Before I left for my world trip, I sternly told myself that I would stop hitchhiking alone.

Yet using my thumb to experience the gems and potholes of La Carretera Austral, under rain or sun, had remained one of my biggest fantasies for more than two years.

 

 

The generosity of strangers carried me 1,148 kilometers, or 713 miles. I was put in the back of one pickup truck, the front of several other trucks, the sedan of some fruit vendors, two Mitsubishi L200 camper vans, and much more.

My drivers and I exchanged snacks, leg stretches, languages, and music from around the world. We shared breathtaking hikes, rainy tent days, and Patagonian beers.

 

 

About La Carretera

La Carretera Austral runs 1,240 kilometers, or 770 miles, cutting into the deep south of Chile. Despite its length, it only reaches out to 100,000 of the 18 million people living in this country.

This famous Patagonian highway is known for its highly variable road conditions, and for being one of the friendliest places in the world to practice hitchhiking.

 

Hitchhiking

The beauty of hitchhiking in Patagonia is that soon enough, all the drivers and hitchhikers know each other. The result is one interconnected mess of faces and names and knowing people from knowing other people.

When it came time for me to embark on this highway adventure, I didn’t have a buddy the way I’d envisioned. I didn’t have the tent or camping gear that I was supposed to buy from someone at the start, and sell when I finished.

I was also a full-time student at the University of Florida; all of my classes were online. Oh yeah, and I had been robbed a month prior which had left me utterly phone-less. I was relying on paper maps, my GoPro camera, a $3 wristwatch, and connecting to the internet with my laptop on the rare occasions that wifi worked.

Regardless of the circumstances, I wasn’t gonna give up my dream.

What follows are the little stories and characters of my time enjoying the Carretera. This adventure has two sister posts:

Part II: Puerto Rio Tranquilo—Coyhaique

Part III: Queulat—Chaitén

 

 

Chile Chico

My access point to the Carretera was via Chile Chico. Visitors can enjoy beautiful lakes and prime hiking in Reserva Nacional Lago Jeinimeni. As someone who had a severe lack of my own 4×4, I passed on this.

I stayed in Campamento Nandu, 15,000 CLP ($23) for a dorm bed.

Day 41

20 March 2018

Los Antiguos, Argentina → Chile Chico, Chile

Hitchhiked: 14 km | Trip Total: 518 km

Tumbling off of a cold night bus, I semi-recovered in a cafe before walking the two kilometers between Los Antiguos, Argentina, and the immigration offices at the national border. It was exceedingly sunny. Just before exiting Argentina, I fed a cookie to a hitchhiker I crossed paths with; he was walking in the opposite direction.

After another half hour of walking between borders, a car took me to Chilean immigration, and then into Chile Chico.

I found Fanny and Ella, the two German sisters I’d met at the border an hour prior. We decided to get the same dorm.

The last of the daylight was spent climbing the hill of the town to admire Lago General Carrera, before scrambling down to the supermarket and cooking a family-style dinner with the two other dudes also staying at our hostel.

 

Day 42 (am)

21 March 2018

Chile Chico → ?

Hitchhiked: 178 km | Trip Total: 696 km

Our group was odd-numbered** and we had agreed to all meet in the next stop north. Being alone meant I got picked up before the six other pairs of backpackers out on the road.

My driver Sergio and I shared the autumn fruits I’d picked from the hostel trees that morning, and chips. The fact that our chips ring-shaped made me feel happy, and like a little kid.

As we snacked, Sergio told me about the beauty of the long-sought Carretera Austral, which I technically hadn’t seen yet. The junction was coming up, and we were spoiled with sweeping views of Lago General Carrera.

Sergio was going southbound Cochrane, while the others and I had agreed to meet up in Puerto Rio Tranquilo. I had about 60 kilometers to make a decision.

Of course I chose to stick with Sergio. Come on, even our bladders were synced for taking bathroom breaks.

 

 

Cochrane

This often-overlooked speck of Chile’s far south was my favorite spot along the Carretera Austral. It was the kind-hearted locals, the empanadas, and the feel of a more offbeat Patagonia destination, that won me over.

Reserva Nacional Tamango is walking-distance from town and offers numerous hiking options. Trails feature cute names and can be combined to form overnight treks that pass through dreamy forests and lakes.

In town there are two glamping options, both 5,000 CLP ($7.50) per night if you bring your own tent. Señora Paty owns one of them, and rents out a cozy single room in her house for 8,000 CLP ($12) per night. Her wifi was the best I had in the Carretera. Most importantly, senora knows the supermarket with the best empanadas de pino, a monster-sized Chilean specialty.

 

Day 42 (pm)

21 March 2018

Chile Chico → Cochrane

Hitchhiked: 178 km | Trip Total: 696 km

Actually, I had been lamenting about how I wouldn’t have a chance to check out Caleta Tortel, located way down the Carretera near the starting point. Getting to Cochrane would bring me way closer to Tortel.

There is a setback to solo hitchhiking. No dozing off. I felt my head nodding, and Sergio asked if I was sleepy. I jerked awake and assured him, “No no no no, not at all.”

Shortly after the next junction we came to a screeching halt. Sergio was muttering to himself about how he should probably get those boys.

Javi and Nico threw their packs in the truck bed and got in the back seats. They were from the Elqui Valley region of Chile, and were in the area for a climbing festival. I asked them how big their tent was. They told me it was a three-person.

At Cochrane we thanked and bade farewell to Sergio. The boys went to sort out lodging while I waited with the bags, trying to message the others I had split from this morning. I was exhausted, sitting in the central plaza, which was utterly dotted with parrot shit.

The boys returned, announcing that they really did find a local house who would let us “patio camp.”

And so I end up in a random, mosquito-infested backyard among piles of manure for my first official night on the Carretera. The lack of wind meant that the tent was quickly set up.

A crippled dog wouldn’t leave us until I sprayed some citronella in his direction. He gave me an offended look and disappeared. Poor thing.

The tent turned out to be spacious enough for cooking pasta to the beat of Chilean reggae. Factor in all the insects that had seeped in, and we had a full house.

After the meal the boys taught me some Spanish phrases that were very Chilean, like “¡Pasame la wea!” and a handful of others that I’m better off not posting on the internet.

¡Gracias para adoptarme!

**Fanny and Ella were a pair. That morning we had run into Marius and Dominique hitchhiking together.

Fact: I had actually separated from Marius and Dominique just before meeting Fanny and Ella the day before. Marius and Dominque were on my night bus. But Fanny and Ella knew them from hiking in El Chalten, Argentina, and they had actually met Marius even before, in Ushuaia, Argentina.

But I already knew that Fanny and Ella knew Marius and Dominique, because Marius and Dominique’s hitchhiking sign was also the score board for a card game, and Fanny and Ella’s names were written on it.

But actually, I knew Marius from my hostel way back in Buenos Aires, just before I flew to Ushuaia myself. A month before that Chile Chico morning, Marius and I had spent a day walking around La Boca together.

And now you’re beyond confused.

The point is, when the five of us saw even more hitchhikers in Chile Chico, I didn’t mind. As one of the least competitive Asians you’ll ever meet, I just walked more out of town, until there was enough distance between the last hitchhikers and myself. I made sure my spot would put me in clear view of any car.

 

Caleta Tortel

Tortel is a minuscule, road-free village built into a picturesque Patagonian cove. Houses and shops perch upon stilts and are threaded together with wooden boardwalks, completing Tortel’s old-fashioned vibe.

As of March 2017, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, a bus leaves the Cochrane Terminal for Tortel at 9:30am, 8,000CLP ($12), 2.5 hours. The return trip leaves Tortel at 3:00pm.

On Fridays the bus leaves Cochrane at 2:00pm and returns from Tortel at 6:00pm.

Day 43

22 March 2018

Cochrane → Caleta Tortel → Cochrane

Hitchhiked: 156 km | Trip Total: 852 km

The people of Cochrane are…genuinely so lovely.

The locals are so helpful. Their smiles hug my heart. The police let me pee in their station. Others invite me into their home to use their bathrooms.

Everyone trusts and takes care of each other.

I have a mini obsession with the bakery “Estrellas.” I want to try all their empanadas. Every lady who works there heats up the food for me and refills my tap water.

Our “patio” hosts never asked us anything as our tent took over a corner of their land. Not one question.

I hustled to the bus terminal, leaving the boys half asleep in the tent. I was stressed because no one knew the bus schedule.

After obtaining a ticket and a brief wait in the cold, I found myself sitting back into a window seat. Morning sunshine washed over the seesaws in the parks and the pointy roofs of family homes.

*Prince Royce—La Carretera plays in ears*

The Tortel information office advised me not to hike to the top of the hill because it was already wet season and the paths had been turned to sludge. I decided to do it anyway.

During the ascent, I ran into a French man that I’d consistently run into throughout Patagonia. We exchanged greetings; he was in a rush as he was hitchhiking with another mutual friend named Liliana, who was waiting down below with their drivers. They were riding a camper van that would tow them along the Carretera for the next days.

During the descent, I moved cautiously and clung to various small trees for dear life. I only submerged one of my shoes in mud.

Taking my time along the wooden walkways, I missed the bus back. But it’s okay because I had purposely decided to bus here early from Cochrane, and try my luck to hitchhike back to the boys, our tent, and all of my stuff.

While purchasing a banana for myself, I was thinking out loud about my need to return to Cochrane. The fruit vendors told me to go with them, as they were actually forest engineers living in Cochrane and would head home at 5:00pm.

Setting up a fruit stand in this remote village to increase local access to fresh produce was just their side hustle. They only came to Tortel once a week. During the car ride Daft Punk came on and they asked me what “up all night to get lucky” meant.

Back at the “patio” we had invaded the night before, there was no sign of the boys. I knocked on the door of the house, and a woman showed me my stuff that had been roughly packed up. I gave her a jar of manjar, thanked her, and went searching for the campground she referred me to.

Nico and Javi were gracious enough to adopt me for another night. They had decided to upgrade and pay for the glamping spot. In the dining area we chatted with other campers over some beer—a classic evening in Patagonia.

 

 

Day 44

23 March 18

Cochrane → Reserva Nacional Tamango → Cochrane

The people of the Carretera do all their cooking and baking using leñas, or firewood, and antiquated stoves. Señora Paty stirred a pot of her mermelada de rosa mosqueta, a concoction which slowly drips from one’s spoon with the viscosity of a rich fondue. It paired exceptionally well with the homemade superfood/multigrain loaf I bought from the lady who sits outside the main supermarket every evening .What a way to welcome Chilean rose hips into my life.

The boys had gone off to Tortel and I had moved into Señora’s spare room. It was a treat to have a full-size bed in a real Carretera household.

****

My first snow fall, far away from any human company. The trail map said 10 hours but I finished in six.

 

 

Back at the house, Señora was nowhere to be seen. The promised hot water would not come out of the shower for the life of it. I took a freezing shower in the freezing evening.

I was barely covered up and shuddering by the stove when Señora’s brother entered the house. I didn’t even know she had a brother. Apparently Señora had a bad allergic reaction and the faucet was installed backwards so hot water came out of the cold side. I hadn’t considered either of these possibilities.

The brother apologized for invading my privacy and assured me that Señora was all right, and would be back soon enough.

As I sat in layers of pillows and blankets with a Belgian ale from a Patagonian brewery, I noticed I had a message request from the park ranger who checked me in earlier that day, meaning he went into the registration booklet and took down my name and scrolled through the infinite profiles with my name, meaning I definitely did not respond.

 

Continue reading Part II: Puerto Rio Tranquilo—Coyhaique.