Monthly Archives: December 2016

The Apocalypse Safari

Sooner or later it was bound to happen, I’ve known that. Anyone prioritising enjoying oneself, ahead of setting up the ultimate bullet proof ninja system for securing the documentation of that enjoyment (…which I guess then wouldn’t have taken place) does. And now it has.

I’ve lost photos :(

Not too much, but definitely enough to be a little bummed out about it. And enough for this post to end up a cripple. The lucky few that I’ve been able to restore you’ll find below. The rest, look a little something like this:

Really not too bad, and those few days worth of photos could definitely be covered up for by a few extra moments spent on writing about them. Though that won’t happen today I’m afraid. Instead of words compensating the makeshift photos in this post, there will be words to match.

Oh, well. Here we go.

Arriving in Puerto Natales I had reached my first Patagonian jumbo tourist destination. A small fiord side town crammed to it’s breaking point by hostels and outdoor shops. With streets filled by backpack carrying trekking enthusiasts from all over the world, half of which overly excited about their upcoming adventures, and the other half overly exhausted after just having returned from them.

Anyone who knows their Patagonia know exactly what these people all had their eye on.


Torres del Paine

I spent a simple single day in the national park, headed straight up for its main attraction: the base of Paine towers. Now for anyone looking for stunning photos of this place, Google is your friend. Here you’ll only find an in field case study of the worryingly rapid rise of the ever so disoriented species of Homo Selfies.

Armed with various electronic devices, these human like creatures are to be found all over the globe and can pose a serious threat to anyone and everyone within their immediate range. Always watch out for sudden swings of arms, and remember to take extra precaution with ones carrying sticks. Many try to hide their true being, but the Homo Selfies will always reveal itself when exposed to what it experiences to be a spectacular environment or situation.

Rule of thumb:

a) Is he/she facing the point of interest, looking at it? Human.
b) Is he/she turning his/her back on the point of interest, admiring him/herself in digital mirror? Bingo.

This particular individual is not only an clear example of all of the above, but obviously also taking photos of itself, taking photos of itself. A simple puff of air could have saved the world by letting this creature meet its destiny in the ice cold water. But the mere fact that these photos are now online proves that unfortunately for all of us – it didn’t.

Ladies and gentlemen. Close your windows, hide your children. The apocalypse is coming.

Homo Selfies Selfies is here.

…

Now, where were I?

Oh yeah, I lost photos. Not having a lot of them from Torres del Paine actually don’t bother me too much. Thousands of photos (that are way better than mine would ever be) from there are one hashtag away. And I didn’t even have good weather.

What is sad though, is missing those from my time spent in Puerto Natales town. The time spend with Fernando and his lovely, lovely family. Though writing this it all just seems ridiculous. Photos? Of what? Memories aren’t caught on camera anyways. And sometimes memories simply have to be enough.

In fact, they always have to be enough. Because when it all comes down to it. They’re all we have.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |December 20th, 2016|South America, Travel Logs|
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Gut Feeling

Sometimes cycling is boring. This usually gets to me a little more than it from time to time being tough. The idea of pushing through rough times is part of what got me out here in the first place. Being bored though, was not.

Exciting is probably one of the last words I’d use to describe the road from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales. Smooth, yes. Still horribly windy – definitely. Interesting in any way? Nah.

Luckily though, cycling is not all I’m doing.

With the winds still playing a major roll in life on the road out there, something taking up a lot more focus than usual was finding a sheltered place to sleep. Something which generally ended up with either some fun encounters with people, or some rather amusing hangouts with myself.

I don’t have a proper explanation for it, but I so (and I’m assuming I’m not alone here) enjoy falling asleep in new places. And now I’m not talking new as in geographical locations where I haven’t slept in before. I mean new sleeping.. situations? My list of these is naturally rather extensive by now, and it doesn’t happen too often anymore that I get to make new additions to it.

With nightly wind-escaping quests though – new firsts came crashing in at a rate that almost got me feeling like I was back in Europe and the early days of this journey.


Stables – check!


Bus stop. Can’t believe it actually took me this long?


Gunilla! Compact living var det va? ;-) <3

A million times better than odd solo sleeping mission though, are obviously those priceless evenings in the company of just made friends. Some of them leaving even stronger memories than others.

Knocking on the door of the run down workers house by the no longer running gas station I still don’t really know what I was hoping for. Tired legs, an empty mind and a blank stare was everything I’d brought to the porch on which I was standing. Not until forming a fist had I realised how stiff my fingers had gone from being held prisoners in my way too wet gloves for so long. There was a raw, damp cold in the air. The world was standing completely still. I leaned in towards the door, almost pressing my ear against it.

Quickly the thought passed through my mind. When had I actually been using my voice last?

Silently I cleared my throat. Then I knocked again, a little harder this time. Water was the official story both to myself and to whoever I would find on the other side, though in reality I really didn’t need it. In reality I didn’t really need anything, apart from something to happen.

The familiar sound of chair slowly scraping against floor. Jackpot.

There is a lot to be said about the hundreds encounters of this kind one is bound to have had after soon to be 2 consecutive years one the road. About the people we’re so used to calling strangers, and about trust. About cynicism versus naivety. About gut feeling. And at those very few but still too many instances when things do get real – about pure instinct.

We’ll leave most of that for now. And just go with that I am one of those people who’ve decided to trust. My gut that is. A formerly loose canon that through the rolling experiences of the last 30 countries has moulded itself into this fine tuned instrument I trust with my life. Literally.

My gut has the 2 absolutely critical jobs of telling me when to:

1) Dive head first in the next peanut butter jar in sight.

2) Get the hell out of a situation.

Haha. I’m just trying to be all dramatic here. (…and perhaps also to make a bit of a point.)

Guns on the wall? Or more importantly: that 4th gun missing from the wall? What-your-mama-taught-you-logic says: RUUUUUUUUUUUN! Like seriously. Run. NOW.

When it’s my gut telling me those things, I listen. Always. In a weird way even more so when that mama-logic gives a green light. However – when that same gut feeling says ‘Sure! :-) ‘ – I listen too.

Total ping-pong night. Two equally short and intense friendships. BBQ. Soft bed. A few stories that will never make it to this blog. And perhaps most importantly a big reminder of that boring cycling is nothing – nothing – but people adventures in disguise.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |December 19th, 2016|South America, Travel Logs|
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Soft Landings

Coming up to my Tierra del Fuego finish line I was quite happy to do so. Though I realise now that relieved, is probably a word  closer to the truth. I was tired. And tired of being tired. This leg had been amazing on so many levels – but by this point I’d definitely had enough of it. More than enough, actually. Unfortunately Tierra del Fuego itself didn’t fully agree with that last part.

The icy snowflakes coming at me like swarms of miniature target seeking rocket launchers made the small mountain pass to Porvenir and the ferry to the mainland seem like a challenge of biblical proportions, rather than the smooth few-hundred-meter bump in the road that it actually was. Just minutes earlier the storm had arrived from absolutely nowhere, and was quickly making more than sure that no one out and about that day would be able to deny it’s presence.

Anyone who’s been stuck in a ski lift on a windy day knows the comfort level of those fierce natural needles piercing into any piece of skin you’ve failed to cover up. And how they have the potential to drain the life out of anyone in the wrong mindset before Ms. Rowling’s dementors have even had time to choose their victim.

In short – this day sucked.

Let’s fast forward a bunch of hours.

I could see land now. Mainland. My eyes were physically too tired to watch it come closer, but this particular evening was simply too pretty to miss out on. The air on deck was still, and drowsy same-day memories of cold toes and swear words drowning in roaring winds seemed to have been taking place in a different life. The few hour long ferry I was on had carried me lightyears, and I smiled to myself as I – if only symbolically – unzipped those few top centimeters of my down jacket.

‘You’ve done well, girl. ‘

The moment I got off the ferry real life came back a little bit. I had made it to Punta Arenas and mainland Chile, but this was about as far as my plan had stretched. The sun had already set, I had no clue where I was going. And quite quickly I realised that I’d probably do best in keeping that jacket zipped all the way up after all.

So. I (obviously) did the one reasonable thing here – and decided to care about all that later, and instead go on to snap a few cheesy moonlight photos of Mr. Bike. After all he is a born model that boy. Posing his racks off, regardless of how many people are watching. Haha.


Mr. Bike feeling all pretty.

And just as a few of you might already be guessing, this was it. That (…almost) never failing moment when life decides to fold out better than anything imagination could ever come close to.

Because as if from nowhere Oscar was suddenly standing behind me. The local cycle loving Punta Arenas chico who apparently’d been on that same ferry with me. Who saw zero point in me heading into town in search for a hostel and whose sweet sweet mother was at home, already waiting with dinner on the table. And one quick phone call later she was apparently doing so with an extra plate next to her.

Long story short: I was in for a treat. Four days of treats actually. Four days which left my body well rested for the first time since arriving in Patagonia, and my head absolutely spinning from trying to keep up with the more or less gringo-adapted Chilean lingo thrown around in the Seguel household that week.

I don’t think I need to tell you how much I loved every little piece of it. But yeah – I did.

Mil gracias Oscar, and thank you life.

I owe you both.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |December 12th, 2016|South America, Travel Logs|
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Cycling Tierra del Fuego

Life on the road is unpredictable. You put yourself out there for days, weeks, months, even years at the time, without ever really knowing what the roulette table of life will have in store for you this time. And that – of course – is the whole point.

Tierra del Fuego however, is (at least in some ways) as predictable as it gets. Easy? No. Boring? Definitely not. But fact stands. When going at it from south to north – you know what you’re in for.

Girl + Bicycle + Tierra del Fuego equals 2 certainties at the end of any given day:


1) Happiness


2) Exhaustion

Wind rarely does itself justice on photos. So we’ll simply need to try something else this time.

Imagine yourself in the backseat of a fast moving car. Are you there yet? Good. Roll down that imaginary window. Now, stick out your hand and feel that familiar high five from the wall of wind crashing in towards your palm. Got it? Great. For extra effect you could also just briefly stick out your head, simply to listen to that deafening noice for a second or two. There you go. Now, imagine this on your entire being. For days on end. And without any windows to roll back up.

Welcome to Tierra del Fuego.

Going south to north the wind is a challenge. Even the smallest tasks, such as putting on a jacket becomes incredibly impractical. Ending up in the ditch a few times a day is as much of a given as gravity (which by the way seem to play by different rules down here). Patience is absolute key. So is it to not ever let the 7, 8, 9 km/h digits flashing on the odometer get to you.

With that said though, I loved this little corner of the world. Like really, really loved it. Here are a bunch of photos to show you what my days looked like, down by el fin del mundo (the end of the world).


Yes. Wind can even turn selfies into small mission impossibles.


Curiosity contest with the locals (guanacos).


From time to time I passed by rural sheep and cattle farms…


…and took every opportunity I got for a little break from the winds.

Due to a worker’s strike my first border crossing into Chile ended up taking close to 18 hours. My longest one up to date. Something that sounds far from ideal, but that in reality was just the best ever.

As some sort of compensation for not stamping my passport, the lovely guys at the border simply decided to give me everything else they could come up with instead. After a long border evening consisting of a big dinner, never ending mates (google this), a game of football and possibly a few too many jokes about Chileans, I was spoiled to a warm place to sleep. Though I still hadn’t left Argentina, the day was officially a smashing success.


Walls, 3 mattresses and a heater? Oh yes please!

When I woke up it was snowing. And though I knew I still had a lot of waiting to do also on the Chilean border control, I felt like I was almost cheating past this part of the crossing.


The river I knew I needed to wade through…


…had gotten a bridge just 3 weeks earlier!


Chilean nothingness


Different country, same wind.

One sunny afternoon, I finally reached this view. A view I’d been waiting for and which I knew exactly what it meant. This was Bahía Inutíl, and I was up for some 30 kilometers of tailwind.

Going from days on end with an average speed below 10 km/h to suddenly be absolutely flying without even peddling has got to be one of the most relieving feelings in the world. Shwoooosh! Haha. Life on top, for sure. However much I loved it though, me taking a turn for some favorable winds wasn’t the main reason for the dorky smile on my face that day. That was something else entirely.

That was me knowing, that I was up for penguins.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |December 5th, 2016|South America, Travel Logs|
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