Skip to content

Austral Diaries III: Of Mice and Mountains

IMG_0908

In_the_Austral lands of southern Chile, the rhythms of the days astride our bicycles seem to follow the harsh contours of autumn’s heat and cold.  Predictable and mundane pleasures provide sustenance for the spirit on this hard road as consistently as sunshine.  Never discount the catharsis of the ignition of an MSR stove and the promise of morning oatmeal for a frozen morning.  Or the magical feeling of sitting down in a warm room with a cold bottle of Coke after riding washboard gravel for hours on end.  And for the record, empanadas de carne in this part of the world deserve their legendary reputation.

There are low points too and they are as necessary to our growth on this journey as a freeze is to a thaw.  Our parents once asked us in a Skype call what the hardest part of each day was; if there was a typical point of each day where we would usually be most despairing or discouraged.  I jokingly responded that it’s the moment I wake up and see Angus lying expectantly on his side by the tent.  But really, the hard times don’t schedule appointments.

For months we’ve taken the good and the bad together, simultaneously, and learned to take a big serving of both with a smile on our face.  Riding the serrucha (meaning “saw blade” to connote the jagged washboard surface of the road) of the Austral for an entire day makes you feel like you’ve been forced to ride a two-wheeled jackhammer for six hours.  Yet even as rock gardens dent our rims and the endless washboard gravel makes us want to throw our bicycles off of a cliff, we look up and cannot help but be swept away by the sheer beauty of the places and people we are encountering here.  Patagonia is like God’s sandbox, a wild place of  unearthly forms and mercurial weather.  One moment we see castles in the sun; tomorrow we’ll feel like we are living through a child’s temper tantrum with a garden hose.

One night, after riding hard all day across the serrucha we found an abandoned house in which to camp for the night.  The chill of a 20 degree (F) night was made more bearable by the shelter indoors.  Yet the next morning we discovered that a family of mice had taken to destroying our livelihoods.  Shifter hoods, water bottles, saddles, and clothing were all partial casualties.  When your life fits entirely into three bags you tend to be very protective of what you’ve got.  We found ourselves to be lucky and blessed the next morning that we weren’t more harmed by the terrors of Patagonian mice; we reflected on stories we’d heard of mountaineers climbing cliffs in the Himalayas at altitude, where a simple slip can drop a crucial tool or item down thousands of feet into the abyss.  We’re not quite at that level yet, but every day brings reminders of our own frailty and mortality.  No things of this world will last forever, and we didn’t need mice to prove that maxim to us.  In the end both our bodies and bicycles will make it to Ushuaia, but nothing will be as intact as the memories and lessons of the Austral’s ups and downs.

They were a little bit peeved when we took their barn for the night.

Brand new, absurdly red PVC rain and wind gloves.

A rare paved portion of the Austral.

More red gloved fist pumping on the road to the magical Villa Cerro Castillo.

Ribbon of road.

Cerro Castillo bidding us good morning.

The Austral in its rough, washboard glory.

Patagonia.

Disappointing to the taste, pretty to the eye.

One of countless rivers.

Reflection.

Steep ups, steep downs.

Cold camping in the village of the Mice.

Assessing the cosmetic mouse damage.

Cold, cold, cold, cold mornings of riding.

4 Comments Post a comment
  1. Jim and Elizabeth Berg #

    “Hard times don’t schedule appointments.”
    We know that also here on the farm. Know that there are so very many who are thinking and praying for you. We loved skyping with you the other night…this story of the mice and the story about the families who helped you make it to the airport to meet your new adventurer really brought home to us the reality we know, i.e. that there are ups and downs in life.

    Enjoy these last ten days as a foursome! Marta’s class motto for graduation is “if God brought you to it, He will bring you through it”. We say Amen.

    Dad, Mom, Marta and Grandpa O.

    May 1, 2012
  2. This post contained, again, many statements that reflect your profound insights. Thank you for brightening our lives with such great thoughts, descriptions, photographs, and inspirations.

    God has blessed you richly, and you are sharing his blessings with us!

    Don Myrvik

    May 1, 2012
  3. As you approach the last week of your current trip, savour all that you have achieved. It might do well to coat your bicycle seats with alum, in the future.

    May 1, 2012
  4. Debbie #

    Dear Berg Brothers, I am mesmerized by your writing and photos. Thank you for sharing this incredible journey. May you finish your travels safely and savor the experience for years to come. Small contribution sent to Habitat a few months ago in your honor.

    May 1, 2012

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: