Cycling Tierra del Fuego, Part 2: Río Grande, Argentina to Porvenir, Chile
14 - 21 December 2024
14 Dec - Río Grande to Ruta 3 Road Culvert, Argentina (38.5 mi, 62.0 km)
15 Dec - Ruta 3 Road Culvert, Argentina to San Sebastián, Chile (21.0 mi, 33.8 km)
16 Dec - Rest day in San Sebastián, Chile
17 Dec - San Sebastián to Porvenir, Chile (86.6 mi, 139.4 km)
18-21 Dec - Layover in Porvenir, Chile
A Land Without Trees
After a couple of rainy days in Río Grande, Argentina, we were ready to tackle some more of the Patagonian pampas. Our plan was to cycle northward along the Atlantic coast to the tiny border settlement of San Sebastián, then turn westward across the island towards the Strait of Magellan. That route would keep us on the open grasslands most of the way, with the Patagonian wind being our constant companion.
Along the edge of town, a hostel called the Motorcycle Fin del Mundo clearly catered to a specific type of traveler, with a giant motorcycle mounted out front. Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Before long we were back in the endless grasslands. It is not an exaggeration to say that there were NO trees north of Río Grande. In addition the terrain was, for the most part, nearly flat. Where there had been cows south of town, we were now surrounded by large herds of sheep - sometimes stretching all the way to the horizon. However, we didn’t see a single guanaco all day, which surprised us given how common they had been further south.
A view of the scenery north of Río Grande. Note the total absence of any plants growing more than a foot or two tall. Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Most of the birds in the region were colored like the grass - shades of brown, gray and black. So it was always a treat to spot a long-tailed meadowlark, with its scarlet-red breast. Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The route was not all flat, however. About 1.5 hours into our ride we reached an unusual, soaring, gravelly ridge that juts out into the ocean, known as Cape Domingo. At the foot of the climb stood a jumbled cluster of roadside shrines dedicated to the folk saint, Gauchito Gil. Although not an official saint of the Catholic Church, as many as 25% of Argentinians profess devotion to him - most likely because he is seen as a symbol of resistance and a champion of the oppressed.
Handmade shrines venerating the folk saint Gauchito Gil clustered together at the foot of our climb over Cape Domingo. North of Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
It was on our climb over the Cape that the headwind finally kicked in. Without any trees to slow it down, the wind buffeted us without mercy and cut our cycling speed by more than half. Luckily there was no rain. But we couldn’t cycle for much more than an hour before having to stop to rest. There were no buildings or bus stop shelters to hide behind, so the only place we could get away from the wind was in the occasional culverts dug under the road for drainage. We would lean our bicycles against the guardrail by the road, and scramble down into the lee of the embankment. It wasn’t very glamorous, but we savored those calm moments.
As we neared our destination, after almost 9 hours of cycling, we were stopped for one final break when a motorcycle pulled over, and parked next to us. A couple dismounted, and came over to greet us. Cristián and Tatí were from Río Grande, and were out for a weekend ride. They were heading for a restaurant right at the Argentina-Chile border for a hot drink, before turning around and going home. They told us that they loved to go out on their motorbike on sunny days, and riding to the border was something they did often. Unsurprisingly, they told us that the cold weather in Río Grande gets old, and that they would be heading to the beaches of Brazil for the Christmas holiday. They were both really sweet, and we enjoyed getting to know them.
A roadside visit with Cristián and Tatí, somewhere along the highway in Patagonia. North of Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
We finally arrived at our destination, after 10 hours of battling the wind at the very slow pace the wind would allow. It really isn’t possible to fight a very strong headwind. The difference in speed between pushing at 90% of your effort compared to 40% is very modest, and hardly worth the extra work.
With no services along this section of highway, our campsite was another, humble road culvert. There was a relatively large, flat area suitable for pitching a tent out of the wind. As a bonus, the culvert was fairly large, and we were able to park our bicycles inside of it, under the road. That turned out to be a good thing, because it rained over night but our bikes stayed dry. Of course, camping in a water culvert during the rain might not seem like the smartest move, since the culverts are designed to channel water under the road to avoid flooding. We probably would have been concerned if the rain had intensified. But under the circumstances the light rain seemed like the lesser of two evils compared to the wind, which was a sure bet to be a problem without the shelter provided by the culvert. This campsite had the added bonus of being a short distance from the Argentina border with Chile. The border post closed at 9 pm which meant all traffic on the road stopped in the evening when the road essentially became a dead end at the border.
It may not look like much, but this was a luxury campsite in the windy Patagonian steppe. Key features: a bit of flat ground protected from the wind, and a dry place to park the bicycles over night (inside the culvert). North of Río Grande, Tiera del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
We weren’t exactly alone, though. Just a few yards away was a very large flock of sheep. Fortunately there was a fence between us and them, so we didn’t have to worry about a midnight visit from nosey sheep.
The way they were staring, you’d think these sheep had never seen a pair of cyclists camping in a road culvert before. North of Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Wild Winds Along the Border
Another morning rain kept us inside our tent until 9am, leading to another later-than-expected departure. At first we didn’t worry about it too much, because we had a pretty short day of cycling planned. With only 21 miles (34 km) to reach the hotel across the border in Chile, it seemed like we had plenty of time to spare.
However, we did not properly account for the wind. We thought it had been bad the day before. Little did we know just how terrible it could get.
By 10am the wind was ferocious. It was a very nasty side wind that pushed us around, slowing our progress to a crawl and making it hard to maintain a straight line of travel. With each big gust of wind, our handlebars bucked and swayed like an unbroken mustang. We constantly battled to keep from blowing right off the road and down the embankment. On top of that, the rain continued to fall in showers throughout the morning. That stinging sensation on our faces was the wind thrashing the rain against our skin.
The local wildlife didn’t seem to have a problem with the wind and rain, though. Once again, there were guanacos out in the fields. Plus, we saw another family of gray fox kits out exploring near their den. This group was quite a bit older than the ones we had seen the previous week, further south. In fact, everything was noticeably further into spring up here - the grass was greener and there were expansive beds of wildflowers in bloom.
These two little foxes didn’t seem to mind the terrible weather. We spotted them exploring the area near their den, sheltered from the wind and rain. South American Gray Foxes (Chillas). South of San Sebastián, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
It seemed to take forever to cover the 11 miles (18 km) to the frontier restaurant on the Argentinian side of the border (in reality, it took about three hours). The wind created so much noise that we couldn’t hear vehicles approaching from behind. Instead of being prepared to be passed by a vehicle that we could hear approaching, we would suddenly be overtaken by a vehicle that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, whose approach was masked by the wind. After pulling our hearts back into our bodies from the surprise of being unexpectedly overtaken, we would then contend with a wild vortex created by the strong, sustained wind magnified by the currents from the passing vehicle. We thanked our lucky stars that the traffic along the highway was relatively light.
PedalingGal being whipped around by 50mph (80kph) wind gusts. Approaching San Sebastián from the south, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
You can only imagine our relief when we finally arrived at the little cafe near the border, and were able to escape the wind and rain. Our frayed nerves from the constant noise, the sensation of being barely in control of our bikes, and from constantly being on edge due to surprise 18-wheelers suddenly appearing just a few feet away, quickly faded. Once inside, we ordered a big lunch and guzzled Gatorade - lingering over our food for 1.5 hrs. It was heavenly.
You can also probably imagine how hard it was to tear ourselves away, to get back on our bicycles and ride the final nine miles into Chile. But during our lunch the rain had stopped, removing one excuse to delay our departure. Finally, we had to admit that the ride wasn’t getting any easier the longer we waited. We had to bite the bullet and continue.
Fortunately, the Argentine border office was less than 100 yds away. That didn’t seem so bad. However, to our surprise, the exit procedure was pretty simple and quick. Unfortunately it was one of our easiest border crossings ever, although we would have enjoyed a few more minutes of shelter within the border station. Within a few minutes we were free to go. That was probably the first time, ever, we wished a border procedure had taken longer than it did. It was time to face the music.
After you exit Argentina you then have to cycle approximately 9 miles (14.5 km) before you reach the Chilean border office. The gap between the borders is known as “no man’s land”. Those last nine miles were, by far, the hardest of all. At the Argentinian border our route turned due west, directly into the wind. We were very, very lucky that there was a wide, reasonably well-groomed, gravel shoulder to cycle on, because it was nearly impossible to ride in a straight line. The wind was now howling at 65 mph (105 kph). As we crested each, small hill the gale increased in intensity near the top, causing us to dismount our bikes and push them forward. Cycling into that wind was just too hard. And there was no coasting downhill - you still had to pedal hard whether you were going uphill or down.
To give you some idea, weather advisories are typically broadcast whenever the wind reaches those speeds, and people are generally advised to take shelter. But on the Patagonian pampas those winds were not particularly unusual, and there was no one to give you a warning.
Every so often, we would stop to rest, which gave us the chance to check out the surrounding landscape. Where the road cut through some hills, we could see the uplifted layers of rocks. West of San Sebastián, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The almost 9 miles of “no man’s land” between the Argentinian and Chilean border stations was populated by large herds of sheep. West of San Sebastián, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
We finally reached the border with Chile! Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
With only about a mile to go, we crossed paths with two cyclists from the Netherlands that were heading in the opposite direction. To say the least, we were quite jealous that they had the wind at their backs. They seemed sympathetic to our plight, but were not encouraging. They told us to expect the ride ahead to be very difficult, due to the wind (as if we didn’t know).
Eventually, after 3.5 hours of cycling between the border stations, we dragged ourselves into the Chilean immigration office. This time we would have loved a quick and easy entry, since we were very close to our final destination. But it was not our fate. The Chileans ran us through a bunch of bureaucratic procedures requiring the completion of multiple forms and visits to several, different service windows.
First window: We presented our passports for the immigration check. That part was pretty straightforward, with just a couple of the usual questions (like where we were going).
Second window: We had to get a ‘temporary import permit’ for our bicycles. This was a totally new wrinkle, which we had never encountered before in our travels by bicycle across 30+ international borders. After we provided the clerk with details about our bikes, he entered the information into a computer then tried to print a copy of our permit. But the printer wouldn’t print. Another guy came over to help, and the two of them spent the next 10 minutes taking out the toner cartridge, banging and shaking it into submission. Finally, they got a couple of (mostly) legible copies printed. We were given a copy to keep.
Third window: The regular customs check. At this one we had to fill out a declaration form attesting that we didn’t have any prohibited items (e.g, fresh produce or meats), or anything to sell.
After we submitted the final customs form they told us we could leave, so we thought we had completed all the procedures. But not so fast… When we went out to our bikes, there was a customs agent standing there waiting for us, to actually inspect our luggage. She asked us to open some of our panniers, surveyed the contents, and took a hard look at one of our most precious food items, our gorp (various nuts, M&M’s, dried fruit). After examining the gorp closely for what seemed an eternity, she decided to let us keep it. That was a close one. At last, she cleared us to leave. The whole process took almost an hour.
By then we were so exhausted that we’re unsure how we managed to cycle the final half mile to the little, frontier hotel. It was complete bliss to arrive, at 6:30pm - after nine hours on the road. Our room was tiny, so the bikes had to remain outside. But the beds were comfortable and the (shared) showers were very good. We were happy.
The hotel itself was quite interesting. It catered to truckers taking goods between Argentina and Chile. It was remarkably isolated, and essentially “off the grid.” During the day, all of the electrical power was generated by a miniature wind turbine (it WAS very windy), and a small bank of solar panels (although the sun didn’t shine that much). However, those sources only produced enough power for the restaurant and the common room. The guest rooms had no power until 7pm in the evening, when they turned on a gas generator that could pump out enough electricity for the whole complex. The common room, with a television and pool table, was very popular with the truckers until the lights and generators were turned off around 9 pm each night. No overnight charging of phones here.
This small cluster of buildings provides an oasis for travelers in the remote Patagonian steppe. Hostería La Frontera, San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The Rest Day That Didn’t Last
After a blissfully restful night, we took our time getting started the next day. It was 9:30 am before we finally made it over to the restaurant.
And, wow, breakfast was amazing. In Argentina, breakfast is barely a meal and it rarely includes anything besides a slice of bread, a see-through, thin slice of ham and cheese, and some coffee or tea. This breakfast was SO MUCH BETTER than anything we’d seen in Argentina. In addition to the warm bread (fresh from the oven), ham and cheese, it included scrambled eggs, home made yogurt, and a couple of gorgeous, artisanal pastries. It was like we had forgotten what breakfast could really be like, and were transported back to a time when the meal was something to be enjoyed. We savored every bite. Hola, Chile!
Later we went for a walk up the road. There isn’t really much of a town there, but a historic cemetery with all-wood grave markers was a reminder that Europeans had settled this area quite a while ago.
On our morning walk we passed the historic San Sebastián Cemetery, where wooden crosses mark the graves of some of the region’s earliest European settlers. San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Everything seemed to be going well until around 2pm, when we took a look at the upcoming weather. That gave us a big shock. According to the forecast, a huge storm system was going to hit the entire region starting the following evening, with winds and rain significantly worse than we had just experienced. It included sustained winds in excess of 65 mph (105 kph) with gusts much higher - headwinds, of course. And the storm was predicted to last for at least three days. Given the level of effort required to simply stay on your bicycle and not get blown into a ditch - or into oncoming traffic - with winds of that magnitude, it really was not an option to safely cycle in those conditions.
This bit of information threw our travel plans into chaos. From San Sebastián, we had to cross 87 miles (140 km) of open pampas to reach the next town. To make matters worse, less than 30% of the route would be paved. The rest would be on rough dirt roads, which would undoubtedly slow us down. And there would be no services, trees or real opportunities for shelter along that entire stretch of road. We had planned to take a leisurely three days to cover those 87 miles. That strategy was no longer realistic. We had some serious decisions to make.
And so, we pondered our options. One possibility was to hunker down in San Sebastián for 4+ days. However, San Sebastián was really just a a remote border crossing and not a real town. The only thing there was the hotel we were in, plus the border station and its facilities.
It may sound crazy, but after thinking it over we decided to depart that evening. We would cycle straight through the night plus the first part of the following day, hopefully making it to the town of Porvenir before the storm hit. The winds at night were usually lighter than during the day, and the forecast predicted particularly light winds that evening. We knew it would be an ordeal. But at least it would get us further down the road, to a real town with options to buy food and more comfortable accommodations.
Once we had made up our minds, we prepared our bike lights and got ready for the long ride through the night. That included getting as much rest as possible for the remainder of the day, and treating ourselves to a big, hearty dinner.
Then we packed up our things, and cycled out of San Sebastián at 9:30pm, in very light winds.
Packing up the bikes for an evening departure. San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
A Short Night for a Very Long Ride
It turned out to be SUCH a good decision to depart that evening. With the very calm winds, we flew along the road and covered the first 25 miles (40 km) - to the place where the pavement ended - in under three hours. While we were somewhere along that stretch of road, the sun set. This far south, the summer nights are pretty short, with “last light” officially around 11pm.
Gliding along Hwy 257 into the sunset. Without a headwind, our speed improved dramatically. West of San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
By the time we turned onto the dirt road around midnight it was quite dark, with just a dim wash of light along the horizon. In the long twilight we saw lots and lots of guanacos - often quite close to the road. They seemed much less skittish in the darkness than they were during the day. Most of the time they just stood in the grass margins of the road, a couple meters away, and watched us cycle by. But a couple of times, groups of guanacos trotted across the road just ahead of us, possibly spooked by our presence.
Guanacos were particularly common along the road as we headed west. They seemed much less wary of us as darkness fell on the Patagonian steppe. West of San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
At the end of the paved road, we were enveloped by the midnight darkness. Onaissin Crossing, West of San Sebastián, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Before long the moon rose slowly into the sky. For the first half hour clouds along the horizon turned the moon a deep, ochre orange - reminiscent of the moons we had seen during forest fires, when smoke turned the sky reddish brown.
Our progress slowed since it was now pitch dark, and our bike lights only illuminated a narrow tunnel of light on the road directly in front of us. It was a little like cycling with blinders on, with all our attention required to not ride into a pot hole, avoid the softest patches of dirt that could give way underneath, and to try and pick the smoothest path through the washboard-filled road.
In the darkness, we could sense that a major construction project was under way along the gravel road. We noticed the shadows of big tractors and earth moving equipment nearby, but couldn’t see far enough to get a good feel for what was being built.
About 45 minutes after turning onto the gravel, we encountered a “detour” that herded us off the main gravel road and onto a parallel track. We obediently followed the detour, periodically checking our GPS map to make sure that we were still going in the right direction. We continued to chug along on the gravel in the dark, occasionally passing the ghostly forms of nearby guanacos.
A little over an hour later, in the dark, PedalingGuy decided to walk over to the old road corridor to check out the condition of the main road. What he discovered was a revelation. Along the main road, parallel to our dirt track, was a raised platform of smooth, paved concrete. It was a new road, still under construction. We realized that if we had gotten onto the concrete from the beginning, we could have been cycling much faster for the last hour, with a lot less effort.
That was a shame. However, given that construction zones are usually treated much more informally in Latin America than in Canada or the United States, there wasn’t anything to stop us from correcting our mistake immediately. Without hesitating, we grabbed our bikes and started cycling on the new concrete.
We couldn’t completely relax, because every so often we would suddenly come upon a big gap in the concrete with foot-long drop-offs where the road was still incomplete. We were also worried that we might encounter some still-wet concrete along the way.
Guided by our small headlights in the completely dark night we were very vigilant. Even so, it was much less taxing to cycle on the smooth surface, without having to constantly watch for ruts, bumps, washboards or stones on the parallel dirt road. It was awesome while it lasted, especially since we were down to only one headlight between the two of us, after PedalingGuy’s light went dead.
But sadly, in just over 2 miles (3 km) we reached a spot where there was a big paving machine across the road and the concrete came to an end. It was about 3am.
As we approached the machines, we heard someone stir and cough. He must have heard us coming, because he started the engine of a nearby truck and turned on its headlights. Most likely, he was there to provide nighttime security and wanted any intruders to know that the equipment was guarded.
Spooked, and not entirely sure we wanted a late night encounter with a security guard, we hustled back to the other parallel, washboard-covered, gravel road and went on our way - albeit much more slowly once again.
From there the road climbed up onto a ridge. We reached the top of the ridge at 4:30am, just as the light started to return to the sky for sunrise.
On the ridge stood one of the humble roadside shelters that are fairly common near road junctions in Chile’s far south. They are meant to be free refuges for travelers in the harsh, Patagonian landscape. Nice, new shelters were built some time in the last 10-15 years, with windows, doors, a couple of platforms for sleeping, a bench and table, and even a wood stove. But sadly, most of them have been badly vandalized (broken doors and windows, stolen furniture, lots of trash), and are no longer very appealing places to rest. We didn’t end up using any of them. Hopefully they will be rebuilt in the future.
Checking out the free, roadside shelter at the corner of roads Y-71 and Y-653 in Tierra del Fuego. Unfortunately, the shelter had been badly vandalized and would only be suitable for refuge in an emergency. Circuito de Oro Crossing, East of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
In the growing light, we could see the big expanse of Inútil Bay to our south, bordered by a mountain range on the far side. Inútil Bay (Bahia Inútil in Spanish) translates to Useless Bay. It sits on one side of the Strait of Magellan, and was named by Captain Phillip Parker King in 1827 because it afforded “neither anchorage nor shelter, nor any other advantage for the navigator.”
Our route turned towards the bay, and plunged downward towards its shore. For the next six hours the road hugged the bay’s northern coastline.
Turning downhill towards Inútil Bay. East of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The far side of the bay was bordered by a mountain range. One of the taller peaks was shrouded in snow and clouds. AfterPedalingGuy finished taking this photo, a killer whale surfaced briefly far out in the bay, but rapidly disappeared before a photo could be taken. Inútil Bay, East of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.rt show
The shoreline of the bay turned out to be a lot more hilly than the nice, relatively flat pampas we had crossed earlier in the night. The route became much more challenging as the road plunged into narrow valleys where streams tumbled towards the bay, then climbed steeply back out onto soaring headlands. By that point we had been cycling for eight hours and covered 55 miles (88.5 km) with no sleep all night, so the increase in difficulty was not a welcome turn of events.
We did enjoy the scenery along the bay. This landscape was very pastoral, with flocks of sheep, ramshackle old fishing cabins, and the occasional homestead. Many of the remote homesteads were still run by the descendants of the area’s original settlers.
An old, abandoned cabin overlooking Inútil Bay. East of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Colorful beds of lupine flowers bordered the entrance to Estancia Draga, one of the largest homesteads in the region. North shore of Inútil Bay, East of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The final 20 miles (32 km) into Porvenir were the most challenging of all. The hills continued, and seemed to get steeper with each mile. Then, around 8:30am, the wind began to increase. It was not yet a gale, but it was still a headwind which sapped our energy. And pretty soon the road workers began heading out to the construction site, dousing us in a thick cloud of dust each time they drove by. We choked on the grit each time, and had to stop often to let the dust settle before cycling onward.
And, obviously, we were getting pretty tired.
The shore of Inútil Bay was an endless procession of tall headlands, separated by steep-walled arroyos where streams ran towards the bay. The road dove up and down, from the headlands and into the valleys. South of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
View into Rosario Cove, within one of the valleys bordering the bay. A homestead building sat way back in the depths of the cove. North Shore of Inútil Bay, South of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Climbing one of the many hills on the way to Porvenir, with Inútil Bay in the background. South of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Then, with less than 10 miles to go, a miracle happened, we hit pavement! The transition from dirt to pavement helps to reduce the level of difficulty. It was the same concrete surface they were laying at the construction site we had passed during the night. It was so smooth we felt like we were riding on air. Furthermore, the slopes from then onward were a little bit more gentle. These changes came in the nick of time. We just chugged along in a sleep-deprived trance.
We were so very happy to finally arrive in the town of Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
As is often the case, our hotel was at the far side of town and up a very steep hill. But finally, we managed to arrive - 15 hours after we had departed San Sebastián having, cycled through the night from 9:30 pm to about 12:30 pm the next day.
The final climb to our hotel. PedalingGal didn’t have any energy left for cycling that last hill. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
It took us a long time to finally get settled in. Part of the problem was that we had arrived a day earlier than our reservation, and the room type that we had booked was not available that first night. The fact that we were so very tired just added to the strain of trying to figure out a solution. But in the end, it worked out for the best. We rented a rustic cabin that had enough room to keep the bikes inside, and was probably a better fit for us than the room we had originally reserved. Eventually we took a welcome, warm shower and promptly fell asleep.
Our cabin in Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. It may have been the only place in town where we could comfortably have our bikes inside the room. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Napping for an hour helped. But even after that, we both suffered from brain fog for the rest of the day.
That evening the weather turned nasty, as anticipated. We had a sense of gratification that our long night of cycling was not done in vain, and that we had successfully dodged a weather event that would have been difficult - if not dangerous - to be caught out on the open pampas. Heavy rain pelted the town. Meanwhile the wind picked up, howling through Porvenir like a hurricane. When the big gusts blew, the walls of our little cabin shuddered. But the structure was solid, so we stayed warm and dry during the tempest.
Cultural Influences - Croats and Selk’nam
The next couple of days we hunkered down in Porvenir, waiting for the storms to pass. Fortunately the rain let up somewhat, with showers only part of the day. The wind continued to blow with force, though. So we took the opportunity to explore Porvenir and its surroundings.
High winds, like the ones buffeting this Chilean flag, are no friend to cyclists. We spent a couple of days hunkered down in a cabin, waiting for the winds to die down so we could continue. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Walking the streets of Porvenir, two cultural influences really stood out. The first was the strong influence of Croatia on the town. When gold was discovered in the 1870s, people from Croatia (which was then part of the Austrian Empire) were by far the dominant Europeans to immigrate to Porvenir. In fact, the majority of the immigrants were from a single Croatian town called Mimica. And to this day, Mimica is one of the most common surnames in Porvenir. Other evidence of the Croatian influence included many of the street names, a prominent Croatian Club, and a monument honoring the Croatian settlers.
A photo in a local park depicted early settlers in Porvenir, probably of Croatian heritage. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
A gold rush era home on one of the towns main roads. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The other cultural influence that you can’t miss when visiting Porvenir is the Selk’nam people. This indigenous group inhabited Tierra del Fuego when the Europeans arrived, and lived in traditional communities up until the early 1900s. While the traditional communities have all died out, and most of their cultural traditions have been lost, their images were literally everywhere.
People seem fascinated by the visually striking Selk’nam ceremonial costumes that included bold, red-and-white body paint. Their ability to live off the land in this very harsh environment was also admired. Every street block in Porvenir included murals, every business had photos, and there were multiple town parks devoted to honoring these indigenous people, and the mysteries of their culture.
A historical photograph of a Selk’nam in ceremonial paint hung inside our cabin. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
This mural in a town park shows a stylized Selk’nam figure, positioned among the cosmos. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
A statue in Selk’nam Park evoked a family group of the nomadic people walking stoically through the grass, wrapped in their guanaco furs for warmth, and accompanied by their dog. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The Main Event - King Penguins
One thing we knew we had to do while in Porvenir was to visit the King Penguin Natural Reserve, which can be done as a day trip. Online Information about tours of the reserve from Porvenir is pretty skimpy, so it took some effort to nail something down. Fortunately, our hosts were able to connect us with a driver who could take us to the reserve. We were especially lucky that we were the only ones making the trip that day. It was just the two of us, our driver (Luis), and the English-speaking guide (Javiera), so we were able to get all of our local history questions answered along the way.
Although Porvenir is one of the closest settlements to the penguin reserve, it’s still a two-hour drive away. In truth, the reserve was actually located back along the route we had just cycled between San Sebastián and Porvenir - and would have been just a 20 mile (32 km) round trip detour by bicycle, if we had the time and we didn’t pass by in the dead of night. Making the trip from Porvenir was a lot more practical for us.
It was interesting to see all of the land we had cycled across in the nighttime once again, while whizzing by in a car. Javiera told us that the road construction project, which will eventually connect San Sebastián and Porvenir, would take four more years to complete. After that, cyclists should have a much easier, and less dusty, road to travel.
Arriving at the King Penguin Natural Reserve, with our guides Javiera and Luis. Pingüino Rey Natural Reserve, Tierra del Fuego, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
Checking out the king penguin colony from one of the trails at the Pingüino Rey Natural Reserve, Tierra del Fuego, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
At the reserve there were about 150 king penguins clustered in a group, and they were gorgeous. King penguins are the second largest penguin species (after Emperor Penguins) so their size is impressive. And they have that elegant black, white, orange and yellow coloration that makes them appear so regal. We were especially fortunate to be able to see these dapper birds in Tierra del Fuego at all, because this is the only colony of king penguins known to occur so close to the mainland. All the other colonies are way out on remote, subpolar islands.
A big group of the birds was already laying eggs, while some other birds were courting and looking for mates. We watched them from several viewing points, for about an hour. It was a pleasure just to look at them.
On the way back, our guides took us to a park on top of a big hill, across a big bay from the town. From there we had a sweeping view of Porvenir, dotted with brightly colored buildings and roofs. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
The Edge of Tierra del Fuego
Our arrival in Porvenir brought us to the western edge of Tierra del Fuego. The town is just a few miles from the Strait of Magellan, which separates Tierra del Fuego from the mainland of South America (Tierra del Fuego is a large island, as you may recall from our previous post). With Christmas fast approaching, we had set our sights on spending the holiday in the city of Punta Arenas. So the evening after our visit with the king penguins, we packed up our bikes for the ferry ride across the Strait of Magellan and took one last walk through town to say “good-bye” to the Land of Fire.
Even the Christmas display in Porvenir had the image of a Selk’nam in ceremonial dress. Porvenir, Magallanes, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2024 Pedals and Puffins.
