Rest in Coyhaique
We stopped in Coyhaique, our last proper big town for a while — probably around 30–50k people, which feels huge after all the villages on the Carretera Austral. A few other travellers had told us about a Couchsurfing opportunity there, so we decided to go for it.
We ended up staying with 71-year-old Eliana, who lets cyclists camp in her backyard and use the facilities inside. At this point it should really be called tent-surfing, not couchsurfing. We were there together with an Irish couple who had actually contacted her first, but they don’t speak Spanish and she doesn’t speak English. She’s very clear that if you want to stay with her, you need to speak Spanish.
At one point she called Conor (the Irish guy), but Phil picked up because we were all hanging out together. After that she started calling Conor “el impostor”, which I found very funny.
The next morning we had to move all of her firewood — she put us straight to work.
In the evening we cooked her dinner (we kind of insisted, but she was oddly specific about it): she wanted to eat at 8pm., and since she only got home at 7:45, she was surprised dinner wasn’t ready at 8pm. During dinner, me and Phil basically worked as live translators between her and the Irish couple, bouncing conversations back and forth across the table. The following morning each of us had to collect a bag of pinecones, because that’s what she uses to start the fire in winter.
Eliana used to be a teacher, and before she retired one of her coworkers told her, “Do you want to travel without ever leaving work?” and signed her up for Couchsurfing. I appreciate that origin story a lot.
She’s funny, odd, and definitely memorable, but there’s a fine line between Couchsurfing and just working for your stay. Maybe that’s part of the deal: you pay with stories, pinecones, and a slightly smoked clothes.
In Coyhaique I also managed to finally fix my broken spokes, so hopefully this setup will hold for a while.
Cycling out
Cycling out of town after a rest day always feels a bit different. It doesn’t matter that we’ve already done thousands of kilometers — that first day back on the bike always comes with a bit of a newbie mindset. That’s how it felt leaving Coyhaique.
We said goodbye to Eliana in the morning. She hugged us, wished us all the best, and honestly, I think I might have gone a bit too hard on her in my head. Yes, we “worked” for our stay, but in total it was maybe 25 minutes of actual effort spread over two nights. Not exactly slave labor. She’s just… herself: kind, a bit odd, and very set in her ways.
The riding itself was good. As we got closer to the Argentinian border, the wind started picking up — a nice little reminder of what’s waiting for us once we cross back over. Still, the day felt solid. We pulled in around 1,600 meters of vert, which I’d personally put in the “good day at the office” category.
The views are getting better and better, and we’re now in the small town of Villa Cerro Castillo, where we’re planning to do a hike the upcoming day. As always, once we started making dinner, the local dogs appeared out of nowhere. We’re camped in this beautiful spot with purple flowers (lavender, I think, probably wrong) all around, a stream or river running in the background, and mountains towering behind it all.
If the white noise from the water does its job, tonight should be a great sleep — and tomorrow we can go rip that hike.
Hike hike hike
Hiking is always exciting. First of all — I still can’t believe how much CONAF (Chile’s national forestry & protected areas service) charges for park access. 27 euros for a day hike… it’s a full-on money-making machine at this point.
The uphill itself was 6.5 km with 1,100 m of gain, and it felt totally fine — not hard, just steady. It felt amazing to have that strength in the legs and to be reminded that the best views really are only accessible by walking/hiking. I guess that’s where my roots and strengths are. This hike brought all the love for hiking back and had me daydreaming about what else I want to hike in the future 🙂 Great feeling — thinking about new adventures, mixing biking, hiking, and who knows what else later on.
In the evening we chilled with Conor and Jessica, who caught up to us again after our stay at Eliana’s, and with two of the chillest dogs ever — they’d get some belly rubs, then just wander off and do their thing. This trip has really made my relationship with dogs very love–hate: when they bark and chase you on the road, it’s not exactly pleasant, but in Chile and Argentina so many of them are relaxed, friendly, and just genuinely loved.
Dust, wind and rain
Had another interview this morning. I found shelter in this small shed near an bike station — perfect protection from the wind and rain… until a pickup truck parked like 20 meters away with two dogs in the back. They barked at every car and every person passing by. So, yeah — not the ideal interview setup.
The day itself brought back all the “good” memories of Argentinian wind. It was hectic. We hit the last stretch of paved road, which means the next 450 km of the Carretera Austral will be gravel, rocks, sand — whatever they decide to throw at us. We’ll see.
And of course, just to make things more fun, we entered a construction-site road. So now I had headwind and dust blowing straight into my face. I can honestly say it tested my spirit — but it was fine. I just kept reminding myself: this is exactly where I want to be. I can suffer now and look back one day at all the hard stuff I did. Dust, wind, rain – bring it on!
Then, as it started raining, I was excited for the rain since it cleaned some of the dust off!!!!
And clearly, if you pour your energy into days like this, the universe throws you something in return. Hikers say “the trail will provide.” Here, I guess, the road will provide. And it did — we knew there should be an abandoned house somewhere near where we planned to stop for the night, and we found it. It was sick. Perfect end to a chaotic day.
My diet
I eat about 200 g of chips per day — yeah, you read that right. My body is constantly craving salt because I’m sweating so much, and since pretzels or crackers basically don’t exist in South America (or at least I haven’t found them), chips have become the go-to. So yeah… roughly 1,000 kcal a day are just chips.
Overall, my diet is pretty simple: chips (obviously), sweet cookies like Oreos or anything similar, sour patches, and whatever has the most calories for the least weight. I really miss simple homemade food.
Now we’ve entered this never-ending dusty gravel section, and again — it’s not the cute, aesthetic gravel you see on Instagram. It’s rocks, dust clouds, and endless bumps. The views are amazing, but it’s honestly hard to pay attention to them when I’m laser-focused on not slicing my tire open. 5-6 hours of riding like this is serious work — at least for me.
By the way — staying on the saddle is brutal. You’re always bouncing, which means your ass and shorts are constantly moving. The friction and sweat start to get irritating, and things get a bit troublesome in that curve between your thigh and your ass. But I guess that’s just one of those inconveniences you learn to live with out here.
Mental games
How do you stay motivated knowing the upcoming day is going to be at least five hours of—not exactly misery, but definitely unpleasant—demanding riding? That’s how I felt waking up that morning. My body was already hurting, and knowing we had a full day of bumpy, loose gravel and rocks ahead didn’t make it easier.
I tried breaking the day into two parts. Allegedly there was a small village within 30 km. That doesn’t sound like much, but it still took me over two hours to get there. And when I finally arrived, everything was closed. Not ideal.
We met a French couple heading north, just starting their trip, hopefully with many great months ahead. They told us the road further on was closed during the middle of the day because they’re using explosives to blow up rock and widen the route. It’s been like that forever, apparently.
We decided to keep going anyway and reach that point. Once there, we didn’t want to wait, so we found another road—but that meant pushing the bikes for a solid 10–15 minutes up a 15–20% incline. At least it was raining, which washed off all the dust I’d collected in the morning. We had to take a ferry over a river, yes, no bridge, actually a ferry to cross a river, ask Chile, not me.
On these hard days, I keep reminding myself that the day will end. Every day ends. Whatever happens, it ends. That mindset got me through many days and it still works now.
We reached Cochrane in the cold and rain. I was thinking about looking for a cabin or a stay inside, but we didn’t—and then the sun came out. Now we’re camping close to the river. There are a few houses looking straight at our tent, but at this point we honestly don’t care.
You get so used to not paying for accommodation that even something like six bucks for a campsite with a shower feels strange. After a while, you really do become a cheap fuck.
To be honest, after hiking across the U.S. the first time in 2022 on the PCT, then again in 2024 on the CDT, and now cycling through South America for four months, I just want to say: I love this lifestyle. I love moving every day. I love endurance. I even love the misery it brings and the joy that follows. It’s hard to put into words, but life feels lived this way. I feel like the captain of my own ship, and it doesn’t matter where the wind blows—I go where I want to go.
But the way, received compliment on my Spanish, from a Chilean, if you know, you know
One more hike
Hiking days are always something—especially in South America. One thing we’ve learned out here: if the incline is below 20%, people don’t even call it steep. A “normal” climb seems to be 1,000 m of vert in 6–7 km. So… we continued with that pattern. Apparently, CONAF couldn’t charge us for the entry on the way in, and on the way out the ranger didn’t care anymore, small win!
The uphill was exciting and hot, and stepping into the moss forest felt completely different from the wide-open Patagonian landscapes we’ve been used to.
Even though it was less than 10°C, the lake was calling. With that kind of perfect access, jumping in was basically mandatory.
Naturally, we overestimated our abilities again. It took longer than expected, and the trail had about 20% more elevation gain than shown on the maps. Classic South America—trust no one. It was muddy too; I went in all the way up to my ankle.
But extra work brings extra rewards. We finally saw a huemul (South Andean deer). It just stared at us for a full minute before quietly disappearing into the trees.
A pretty great way to close the week.
Cycling stats (4 days of cycling in 5 days)
329.2 km | 20 h 36 m | 5,712 m gain
Daily Averages
82.3 km | 5 h 09 m | 1,428 m gain
Hiking stats (2 hikes)
45.2 km | 11 h 06 m | 3,129 m gain
Per hike
22.6 km | 5 h 33 m | 1,565 m gain