can damage the sensitive organisms that live there. On a more personal level, it can be sharp and abrasive leading to cuts and scrapes that are immediately exposed to salt water, providing a colourful use of language that matches the splendor of the object that inflicted the damage. The other thing to avoid isn't the wildlife, they move, but the chance of bumping into fire coral. I have escaped this predicament so far, but from what I've been told, the language used for mere scrapes will be dull and benign in comparison. That or uttered at significantly higher volume.

I digress, the current means we wait floating in a scattered ellipsoid talking about the various things we saw or missed because we were too distracted by something else. Today it was the pair of turtles, yesterday it was the pipe fish and pipe horse, and the sea horse that the other group found.

Once the boat arrives, and the equipment stowed for the short ride back to dock, wetsuits and shirts are removed in an attempt to warm up. The water is about 28 Celsius at the surface, which at 1030 is about the same as the air temperature, but the boat moving at about 15 knots provides a windchill that can chill even the Canadians from the East (The western ones seem to be a tougher breed).

Back at the dock, coffee is ordered, bladders are emptied (Being neutrally buoyant combined with the pressure of the water tends to encourage this need), and we sit around in plastic chairs still talking about the dive, equipment issues or questions, plans for the day, jobs and the weather back home. Some of us, like myself are diligently filling in a log book about air consumption (1900 PSI used for 54 minutes), depth (18.3 m max, 10.7 m avg), things I saw, issues to work on, in this case my air consumption wasn't great (See Footnote 1).

Another briefing, and 90 minutes later we are back in the shop repeating the procedure. All done I say my good byes and head towards my hotel. Instead of walking on the road, I detour a little to walk along the beach, the water lapping at my feet. Once back, I step into the shower with my gear, ensuring that it is thoroughly rinsed to limit the damage from the salt water.

Freshly showered, the afternoon is open, but I realize that I finished the book rented from the local bookstore, so I head over to trade it out. There is a distinct lack of good literature on the island, much of it comes from novels left in hotel rooms and in bars. For the most part it is Jack Reacher novels and other pulp fiction. Finding something reasonable, I grab a cold drink from one of the many convenience stores, my favourite is a peach drink from the brand "Enjoy", which I do.

A couple hours of reading in the hammock on my porch later, I go in search of ice cream. The malaria medication is recommended to be taken with a milky or fatty beverage, so sacrifices must be made. After that I begin thinking about dinner, which tonight will be peanut butter and coconut bread. Something simple and easy to digest, I had some wings a couple nights ago that did not completely agree with me and I want to play it safe.

I stay inside during the dusk period, that is when the sand flies are the worst, and their bites itch like crazy and I avoid being outside if I can and instead read indoors. There is a hockey game that started at 6, one of the local bar owners is an ex-pat from Toronto and he plays every game on the TV. Conveniently it is happy hour, so the beer with tip is still only $2, and I sit down next to the beach surrounded by a other Canadians and watch hockey. It is a slightly surreal experience, but the 29 degree weather combined with the beach and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore is a far superior way to watch.

The game over, I head back to my room. All my gear for the next day needs to be gathered and arranged so I can easily grab it in the morning. Dive computer, mask, swimsuit, I get it all ready then grab my phone to check on emails and facebook, watch a couple youtube videos, then plug it in and return to reading until I decide that it is time to rest.

Footnote 1: Three days after this dive I used 2400 for 59 minutes, but the max depth was 36.1 m and an average depth of 15.5 m)

Day 7 - Sunny with a Chance of Rain

Moved accomodations today from Sandy Bay to the West End. The new place is less spartan than the last, but then, it costs more. So I sit on my personal porch and listen to the sounds of what looks like a somewhat like a crow, but has a curving beak and a blueish tint on its back.

Attempted a night dive on Thursday night, but unfortunately there was either the advance to a storm or weird waves that reduced the visibility to very little and also a significant amount of swell (back and forth movement), even 10m down. So the dive was scrubbed after 10 minutes and I completed a Fish Identification dive the next day for the final piece of my Advanced Open Water certification. Total for the first week, 10 dives, and a total of 7 hours and 53 minutes underwater. I uploaded a video from the first dive on Friday here. It should be available at 2.7K resolution, and I apologize for the shaky camera work, I'll need to image stabilize the footage when I get home. The camera has a wide angle lens which distorts the distance a little, but the turtle was just beyond arms reach as he swam past (Hawksbill Turtle).

It has been a good trip so far. I am somewhat annoyed at how long things take to dry due to the high humidity. I was walking back after my last dive yesterday and it was sprinkling a little bit, and I didn't want to wait the hour that the storms usually last so I began walking, which was fine until about 2/3 of the way there when the heavens opened. Now, I'm waterproof and had been in the water already and still had my swimsuit on, so that side of it wasn't a big issue. My runners on the other hand are still wet 24 hours later. Now, you are all thinking "Why is he wearing runners on an island?", and you'd be right. I was wearing sandals until one of my fins rubbed part of my toe raw and I was left with a dilemma, wear runners with socks, or wear sandals and keep my toe from healing.

Thankfully a well placed bandaid provides enough protection to return to the sandal option. I am beginning to adjust to the weather, no longer does the humidity seem oppressive with the heat unless I'm standing in the sun for a little while. It also helps that I have been drinking prodigious amounts of water and sweet fluids. They sell the plastic jugs that we use on water coolers for 2-3 USD, and I went through most of one easily in a week.

For the first time ever I did not bring near enough reading material with me. Every other trip I have either brough way to much, or on the last one, just enough. I underestimated how much I would get through on the planes (though I should have thought that one through). Fortunately there is a little store called the "Book Nook" that I can rent books for 1.50 (30 Lempires). As there is little to do in the evenings and afternoons (this may change now that I am on the west end with more people around) I got through two Jack Reacher novels (good call on those Dan), a Tom Clancy novel, CS Lewis' "The Great Divorce", finished up one Travis McGee novel (John D Macdonald) and completed another. Amazing what you can get through given a little time.

Porch of the new place

Shot inside, double bed + single. In my case, one for sleeping, one for luggage.

This is Spartan!

There are a few ways to start this post, and I'm inclined to address the first question, "How hot is it?" and to quote Robin Williams: "Damn hot!". In all seriousness, I'm mildly concerned about my keyboard that the sweat dripping from me could short it out. Yet, there is a picture of Santa on my bottle of Coca-Cola. Which unfortunately isn't glass, but it is still cold, well, it was a few minutes ago.

Attached are pictures of the courtyard and of the room. The room is fairly spartan, but livable. I did find a coupld of cockroaches on the floor this morning, which was a less than welcome surprise.

The dive shop is a 15 minute walk away located in a resort called the Blue Bahia (Octopus Diving). First dives will be tomorrow, and the numbers right now are for 3-4 people plus instructor/divemaster. The British gentleman was explaining (Like many tropical destinations, the staff come from many areas of the globe) many of the dives involve going along the corner of the reef dropoff and that sea turtles have been in abundance the last week or so. I'm excited.

The environment is so different from home, I thought I remembered from Mexico the heat and humidity, and either my memory is faulty, or it didn't get that warm. My dive computer says the temperature is 84 F (28-29 C), so it isn't *that* hot, but the humidity is oppressive and given the amount of noise the rain made last night, it must be close to 100% RH.

As I sit here, various things catch my eye, the flours are one, the hummingbird that came by a few minutes ago, the colourful butterflys and the little green lizards (geckos?) are things that are rarely seen or nonexistent at home. I shake my head at the worker chipping concrete without any safety equipment, and force myself to remember that things are done differently in other places, and that it is the differences that have created such a rich tapestry of cultures and provide reasons to travel.

The Courtyard

A view of the room as you enter, bed on the right, bathroom through the door.