Altitude sickness

The plan was to wake Monday morning in Chile and fall asleep Monday evening in Argentina, or at least en route to Argentina. We packed up camp in Paihuano before sunrise, in that time where only foreigners seem to be awake, and set off back to Vicuna for provisions. We collected our padron, food, and plenty of fuel, and began our journey eastward towards the grandiose Los Andes.

The road was superb – windy but well-sealed and with enough space to be able look around and enjoy the mountainside vineyards and icy streams. By lunchtime we approached the frontier, and we officially departed Chile. With cautious advice from a carabinero (police officer) not to attempt the pass that afternoon, we hit the gravel road with the intention to free camp along the way. At the 30 km mark (and over an hour later), we approached La Laguna and found our camp.

The spot was breathtaking. We put up our tent just off the road, on a shingle ground beside a large rock. It was clear that others had camped there before, as there was a circular area with a low stone wall and remnants of a fire. We were in a triangular shaped valley where two sides were steep craggy mountains, and the third was the lake. Once we were set up, we wandered along the road, with occasional deep breaths due to the altitude (3100m) and took photos and video footage. That afternoon a few cars and some motorbikes came past, lifting our spirits for the following day. Jono managed a quick dip in the lake, and we spent the evening playing Monopoly Deal in complete isolation. With the lack of any other light source and the high altitude, the night sky was the most incredible we’d ever seen. Our first night camping in the Chilean Andes was truly magical.

Tuesday morning we attempted an early start, but the pitch black and chill of the early morning encouraged us to sleep a little longer. We packed up our bikes as the sun began to appear over the Andes, and set off for Paso Agua Negra which peaks at 4800m. We were hopeful of a good climb – the weather was perfect and road was much better than it could have been, and we had already climbed to 3100m.

As we set off, I began to notice with increasing frequency that my bike was being very jerky. I had started to notice this way back after leaving Vicuna, however then it was infrequent and not much of a problem. Negotiating a windy, gravel road on a motorbike is not easy work at the best of times, but with my bike lurching around every few seconds, things were not looking too positive. We soldiered on, and the scenery was well worth the effort. The mountains in this area are called the coloured mountains, because there are so many metals found in them, that there are streaks of red, yellow ochre, brown, teal green, in beautiful marbled patterns.

At about 3700metres, we stopped and Jono had a tinker with my bike to see if there was anything we could do to make it run better. The spark plug came out and was replaced with a new one, the revs were adjusted, the air filter was examined, but nothing seemed to work. It was as if there was not a constant flow of petrol reaching combustion chamber. Each time I got on my bike to try it out, it got worse and worse, so that finally I was right down to first gear and losing power at an alarming rate. At 4200m the engine cut out and that was the end of the ride. Try as we might, the engine refused to restart, and when it finally did, the revs faded and it cut out again. It appeared that my bike had altitude sickness.

Dejected, we sat on the side of the gravel road in the middle of no mans land, at 4200m, and made the decision to flag down a truck to try and get a ride preferably in the direction of Argentina. The road was pretty exposed here, and while we could have managed a night camping, we didn’t really have enough food and we were already onto our emergency supply of iodised lake water. Frustratingly, we were only about 15km from the summit.

Jono, unable to sit down and wait for help, continued to make adjustments to the bike, while I sorted our papers so that if we were separated (particularly with one of us in Chile and the other in Argentina) we could cross either border. This was suddenly a very strong reality – that if I managed to get a truck to take me and my bike to Argentina, Jono would have to ride over on his own, and with our bikes being exactly the same, who was to say whether he would have trouble with his bike and have to descend back into Chile.

Fortunately, within the hour, we spotted a red ute heading down from the pass – the opposite direction to which we wanted to go, but a better option than getting stuck in the Andes overnight. I flagged them down and was very relieved when they told me they spoke English. We are making much more of an attempt to speak a lot of Spanish this trip, however in a situation where you don’t need any misinterpretations, it was a relief to be able to explain our predicament in English.

Fernando and his father were tourists from Portugal, on their second 4x4 trip of Chile and Argentina. They readily agreed to put my bike in the back of the ute, and take me down the mountain (back into Chile), with Jono driving in front on the motorbike. Luckily for us Fernando and his father were in no rush to get to Vicuna, and we managed to accompany Jono all the way. Fernando chatted away to me for the whole trip and it was absolute heaven to be seated safely in the back of his ute talking about NZ and Portugal. I don’t think it ever really hit us, the potential severity of being stuck in the Andes, other than the relief I felt to be driving back to a country we were starting to understand, and talking about Portuguese wine and cuisine.

At the Chilean border post, there was much surprise from the officials to see us back only one day later, particularly with no further stamp in our passport. They were all very patient and sorry for us, and we were away in no time, back to Vicuna and Rancho Elquino. Fernando and his father decided to stay at Rancho Elquino as well, and this gave Jono and me the opportunity to say thank you to them by cooking them dinner on the camp charcoal barbeque. We had a wonderful evening with them drinking Carmenere (a type of Chilean red wine), eating sausages and kebabs, and talking the night away. We are eternally grateful to these two lovely men.