More Wet Patagonia

We left Coyhaique in good order yesterday morning. We were out of the campground “El Camping” at nine o’clock on our next leg due north. But first meet Florian, another young German whose company we enjoyed briefly when we camped next to his diesel powered Nissan Patrol SUV “never imported to the US,” he pointed out. 

Florian shipped from Germany to Canada and from Halifax he drove to Prudhoe Bay in far north Alaska and from there started south except he broke down in the wilderness, alone. He didn’t die and instead got his Nissan to Fairbanks where they welded it back together, a car that freaked mechanics out as they’d never seen this model before. I told him we were lucky as Jeep dealers are much more easy going in South America the two times we stopped by for some advice. He’s selling the car to another German and flying home to Germany next month, meanwhile he’s hiking and having fun. 

We had a few things to buy, things we hadn’t found at HiperPatagonico but we found at Unimarc a chain Layne likes least of all. 

Yogurt, so hard to find Greek stuff in quart containers but they had tons in this vast warehouse. 

We walked and found sugar free almond milk. Score. And granola and shampoo for one third the price we found it in Argentina. Would you pay 15 bucks for a bottle of shampoo? Milei’s  reforms are a tightrope for ordinary citizens. 

In Argentina two ounces of sliced ham cost nearly six bucks, here we paid two dollars for eight ounces (roughly. They use the metric system here for some reason. 28 grams to an ounce). 

And off we went. I know you’re wondering why this emphasis on our supermarket fun but the point of this shopping expedition is that between here and Puerto Montt we have found one small box store to replace what we use in this wilderness. We also left town with a full tank of gas as part of our precautionary shopping. 

I checked our fuel consumption on the gravel and we made about 10 miles to the US gallon over 200 miles. On this pavement we usually average around 16.  Quiet, easy ride and using less fuel, so pavement gets my vote. Florian smiled when I told him where the gravel behind south of Villa Cerro Castillo. 

Oh I don’t mind gravel he said brightly. Which I figured might be why his chassis broke on the notoriously rough Dalton Highway in loneliest Alaska.

I cannot say it was a breathtaking drive. We are used to mountains now and these didn’t even have snow, they were merely wreathed in clouds which dropped drizzle on us.

This is summer in Patagonia. 50 degrees and drizzle is the wake up call. Lunch is 60 degrees and pale light as though there is a sun up there somewhere. Darkness falls at nine and we listen to water tinkling on the roof. 

You could make the point I am too dependent on sunshine and I would agree. That isn’t a product of living in the Keys, rather I lived in the Keys because I like sunshine. I lack the gene that allows me to wallow in the wet. 

I am finding this road repetitive, but this is what it looks can like. 

Oh and a mile of gravel when we arrived in Puerto Aysen and took refuge in the campground near downtown. 

It’s the weekend so we’ll let the locals play and resume going north on Monday. 

Luckily GANNET2 is a good refuge in rainy weather. A high of 60 and rain for us, and at at least it’s  not snow. 

We’re hoping to fit in a route via a couple of ferries and Isla Chiloé visited previously, on our way to Puerto Montt. 

Coyhaique

This city of 55,000 calls itself the capital of Patagonia which is fair enough as there is no other community that comes close in size on the Carretera Austral. 

We got a late start parked in our gravel pit off the (paved) highway, 40 miles south of Coyhaique, and that was partly because the day ahead promised nothing much too interesting from a tourist point of view. 

I wanted more than anything to wash the dust and mud off GANNET2 now that we were safely on pavement. Layne wanted a laundry and a decent supermarket. We both wanted hot showers. Not particularly interesting or enticing as programs go but that’s the reality of overlanding. 

As you can see from the map Chilean Patagonia is a long thin strip like the rest of the country but around here it’s all indented with fjords. The land is mostly preserved as parks which are closed to us with our Rusty, and access to the sea and ocean views will be limited. But the mountains should be beautiful, we hope.  The thing is if you come to Chile you are rather obligated to check out this highway. 

This was the edge of the Cerro Castillo (Castle Mountain) National

Park and you can see it really is quite spectacular. Rivers, pine forests and mountains puts me in mind of Montana or Colorado. 

It’s all fenced in and the turquoise scraps on the roadside are the remains of some sort of plastic retaining system to keep the soil in place. 

And then we were in farming country. It looked so peaceful and pastoral it felt utterly different to any other part of this region of Patagonia, calm civilized, filled and looked after by actual farmers.  

I just really liked this peaceful productive valley. 

And I took a few photos as we drove through the drizzle. 

We weren’t going fast, maybe forty miles an hour, enjoying the smooth ride and the comfort of our Promaster van, a quiet ride with the heater going to counteract the 48 degree morning. It was a great drive. 



The light was terrible and the subdued reflected but I hope you can get a feel for this area. 

I didn’t know this was here, this pastoral area and it annoys me that all we ever see of this highway are the sexy mountains, the huge wet trees in the rainforest and the moody dark fjords. The reality is this too. Boring old farmland and I enjoyed it. 

Big rolls of hay, the stuff our food is made of, and I never knew this was here in southern Chile’s short cool summer. 



We stopped in a little village to buy lunch. 

This bakery looks closed doesn’t it? But we’ve got wise and Layne knocked and a sweet lady baker opened the door. We got some great empanadas for lunch, beef and a peculiar hot dog in a blanket. 

It’s Patagonia so it was windy but the sun popping out from the clouds illuminated the mph rains like a checkerboard. It really is beautiful here when the weather cooperates. 

I always thought the maté drink d joyed in Argentina should stay in Argentina but this statue celebrates the stuff. And I still think it tastes like creosote. 

Coyhaique is a pretty little town with that air of Alpine architecture backed up by astonishing mountain views in all directions over the rooftops. 





Layne found a do it yourself car wash. We got in line at the Copec gas station. 

Then we passed a fruit stand in a neighborhood so I stopped. 

Layne shopped as usual and I walked Rusty also as usual. Layne said the young clerk was a Venezuelan who left home and made his way alone here to start a new life. It isn’t easy as I well know. 

Young Rusty continues to thrive. He likes Chile as there are hardly any street dogs here. Another reason I too like Chile. 

I know we are taught to fear Latin America but I hope it’s obvious traveling here is not that much different to what you do at home. We aren’t fending off robbers or corrupt cops. We  use Google maps to get around, life is pretty normal. 











I saw in Google satellite view that there was a supermarket with a large parking lot. That’s a priority when you drive a 21 foot van. Layne shopped and I tired Rusty walking him round the block. 

It’s a banal supermarket on a busy Friday night. 





And then back to El Camping and a hot shower. Our young neighbor Florian is wrapping up nearly two years on the road from Alaska to Argentina in a roof top tent on a Nissan SUV. 

Saturday we drive a bit further north. A day, a chore, at a time.