26.1 mi / 8.9 mph / 1518 ft. climbing
Home: Sendero Padre Garcia

It rained during most of the five nights and four days that we spent in Puyuhuapi, though only heavily on two of those days, which matched the forecast. There was still rain predicted for today, but light and decreasing, and leaving today gave us the best window to make it to Coyhaique in four days before the next round arrived. From the patter of drops on our roof all morning, we could tell that the rain was coming in a clear pattern of waves, 10-20 minutes on, then 10-20 minutes off. The only thing motivating us to leave our dry cabin (besides check-out time) was the need to get to our targeted wild camp (just before a big climb) before someone else pitched their tent in the same spot, so we compromised with a 10:15am departure.

We ended up rolling out just as a new wave of rain was starting, but it was quite light (it always sounds worse on the roof/tent than in reality), and none of the first several waves brought enough water to soak through our shoetops, or prevent photos or stopping for comfortable breaks. The clouds did certainly limit the views though, and that was a valuable reminder we had received from the clear blue skies when we departed Chaitén: yes, we primarily avoid riding in the rain for the pure physical discomfort and logistical challenges that it causes, but we are also here to see this place and not just ride through it blindly, so if we have the ability to wait out low and wet skies, we will generally continue to do so.

Even though the rain chances (and presumably volumes) were supposed to be diminishing, the wave that came near the end of our ride was the heaviest of the day, finally enough to completely wet my nearly-dried-out shoetops. We stopped to check out an iOverlander campsite possibility a mile before our primary destination, to use as a backup if the primary was either taken, or too tight to fit our tent. It would have done the job, so I sprinted on ahead (now with the road steepening as the big climb began), while letting Rett wait and then take her time, so she wouldn’t expend unnecessary effort in case we just needed to turn around. A road grader was actively working in the section, resulting in a heavily-pockmarked gravel surface where each hole was a tiny puddle splashing silty water everywhere as I bashed through them.

I easily found the campsite (it’s alongside a short trail to a waterfall), and it was unoccupied, clean, and big enough to find a flattish spot for our tent. Since it was 1:30pm, eating took priority over setting up the tent in the rain, so we first strung up the tent’s ground cloth as an overhead tarp, and with our chairs set up underneath, ate our sandwiches and chips in reasonable comfort. But then preventing Rett from getting too cold became the next priority, and with the thing that is supposed to go under our tent currently above us and keeping us dry, getting everything flipped around and built into a dry and warm shelter was a significantly more-complex process than usual. We first got her into dry clothes, and then did the flip-around when a rain-wave had passed (though now inside the trees, the dripping leaves extended the waves).

The last wave of rain passed at around 4:30pm, so I was at least able to stay mostly-dry when heating up dinner, and then took a second trip down the trail to see the waterfall that was roaring beneath us. Several families parked and also walked down the trail to the waterfall, none of them too shocked to see us camping there, and all of them friendly and interested (in exchange I tried to point all of them to a secondary trail leading to an alternate viewpoint of the waterfall). Eventually it was just us, warm and dry, and hopefully set up for some better weather over the next few days.