Our night spent by the roadside was devoid of human noises but the wind funneling down the fjord brought loud gusts shaking GANNET2 and rain peppering our metal roof. I confess I didn’t get up until 9:30 in the morning when my bladder told me to and even then reluctantly. Our bed is so comfortable and snug, especially on a 44 degree summer morning in Patagonia.
We walked the Carretera Austral which is possible because Rusty knew what to do when he heard the crunching sounds of tires approaching.
There was no wind, just an air of all pervading damp as you might expect in a rain forest after rain.
The traffic started, delivery trucks, cars full of tourists and motorcyclists bundled up and not making me feel envious.
Oh and a Norwegian dude pedaling who stopped to chat. We exchanged information on the road ahead. He gave me the great news that pavement resumed in one kilometer in our direction of travel. I told him he had 25 kilometers of gravel to go before he saw pavement again but he seemed unfazed.
Admiration yes, but not envy. I love GANNET2 more than ever.
Rusty doesn’t understand bicycles as they make no sound on approach and he has a tendency to go towards them to investigate. Happily the Norwegian was past before my inquisitive dog knew what was going on.
This fjord is famous for dolphin sightings and as usual I managed to spot a pod and even photograph one leaping into the air. I say “as usual” because I have done really well in Patagonia spotting an Andean condor, numerous foxes, armadillos and my favorite birds called caracaras and dolphins. And normally I’m the one who sees nothing while everyone is madly pointing out fascinating wildlife.
Lacking side trails we continued to walk the highway but traffic was light and we had lots of warning of approaching vehicles as they crunched gravel so it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
A group of Argentine motorcyclists from Neuquen in their part of Patagonia asked me to take their picture and happy to oblige I also took one for my archives.
The Carretera Austral is one of those lifetime goals that sucks in travelers and vacationers from all over South America. Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay are all well represented usually in campers or with travel trailers and of course motorcycles.
We got on with it and indeed after less than a mile we struck gold, or more accurately pavement, the usual joy but hunger persuaded us to stop very soon at the sign below. We got meat cheese and guacamole sandwiches in hamburger buns for $3:50 each and they were delicious. It was noon so we called it lunch and we hadn’t driven ten miles probably. Team Lost barely in motion.
Like all Chileans they had a nice line in chat, and that attitude of cheerful friendliness makes this country stand head and shoulders above Peru and Argentina. At least so far.
I am fond of gin; I say that without shame or remorse. So when a Chilean back at our roadside campsite mentioned gin distilleries on our route… well, you know we had to stop. Of course we did.
And when they call it “Patagonia in a bottle” you know I was ready to buy at least one bottle. Layne was babbling about how we weren’t going to buy any if it was no good etc…but I find myself ginless in the van as we have not much room and carrying a bottle of gin just for me seems silly, so I sensed an opportunity here.
Luckily the gin was excellent, smooth and dry with no perfume of junipers that Layne dislikes. Apparently they add local berries which we tasted and they had on hand a bottle of red gin for sale made with maqui berries, a Patagonian specialty. I got my gin and over ice I think it will make an excellent after dinner drink.
Back on the road after we chatted with a French couple in a Sprinter van aiming at Alaska. She spoke Spanish with Layne and he was delighted I could speak French with him. Red gin:
We discussed crossing the Darien Gap and shipping to Europe which we may consider in 2026 or 2027. We have a hankering to drive around Turkey and Armenia and I’d like to revisit North Africa so for a few minutes I fantasized with the French traveler at the gin distillery.
Then we got to La Junta a town famous apparently for cheese so we stopped to buy a chunk. It’s a soft mild cheese very yellow and we both liked it enough Layne bought a pound. Oh and we dropped off some laundry for pick up next day.
That hurt: $30 for 13 pounds. We need to get it done but Layne was hopping mad at the price which she called a rip off. I call it getting stuff cleaned because we need it.
Over the bridge we turned right into Agua Vida (living water) campground where the water does not appear to be alive but the showers are hot and we can fill our tank with potable water before we leave tomorrow to pick up our laundry and continue meandering north.
$16 for two, seats and toilet paper provided in the loos and 65 degree sunshine to sit out and read. And someone else is doing our laundry.
A life of decadence especially as Rusty loves the grass.
La Junta (which means weirdly, a meeting or a board as in a board of directors) has a population of 1500 people and survives on cattle farming and tourism. It has a funny history as it was founded in 1963 when a group of villages was amalgamated in this isolated valley into one community. At the time they had more contact with Argentina where they drive their cattle to market consequently Argentine traditions are prevalent here including the gaucho cowboy tradition and drinking maté the peculiar leafy drink of Argentina.
We gave a young woman hitch hiker a ride and she spoke with the Argentine habit of turning double ells into an “sh” sound.
I noticed but said nothing and that linguistic trait apparently is common here in this part of Chile .
La Junta is also unusual in this area as it’s a town that is neither right next to the border nor is it a port which added to the isolation in the past so they were happy when the Dictator Pinochet had the highway built. So much so they added a monument to him here in La Junta. I knew there was one somewhere but apparently it got torn down in 2023, the 50th anniversary of the coup that brought him to power. And even though he ran a military government called a “junta” Wikipedia insists it has nothing to do with the name of the town which was founded in 1963, twelve years before the coup. And it’s still called La Junta as Chile tries to forget Pinochet. Sic semper tyrannis.
