Sunday, March 31, 2013

A Spring (...wait...winter?!) Bicycle Trip through Europe

Hello from Germany everyone! We left South America in mid-March and headed back across the Atlantic for some time with Markus' family and to prepare for the next big leg of our travels--a spring bicycle trip through Europe. We've been reveling in regular showers, a soft bed, good food, and of course some good times with family and friends. It was great to be here to celebrate Markus' mother's birthday, our niece Klara's birthday, and Easter. We reflect a lot on our time in South America and are still writing blog posts about it - stay tuned for more stores, photos, and a detailed map of our journey as we continue to make updates.

Bicycling through Europe:

When Markus and I planned a spring bicycle trip through Europe, the timing seemed perfect. We would ride north along the edge of springtime, staying always within a climate envelope of bird song, fresh green buds, and long days with cool temperatures perfect for biking. At the time we planned this trip, we were also living in Fairbanks where any temperatures above -10C (15F) or so seemed luxuriously comfortable. From an Interior Alaskan perspective, the average temperatures of 3-15C or so throughout our bike route from Slovenia to Finland sounded great...

Fast forward to today--we awoke to another 10 cm. of fresh snow. Big fat flakes fell from the sky and the roads looked icy. The temperature has averaged below 0 C the entire two weeks here in Germany and though we have our bikes all put together, we have only ridden them once (photos below). These just slightly-below-freezing temps that we always enjoyed in Fairbanks now seem unreasonably cold after the summer we just spent in South America. Our plan to bicycle north from Slovenia to Finland is looking a little more like a winter trip! We already delayed our start date of the trip by a week due to snow in Slovenia. Now the plan is to head to Slovenia tomorrow, but snow is forecast yet again. My relatives in Slovenia have never seen a spring like this before. And as for us in Germany, it seems Markus and I had another Easter playing in the snow, just like we do in Fairbanks.

Riding into the Magers' driveway in Lichtenberg

Trying out our flashy new gear--reflective vests and colorful shoe covers (which we got in the 1 euro bin)

The Plan

Our goals for this trip are to experience a whole variety of languages, cultures, and ecosystems while biking through Europe. We are especially excited to travel along the former "iron curtain", largely because it's personal--Markus grew up in East Germany and I grew up in the United States. Those historical divisions no longer exist but we are both pretty interested in how the region has changed since the wall came down. Another big goal is to visit friends and family along the way. We will begin in Slovenia to spend some time with my Slovenian relatives and to get to know the Slovenian countryside a bit more. We will end in Rovaniemi, the Finnish town on the Arctic Circle where we first met in 2004, and spend time visiting our "friend family" and the places we used to live and study. The piece together a route in between, we've set goals for places to reach by certain dates and (especially with the late start) will need to take trains and ferries occasionally to make miles.

Check out our planned route (also on the "maps" page of our blog).

Tomorrow we leave our very comfortable setting here in Lichtenberg and hit the road again for more of the unknown. At the best, spring will arrive and we'll go with plan A. At the worst, a re-route to the Croatian coast or heck maybe Greece doesn't sound too bad. Regardless, I have no doubt we'll have an adventure!  

Hiking Across the Divide: Cochamo to El Bolson

March 4, 2013

Our hike from the town of Cochamo, Chile on Feb. 22nd to the town of El Bolson, Argentina on March 2nd was the longest segment of time we spent traveling point-to-point by foot in Patagonia. As with all our experiences here, there is so much more to write about than will fit in this blog post. Here are some of the highlights and memorable moments. And if you are thinking of doing this hike yourself (via the more common Paso El Leon route or via Paso El Bolson, as we did), please feel free to write us for more information. 

A New and Different Place

We traveled from Coyhaique to Puerto Varas by night bus, falling asleep to the reds and oranges of sunset over the unending, sparse steppe and awakening at the border post north of Bariloche in a different world of tall trees and cliffy, grey mountains. Then it was down to the flat Chilean coast and the town of Puerto Varas, where we spent a bright sunny afternoon re-supplying and enjoying the lovely town and views of Volcan Osorno. Next morning, we went by local bus to the little town of Cochamo and then in the back of a pick-up truck to the trailhead. Finally, after almost a week sitting in towns and buses, we were hiking into the mountains again.

And what different mountains they were! No longer were we hiking through lenga forests, open alpine meadows, and past glaciers and snowfields. Now the only thing in sight was GREEN. Tall trees, mosses, and vines covered the slopes--an incredible volume of biomass. Our first day we hiked up valley through the temperate rainforest to camp in Valle Cochamo, known as the "Yosemite of Chile" (though we overheard one of the climbers saying "Yosemite is cool but this is way better") . Massive grey cliffs rose out of the rainforest all around us.  The next day we had planned to do some dayhikes, but it was pouring rain so instead we spent the day reading and chatting with American climbers at the campground and nearby refugio.

Camping La Junta in Valle Cochamo, Chile

By Horse Trail through the Forest

Day 3 we set off on a series of horse trails that over the next few days would take us southeast toward the community of Llanada Grande just west of the Argentine border. The terrain was not very rugged, with few big climbs, and yet it was much harder than we expected. Horses and water had carved the trails into deep muddy troughs with big steps up and down over tree roots. Though we didn't climb any peaks, or much less to the top of a single ridge, our legs felt a bit like they had. We slowly got used to being surrounded always by trees. More exciting, this new landscape was full of lakes and we camped by them several nights.

Our favorite camp was on a small patch of flat shoreline along Lago Vidal Gomez, where we had our first real Patagonian swim (i.e. not just a quick dunk and wash in icy water while shrieking). That night the full moon rose and we drank our post-dinner cocoa under a sky full of stars and warm summer air. It didn't feel like we were in the mountains so much as like we were on a summer vacation. The next morning we alternately swam and basked in the sun (and the lizard in the photo below basked with us) before finally hiking on in mid-afternoon.

Our favorite camp on Lago Vidal Gomez

Lizard basking in the morning sun

Along Lago Vidal and for the rest of our route, we passed many remote farmsteads and enjoyed stopping to chat with friendly people and get a glimpse of how they lived out here, far from the roads. We bought homemade bread, butter, and jam along the way too, to supplement the food we'd packed. Blackberries were ripening and we ate handfulls along the way.

With a friendly family living on the south shore of Lago Vidal

Crossing the Border

By Feb. 28th, after walking above the aqua blue Rio Manso for a couple days, we reached the road and caught a bus the 40 km to Llanada Grande, from where we planned to bus another 20kms and then hike over the border and reach the road to El Bolson the next evening. During our brief stop in town, we talked to the bus driver about the place we wanted to be dropped off and showed it to him on the map. But once we got underway, the driver stopped only 6 km. from town and indicated it was time to get off. We quickly realized we were in the wrong place and tried to tell him in my so-so Spanish where we wanted to go but he was so insistent he wouldn't hear it. Meanwhile, the bus conductor unloaded our bags into the street. After 10 minutes of arguing with the bus driver and him urging us to get our bags and go, we finally conceded and watched the bus drive away. At a nearby house we chatted with a man about a potential boat ride to the other side of Lago Azul, where we needed to be, but he didn't have room. So, we started down the road hiking. After an hour or so, we were passed by our bus returning to town, and then it began to thunderstorm. We hiked along quickly, looking for the trailhead to Lago Azul (laughing at ourselves that once again we had no real idea what we were looking for). We passed houses and farms and then saw a boarded up cabin with a dirt road leading up the ridge behind it...maybe this was our trail? A few kilometers on when we reached the top of the ridge, the radiantly blue Lago Azul was below us. We reached the shore of the lake just before sunset, asked permission of the landowner to camp, and set up our tent in a beautiful lakeside spot as another storm rolled in.


Thunderstorm approaching at sunset over Lago Azul


Early the next morning, the lake was flat and calm. We hiked south to Lago Las Rocas and on to the Chilean border post, then above another gorgeously blue lake (the west arm of Lago Puelo) to reach the Argentine border post just before sunset. We had no map of the Argentina side and decided to camp for the night near the border post. Dinner that night was mish-mash of odds and ends because we were nearly out of food and stove fuel. The mixture of instant mashed potatoes, dried mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, and a few noodles tasted great.

Heading to Town

We slept restlessly that night, awakened several times by animals walking around our tent (one of which we are pretty sure was a cow!). In the morning, we split a lukewarm thermos full of tea and ate a few crackers with jam, saving the last few crackers and peanut butter for the trail. We had read it was a 15 kilometer hike to town but without a map we had no idea what to expect so we were pleasantly surprised to reach the outlet of the Rio Azul after only 6 km or so. We walked along the beach of the lake, crossing several branches of the Rio Azul that meander in a broad delta to Lago Puelo. When we reached the national park offices at Lago Puelo, we asked a ranger for information about the route to Chile, hoping he would give us a map we could keep as a souvenir. He didn't have one and said, "You can't hike there from here, it's not possible to cross the river!" Markus and I just looked at each other and smiled. One of many instances along this trip that have reminded us it's always worth asking people for information, but it's not always wise to trust their advice is right for us.

We rode the public bus to El Bolson and stepped out straight into the Saturday afternoon market. Vendors decked out in tie-dye sold homemade jam and beer, while the sounds of drumming and the smell of pot smoke hung in the air. After so much time in tiny rural towns and farms with an old-fashioned feel, the hippie-vibe of El Bolson felt like a different planet. We wandered past the stalls with our backpacks on our backs, looking at crafts, and then we smelled it--fried food. Having eaten every single scrap of food in our packs, we were HUNGRY. I thought of a passage from the book Wild by Cheryl Strayed, which I read on this trip, when Cheryl has come off-trail to a restaurant and says "I may has well have been a German Shepard". I know exactly what she meant--the smell of food was completely distracting.

Ice cream at Confiteria Jauja in El Bolson


And thus commenced a delightful and disgusting evening of eating. We bought deep fried empanadas, quiche, and a big cone of french fries. Next we walked to confiteria Jauja and each devoured a pint of delicious artesanal ice cream. Momentarily satisfied, we found a campground in town, took showers, and handwashed a few clothes. Then, we were ready for dinner. On our way to find the restaurant, we stopped at the grocery store where Markus bought a chorizo sausage and I bought chocolate...just a little snack for the way. Then we went to a pizza place, where we ordered a large, deep-crust pizza and devoured the whole thing. Finally, we were full. But when we woke up next morning we were, amazingly, starving again and went right away to the bakery for fresh bread and pastries. Though I've experienced wilderness-travel-induced spikes in metabolism many times before, it never ceases to amaze me. And so ended a wonderful trip.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The Kindness of Strangers and a Bit of Luck

The past few weeks have been full of great hiking as we have made our way north through Patagonia. We hiked north from El Chalten with ever changing views of Monte Fitz Roy and across the remote border to a tiny, isolated corner of Chile. We spent a few days, and many hours hanging out by the fire with new friends, in our campsite in Cerro Castillo reserve while we waited out strong winds and sleet on the traverse route. We walked (and stumbled) along muddy horse trails through lush rainforest and cliffy valleys, stopping to chat with families whose farm fields and livestock we trekked past, as we hiked from Cochamo, Chile to El Bolson, Argentina. But equally memorable are the hours and days we spent in vehicles just to get from one place to another across a vast and remote region of bumpy gravel roads with light traffic and infrequent public buses that always seem to be full...

The Kindness of Strangers

Hitch hiking has been an important mode of transport for us. It is common here and really practical. A majority of people want to stop and they smile and gesture apologetically when there is no space in the car (which is often). So far we have had nothing but positive experiences and hitching has introduced us to some great people too. A few memories:

Getting a ride was easy near Ushuaia, where we first tried it. Our first ride was from Carlos, a water treatment engineer returning from a day of trappng beavers. Our second ride was from two women who giddily informed us that we were riding in a brand new car just purchased a couple hours before. Champagne bottles they had bought for a celebration of the event clinked in the trunk as we drove.

The most generous ride was certainly from a roadtripping Buenos Aires family: Alejandro, Sandra, Agustin, and Camila. We were walking along the dusty road to Lago del Desierto and we were HOT. Needless to say, after 3 days hiking in hot sun we probably smelled terrible. The car drove by giving the ´´sorry we're full´´ sign but then pulled over. All four jumped out to load their things in the trunk along with our bags and then insisted that Camila, the 18 year old daughter, sit on her mother's lap in the backseat so that Markus and I could sit comfortaby on the other two seats. Good conversation, air conditioning, and a gift of candy made us even more glad to have met this wonderful family.

The ride that most thrilled the little kid inside of me was when a cop picked us up. We weren't even trying to hitch, just walking the final 5 km of road into Villa O'Higgins,when the Carabineros pulled alongside and asked where we were heading. We rode in the back behind the metal grate and the cop gave us a little tour of town before dropping us off right at the campground.

And finally, it's who you know that counts, right? We had been sticking our thumbs out for 2 hours on a windy day, trying to catch a ride to Coyhaique, and were pretty chilled when finally a cattle truck pulled over. And who should jump out of the passenger seat but a guy we met over dinner at the campground in Cochrane, several hundred miles south, the week before. He opened the back, where 4 other backpackers (and no cattle) sat huddled in sleeping bags, and we hopped in.

A Bit of Luck

Public transportation has come with its own set of stories as well so I will share one of my favorites. Buses leave Villa O´Higgins only twice a week: Monday and Friday. We arrived on a sunday planning to take the monday bus out, only to find the bus was completely booked. We added our names to the waiting list, not feeling very hopeful, and began thinking about what to do in the area for a week. Later that day as I sat on a bench near the library, a man and I started chatting. He was going to walk to Los Ñires to buy bread, the same place we were camped, so we began to walk together. Then his cell phone rang--he answered it, glancing back and forth to me, then (though we had not exchanged names) he looked at me and said, ´´Karen?´´ The woman from the bus office a block away had seen him walking with me and called him to get my attention. A couple had just canceled. Did we want the seats? And so Markus and I were headed out of town the next morning.


This year of travel is about many things for Markus and I, but one of the most important is just to figure out, What Next? And it is when travel is most spontaneous, and we rely most on the communities and people we meet, that I feel reassured. It takes a certain leap of faith to hitch a ride or arrive in a new town without an onward ticket out, but these small leaps give me peace about the future, wherever we will live and whatever we will do. It reminds me that things usually work out, that most people are kind and generous, and that regardless of what happens we will still end up somewhere with stories to tell.