Upon arrival in Puerto Montt, I was forced to acknowledge a few bike issues: I had too much gear, my new front panniers wouldn’t sit flush against my front racks, and my way-too-long front wheel pin was cutting into my panniers.

I decided to brazenly ignore these problems and start cycling south. Within half an hour, a massive nail had pierced my brand new (read: expensive) touring tire. It seemed like a clear enough message that it was time to set up camp, do some repairs, and return to Puerto Montt the following morning to take care of all the bicycle niggles before really digging into this trip.

Twenty-four hours later, I was cruising through the coastal countryside and feeling good. The rolling hills and grassy fields had me thinking of Mulmur, where my grandfather lives. I was heading for Pargua, where I would take a short ferry to the island of Chiloe and head for Quellon, the town at the island’s southern tip, to catch a long-haul ferry to Patagonia.

I spent most nights wild camping, searching for quiet and sheltered areas off the side of the road. The only hiccup was when, after having set up camp in what seemed like an abandoned pasture, I was surprised by a large and angry bull, who bursted through the gate and sized up my orange tent. The old farmer, not far behind him, told me I was welcome to sleep in the not-abandoned pasture and assured me the bull and the cows wouldn’t bother me. I decided to trust him.

Otherwise, camping worked very well in Chiloe. With the sun shining until 10pm, there was plenty of time to read, relax, inspect the bicycle, and enjoy the landscapes. I’m carrying breakfast food, as well as many dinner meals I dehydrated back home, so I only needed to pick up lunch, snacks, fruits, and vegetables along the way.

I also met some wonderful hosts in Chiloe. In the town of Castro, I stayed with Sonia for two nights and learned a great deal about the history of the island from a proud chilota (someone from the island of Chiloe). On the way from Castro to Quellon, I camped on the property of Maria and her husband, who taught me about their Huilliche culture. And, in Quellon, Carlos and Camila, currently refurbishing an abandoned bed-and-breakfast that had been in Camila’s family for decades, let me hang out as long as I wanted as I waited for the tsunami alert to drop so that I could board the ferry (at 2 :30am, we finally got to do so).

Next stop : Puerto Chacabuco, and onward to Patagonia.