The Carretera Austral

I’m a bad husband.

I left Liz in Puerto Montt, to recover on her own, while I went to ride the Carretera Austral for five days. And the truth is, I’d do it again.

Simply put, the Carretera Austral is one of the world’s truly great roads, both for driving enjoyment and scenic beauty. It is in the same league as the Cabot Trail (Nova Scotia), the Icefields Parkway (British Columbia), the Pacific Coast Hwy (California), the Great Ocean Road (Australia)…

Prosaically known as Ruta 7, the Carretera Austral stretches south for 1,240 km (770 miles) from Puerto Montt, connecting the remote communities of Chilean Patagonia. Only 100, 000 people live along its length, but the road has great strategic importance, due to long running border disagreements with Argentina. Now, in summer (October to March) it’s a magnet for tourists, both Chileno and foreign. I saw more campers and motorcycles here than anywhere else in Chile.

Construction of the Carretera began, in 1976 under the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet. For this reason, it’s also informally known as the Pinochet Highway (for better or worse depends on your political leanings here). Building a road though Patagonia is a monumental undertaking. There are steep mountains, thick forests, fjords, glaciers, and extreme winter weather. It was 12 years later, in 1988 that the first section of the road was opened to traffic. It took another 12 years, until 2000 for the road to reach its present southern terminus at Villa O’Higgins.

The Carretera is still a work in progress. Asphalt and concrete are slowly replacing the original gravel, but some sections are still little better than a dirt track, rough and narrow. Definitely not for the faint hearted. I laid the T700 down for the first time, avoiding an oncoming truck on a steep, narrow hairpin turn. I cut too close to the inside, bogged down in deep, soft gravel and spun out.

With muttered curses at the truckdriver and my own incompetence, I managed to get the bike back up, rubber-side down and continue on my way. Aside from wounded pride, the only damage is a small dent in my righthand pannier. I have decided to look at it as a proud battle scar, likely not the last.

But the beauty. Oh, the aching beauty of this land. There simply aren’t words, and pictures are at best an approximation. Snow-capped mountains so steep and jagged they would pierce the sky if it rested too heavily. Their grey-green flanks traced by the silver threads of cascading meltwater streams.

Cattle and sheep graze contentedly in the broader valleys. And occasionally wander out onto the road. It pays not to get too distracted by the scenery. Lupins and wild roses grow in profusion along the roadsides, along with numerous other wildflowers I cannot name. Their scent is so sweetly pungent at times, it’s almost shocking.

Fly fishermen dot the rivers, weaving their incantations over the riffles. Or perhaps it is the fish who are casting the spells, offering themselves up to capture the soul of a fishman. Most of the anglers I know seem to be enchanted.

The air is so clear, the landscape so sharp, it almost seems surreal. I’m tempted to pull over and stop around every bend, to take yet another picture.

And another part of me, perhaps the wiser part, says no – simply be. Remember this in your bones: the rhythm of the road; the sweep of each turn; the pressure of the handlebars, seat and pegs; the freshness of the mountain air that swirls around you. These are the things to cherish. Store them away, not in pixels, but in the place where you keep those things most precious.

A motorcycle instructor once told me that riding is like a conversation. If your inputs (throttle, brake, body position) are abrupt, the response will be harsh. I like to think of it as a dance, at its best fluid, intuitive and sensual. There are moments along the Carretera where we melt into each other – the road, the bike and I become one. It is relaxed focus, natural and thrilling at the same time.

Next week Liz and I will rent a car and travel together. We will visit Chiloe. The entire island is a UNESCO World Heritage site. We’ll also drive along some of the Carretera. It will not be a repetition, but rather a revisiting from a different perspective. One to treasure together. I want to see this land through her eyes.

Yes, I’m a bad husband, but maybe not the worst.

Here’s the link to more photos of my trip along the Carretera Austral.