Week 10 – Patagonian weather strikes back

A waterfall crossing one of the tracks. At times the rain felt like we were standing under it!

The omnipotent weather being struck again this week, as if sensing the proximity of our departure it replaced the pleasant weather of the last couple of weeks with ferocious gales and rain showers which we last experienced back in July. Still with only two weeks, the chance of cold digits and damp torsos is much easier to stomach, especially given the 11 weeks of hell the new crew could be in for.

While back home I’d be the first to question the originality of a discussion of weather (particularly in the hermetically sealed comfort of an office), the sheer extremeness of the weather here, not to mention the fact you are balls deep in it digging trails has lead me to hypocrisy for most of the Patagonian reports.

Like the trail troopers that we are we kept plugging away at building trails. The first part of the week was spent clearing the uphill trail of storm debris. Now fully ridable, it makes an enjoyable but strenuous commute to work. We then moved on to complete a downhill started by the crew working prior to us. Given it was dug in snowy conditions the track needed a bit of work widening benches and removing obstacles, while making better use of the trail features that we like rocks and logs. One particular rock slab required some rock work that would have stretched even the most avid stonecutter. Graham put his skills to work and using rock scattered about (the pinch was at the base of a 30m cliff) he crafted a set of ridable steps which led into the final segment of trail.

Graham rocks it out.

Another development which brightened the otherwise dreary days has been a major revision of the pann stick, first discussed back in week 5. By taking a single stem of cane, trimming it of leaves, then splitting the end 150mm, you are left with a weapon of mass toasting (WMT). This allows us to reach the desired level of toasting with none of the risk of pann loss inherent in earlier pan stick designs. Only two cases of pan loss were reported with this design (John’s rolling down a steep unrecoverable bank to the amusement of the other crew) so pann security is markedly improved.

Pann stick development underway.

Up till now, our crew had harboured a bitter resentment of cane bushes when they crossed the line of the track, such is the difficulty of removing the rubbery and extensive root systems of these exotic bushes. But now with this innovative (and patent pending) pann stick, this flora has garnered some new found respect.

Pann sticks in action. Note carying degrees of toastedness.

With two weeks (9 working days) of track building remaining the countdown has well and truly begun, and already I’m starting to reflect on the amazing experience I’ve had here in Patagonia. While working outside is a sure fire way to get wet and cold, the satisfaction of being able to shape trails as you see fit, not to mention the beauty of the natural surroundings has made for a thoroughly rewarding time. In a way, the adverse weather has served to heighten the experience, proving that one can survive in the worst that nature can muster without the modern comforts we have become cocooned within.

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 9 Patagonia – Sunshine coming out our ears

A sign mourns the burning of a tree in flora loving Coihaique

Translation: What was the reason for this sacrifice?

An increasingly familiar glowing orb (found only in the sky) again came to the party this week with some fantastically balmy days. Some even pushing the thermometric scale into the twenties, a hitherto unheralded level of warmth in our small part of Patagonia.

Our weekend trip to Coihaique was a ball. On the hour and a half drive from the lodge more breathtaking views flashed past in the van windows, punctuated by river crossings and wayward cows. On arrival we stocked up on empanadas at the supermarket and checked into our cabano, a place which roaches could easily call home sweet we’re the place not so freaking cold.

In a drunken dare Jack trys to lick his elbow, Ollie watches in amazement

Photo John Butler

A round of heavy drinking ensued, several members of our crew pulled back from the brink of  rowdiness by a good old fashioned pull-up competition. On hitting the bars we we’re turned away at first sight by some fearful looking bouncers. In a display of good old fashioned racism entry was denied on the basis of the rowdy behaviour of some other trail building kiwis, who legend  told had bottled a bouncer. The bouncer's position was entirely understandable, as some of the other crews obviously hadn’t been a model of kiwi friendliness. Perhaps their personas had been warped another classic kiwi trait; binge drinking.

Thankfully, Oscar a builder at the lodge took pity on our plight and took us to a groovy salsa joint called Burlin, where we proceeded to dance the night away. Questionable gringo dancing skills were more than compensated for with enthusiasm, and some of the crew stretched the night into the next day with plenty of random stories involving stray canines, hotdogs and emos.

Refreshed by a weekend of good times, the week of trail building passed in a flash. We progressed well with a second climb below the gaucho trail, carving out almost 800m of prime singletrack from the soft loam soil.

Jack and Jake had been putting the finishing touches to the downhill trail we built last week, erecting a 5 m wall ride to add some pizazz to the final turn. We’ve called the trail ‘Get some!’ in homage to a trigger happy soldier in Kubrick’s Vietnam masterpiece ‘Full Metal Jacket'. The whole crew spent a lunchtime sessioning the wall, with DJer John boosting so high off the end that he landed in a bush above the landing. With ‘Get Some!’ complete, all that is left are some tweaks and plenty of laps to ride it in, not to much of a stretch given the sheer fun factor of this track.

Ollie boosting the wall ride at the end of 'Get some!'

Photo Emil de Vries

Track building shifted back up the hill for the last part of the week, with recently melted snow finally making it possible to ride up to the traverse where we were working. Snow had given the track a working over with smashed bridges and collapsed benches giving plenty of scope for work.

A bridge destroyed by a swollen stream.

Beams will be resused for a bridge to traverse a tricky pinch.

We’ve also taken delivery of a bangin’ (literally) petrol rock hammer dubbed the Cobra that has allowed us to unleash some indiscriminate justice on any rocks who dare challenge our trail building prowess. It can even be switched to drill mode to allow rock bolts to be installed, or rocks to be split with the aid of wedges.

Matt gets medieval with the rock drill

A new crew of gringo trackbuilders is due to arrive tomorrow, so we’ll be doing our best to show them the ropes and ease them into the daily slog. It seems like only yesterday we were in their position with 3 months of riding and digging ahead of us. I’ll be sure to show them all the great trails they can ride on the way to and from work and with the turn towards spring they’ll no doubt be spoilt with plenty of the good warm stuff.

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 8 – A mountain top, some structures and downhill sickness

Matt admires the vista atop Mt 5 Puma

Our day off this week fell on a Sunday, and a member of our crew named Tommy had hatched a marvellous idea to use the forecast pearler of a day to push for the summit of a mountain we had spied from our work spot. Initial plans to leave at first light to take full advantage of the morning frostiness we’re pushed back with the inevitable sleep in. But when the time came to set off the air was still chilly and the crusted snow made for easy progress up the steep slopes with slightly frosted digits at least till we climbed out of the shade of the valley.

Nature crafted this snow spiral, snapped on the trek to the summit

Prior to departing we had talked up the expedition to the rest of the crew. We claimed that we would not only spot a real live puma (the first sighting of our trip), but capture five of these ferocious felines with only our bare hands. As such, the mountain conquest was named Mt 5 Puma, and standing tall above the surrounding ranges at 1640m it made for some breathtaking views. We were treated to endless mountain ranges of needle thin spires and vertical rocky faces, a quintessential 360 degree Patagonian vista. Just like postcards of the region only in vivid 3D colour and with the awe that can only come from earning the view with a 3 hour hike.

Millsy captures Mt 5 Puma's vista on lens

Descending was a blast. While the exposure forced caution on the steeper upper slopes, we threw this approach out the window as we descended to the tree line, using a combination of gravity assisted snow plodding and bum sliding (both legitimate mountaineering techniques).

The week began with another blue bird day, something we are quickly becoming accustomed to given they snow hell that we were faced with earlier in the trip. This fine, clear weather gives rise to a strange phenomenon called hoar frost. Moisture in the soil freezes and expands lifting the top layer of soil as much as 30mm and making for a challenging but not unridable surface. Come afternoon though the trails may sport a benign look, but they become a slippery, muddy skating rink. This made for at least one 180 degree washout spin that would have put Chazz Micheal Michaelson from Blades of Glory to shame.

The Terremoto after a particularly muddy outing

Millsy and I decided to brave the treacherous conditions and our 10 min ride became the single most intense mudslposion I have ever experienced. By then end both wheels would no longer turn and the entire drivetrain became in a battered in a brown paste. The ride was cut short when my derailleur got sucked into the wheel, bending the cage and letting out a petulant graunch. Macguyver skills to the fore and with the aid of only a 5mm allen and a set of pliers I was up and rolling for work the next day.

Millsy and Jack get stuck in on the bridge build

Construction of our downhill track has romped ahead, and we reached the final feature this afternoon. All up it is a feature packed downhill extravaganza. No less than 5 rock gardens, drops, rock rolls, wall rides and monster berms. The multitude of features is a sure sign of a crew unleashing their trail creativity after too long building featureless uphills.

Jack and I spent the first part of the week constructing a bridge to rival the Otira Viaduct. Traversing a tricky rock outcrop it drops riders to the start of the trail with an exhilarating swoop. From here the trail only gets better!

The bridge that signals the start of our yet-to-be-named downhill track

Being able to ride and tune our features was a blast, and with a completed loop composed of mellow uphill and gnarly feature packed downhill, there should be no shortage of post work entertainment (as long as the weather plays fair).

 

Jack gets his huck on on one of the track's numerous drops

We’re off for the weekend to Coihaique where hilarity will no doubt ensue. I’m planning to stock up on icecream, chocolate and of course Pachunga!

Mountain Pedaler out...

Patagonia Week 7 – Sunshine, riding and climbing corner perfection.

Ollie gets on the Stihl on a frosty morn

Photo Graham Laing

The last week here in Patagonia has been reminiscent of the Christchurch winters I’ve come to know well. Cold with a frost and icy puddles succumbing to the warm glow of the sun during the mid part of the day. The only break from this pattern was a particularly miserable Wednesday morning plagued with sleow (a dreadful sleet and snow combination) which disappeared at lunchtime giving way to more glorious sunshine.

The benefit of working on a hill track is that we now get the sun about 10 in the morning and can bask in the warming rays till it disappears behind a ride about 3:30. One cannot describe the wonders this does for your outlook.

Come Tuesday, the sunshine had finally managed to eat through the crust of snow encasing the trails, so Millsy and I went for a shred, riding and pushing to the top of the main DH run called Josef’s Cellar (named after Fritzl, the infamous Austrian basement dweller).

Ollie shred the title feature on Josef's Cellar

Photo Emil de Vries

One benefit of the brief mid-week showers was that they melted away even more of the snowy remnants, and come Thursday the trails were clear top to bottom. With singletrack shredding back on the menu crew morale is at an all time high. Sketchy and intense, on the limit of traction and terrain all the way down, our ride ended in hooting and hollering as well as a round of non-ironic high fives.

Ollie carves a 'cutty' on the ride home to the lodge

Photo Emil de Vries

While the riding has a downhill focus, our track building charged ahead up the hill. However when slope runs out we have no choice but to throw down a switchback. Our first attempts were rather crude, but now onto our 13h attempt we have got it pretty dialled. The secret is to get corner entry and exits as close as possible (ideally a spade height between levels) and to allow a solid 2 metre radius to give you plenty of room to turn in to the next straight. After a day of backtracking along the track to make corners rideable, I was so confident in my corner building prowess that I offered to eat a hat should I not be able to ride the hot-dog turn I’d built.

My corner that bested the hat eating challenge

Despite some unneccasry and un helpful nerves, the corner rode sweetly first go, negating the need for any hat consumption. Secretly, stakes weren’t that high as if I had failed I’d planned to source one of the nacho hats made famous by Homer Simpson. Eating one of these hats would only be slightly less of a chore than a plate full of pachunga.

Nacho sombrero had the corner been unridable!

 

With our track now topped out on a plateau, the only option is to build a downhill and this has roused a new level of passion amongst the crew. The tricky and steep terrain has opened the flood gates on a myriad of riding features. I’m working on a ladder bridge braced to the side of a rocky outcrop (with optional death huck drop-off) while Hamo and Millsy have pieced together a gnarly rock garden chute; all this within the space of fifty metres!

With plenty of scope for building exciting features, and the rediscovered ability to ride the tracks we’ve built as well as the others built by crews before us, I’m sure we’ll make the most of our the four weeks we have left in Patagonia. I’ve no doubt that the remaining weeks of our time here in Chile will melt away like the last stubborn patches of snow.

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 6 – Life goes on in Patagonia

Matt and John walking home from work in ever decreasing snow

Like a clump of hoodies at a shopping mall, the snow here at Lake Diserto is still hangin’, but like blaring classical music this week’s combination of warmer temperatures, sunshine and rain has made some progress towards shooing it away.

Gauchos on their way up the valley, dogs in tow

Photo Graham Laing

It seems that life in Patagonia goes on in spite of the adverse conditions. The traverse we are building intersects a horse trail regularly trafficked by farmers aboard the ultimate of all terrain steeds; horses. With four legs to balance on, the horses are unfazed by unstable rocks or a metre of snow, plodding up gnarly slopes without a neigh of discontent. It was on a frosty Tuesday morning when we first met a trio of caballo riding granjeros or gauchos heading up the valley. Clad in llama chaps, ponchos and baseball caps, we conversed briefly in our best spanglish, discussing the snow, cold and their horses.

Only yesterday we saw a lone rider head up the valley, returning a few hours later with a motley herd of sheep in varying states of woolliness. Herding them down from the valley to greener pastures, the sheep unfortunately chose our carefully crafted track down the hillside, rendering it a muddy mess. While the damage was a bit disheartening it looks to be a one off and once the winter is over the racks should dry out and become a bit more durable for hooven traffic.

While Patagonian farmers ride horses, our recent supply deliveries have been getting to the lodge aboard a Unimog. Big tires and high ground clearance make this the mechanical equivalent of a horse, and the decrepit state of this specimen would prompt us to call the SPCA were it actually not inanimate.

Unimog in all her glory

With a bonnet strapped on with a bike tube, spouting pipe for a snorkel and scabs of rust on chassis and body this ‘mog has clearly seen some miles. Despite her age, the ‘mog still ploughed through the rivers and snow to the lodge with ease, only a low growl from her diesel engine giving an indication of the effort required. While food and supplies are welcome, arguably the best result of the Unimog’s visit is the pair of foot wide tire tracks it left, making it possible to ride our bikes to work without the momentum sapping snow of earlier attempts.

The completion of our multispan bridge monstrosity (dubbed ‘bridgezilla’) was one of this week’s milestones. In fact, it is such a masterpiece of engineering I’ve suggested we submit it to bridge builder monthly, the structural engineer’s equivalent of Playboy. River crossings can now be made gumbootless in dry-footed comfort. To prove a point I even piloted the El Terremoto across the planks, and will probably choose this way to commute while we work on this track. The alternative is a hub deep mash through a wide braid further downstream and while it is a rush, the risk of icy water ending up inside your gumboots (rather than the normal and preferable external location) was hard to stomach.

Matt's dismembered feet walk bridgezilla's planks

Officially past the halfway point of our time in Patagonia, and with body well adapted to the rigours of spade and pick work in trying weather, I’m really starting to enjoy the work. In particular the diverse building challenges that we face each day. Best of all is that all the skills I’m learning will be transferable to trails back home in NZ.

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 5 - Gustatory delights of Patagonia

Lake Diserto on a foggy morn...

and when the sun comes out.

With all of last weeks melodrama over metre deep snow drifts, the omnipotent being responsible for allocating crap weather must have taken heed, as this week we were treated to seven days of the sunniest blue-bird days that Patagonia could muster. Nice.

Situated as we are at the base of a valley bounded by towering ridges, we are allowed the luxury of sunshine from about 1 to 3 in the afternoon. Temperatures sky rocket to above zero and we bask in the warming rays, garnering a much needed dose of vitamin D.

Last Sunday, an expedition to our hill side digging site revealed the normally 45 minute stroll had become a waist deep snow trudge which pushed the boundaries of a reasonable commute at almost three hours. Not really an option, and coupled with the ever present risk of snow and rock slides, we made the decision to start work on a new track.

This track began across a swiftly flowing river on the road out. With precious gumboots stashed high up the mountain, the prospect of wading across the icy waters in leather boots was not a welcome one. Years of experience at Playcentre waterplay followed by an illustruious career as a Civil Engineer helped us formulate a crossing to keep toes dry. Stomaching a day of wet boots ‘for the team’, I set about piling rocks a step apart to allow the gumbootly impaired to cross in dry footed comfort.

John, Millsy and Jack do the river crossing dance while Matt look on

While the stack of round boulders were wobbly at best and the morning ice made for some impressive Torvill and Dean impersonations. The crossing ingeniously used a tree that had fallen with the snow loads. Plans are already afoot for a more sophisticated version of the crossing using a bigger stack of rocks supporting slabs of wood from a nearby tree.

Apart from the joyous 2 hours of sunshine, we rely on vigorous snow clearing, picking and shovelling to keep warm, but a recent development for our crew has been a decision to light a fire at lunch and smoko times. Our resident pyromaniac Emil gets a fire cranking in no time, and those willing to take a face full of smoke are rewarded with warmth or at least a flickering glow that awakens a heartening primal instinct within us all. But even more sensational is the roasting abilities the fire provides.

Lunch for our crew typically consists of a packet of biscuits (usually a Chilean oreo called a Triton), a juice box and two bread rolls dubbed pann (Spanish for bread). Some days our pann can be as dry and brittle as one would imagine bread retrieved from Schakleton’s South Georgian stash to be. However armed with a suitable Y-shaped stick the pann can be toasted to crispy perfection. Sometimes inattention or overzealousness can lead to a pann bottom on the black side of crispy, but our crew is in unanimous agreement that the fire has made snack time significantly more bearable.

The crew gathered round the fire

Another culinary delight we are occasionally treated to and reserved for after work snacks is an amazing spread called manjar. This rich, artery-clogging caramel concoction is smothered over fried pann to yield a delicious snack worthy of a second helping.

Manjar being applied in the only way it should be; slathered on!

With the halfway point of my stint here in Patagonia almost upon us, it is the small comforts like manjar and roasted pann that keep spirits high. With a bit of luck and a spell of warm weather, the tracks may even come out from beneath their blanket of snow so we can ride our creations.

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 4 - Snow glorious snow

Wind carved snow on a Patagonian mountain

The word of the past week here at Lake Disierto, Chile was snow. The week began with a light sprinkling of the fluffy stuff but built day by day in a crescendo of flaky flurries to the solid metre of depth that surrounds us today. As I write this now, snow it is still falling in hearty quantities but we have been spared the indignity of digging trails in it again after 6 days straight.

Terromoto cools off after the ride up the hill

Given the bad habit I have of lapsing into surliness when I don’t manage to get out for a bike ride, I was determined to ride up the hill each day, picking a path through the snow, attempting to eek every last bit of traction out of the slippery trails. Leaving it in the biggie and slogging it out singlespeed-style was a surprisingly effective technique for the conditions. This approach reduced the wheel accelerations that caused breaks in traction and in the worst of cases a knee/stem disagreement.

Snow clogged drivetrain on a Hope Snow 2 hub

The latter part of the climb here was on the techy side on the gnarlometer and had been dubbed ‘Gay Valley’ by the predominantly downhilling boys who built the trail. As a dedicated follower of the technical climb I love the challenge each morning but with snow depths growing into the meter range the boundaries of rideability are starting to be stretched.

 

Building trails in the snow also raises some interesting challenges. A blanket of snow makes it difficult to distinguish what lies beneath. It becomes a hit and miss affair as to whether a steep rocky slab or a slope of grassed soil lies beneath . The former could lead to an unrideable slipfest while the latter is what we are after, and is the starting point for the flowing trails that we know and love.

 

Another challenge is the extra labour that is required to strip the covered slopes of their snowy blanket, hopefully hitting (pay)dirt and not rock beneath. However our crew has mastered the steps to created benched singletrack perfection.

First step is to strip back the snow with a spade, revealing the soil beneath:

Next the top layer of topsoil and vegetation is scraped off with a pick:

Finally a spade/pick combination is used to dig the bench to a flat track at least a spade wide, with spoil scattered clear down slope. The bench is matched to the next person's down the line. Emil cowers in a particularly nasty snow flurry: 

Our team has taken all this in our strides, and this past week have managed to push on with 750 metres of new track. A few sections traversing waterfalls have been deemed unbuildable, let alone ridable, with sheer ten metre drops below making them a risky proposition. While the opportunity to deploy intricate bridges and or mining explosives is an exciting one, we have concluded that some sections will just require a hike-a-bike and are awaiting a rock drill to allow us to install handrails over the trickier sections.

Jake with completed trail in the background

In time when the weather decides to warm up a smidge we'll be treated to more buildable terrain, ableit with a transition period of sloppy snow and soil as the snow melts to liquid and flows to the river below. We are truly experiencing winter in its full Patagionian force. It is an experience that will help me value to relatively warm climes of my usual home, sunny Christchurch!


Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 3 - Gumboots, puppies and a jet boat

A rainbow shines on our last day at Palmoa

As the damp reality of the Patagonian winter set in we faced a glut of rainy days followed by a sprinkling of sunshine. The persistent rain over the weekend had caused a number of slips, including one which destroyed the final switchbacks of one of my favourite Paloma descents; Super Cougar.

The section of Super Cougar mauled by a slip

We spent most of our digging time clearing debris and reinstating the tracks to their former glory. These repair works served as an ideal opportunity for some real world application of my other occupation as a civil engineer. Firstly we located the support posts and slats of a retaining wall which had been scattered about the hillside on a landslide’s destructive whim. Then dredging up distant memories of geotech lectures we set about reconstruction, laying down the all important drainage then layer after layer of reclaimed earth packed against the stacked slats. Initial confidence in our contracting prowess turned to dismay as the support posts wobbled more than the tooth of a child eagerly awaiting the dental fairy. Support posts and braces were quickly installed with a sledge hammer and nails to keep the main posts fixed to the hillside. While the resulting monstrosity would likely not win any architectural awards we were confident it would withstand nature’s onslaught. Only time will tell if this proves to be the case.

Gumboots in their element

Working in the post-storm slop one comes to value simple things. Notably water proof rubber gloves, and gumboots. Fred Dagg couldn’t have got it more right when he penned his ode to the Red band. My first few weeks of work had been plagued by saturated work boots, which is difficult to stomach at nine in the morning, especially when faced with a day of soggy toes. With this in mind I jumped at the chance to requisition a pair of gummers from the crew who were leaving for sunnier climates. It is hard to believe that a single item of footwear can make such a profound change to one’s outlook, but with gumboots afoot no bog is to sticky or snow drift too deep and a day of digging in the sleet has surely become less of a chore.

DJ Jazzy John rocks out a plate full of Pachunga

Our final meal at Paloma was everyone’s favourite Chilean artery clogging treat; Pachunga! When the departing crew had requested it they had no idea of the labour it would involve, but when the maids dished it up at nine in the evening after a good four hours slaving in a hot kitchen we were fully aware of the sacrifice and even offered to wash dishes as recompense. With even less of the healthy salad bits of regular Pachunga, the meal was a hit with the crew and the evening was notably quieter as food comas set in.

Jet boat Jake on his way to Disierto, cerveza in hand

The original plan was for us to head west to Lake Disierto on Wednesday but slips on the road pushed this back to Friday. Apparently the mud was so thick that our only way into the lodge was by jet boat. Swerving and dodging the shallow rapids linking the lakes made for a thrilling ride. This trip also gave context to our employer’s grandiose trail plans which aimed to link the two lakes by a ribbon of mountain singletrack.

On arrival in Disierto we were greeted by a pair of excitable puppies named after the trail crew’s favourite after work beverages; Konig and Becker. I’ve attached a video of their playful antics, if only to capitalise on the guaranteed blockbusting popularity of puppies on Youtube. Everyone loves puppies!

Their effervescent disposition makes for a stark contrast with nonchalant demeanour of Solo back at the Paloma camp. He will chase a stick with aggression reminiscent of his rugged past but on picking it up he’ll loose interest and look around like he was never interested in chasing anything as stupid as a stick.

With Lake Disierto as our home for the remainder of our Patagonian stint, I can’t wait to explore the trails that crews here have built, not to mention building a few more for good measure!

Mountain Pedaler out...

Week 2 – Cohaique, Pachunga and 3 trail dogs

Graffiti in Cohaique referencing the freeing of political prisoners

Last weekend our crew of 8 took the opportunity to hit the town, Patagonia style. A quick dash along the lake and an hours drive north and we made it to Cohaique (or Quahog of Family Guy fame as some of the more cynical crew like to call it).

The desolate surroundings apparent on the drive in appeared to be echoed in the town, with only a scattering of stores and an alarming prevalence of locks and barred windows on most of the homes.

Fast and Furious; Cohaique drift

Stray dogs wandered the street despite the biting cold and we were heartened to find that a local cafe had decided to turn around the lives of these misfortunate mutts by offering proceeds from the sale of English language books to feed and house them.

The Quahog markets were a veritable smogasboard of knitted goods. I took the opportunity to stock up on Alpaca wool hats from a particular vendor who could be seen spinning the yarn in the back of her stall. While her apparent blindness didn’t bode well for the fit of the finished product, it certainly upped the sense of smugness that can only come from the purchase of handicrafts hot off the knitting needle. If anyone out there wants some sweet handmade headgear (with or without earflaps) don’t hesitate to get in touch.

Ollie digs in to some Pachunga sporting his new alpaca wool hat

A number in the other crew had raved about a certain Chilean delicacy called Pachunga. The dish was constructed on a foundation of steak and chorizo sausage (cemented with cheese) and topped with a generous mound of greasy frites. To appease those who claimed the dish unhealthy, a sprinkling of egg, gerkin and capsicum topped it all off. Accompanied with a sloshing of sauce the dish was heavenly, and I’ll freely admit to polishing off a double portion single handedly.

Taking advantage of the fine weather Sunday, a small team headed up to finish some of the traverse track we’d been building. The work also served as an opportunity to work off various indulgences, pachunga included.

Trail building conditions on one of the nicer days

The cool but clear spell continued to Monday but come Tuesday the muck hit the fan and we were served with a three day long degustation of bitterly cold sleet, snow and heavy winds. During the worst conditions, 20cm of snow fell and soaked through we had no option but to keep swinging a spade or pick, the exertion just enough to keep toes and fingers warm.

Trail building in some average weather

Such is the passion (or perhaps stubbornness or even madness) of the crews here, we slaved on in the snow and wind. We had moved on to digging an alternative line down the hill to complement a mind melting piece of trail called Super Cougar. Fortunately this trail offered a fun way down the hill in any conditions, the steep loamy berms serving as an olympic luge style thrill with good dose of corner drift to keep nerves in edge.

Poopie, Nobby and Solo are two four footed friends of the team here at Paloma. The former is a hyperactive sausage dog who hits the turbo at the first sight of snow, leaping and bounding about the slopes like a gazelle in spite of limited ground clearance. Despite her being in a seemingly constant state of shiver, she is often first up the hill in the morning and is well loved by the crews for her playful antics.

Poopie on one of her adventures

Solo has his own story too. Legend has it he turned up at the lodge one day, seemingly arriving out of the mist. Originally known as Rape Wolf for his inappropriate advances on Nobby, he has mellowed to become the ever vigilant sentinel of the crew, barking to scare away approaching condors at lunch or to warn of approaching puma at night.

Solo stands guard

Nobby however seems to be afflicted with schizophrenia, following closely but dashing ahead if called or patted. His jumpy nature is the main reason he is yet to be captured on film.

All three dogs have a lifestyle the envy of dogs the world over. Free to roam about the Patagonian wilderness by day, with the constant attention of trail crews looking to rest weary limbs with a pat or two. Life for the trail builders themselves isn’t too dissimilar from their canine companions. A refreshingly simple daily ritual in an otherworldly location must surely be good for the soul.

Mountain Pedaler out...