Leaving San Martin I followed what is called the Route of the Seven Lakes. I counted more than 18 so I’m not sure which ones were the “official” lakes. 

The weather was intermittently nasty with cold wind and rain but the ride was fantastic and the lakes were beautiful. I admit, I was a bit disappointed not to see any of the iconic snowcapped peaks today. 

I reached the Argentinian border a little before noon. It was very straightforward on only took 20 minutes to clear. The Chilean border control was 30 miles beyond the actual border and again the process only took about 20 minutes. 

Yesterday when I was in San Martin I had gone to the grocery store to stock up on provisions. I wanted to do better with my daytime road snacks so I bought a selection of fruits, baby carrots and some snap peas. When I arrived at the Chilean border their sniffer dogs immediately cued on my bike. The customs inspector ask me to open my panniers and then seized all of my snacks. Next time, I’m sticking with the Oreos.

Dropping out of the mountains the landscape started feeling very familiar because the rolling hills, intermittent forest and secluded farms remind me of home. Including the rain. 

I arrived into Puerto Montt in the middle of a torrential squall and the traffic was heavy through town. It was just the kind of weather that makes motorbikes rather invisible to other drivers so I had to be extra careful. 

I found the compound I was looking for and just as I was dismounting at the entrance an older man rode up on his bicycle. He spoke passable Spanish but I could tell he was not a native speaker. Somehow the lady that runs the campground thought that we were together so she quoted us 8000 pesos each (about $9). We decided to just go with it and split the campsite. This is how I met Stan. 

Stan is a 75 year old Canadian. He is originally from Ottawa but has been living in Ecuador for the last 12 years as an expat. He flew into Puerto Montt today with his bicycle and is planning to ride the Patagonia loop over the next six weeks. Stan pretty much talked my ear off all evening sharing his life story and showing me all of his gear. I didn’t mind. I give the man some serious respect. He’s 75, out here solo on a bicycle with half the gear that I’m carrying! Respect.