Pat’Alaska, Part 1: “Fin Del Mundo” — Bikepacking at the End of the World
We’re cycling from Patagonia to Alaska! We leave from Ushuaia, where we start the ‘Fin Del Mundo’ bikepacking route and finish in Punta Arenas.
Thanks for reading along! You can support our journey by becoming a Patreon member and access live updates, stories and early video-releases — and maybe even a postcard from our next destination :) Cheers!
Statistics:
Length: 628 km
Avg. Speed: 12 km or 7.5 mi/hr
Days: 13 (from south to north)
Resupply Points: Tolhuin, Pampa Guanaco, Cameron
Start: Ushuaia (Argentina)
End: Punta Arenas (Chile)
Inspiration: Bikepacking.com
Bikepacking the Fin Del Mundo
We have successfully finished our bikepacking trip from Ushuaia, Argentina to Punta Arenas in Chile! In two weeks time, we crossed the Tierra Del Fuego, at the very southern tip of South America. This is about the closest you can get to Antarctica - and it shows! The land is rugged, windswept and even has some penguin colonies. History looms around every corner - from the Strait of Magellan (named after the European sailor in 1520 who discovered the archipelago), the Beagle Channel (not the cute dogs, but the surveying ship with Charles Darwin) and the Drake Passage (not the Canadian rapper, but Sir Francis Drake who accidentally ended up in these frigid waters).
Ushuaia (population: 82,615) is an interesting town, and has a few decent camping and cycling stores. Beware, though: There is no wide selection of products due to import restrictions, so try to bring all your gear with you and, if possible, not lose your luggage during the flight - LOL 🙂
Celebrating the beginning of our journey at the famous ‘Ushuaia’ sign!
Leaving Ushuaia behind
On the 8th of January, our bikepacking trek begins! With bags loaded with food and over 6 liters of water each, we set out on the official route. Leaving the streets of Ushuaia behind, we turn onto a gravel coast road that hugs the shoreline. It doesn’t take long before the narrow forest trail forces us off our bikes… Here comes the hike-a-bike!
We push our heavily-loaded bikes up and down grassy paths, meeting hikers and mountainbikers along the way. At one point, we cross farmlands and carefully hoist our bikes over the fence of an estancia (cattle ranch). The first river crossing - over Rio Encajonado - marks the point where the crowds disappear, leaving us to our own senses.
The perfect camp spot for spotting cruise ships and whales.
On a small hill overlooking the Beagle Channel, with Ushuaia fading in the distance, we set up camp. It’s late, but the summer sun lingers here - reminding us of the Swedish midsummer nights on the Kungsleden - and the winds slow down completely. Ryan excitedly roams around the campsite with his camera, while I settle into a detective novel (the Ruth Galloway-series, I’m a huge fan!) and soon sink into a deep sleep.
The Horrible Hike-A-Bike Continues
The sun fills the tent as we open our eyes and hear the birds’ orchestra. It’s 10 a.m. - clearly, we needed the rest. After two morning coffees and a handful of granola, we pack up and push our bikes up-and-downhill. Hand-to-heart, beginning the route like this is really challenging. Carrying our 40+ kilo bikes, we navigate fallen tree trunks, overgrown trails, and muddy slopes. Bloodied and dirty, we rely on teamwork to get us through the morning. I distract myself with a podcast to stay focused, while Ryan guides our bikes around obstacles when my energy falters.
Two of my favorite things to do: Snacking and resting.
A few hours later, we emerge from the forest, feeling like Indiana Jones! We follow the coastline, walking across a pebble beach before reaching another river crossing. On the far side, we stumble upon an abandoned farm, and dreams of an “off-grid, homestead life” pop up in our minds. For the first time that day, we climb back on our bikes - thank the stars!
Pedaling at last, with a mountain range on the left and the sea stretching out to our right, we ride through flowery fields as the evening falls. We are in a military zone now, but luckily for us, there is no troop or division to be seen. Today’s challenges are slowly disappearing from our minds as we set up our tent near the shoreline and watch the sky darken.
Seaside Treasures and Angry Dog Encounters
Left: The island is home to many crested caracaras, always on the lookout.
Right: The scenic Highway 3, that the route manages to escape most days.
The following day, the gravel road winds through soft and undulating terrain. We ride past small fisher villages and seafood restaurants. Even under a light drizzle, the ride is pleasant and easygoing… That is, until we approach Ruta Tres (Highway 3). Out of nowhere, a pack of aggressive dogs -four, maybe five- comes charging at Ryan. The alpha dog blocks his path, teeth bared, and refuses to let him through. We shout and clap our hands, but eventually, we have no other choice but to grab rocks and throw them in their direction to ensure our safe passage.
Encounters like these can be kinda nerve-wracking. Aggressive behavior of dogs is one of our biggest fears of life on the road—if you have tips or tricks for dealing with them, we’d love to hear them in the comments below!
Fueling up with food: Resupply in Tolhuin
Eventually, gravel turns into concrete and we grind our way up the pass, riding along the shoulder of the Pan-American Highway. It’s really raining now and the Patagonian winds threaten to blow us off our bikes. Soaked and shivering, we seek refuge in a small local restaurant. To our surprise, the place is filled with live music and they serve best empanadas on earth - lucky us! Strengthened once more by hot food and green tea, we press on towards Tolhuin, where we end up staying the night in a tipi, sheltered from the howling winds.
Tolhuin is mostly known for its legendary bakery, Panaderia La Union, and their incredible baked goodies and sweets. The owner offers touring cyclists a place to sleep in the basement-for free! It’s a simple kindness, but one that means the world to those of us on the road. :)
Left: Ryan, resting in the hand of a giant. / Right: The wooden welcome sign of Tolhuin.
Thousand hues of yellow on the Pampa
The section beyond Tolhuin takes us inland, through vast grasslands painted in endless shades of yellow and brown. The native plants, as tough as their windswept environment, make it hard to sit or lie down without some buffer or protection.
Out here, we feel worlds away from the Pan-American Highway - and civilization itself. Over the coming days, we’ll encounter native birds species, wild horses and guanaco families, but we’ll rarely see another soul. Most buildings we pass are empty and abandoned, like the haunting hotel at Lago Yehuin. It must have been quite the sight in its glory days, decades ago.
The only constant sign of human presence are the never-ending fencelines, where death is omnipresent… Life on the pampas can be ruthless, both for humans and animals. We get used to the company of guanacos: Shy and quirky-looking members of the camel family with gangly legs and curious minds. They kind of look like they were drawn by a child, a strange mix of llama, horse and camel.
Ears up, tail down: Guanacos rule the world in Tierra del Fuego.
Worries about Finding Good Water
Finding potable water is an issue that has us worried, since the airline lost our brand-new water filter *sobs*. Natural waterr sources are scarse on Tierra Del Fuego, and the few we do encounter are likely contaminated. That’s why we’re especially grateful for the occasional estancias we come across. Every day or two, we stop by and ask a farming family to fill our water bottles, and they kindly do so. We try to carry each more than 6 liter with us at all times. That usually lasts us for about 2 days.
We’re making good progress… until we’re not! With gusts of 85 km or 53 miles/hr, we barely manage to stay steady on our bicycles. Our daily distance drops to a mere 40 kilometers or 25 miles. On the barren plains and grasslands of Tierra Del Fuego, there is no place to escape these winds.
At night, we take refuge wherever we can— animal shelters, tree coverage, bridges, anything that offers some form of protection. When the winds get too strong, there’s not much else to do but hunker down in our brand-new tent and hope for the weather to calm down.
Waiting out the worst of the wind.
Seeking refuge in shelters and abandoned places.
Love Knows no Boundaries
Along the route, we encounter some trail angels— that’s what we call people who help travelers, hikers and bikers in any way. One of them is Nestor, a retired navy officer, who drives us to the Argentinian border post with Chile. We’re forever grateful for him, helping us escape the worst of the storm!
Yippee — we made it to Chile!
The customs officers are equally kind, welcoming us and even offering the use of their shower! After cleaning up and getting our passports stamped, we ride into Chile — country number two!!
We stay our first night in Chile in Pampa Guanaco (wonder where they got the name from…) in one of the free wooden shelters in town. Staying up late, we lose ourselves in books and maps, savoring the day. It’s our first night sleeping on Chilean soil, and it feels special — like the start of a new chapter.
The next morning greets us, however, with another grueling day of headwinds - and I mean, serious headwinds - but as we near the final stretch of the Fin Del Mundo route, the winds shift in our favor. Blessed with a strong tailwind, we’re blown straight into Cameron, a picturesque seaside community with a campground and general store.
Riding down from the road, the quaint village of Cameron appears.
The last 150 kilometers of the route brings us closer to society: we see more people in this stretch than we’ve seen the entire trip so far!
Meeting people along the way is part of the magic.
That’s how we meet our van-life friends, Ivo On Tour, a fun and energetic German couple traveling in a converted firefighter truck.
And on the final night of the route, we camp at another abandoned shelter and share the space with three fellow bikepackers — one from France, another from Belgium/Canada and the third from the UK.
Exchanging stories with other travelers, we get a glimpse of what lies ahead: the towering peaks of Torres Del Paine and the beauty of the Carratera Austral and Bariloche. Listening to their tales, we dream of the surprises that Argentina and Chile still have in store for us…
Bikepackers unite at shelters, seeking some refuge from the wind.
Our final day is the longest one yet. The thought of a comfy bed and warm shower keeps us going as we push towards Porvenir. In 7 hours and 100 kilometers, we make our way over a mix of concrete and gravel roads, helped along by tailwinds.
From Porvenir, we catch the daily ferry to mainland Chile. We pay $9.000 Chilean pesos per person for the ferry trip - bicycles travel for free - and we arrive safe and sound in Punta Arenas.
The first leg of our Pat’Alaska journey is officially over! We look back on these early weeks with happy hearts and hungry stomachs :)
As we rest and refuel, we’re busy wrapping up a Youtube video about the route and mapping out the next stage: a mostly off-road route to and through Torres Del Paine, eventually connecting to the famous Carretera Austral… To be continued!
The first leg of our Pat’Alaska journey is officially over! We look back on these early weeks with happy hearts and hungry stomachs :)
As we rest and refuel, we’re busy wrapping up a Youtube video about the route and mapping out the next stage: a mostly off-road route to and through Torres Del Paine, eventually connecting to the famous Carretera Austral… To be continued!
Thanks for reading and following along! You can support our journey by becoming a Patreon member and get access to live updates, stories and early video-releases — and maybe even a postcard from our next destination :) Cheers!
Hiking in Glacier’s Backcountry
July is blooming time for the yellow Glacier lily.
Visiting Glacier National Park in the summertime? Yep, it is just as busy as it sounds! With over 3 million visitors a year, Glacier is one of the most popular National Parks in the U.S. That means traffic lines, vehicle reservations, and full parking lots. Nevertheless, don’t let this get in your way of spending time in one of the wildest and most authentic parks of all.
Two Ocean Glacier
High up north in Montana lie these glacial wonderlands that inspire so many. Not surprisingly, Montana is known as “Big Sky” state or - my personal favorite - “The Land of Shining Mountains”. Established in 1910, the park was home to over 100 glaciers. Today, that amount has shrunk to roughly two dozen - and the glaciers keep getting smaller.
Family Time
My dearest cousin Meike!
We met up with my cousin Meike, who came all the way from Belgium to visit us! We picked her up at the train station in West-Glacier, where the Amtrak stops on its way from Seattle to Chicago. It was her first time visiting the U.S., and my first visitor from Belgium! Needless to say, I was really happy to have her with us on this trip.
Glacier Campgrounds
The first couple of nights, we camped at Two Medicine Lake and Apgar. Both campgrounds in the west are excellently run by the Park Service. We paid about $20 a night, and enjoyed the facilities that came with it. We watched bighorn sheep licking coals from the fire pits, swam in Lake McDonald, and waited for the Going-To-The-Sun Road to open up. Officially the scenic road’s latest opening, snowplough crews managed to complete the job on July 13th. The park gets snow almost year-round, and its mountain peaks are still snowcapped throughout summer.
How to get Backcounty Permits in Glacier
Longing for some peace and quiet, we decided it was time to put on our backpacks and escape the crowds and reservation systems… Just kidding: Camping in a national park requires planning and reservations, too! Not our strongest asset, but we made it work. :)
Working our way through the yellow Glacier lilies.
We headed to the backcountry office in Apgar village in the wee hours of the morning. Turns out that most camping permits were already gone, but we happily settled for the last remaining permits, made our way to the shuttle bus, and started the hike!
Moose antlers in the woods.
PS: If you are, just like us, pretty last-minute and in need of camping permits, you will want to get there early, too! Glacier’s backcountry office opens up at 7:30 AM, but it gets very busy during summer. Combined with the fact that you need a vehicle registration - which we did not have -, we got to the office at 5:30 AM… Only to find out that there were already 3 other hikers waiting in line! Speaking of dedication :-)
Itinerary of the hike
Day 1: Loop Trailhead - Granite Park (4.2 miles)
Followed the popular trail up to the beautiful Granite Chalet. No liquor license, alas, so no beers or any other drinks here. But you are rewarded with a million-dollar view and lots of friendly people.
Time to rest after our first day of hiking
The campground is just half a mile away, tucked away between the trees. There’s a stream and a pole to hang your food. Oh, and a very nice pit toilet.
A pit toilet with a view.
Day 2: Granite Park - Flattop Mountain (9.9 miles)
We hiked all the way back down, which was way easier than going up. Then we set out for the other side of the valley, following McDonald Creek and eventually crossing it to the other side. There’s a cool suspension bridge. We went up, slowly but surely, up the hill until we could no longer see nor hear the road. Thick brushes and thousands of wildflowers embraced us as we followed the trail.
Seeking shelter in our tents.
Eventually, beautiful waterfalls greeted us - along with swarms of mosquitos. Time for head nets, rain gear, and Deet spray! This campsite, too, has a pole, a nice privy, and nearby water sources.
Day 3: Flattop Mountain - Stony Indian Lake (14.5 miles)
Running away from the mosquito’s the next morning, we stopped for nothing or no one. We did notice, however, large amounts of bear scat… Could this mean something?
Around noon, we were admiring a young male elk, when all of a sudden, a bush on my right looked a little… hairy. I squinted my eyes - as I often do - to see what it was… And it was a Grizzly cub! First, we were complete in awe and in love with the playful, furry cub… But then it dawned on us: Where’s mom?? And at once, mama bear came out of the bushes and guided her cub safely away from us. A beautiful, intimate, and precious encounter.
The afternoon turned out to be pretty spicey: We encountered many snow patches, some snow bridges, and lots of bushwhacking. So, we sang and clapped our way through the dense bushes and ferns, to scare no bears or other animals. But in turn, we got scared when we smelled the scent of death… Right on the trail, there was a mountain goat carcass, half-eaten and decayed. After that, we clapped even more loudly and vigorously and rushed our way to Stony Indian Lake: A beautiful alpine lake, where we plunged in the icy cold water and ate dinner alongside lively mosquitos and ground squirrels.
Day 4: Stony Indian Lake - Fifty Mountains (8.2 miles)
An easy day back to Fifty Mountains Campground, which we passed the previous day. We took a nap in the fields full of Glacier Lilies and read some poetry. Meike spotted singing Western toads in the melting snow puddles.
North of the campsite, we passed the remains of an old backcountry patrol cabin. A peaceful day and night…
The hills are alive… ♫
… which turned into a heavy storm with thunder, lightning, and rain that same night. We got out of the tents to stake them deeper into the ground and looked up to the sky, shiveringly. We were in the hands of Thor now, nothing more we could do…
But we survived! And the creepy sound just outside of our tent? That was a deer passing by, licking up our pee. The deer here just love pee for its salt.
Thank you, Glacier, for a full and rich experience. If you have the chance, go out there! It's worth the trouble and the wait.
Thanks for reading!