Even pushing the bike, I was blown over and fell into a ditch. Lying in the ditch, I
looked up into the face of a llama. It appeared even the llama was surprised to see
me. I got up, dusted myself off, waved the llama goodbye and tried again. There
remained 140 kilometres to the next town, and it was time to take stock of my dire
situation. Sitting by the side of the road I had no idea how to get myself to
Porvenir. The water I had was only enough to last a day. The wind blew with such
force one couldn’t even get on the bike, let alone cycle, and I was blown over
before both feet were on the pedals.
When a helpful Chilean driver stopped to offer me a ride to Punta Arenas, reality set
in, and I realised hard-headedness wouldn’t get me anywhere. I tried but couldn’t
see any other option but to accept his offer. The Patagonians were incredibly
hospitable.
Punta Arenas
Once in Punta Arenas, Hospedaje Independencia offered both camping and dorms.
Being the cheapest accommodation in town, backpackers from all over the world
packed the place. Much of the region once belonged to Jose Menendez, wool baron
of his time. Even today, the area is still sheep country, and wool and mutton remain
the region’s primary income.
Francois (a cyclist from Hostel Argentino in Rio Grande) arrived by bus, and it felt
like meeting an old friend. Unfortunately, the weather station alerted high winds
(according to them, gusts of over 100/120 kph were possible). Therefore, staying
put and rechecking the weather the following day was best. By evening, all huddled
inside the hostel kitchen, where the owner made Pisco Sour drinks for everyone. By
the end of the evening, it didn’t feel that cold stumbling out to the tent.