9-14/11/2013 Temuco, CL to San Martín de los Andes, AR

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María Eva Duarte de Perón (7 May 1919 – 26 July 1952) was the second wife of Argentine President Juan Perón (1895–1974) and served as the First Lady of Argentina from 1946 until her death in 1952. She is usually referred to as Eva Perón (Spanish: [ˈeβa peˈɾon]), or by the affectionate Spanish language diminutive Evita.

She was born in the village of Los Toldos in The Pampas, rural Argentina in 1919, the youngest of five children. In 1934, at the age of 15, she went to the nation's capital of Buenos Aires, where she pursued a career as a stage, radio, and film actress. Eva met Colonel Juan Perón on 22 January 1944, in Buenos Aires during a charity event at the Luna Park Stadium to benefit the victims of an earthquake in San Juan, Argentina. The two were married the following year. In 1946, Juan Perón was elected President of Argentina. Over the course of the next six years, Eva Perón became powerful within the pro-Peronist trade unions, primarily for speaking on behalf of labor rights. She also ran the Ministries of Labor and Health, founded and ran the charitable Eva Perón Foundation, championed women's suffrage in Argentina, and founded and ran the nation's first large-scale female political party, the Female Peronist Party.

In 1951, Eva Perón announced her candidacy for the Peronist nomination for the office of Vice President of Argentina, receiving great support from the Peronist political base, low-income and working class Argentines who were referred to as descamisados or "shirtless ones". However, opposition from the nation's military and bourgeoisie, coupled with her declining health, ultimately forced her to withdraw her candidacy. In 1952, shortly before her death from cancer at the age of 33, Eva Perón was given the title of "Spiritual Leader of the Nation" by the Argentine Congress. Eva Perón was given a state funeral upon her death, a prerogative generally reserved for heads of state.

Eva Perón has become a part of international popular culture, most famously as the subject of the musical Evita (1976). Cristina Alvarez Rodriguez, Evita's great niece, claims that Evita has never left the collective consciousness of Argentines. Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, the first female elected President of Argentina, claims that women of her generation owe a debt to Eva for "her example of passion and combativeness".

Ref:Wikipedia

9/11/2013 Temuco to Coipúe

D54, T3/5, Av16.65, Max44, Tot 21749, 11,950

Perfect spring day, little wind

It took all morning to get organized and then some. Gustavo, Camillo and I went down to the Lider Supermarket, owned by Walmart, many products are sourced in the US.

We finally got away about 1400 after a heap of photos, well wishes and thank you.

It was great to have Camillo along, leaving town was very easy.

Callum was wrapped to be on the move, his gleaming white panniers, large tripod and most of our food onboard.

He is also carrying the tarp and the spare cooking fuel, so my weight is down just a tad, this will be enjoyed.

Camillo is traveling the lightest of us all.

We were all cruising along just loving the mild clear spring day. After yesterdays rain everything was fresh and the air clean.

This side of the Andes is such a different world from Ruta 40 in Argentina.

I really think I miss the desert scenery a little bit, with its browns, blue skies and openness.

We stopped for lunch in Freire, under the shade of a newly leafed tree alongside a

From here we could see 3 volcanoes, one of these being Volcan Villarrica with their conical slopes clad in brilliantly white snow.

Riding on we crossed the Rio Tolten, a large clear fast flowing body of water, obviously home to trout.

Soon we came upon a sign informing us that camping was available down a gravel road. We took the decision to try and find a spot to camp down by the river.

The advertised camping spot was not to be found.

There was loud music across the river, so we decided not to cross on the ferry.

We came across a soccer field.

Some guys said we could camp on the field in a container that the teams rested in. It was perfect, we had our own lock up mobile room.

This was in the village of Coipúe, they were having a futbol tomorrow, the field was being mown.

It was the kind of place were the dews would be heavy, the night air had that damp feel about it. Camillo said it gets down to about minus 3 here in winter.

Cal and Camillo went down to the river for a fish with no luck.

We had received our fair share just finding this spot to sleep.

All we did was put our tent footprints on the floor and slept on these.

Camillo cooked up a rice number, which was enjoyed with a red from his bota.

10/11/2013 Coipúe to Pucón

D65, T6, Av16.16, Max64, Tot21814, 12015

Fine

Our home for the night in our container was perfect, for in the morning was a heavy fog and dew like rain.

This soon burnt off. A brilliantly blue sky was revealed by 0800. It was about 2km back to the highway.

Riding was easy on the flat road.

Everywhere there are billboards for candidates in the upcoming general election. Possibly and earlier President will get in again. Michelles face with ere deputies are plastered everywhere. Really it is visual pollution on a grand scale.

Trees, walls, building, fences, billboards, you cant get away from it. Someone has got a huge clean up job.

Evelyn the other candidate has almost as many posters about.

In the pueblitos it is easy to see who they vote for as one parties posters have been slashed, they are all vinyl.

We stopped on the shores of lake Villarrica for a swim in very fresh waters, though nowhere near as fresh as Titicaca.

This swim lasted a few minutes not seconds!

The black volcanic sand on the beach was hot underfoot even in this mild sunlight.

The shoreline was fronted by many holiday homes, some very elaborate.

Many people from Santiago own homes here.

Pucón is a trendy holiday place with cafes and expensive little shops selling things that many people can’t say no to.

Once in Pucón we checked out the foreshores. It was a relaxed place with many people just walking along the lake shore.

Once at Camillos mums place, we just relaxed bought stuff for dinner and were appreciative of her offering us a bed.

11/11/2013 Pucón to 14km west of the AR border

D56, T3/5, Av16.57, Max53, Tot21870, 12071

Overcast, rain all afternoon, westerlies, mild

We were all camped in one room in bunks at Camillos mums house. It was great of her to have us and all our gear.

She teaches at at small private school in Pucón.

We gave Camillo his first experience of Vegemite over breakfast, Cal had bought a couple of tubes over.

Camillo got a surprise to find it not sweet.

We were packed and ready to head off on our first day as a duo by about1100, very slack, but a relaxed departure. We headed to the local supermarket for bread and coffee.

A stop was made back at Camilos on the way out of town.

We told him “it was too cold to leave”!, We actually had to borrow a tool to tighten Cals wheel guards.

Camillo has been so good to us, it made life really easy to go to Santiago by bus knowing things were safe, His dad Gustavo and I got on really well. He too and Ingrid were just the best hosts.

Camillos cousin Pato (Patricio) was also staying at the house. When I was first introduced to him as Pato, immediately thinking, why would anybody be called Duck.

Camillo and I latter laughed about this.

Having Camillo, ride with us for a couple of days was also a pleasure. He is a great guy.

Leaving town the road was pretty much flat with a westerly helping us along.

The grey cloud had been looking dodgey all day.

Once we got to Catripulli, the rain started. It was the first time I have ridden in full rain gear for months, shoe covers and all.

It was so nice to have a waterproof coat. Though later on with perspiration I was quite wet inside anyway. Though importantly, it was warm.

We stopped in a bus shelter a few km after Catripulli for bread and Dulce.

Stopping and letting the perspiration cool down, one can get cold very quick, as was the case whilst having lunch.

From here, a young Alsatian dog befriended us for about 8km, he was running alongside the whole way doing 20km plus, the bugger, he would not listen to any commands whether in Spanish or English. In the end he was so worn out he couldn’t keep up.

It was an adventurous day for him, I just hope he found his way back home.

The country is again so lush, with rivers, streams and creeks absolutely everywhere.

There was a bush in bright yellow flower in many places providing a welcome break from the greens.

The surrounding ranges were obscured by clouds.

Homes of all types were along the roadside on small acreages. Many were constructed of sawn timber while others were log cabins.

Most that were occupied had smoke coming from their chimneys.

Arriving at Curarrehue, we stopped at a mercardito for fruit and a rest. A good old Coke from a small glass bottle was enjoyed.

Leaving the pueblito we slowly started to climb. The mist and light rain continued.

This is Callums first bike tour. He is riding very strongly with a bucket load of enthusiasm, not being deterred by the rain.

His dad, plugging away in his lowest gear a few hundred metres behind, with all manner of gear on board.

It was good to see him enjoying the hills. This enjoyment was in wet weather, which made me fell even better.

About 1730, still in rain, though more persistent and wind blown, we came across some Cabañas alongside a river below the road, we pulled in and inquired as to their rates.

Twenty dollars for a riverside fully self contained cabin.

We couldn’t believe our good fortune.

The place was like a mountain cabin, one might dream about.

On the banks of a rapidly flowing high country river, in the bush and across the rapids were ranges briefly seen between clouds with jagged steep summits.

Their tops were like those seen in many photographs taken here in Patagonia, all be it in the north.

Their silhouettes were quite surreal in the early evening sky.

The cabin had a slow combustion stove, kitchen and shower.

It was shelter in the form of paradise.

The place was in the middle of nowhere. We really couldn’t believe how lucky we were.

I said nothing to Callum about one particular thought that passed through my mind as I looked at the angle bar on my bike.

We got organised, had mate and coffee. Cal headed off along the river for a trout fish.

You could have flicked a match into the river from the cabin window, if you were good, that is!

He spent sometime fishing, the trout were not obliging.

All our wet gear was easily dried above the firebox hanging near the flue.

We both went out for another fish before dark fell. Though the rain had stopped everything was still incredibly wet and dripping.

We have been riding together for three days and have yet to camp. Cal bought up this point of note, though there will be plenty of that soon, once back in Argentina, one could anticipate.

12/11/2013 Trancura Puesco Cabañas to 6km into AR

D33, T3/5, Av10.38, Max36, Tot21903, 12104

Cloudy in CL, clear in AR, cool westerly

We were both up early due to having slept well. The sound of the river was enough to send anyone into a deep sleep.

We were on the road by 0815.

A couple of km up the hill, Cal realised he left his click stand on a stump outside the cabin. He unloaded his bike and headed back, the whole exercise took about 20 minutes.

It was now steady climbing through Beech forest, again water was in excess. The sky overcast, though doing its best to show some blue.

Arriving at a police checkpoint, the gravel started. It was not too bad, as it was a fine wet hard packed black volcanic sand amongst road base.

At times, the gradients were difficult, lucky a fresh westerly aided us in places.

At a look out a bunch of guys on new BMW 700cc bikes pulled in for a chat.

They were on a tour for 18 days with an Aussie company based in BA.

The bikes were all brand new with sequential number plates , 7 of them

They were Australians and Canadians all around my age, or a bit older.

Soon we were at the summit, which was only about 1200m and still vegetated.

A mountain valley was traversed, in the valley was Laguna Quillelhue.

It was surrounded by heavy forest down to its shores.

Coming around one bend Cal yelled out. There before our eyes was the majestic snow clad cone of Volcán Lañin, 3768m. It was quite a sight, solitary and all its vistas had the famous Araucarias in the foreground.

Its perfect cone pierced the now clear blue sky like a sharpened piece of chalk.

Though we were still in CL, the volcán is in AR, pretty much right near the border.

Soon we were at the CL immigration point. Formalities went without a hitch.

The bike guys were still there, some hour or so after we saw them.

The bikes were only just registered in Chile, there were problems with this.

We rode the two km to The AR immigration. All was good for me travelling on a NZ passport.

Cal was not allowed through, as he had no entry visa. Australians, Canadians and US citizens must pay $100. It is what these countries charge AR citizens to enter.

It is a reciprocal charge.

As far as I am concerned, Callum was slugged by just another Australian indirect tax. Just more money to feed the three tier money sucking juggernaut of government in a country with only 24 million people.

These few people have to feed this monetary sink hole for politicians, “committees” and public servants, who get elected and selected on all sorts of promises.

After sometime in power, many reveal they are there only to better their station in life, climb on the government pension bandwagon, or criticize the other side of parliament. Many public servants, initially are like growing branches and actually contribute, though like many branches, in time, just become useless deadwood. Without pruning it can stay in a tree for ever, unfortunately away from trees, no one has the courage to prune their own.

Credit goes to those few who do care, often having to go it alone.

Most things they do and legislate are solely based on their popularity or feeding the ever increasing monetary appetite of their grossly inefficient workplace.

So, we had to go back and use the internet at the Chilean immigration office then proceed back to AR immigration. The whole process took little time. Staff at both controls were really helpful.

The bike guys were now having problems on the CL side, we unexpectedly saw plenty of them this day.

Volcán Lanín still dominated the south eastern sky. We were so lucky to see her. The bike guide told us on so many trips they see nothing but cloud.

It was indeed a privilege.

Some 5 to 6km on and all downhill we came across an Araucaria forest . It was not heavily treed. There were spaces for camping all through the stand.

We stopped to investigate, it was still only 1600.

However, this was a very special place, so uniquely so from our perspective.

Lanín was just to our south and through the trees was a crystal clear mountain river.

Camp sites above this were aplenty.

We soon found a good spot.

It was a good opportunity to familiarise Cal with the camping ritual.

He has a MSR Hubba, single man tent.

Deirdre had the same tent, so gear will go in it and we will sleep in my three man Vango Banshee 300.

We took our time and also put up the tarp. The skies were clear blue. It was great to be back in the dry weather of Western AR. Camping is a pleasure.

Once set up Cal headed down stream for a fish.

Shit, within an hour and a half he was back with four trout. There were not huge but fitted perfectly in my fry pan with their heads removed.

Swimming one minute. On our plates, fried in oil and butter with salt, pepper and just a tad of Tabasco, the next.

With the Beech covered range rising across the pristine river, the Araucaria forest and Volcán Lanín all encompassing us, this was a campsite we both marvelled at and immersed ourselves within its uniqueness.

The trout was divine, crispy skinned and sweet.

We lit a fire with dead twigs from the Araucarias, had a chat and were in bed by 2030. The evening soon cooled off.

Again, sleeping in a riparian zone, the tumbling waters of an alpine river will transport us to sleep.

13/11/2013 Parque y Reserva Nacional Lanín to 6km from San Martín de los Andes

D94, T4.39/7, Av20.14, Max68, Tot 21,997, 12198

Fresh westerlies, fine, warm

All our gear was a bit dusty from the odd wind gust last evening. We ate and packed up slowly over a couple of coffees.

We were on the road by 0930.

Callums first night camping will be a hard act to follow, with regards to location and views.

Just the fact we are in a new location each night camping will suffice, I am sure .

Once on the road the westerlies were at play.

The first 5km or thereabouts was loose gravel. Cal had a few difficulties in this with his thinner front trye.

From here, the road became pavement.

Riding was unbelievably great. All slightly down hill getting pushed along by 30-40 km westerlies.

Doing 35-40km/hr pedalling with little effort was easy for much of the passage. Fifty km was logged in a few hours.

Most of the way we followed the Rio Malleo, the same river that provided dinner, though now larger due to aqueous contributions from tributaries along the way.

The hills and ranges were now brown and not lushly treed.

Pine plantations were prevalent.

Further east, a large Araucaria growing close to the extremities of its range was spotted, beneath and near this mother tree were half a dozen young trees borne of her seed. It was a tough life, exposed out here without the protection of a forest. Maybe this pioneering outpost will flourish once some protection is established. Possibly in a couple more human generations. These trees live to a thousand years or more.

Poplars, Willows and Broom were growing along the river banks as we descended.

The sweet smell of fresh spring Poplar leaves was in the air.

This morning, Lanín was shrouded in cloud. We were very privileged, as mentioned to witness her peak enhanced against a rich blue sky

A few trout fishermen were seen walking through the scrub to fish more inaccessible areas of the Malleo.

They were seriously decked out in vests and were doing all they could to keep their fly rods from snagging in the growth. Good luck to them I thought. They should do well with flies.

On crossing the Malleo we were heading south.

Low and behold, the westerly had a touch of north in it. Riding was still a pleasure for the most part.

Someone was looking after us.

We soon arrived at Junín de los Andes. Here we stocked up on some provisions.

The best rate we could get for a dollar was only 8 pesos so we only exchanged $US100 in a gift shop.

Lunch was enjoyed in the park with salads and bread bought in the supermarket.

We met another cyclist from Italy.

Marco was a really likeable guy. He was actually touring on a light weight road bike.

Using only rear panniers. He was breaking spokes regularly.

We laughed, he said coming into town there were two broken spokes but the wheel was still round, so he kept going. He had done parts of Africa on a small motorbike without problems, so Patagonia on a road bike was not a problem.

Gotta love it. We hope to see each other again.

Two huge helados (ice creams) were enjoyed at a Gridos, Menta Granazada is my favourite.

Green mint ice cream laced with shattered chocolate, all in a huge waffle cone pushed all the way to the bottom, this part I enjoy as much as the contents itself, mothers milk!!

Leaving town, water was obtained from a house. As we progressed towards San Martin, the westerlies were now almost head on. Some parts we had a hard time riding.

At the last river crossing, we filled the bladder. Cal offered to carry it on his front rack which has a carrier, the bladder fitted on perfectly with an occy strap securing it.

San Martín came up pretty quick. We wanted to camp just outside town to capitalize on a hotel room tomorrow night.

Stopping at an antique shop on a property. The owner was asked if we could camp there.

Jorge the owner was fine with us camping here.

We set up behind the shed in a horse paddock. I was feeling nauseas, all I could stomach was lemon tea. Cal fried up some potatoes, their smell improved my disposition and a few were enjoyed.

To our west and the Andes, a heavy bank of cloud was heading into AR, though most was being dissipated as it moved eastward.

It was nice to camp on lush green grass, all be it amongst some horse business, a small price to pay, one may contest.

Around the camp nesting was a bird similar to Spur Winged Plovers, they were just as aggressive when approached, with one of the parents swooping towards us to protect their eggs on the ground.

On reflection, Paso Mamuil Malal had been so easy, and scenically rewarding. We had just crossed the Andes with minimal effort. It only took us to 1200m, a far cry from that of Paso Jama at 4800m.

Both had their own beauty, a beauty that made neither a burden.

We were both worn out, it had been a big day kilometres wise especially for Callum.