The Carretera Austral: A dangerous beauty

From far away she lures me in, urging me to follow her curves down south. Leaving Puerto Montt behind, her lush green curls cover the mountain tops. While riding across the coastline, mist dances above the waves as if to warn me about the mysteries of the South.

After taking the ferry from La Arena, the adventure truly begins! Instead of following the Carretera Austral (Ruta 7) inland, I embrace the full experience and take the original Ruta 7 along the coastline. I follow her curves, watch her shimmer, and slowly caress her surface. Within a few kilometers, the pavement changes into a gritty gravel track, explaining why both Google Maps and Maps.Me are very adamant for me to avoid this place. Alas, they have never been so wrong!

Mist rises from the sea and muffles all sounds into a slightly disturbing peacefulness. She urges me to continue, tempting me with snowy mountain tops shyly peeking above the dancing grey mist.

She might be a dangerous beauty, but from the first moment following her body south, I feel confident. There is no place I would rather be than here. The road has no mercy. She tests me, like a lover who hides her true self, only revealing the gentlest parts after proving my devotion.

By nightfall, I reach Hornopirén, ready to cross her wild blue waters in the early morning. As a breakfast treat, dolphins, seals, pelicans, and penguins dot the peaceful fjord sea. Hours sail past until I reach her mythical jungle shores. Suddenly, I start to wonder whether dinosaurs might still exist after all.

The road is no more than a gravel track, following her delicate neckline towards Chaitén. Little droplets decorate her skin, raindrops kissing the air with that earthy, jungle perfume. It penetrates deep into my nostrils, a reminder of how intensely alive I feel.

Surrounded by a yellow flowery glow, it is time to pitch the tent for the night. Embraced by her peaceful beauty, a good night’s sleep lies ahead of me. Alas, by morning, tears start flowing from the sky. The exquisite rolling mountains are hidden in a cold embrace, so I decide to continue. Further south till I reach her clavicle and then turn left. Her arm is dotted with ancient lakes, roaring rivers, and gravel tracks. Her hand softly holds on to Futaleufú, and her fingertips stretch towards the Argentinian border. The cold of leaving her core behind nearly brings me to tears, but I know I will be back in her embrace in no time.

After warming my bones with the little warmth that can be found in this region, it is time to move down south once more. With the swell of her breasts appearing on the horizon, I keep riding, in awe of what lies ahead. Queulat National Park. Ventisquero Colgante, better known as the hanging glacier. Centuries-old ice and snow decorate her nipple, lying there only to be seen by the brave and the beautiful. Or, let’s be honest, anybody who is willing to pay a sh*tload of money to rent one of the many campers available for this adventure.

The time has come to continue along the plains of her soft belly. The road is smooth. Everywhere I look, the mountains look right back at me. Her breasts up north, her hips down south. Her belly button gracefully waits for me, directing me towards the heart of her wilderness. Warm and moist. Icefields and clouds protect her beauty. Hidden between the mountains lies her secret lake, Lago General Carrera. Admittedly, the lake isn’t very secret for anybody who has had the courage to look at a map, but where is the romance in that?

I ride her blue water and admire her soft lips till I muster the courage to continue my journey. Towards her endless legs and stretched-out toes. It gets colder. A desolate feeling seems to be all-present.

Following Rio Baker South, the world as I know it disappears. Human sounds fade to no more than a faraway nightmare. Now it is just me and her. A lover lost in a godforsaken embrace.

Carefully my wheels carve into her courageous skin of dust and sand. The cold takes hold of me. I long for her just as strongly as I want to escape her gripping power over me. The further I move from her core, the more unforgiving it gets, yet the more I feel the greatness of her presence.

Her song echoes across ancient glacial valleys, leading me towards Lago O’Higgins and the icefields nestled between her toes. I know I have reached the final chapter of this passionate relationship, but it takes time to accept my fate. Kissing her goodbye, I turn around with tears nestled in the corner of my eye.

Maybe she is the love of my life. Or maybe she is my greatest addiction. All I know is that I’ll always carry a part of her wherever I roam.