Two wheeled satisfaction

"Are you really going to?" as we quickly closed the gap on a lone orange and blue spandex clad racer near the summit of a one km hill.  His laboured pedal stroke was in direct contrast to Dee's determined spinning as she hurtled her rental rig towards him.  We had somehow found ourselves 'racing' in the last 20km of Chile's first Cup race of the season.  Despite a 2.5 month absence from the bike, competitive instincts were taking over and the Rabobank wannabe would be Dee's first victim...

It was time to stretch our legs after our 'escape' and a 190km bike tour of Lago Llanhanqui in Chile would be the ticket.  We found a rental agency with quality mountain bikes -?-, a map, and some foolproof directions.  That is if you want to be chased by numerous dogs intent on nipping at our heels!

Reversing our route after the 4th dog chase we rolled along a double-wide bike lane outside of the Swiss-like town of Puerto Varas.  We rode two abreast on the wide lane paying attention not to run over the blackberry bushes that crept out on the road.  Unfortunately, we were at least a month early for picking which would have been abundant.  Our bike lane ended abruptly after 20k and the pavement shortly thereafter,  as a major road resurfacing project was well underway, yet another small point our renter neglected to tell us about.

Beautiful Volcan Osorno

Our favorite stop-Ice cream!

Bumping along the muddy road gutters,  the skies cleared offering an incredible view of snow capped Volcan Osorno in the distance.  We stopped at a road-side ice cream stand for a break from the bumps and the tabanos - Patagonia's super-sized horsefly - which buzzed incessantly during the steep ascents.  From the lakeside stand it looked as though you could reach out and touch the peak shining brightly in the mid afternoon sun.

In no time we were already in Ensanada enjoying this road-side barbeque scene and contemplating whether to stop for the day after just 2.5 hours in the saddle.  We decided to push on to the next town of Las Cabanas which had been recommended by someone.  This was where the fun - I mean racing - began.  After some respite along paved roads we came across and intersecting road descending from the mountain.  A few neon vest clad teenagers with matching road flags gave us an encouraging wave.  They were to young for the highway department, we thought, as the road got a little rough.  Moments later a puffing racer passed with #346 pinned on his bike.  A few more flag wavers confirmed we were indeed on the route of a race.

Crossing the next few rolling hills were a treat as the cloud line lifted completely offering views from the peak to the deep blue water of the lake below the ridge line road.  Passing the next corner we saw a racer clearly suffering in the close of the race.  Slapping his cramping quads a la Kent Richardson he was clearly at the end of his rope.

 "Are you really going to?" as we quickly closed the gap on a lone orange and blue spandex clad racer near the summit of a one km hill.  His laboured pedal stroke was in direct contrast to Dee's determined spinning as she hurtled her rental rig towards him.  We had somehow found ourselves 'racing' in the last 20km of Chile's first Cup race of the season.  Despite a 2.5 month absence from the bike, competitive instincts were taking over and the Rabobank wannabe would be Dee's first victim.
"We'll slow down and see what he does." Dee remarked.  The rider turned as the he heard the clanging of my panniers in the distance.  Out of the saddle he pushed hard and disappeared over the hill.
Sure enough, he was done at the bottom of the next hill, Dee spinning by effortlessly as he gasped something which loosely translated was "I must be done if the cycle tourist are passing me..."

Now even in the race -  not that we were keeping track! - Dee spun after her next victim as I bounced along beside her.  It was a hilly 20k, certainly for the finish of what was a 90km bike race but we constantly goaded each other to find the next rider and hold those that were closing the gap.

Approaching the town and finish we pulled off early - despite me encouraging Dee to take it through the finish - watching others finish.  Safely storing the bikes we wandered into the finish area to survey the scene.  Asking a few questions we found out the race was the first of Chile's National Mountain Bike Series and there were over 500 racers in today's 90km race.

The bikes were impressive; numerous carbon fibers offering from the big names and numerous custom rigs as well.  Clearly not a poor man's sport here either!  We found some food and drink on offer and decided to partake - we raced to afterall - while watching the lengthy prize giving ceremony complete with podium and winner's jerseys.

Dee was approached by an energetic lady who had seen us on route.  "You were in the race, but you weren't racing with those panniers were you?" - how do answer that?  Odette was there to watch her son in-law race - no we don't think we passed him - she taking a summer break from her work at Santiago's largest private school which her family owns.  I met her husband, recently retired as Chile's Ministry of Justice.  An invitation was made to join them for a few days at their vacation home a couple of hours north in Lago Ranco, which we may consider.

A refreshing dip after our first day back on the saddle

With the watermelon running low we departed to make our way down the beach for a splash in the cold, glacier fed lake under yet another beautiful sunset.  A tasty, thin crust pizza with spectacular views of the Volcano now just above the town ended a great first day back on the bike.

Superb Sunset

After a leisurely breakfast at the pension we headed out to a cool morning under low grey cloud.  Back on pavement we rolled along beautiful pasture land reminding us of rural Nova Scotia in the summer.  Blackberry bushes continued to dot the roadside and the wind pushed us along as we headed north to the top of the lake.  With the clouds obscuring the view we pushed on making it to the quaint town of Puerto Octay by noon.

Puerta Octay

Heading south the wind picked up as we climbed and descended numerous hills.  The clouds cleared and the views across the lake to Osorno were impressive.  At every turn the white cap framed your view and stopped often to admire its beauty.  Riding in the headwind for the first time in a while chisled at our resolve, the hills and wind combined to limit our pace to around 10k/hr for a 2.5 hours.

Our guidebook described the town of Fruittar as a lovely lakeside resort with a sand beach and boardwalk.  As we approached a town looking more like it belonged in Saskatchewan we were getting skeptical.  After a much needed chocolate and juice stop we found out this was Fruttlar Alto (Upper) and a steep 5km road would take us into Fruittar Bajo (Lower).  After 10 hair-raising minutes of descending we were at the beach, enjoying our lunch in the sun and cooling breeze.

Fruittar

Against better judgement we elected to push on back to Puerto Varas - 115km?  What were we thinking? -.  The wind even tried to disuade us, blowing harder than ever making the final 30km a challenge.  My weak little trekking legs were suffering!

We rolled into Puerto Varas finding a slightly off kilter and deserted hostel near the pier.  The oldest hostel in the city (1915) it was more than a little tired - like us - and the framing a distinct lack of right angles, no doubt from the numerous earthquakes it had survived.

After grabbing a shower we exchanged bike for packs before enjoying a fantastic seafood feed at El Gordito before setting into a deep sleep that could only be fuelled from a good day in the open air.

Outstanding Seafood at El Gordito!