Middle Chile
Surprises around every corner
Mendoza to Puerto Varas (27th December - 29th January)
Christmas South American Style
Christmas Eve is the big one in Argentina. Whilst it was a little sad to miss out on all of the wintery traditions of home, the slap up meal against a backdrop of vineyards and mountains more than compensated. And there is certainly something to be said for spending Christmas Day lounging by the pool with a moderate Grand Malbec hangover. After 7 days in Mendoza and the neighbouring Uco Valley, we were ready for some time off the wine, and the next stage of the journey.
Final (final) Ande
Back at the top of the Jama pass, Mol had made a vow that she was never cycling over an Ande ever again. But time and wine being the healers that they are, we agreed that we had come too far to take the easy option of hitching a lift, and we would ride the final (final) Ande of our route down South America. The Paso Los Liberatores would take us from Mendoza up under the shadow of Aconcagua and into the Valparaiso region of Chile, north of Santiago. We set off from our wine lodge for 3 days of riding up to Uspallata, where we had parted ways with Lily 10 days earlier.
Ruta 7
After a couple of easy days on beautiful quiet backroads, we reached the town of Poterillos where our route joined the Ruta 7; a 1,224km highway running from Buenos Aires on the Atlantic coast to the border with Chile up in the high Andes. It’s one of the busiest commercial traffic routes in South America, with goods from all over the continent heading to the Chilean ports on the west coast for shipping on to China. We switched into chain gang mode, riding inline with a constant stream of comms about trucks behind, traffic ahead, and when to dive off the road into the gravel shoulder to avoid close calls.
Timing is everything
Turns out, 29th December - 1st January is a great time to ride your bike on busy routes. Based on horror stories from other cyclists, we had the Paso Los Liberatores about as quiet in terms of traffic as it is possible to get it. And to top things off, it was absolutely, jaw droppingly, stunning. The gaps in the traffic allowed us ample opportunity to gape at our high Ande’s surroundings, one last time.
Aconcagua
Towards the top of the pass, we stopped for the night in the small settlement of Puenta del Inca; the base camp from which expeditions up Aconcagua (the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere at 6,962m) typically set off. Whilst the comfort standards of our mountain refuge left a little to be desired, it felt cool to be falling asleep at the foot of such an icon of the mountaineering world.
Las Cuevas
The following day, we began our final push up to the top of the pass. Whilst the Ruta 7 completes its journey over to Chile via a tunnel, we had decided to take the route right up to the summit via a set of gravel switchbacks known as Las Cuevas. It was a slow and brutal finale to 3 solid days of uphill cycling; but the stunning views back down the valley and cheers of support from passing tourist buses spurred us on.
The view from the top was staggering, with mountains stretching out as far as the eye could see in all directions. We treated ourselves to a hot chocolate at the bizarrely (but expertly) placed hot chocolate shack, next to the statue of Christ that stands as a symbol of unity between Chile and Argentina. We had done it - the final Ande was conquered.
Happy New Year
It was the 31st December. Lacking in wild party options, we had decided to make New Year memorable by wild camping part way down the pass, in no mans land between Argentina and Chile. Whilst our abandoned hut wasn’t the most glamorous of accommodations, and the moderate altitude sickness resulted in an average nights sleep, it was one hell of a way to wave goodbye to one hell of a year, and a fitting way to ring in the adventures to come in 2026.
Acclimatising
We were through Chilean immigration in a heartbeat, and soon riding the famous Caracoles that wiggle their way down the mountain below the Portilleros ski resort. Before we knew it, we had dropped down to the town of Los Andes and our final crossing of the Andes was complete. New Years Day is a strange time to arrive in a new country; everything was closed, no one was around, it felt like we’d left the vibrancy of Argentina for a post apocalyptic wasteland. We checked into a hotel, to give ourselves a good night sleep and a chance to mentally reset for the next stage of the journey.
To the coast
Our next milestone was the port city of Valparaiso, on Chile’s west coast. We were due to meet friends Tittle and Liv there, and had a few days to kill before the 7th Jan rendezvous. This gave us the opportunity for some easy cycling days through the luscious Aconcagua valley, getting our bearings on the new country that would be our home for the next two months. We were squeezed in to a completely full campsite for free by the kind owner, had our clothes eaten by overzealous St Bernards, got given 50 free hand picked apricots (+ 2 Chilean flags), and camped on the beach next to a herd of horses. No such thing as an uneventful day in South America.
Bandit country
We’d had a never ending stream of warnings about Chilean people. The guide at the top of the pass; the kind owner of our first AirBnB; the host at the campsite. Everyone was at pains to tell us how this wasn’t like Argentina, there were bad people around, and you needed to be very careful with your stuff at all times. On top of this, Valparaiso has a reputation for being particularly bad in terms of muggings, robberies, and general banditry. We have very different approaches to dealing with this reality; Mol’s is to read every single news article and Reddit forum to understand exactly what could happen, and what to be aware of. Cam’s is to confidently declare that everything will be fine. Whilst debating the relative merits of our two approaches riding out of the town of El Melon, we rounded a corner to find a PDI (Chile’s version of the FBI) crime scene complete with forensics, blacked out SUV’s and Policemen armed with automatic weapons. We were waved through the roadblock, and later learned that what we had passed was the discovery of a bound body with a gunshot wound to the head. We hid our valuables at the bottom of our panniers, put a burner wallet with redundant cards and small cash in our top box, and rode into Valparaiso the most nervous we had been entering any city on the trip.
South American Merseyside
It was fine - as it always is. After traversing the coast road from the north of the city, we turned inland up the near vertical cobbled streets to our AirBnB that was as close to perfect (for us) as any dwelling we’ve ever come across. We could tell that there was something magical about Valparaiso; the view across the port, the amazing street art, the eclectic buildings perched precariously on the cliffs. It felt like a crazy mix between Liverpool and San Francisco, tucked down in the far south of the world. We immediately felt at home.
Valpo baby
We had a wonderful couple of days exploring Valparaiso with Tittle and Liv, who kindly allowed us to crash a small section of their honeymoon. We hit the beach, checked out the view from Pablo Neruda’s quirky house, and drank one (or two) too many pisco sours. Far too quickly, it was time to say goodbye; southbound for us, on to Santiago for them. We got back on the bikes feeling a little worse for wear, but energised from spending time with friendly faces for the first time in 4 months.
New phase
A tough 3 days riding took us inland to the Casablanca valley, south through the port city of San Antonio, before eventually arriving at the surf town of Pichilemu. We were both exhausted; despite having been in Chile for nearly two weeks, we didn’t feel like we had fully settled into a rhythm (probably not helped by the Valpo pisco sours). We took a rest day in Pichilemu, to get back into the riding headspace and put together a plan for the coming month. Mendoza and Valparaiso had been such big milestones, we had given almost no thought at all to what came after them. Now, all of a sudden, we into the next phase of the trip; and the end felt terrifyingly close.
That said, there was still nearly 3 months and 4000km to go; it’s all relative. We knew that we wanted to begin our journey through Patagonia at the start of February, which gave us roughly 3 weeks to ride 1,400km down through Middle Chile and Sur Chico to reach the town of Puerto Varas, the gateway to the Carterra Austral. After a lazy day in Pichilemu we’d settled on a plan to ride down the coast to the city of Concepcion before cutting inland across to the Chilean Lake District. It would require some big days, but would allow us a nice mix of coastal and mountain riding to get a good flavour of what this part of Chile had to offer. We treated ourselves to a beer and fish and chips overlooking the surf, excited for what was to come.
Back in the swing
Our first day of the push south from Pichilemu was relatively modest, weaving on gravel roads through the Laguna Torca National Reserve. It was a the perfect way to get back into the swing of things, complete with an empty National Park campsite nestled in the trees just inland from the wild, windy beach. We’d seen cliffs, salt flats, estuaries, meadows - all within 60km. If things carried on like this, it was going to be one hell of a stint.
Ups, downs, and headwinds
It was now time to wind things up. We had a lot of distance to get through, and needed to put in some big days to make sure we were down south in good time. Unfortunately, the weather gods had decided that our already challenging itinerary needed a little extra spice; it was forecast to be extra hot, extra sunny and extra windy (plum out of the south) for the coming days. This, coupled with the inevitable steep ups and downs of riding coastal bluffs meant we had a string of days with long, hard hours in the saddle. We soldiered on past the towns of Constitution, Buchupureo and Cobquecura making the most of the abundant seafood and astounding array of fruit and veg that this part of Chile is famous for.
Inland
It was time to say goodbye to the Pacific, for the final time on our year long trip. We had had our first glimpse of it way back in June up in the north western tip of Washington state, and fittingly the scenery at the mouth of the Itata river where we turned inland could easily of been the very same stretch of beach. Black sand, ferocious waves, dense pine forests hugging the shore. We sat and ate our lunch on the cliff top watching seals play in the waves, before beginning our journey into the interior.
Back in the ditch
Cycling into and out of cities is never much fun. In order to make our way across to the Lake District we would need to skirt the edge of Concepcion, but we were both agreed that if we could avoid cycling into it, we should. So after crossing the Itata river, we pushed on into the evening to get a little more distance boxed off, that would set us up to be able to shoot past the city and make good progress eastward. Unfortunately, this plan meant the only viable accommodation option was an abandoned slip road on the side of the busy 126 Highway. We’ve generally tried to limit our wild camping to remote areas, where you can be fairly confident no one is going to disturb you; but here, we had no choice but to get stuck in.
We set up camp, had a wipe down with the flannel, and made ourselves comfortable. Just before we bedded down, a truck stopped at the top of the lay-by and a group of blokes got out, loitering 15m from our camp that was hidden down amongst the bushes. Eventually they headed off, but it put us on edge and resulted in an average nights sleep - you can sometimes feel very exposed lying tucked away in your tent.
Paradise
We were through Concepcion in a heartbeat, and chugging inland up the south bank of the Biobio river. Our stop for the night was the Bosque Bike Park, a small MTB centre/ goat farm (what a combo) that allowed cyclists to camp for a small donation. It was heaven. We settled into the idillic campspot in the trees, and played with the comically adorable litter of puppies. It was the perfect tonic to the previous night’s ditch dive.
Chile is burning
The next morning, we woke to a smell of burning, and a sprinkling of ash on our tents. This part of Chile, much like Southern California, often grapples with the risk of wildfire during the hot summer months. We’d seen smoke in the air the previous day from a fire we knew was burning to the north of us, near the Itata river. And we also knew that there was an excessive heat and wind warning for the next few days. A quick google revealed that overnight, a massive new wildfire had started just north of Concepcion, closing the motorway we had ridden in on less than 24 hours previously. Things were clearly very serious - 50,000 people were having to evacuate their homes, and there had sadly been a number of fatalities. The ditch campspot we had slept in the night before was terrifyingly close to the fire, and we were slightly shell shocked at the thought of the situation we might have been in had we been a day later on our schedule. We packed up and decided to press south east as fast as possible, to get ourselves away from the highest risk region. As if to underline the point, the kind owner of the bike park gave us each a fire mask and told us to be careful as she waved us on our way.
Feeling real
The push south was punctuated with spotter planes overhead, helicopters with buckets of water dangling from their undercarriages, fire engines whizzing past and deep banks of smoke from the fires carried on the wind. At one point we were within eyesight of flames from a fresh fire just off the highway. It all felt very real. We made it past the city of Angol and settled into an uneasy sleep; until we were onto Ruta 5, there was still a chance we could get caught and have to change plans.
The Pan American Highway
After an unexpectedly frantic couple of days, we made it to Collipulli and turned right onto Ruta 5; the Chilean section of the Pan American Highway. The Pan Am is the longest road* in the world, running from Prudhoe Bay in Alaska all the way down to Ushuaia at the southernmost tip of the continent. It’s funny how riding in the shoulder of a massive highway with a constant stream of trucks hammering past can feel relaxing; but we had far and away our easiest, most uneventful days since we had left Valparasio. Funny old game.
*technically a network of different roads, but screw the small print we’re claiming it
The Lake District
Chile, being the skinny noodle of a country that it is, is split up into 16 regions running north to south (kind of like a totem pole). The Chilean Lake District is a zone of southern Chile that broadly covers the eastern, Andean foothill areas of the Araucania and Los Lagos regions. Peeling east off Ruta 5 at Freire, we finally made it to Villarrica; our gateway to the Lakes. And boy, did it deliver. Bustling town, nestled on the shores of a crystal clear alpine lake, with an enormous snow capped volcano standing sentinel at the far end. It was going to be a good week.
Holiday time
And it was. We spent the next 7 days lake hopping down the Ruta de los Siete Lagos, with breezy cycling and beautiful lakeside camp spots. For the first time ever on the trip, it felt like we could be cycling through midsummer in the UK; rolling fields, the smell of farms, the sound of birds. Then you’d round a corner and see an enormous volcano, to bring you back to South American reality. To top it off, there was barely a tourist in sight - save for Chilean weekend warriors. It really was an incredible little slice of the world.
Home wreckers
To keep things interesting and soak up some local culture, we’d decided to spend a couple of our nights camping in the gardens of friendly folk who offered them up on iOverlander. Coincidently they were both blokes called Carlos. Carlos #1 was a lovely fellow cyclist whose jack russel puppies gave us endless entertainment. Carlos #2 was an eccentric character, who lived in a ramshackle house down by a river next to a cherry farm. Whilst we were inside his house, having been kindly invited in to sample his homemade honey, jam and home brew moonshine (don’t ask), his 9 (9!!!) cats decided to use our tent as a climbing frame, ripping holes all over the inner. We were absolutely heartbroken - the tent has been our home, and has gallantly protected us through so many extremes without even a quiver. It’ll survive to Ushuaia, with abit of tape and some gentle handling. Safe to say cats are not winning the favourite animal award any time soon.
Fumigation
After cat gate, and more generally 3 weeks of hot hard riding since our last use of a washing machine, we spent a welcome night at an AirBnB in Entre Lagos on the shores of Lago Puyehue. There is honestly nothing as cathartic as washing ALL of your possessions (twice) and leaving them to dry in the beautiful warm sunshine. It was a much needed pitstop, as we knew we were only going to have 1 day off in Puerto Varas before diving into the Patagonian adventure. Rested and recuperated, we rode on into the final few days of the section.
Wrapping up in style
Lago Llanquihue is the southernmost of the Chilean Lakes. We joined its shores at the 19th century German settlement of Puerto Octay, before riding around its eastern edge through the Vicente Perez Rosales National Park under the shadow of Volcán’s Osorno and Calbuco. The sunset over the lake, and first light on the volcano, were a fitting reward for our 100th night in the tent.
The end of the Middle, and the start of the End
The next morning we rolled into Puerto Varas - which immediately went into battle with Valparaiso for the title of vibiest place in Chile. Think Banff crossed with Ambleside, with massive volcanoes everywhere. It’s been a weird and wonderful section of the trip; we had very little idea of what to expect, and it’s thrown up no end of surprises. The biggest by far being Chilean people. To an individual, they have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome, and are delighted to show off their wonderful country. Which is so at odds with the trepidation we felt before arriving, and the fact that almost every person we met through Middle Chile continued to warn us about the ‘bad people’. They must be here somewhere, but we sure as hell haven’t met them.
Somehow, it’s Patagonia next. Somehow, we’re at the start of the end. But there’s still plenty of adventure, headwinds, and coffee stops to come. Plus we have a surprise mystery guest joining us for the journey down the cyclist Mecca of the Carretera Austra. Hope he can keep up…
I hope you haven't too many followers as your description of Chile makes it Instagramable 😬
Loved it.
Added to the wish list! No more lay bye camping please........M&D x