A full day of driving the next day only netted us 100km when we stopped at 4pm. Really tough going and definitely testing driving abilities. Also general moods and tempers were on high alert, as the discomfort of the road surface took it toll. The good news was that we had arrived in Puerto Tranquillo, meaning “Relaxed Port”. I would argue the naming of this waterway about 18 hours later. The evening itself was spent very enjoyably. Olivia made a local friend in the playground who impressively proceeded to show us around her lovely town, and play with the kids, until the sun set.
We booked a boat trip for the next morning to see the famous Capillas de Marbol, or “Marble Caves” on the General Carrera Lake. Nearly twice the size the the five boroughs of New York, this is not exactly a pond as we would soon learn. The caves themselves were nice when we saw them, however the wind and waves that accompanied the journey were not. Getting your jeans drenched after five minutes of a three hour boat tour is not the best way to start a tour. Halfway through, with the full width of the lake to be navigated to get back to our staring point, an SoS was put out to the tour company to send a van to collect Laura and the kids and drive them back to the port. Unfortunately for me, the captain needed my weight to balance the boat for the gauntlet back. All I can say is that I was very glad the kids didn’t have to make that last journey with me. If they had, it may have been many more years before they would have ventured back onto open water.
More enjoyable water views were in evidence that evening after we continued our slow trek south. We parked the campervan on the side of the road and walked the 20 minutes to see the joining of the Baker & Neff Rivers. A hugely impressive spectacle, the cacophony of noise combined with the variety of colours, made for a wonderful retort to the mornings misadventure.
Our visit to the town of Cochrane followed another long tough drive, ending just before midnight amongst sleeping children and exhausted parents. The town proved a nice distraction from the driving, and we even managed to get a couple of dirty bags of clothes washed (for the princely equivalent of €35 however!). We proceeded to stay late into the next evening, with football, rugby and tag games all played in the main plaza.
This left us with just 60km to negotiate to get to our scheduled boat. With a sailing departure time of 6pm, and our average ripio speed of less than 15 km/ph, this would still mean plenty of driving. Lashing wind and rain greeted our morning drive, relentlessly pummeling our house on wheels. The road itself was also in very poor condition, at one stage almost leading directly into a ditch. Not something I would usually do, I verbally communicated each kilometer as it was ticked off. The last ten were the most difficult, yet the joy I felt upon arrival was unbridled. The air was punched, the dashboard was pounded and the family were high-fived as we pulled up at the port.
We had made it. We had suffered along the way for sure. We had drawn on unknown stores of patience, resilience, resolve and determination to get us there, but arrive we had done.
I firmly believe that it is good for us to do hard things in life. I think we learn and grow in exponential ways during such experiences. The Carretera Austral was without doubt one of these, and I for one wouldn’t change a thing.
Click here to read the “Big Birthday On The Road Part 1 of 2” blog post
English
Leave a Reply