5 - 20 March 2025

5 March - Puerto Montt to Frutillar, Chile (27.0 mi, 43.5 km)
6-7 March - Rain Days in Frutillar, Chile
8 March - Frutillar to Entre Lagos, Chile (51.2 mi, 82.4 km)
9 March - Rain day in Entre Lagos, Chile
10 March - Entre Lagos to Puyehue NP, Chile (27.8 mi, 44.7 km)
11 March - Puyehue NP, Chile to Brazo Rincón, Argentina (30.5 mi, 49.1 km)
12 March - Brazo Rincón to Quintupuray, Argentina (20.5 mi, 33.0 km)
13 March - Quintupuray to Lago Villarino, Argentina (20.2 mi, 32.5 km)
14 March - Lago Villarino to Río Hermoso, Argentina (14.3 mi, 23.0 km)
15-16 March - Rest Days in Río Hermoso, Argentina
17 March - Río Hermoso to Junín de los Andes, Argentina (41.4 mi, 66.5 km)
18-20 March - Layover in Junín de los Andes, Argentina

Which Way North?

In Southern Chile there are very few roads suitable for cyclists. Likewise, further north in Columbia, Ecuador and Peru the political instability, illicit criminal activity, and vast, roadless areas in the Amazon Basin steer cyclists down a few, well-trodden routes. But the northern half of Chile and Argentina is different - it provides some route alternatives to pick from. Before continuing our journey, we had to choose among three main options:

Go Straight North. This route follows the main branch of the Pan-American Highway (Route 5) more-or-less directly northward, crossing directly into Peru or Bolivia. It passes through the Chilean capital (Santiago) then follows the coast, with lots of beautiful ocean views and picturesque, seaside towns.
Cross Quickly into Argentina. This option had two distinct advantages. First, we could cross the Andes through an impressive national park, arriving on one of Argentina’s best-known scenic drives. Second, we would exit the Chilean rainforests sooner, providing much more rain-free cycling in the arid, mountain foothills of the Argentine pampas.
Half-and-Half. Another possibility would be to opt for the a direct route to Santiago, Chile, then cross the Andes on a branch of the Pan-American Highway that goes eastward to Buenos Aires, Argentina. This route offers more time cycling through the lush forests of Chile before crossing to the northern deserts, while sticking to major roads. It is one of the most heavily used routes for motorized vehicles.

In the end, weather played a major role in guiding our decision. It was already March, and we could feel autumn approaching quickly. (Yes, the seasons are reversed for those of you reading in the Northern Hemisphere. To make your head spin even more, think about how Christmas comes in the middle of summer down here…) The longer we delayed our crossing of the Andes mountains, the more likely we were to run into mountain passes closed by snow. Plus, after three months of cycling in the rainforests of Chile, there was no denying the allure of Argentina’s more arid climate. We chose Option #2.

Back on the Pan-American Highway

Even though we planned to go eastward fairly quickly, Chile’s second-largest lake stood in our way. To get around it, we cycled northward for one more day, on the Pan-American highway.

What a change the Pan-American Highway was from the Carretera Austral (which we had ridden through southern Chile). Along much of its length the Pan-American is a small road (even dirt in some places). But here, it was a modern highway. The heavy traffic was moving fast. But that wasn’t a problem because we could cycle comfortably and safely on the wide, paved road margin. Furthermore, we were no longer surrounded by the thick, forested mountains. Instead, we cycled through a wide lowland of gentle hills that had been completely cleared for pastures and towns.

The friendly smile of ‘Copito’ greets travelers heading north along the Pan-American Highway out of Puerto Montt. We were smiling, too - happy to be cycling along that nice, wide, paved, road shoulder. Puerto Montt, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

By far the most striking feature of the ride was the view across Lake Llanquihue. For 35 miles (56 km) the enormous lake shimmered just beyond the farms and towns to our right. On the far side of the lake, a couple of soaring volcanos played hide-and-seek among the low-hanging clouds. Seeing the two, massive volcanos bordering the lake was beautiful, and reminded us both of another volcanic lake we had passed a year and a half ago - Lake Atitlán in Guatemala.

We were grateful that the two giants were sleeping as we passed. Calbuco Volcano (the closer of the two) had erupted violently just 10 years ago, with only 2-3 hours of warning. The ash plume rose more than 9 miles (15 km) into the atmosphere, and molten rocks ejected from the cone landed as far as 3 miles (5 km) away. Fortunately, the volcano sits within a large nature reserve so the lava flows didn’t impact any population centers. But air travel to the capital cities of Chile, Argentina and Uruguay was disrupted.

The sleeping giant hiding among the clouds on the far side of Lake Llanquihue was the Calbuco Volcano. It was quiet when we passed, but it had been only 10 years since the volcano’s last major eruption. Pan-American Highway, Puerto Varas, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Although the route was fairly urban, we still encountered some wildlife. We managed to stop this little Chilean Slender Snake (10 cm, probably a young one) from wandering into the path of the oncoming cars. With a bit of coaxing, it turned around and slithered back into the grass on the side of the highway. It was easy to identify, because it is the only species of snake in this part of Chile. The species is confined mostly to Chile west of the Andes and is venomous. Pan-American Highway, Llanquihue, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The City of Music

Although March theoretically falls within the dry season around Lake Llanquihue, the region is still within Chile’s rainforest belt. It might not rain every day, but it still rains a lot. So it was no surprise that a blustery storm front blew through the night as we arrived in the town of Frutillar. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed and the rain came down in buckets for the next day and a half. We kept a crackling fire burning in our cabin’s wood stove while we huddled inside.

We kept our cabin warm and dry with a fire burning in the wood stove. Fun fact: in parts of Chile and Argentina they call these stoves ‘salamandras,’ which translates as salamander (like the amphibian) - an apparent reference to a folklore connection between salamanders and fire. Frutillar, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Mid-afternoon on the second day, it seemed like the storm was finally starting to break up. As patches of blue sky appeared, cabin fever set in and we decided to go for a walk.

In reality, Frutillar (pop. 20,680) is actually two towns. The first immigrants settled along the shore of Lake Llanquihue in the mid-1800s. More than 50 years later, the railroad to Puerto Montt was built on higher ground, a couple of miles away. As a result, most of the town’s modern growth occurred along the railroad corridor (now the Pan-American Highway). Meanwhile the older section of town became almost frozen in time - with much of the original, colonial architecture still intact.

Curious to see the historic area, we hiked 45 minutes down to what’s now known as Frutillar Bajo - the town’s lower zone along the waterfront. It was like traveling back to an earlier era, when the region was settled largely by immigrants from Germany. Many of the 150 year old buildings had been lovingly maintained, and nearly all of the newer construction reinforced the historic feel. If you didn’t know better, you could easily convince yourself that you had been transported to a quaint, rural, German village.

One of the first historic buildings we passed was this unusual, circular structure. It’s one of those things that immediately makes you wonder, what is that? We later learned it was a large barn. The colonists stored and even threshed their wheat inside the cavernous barn, to protect it from the constant rain. German Colonial Museum, Frutillar Bajo, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The O’Clock Restaurant is new - built in 2017 to house a cafe and pub. But it was designed to fit in with the village’s German heritage. You can almost imagine a cuckoo popping out of the upper window to mark the hours. Frutillar Bajo, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

We were surprised by how busy and lively the waterfront was (perhaps we weren’t the only ones with cabin fever). Pretty quickly we gathered that Frutillar has a huge classical music scene - earning it the nickname of The City of Music. The references to music were literally everywhere. Each summer one of Chile’s largest and most modern concert halls, the Theater of the Lake, hosts an international music festival in town. There’s also a classical music conservatory, and concerts are held regularly throughout the year. Nearly all of the public art evoked some kind of reference to music. We had a great time exploring the waterfront and wandering the paths in this little corner of Europe within Chile. It was quite a contrast for two cyclist who had just left the wilds of Southern Chile.

A weather vane on the waterfront (shaped like a G-clef), honored the town’s musical traditions and German heritage. Frutillar Bajo, Lake Llanquihue, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The Volcano On the Horizon

The morning of our departure from Frutillar, the temperature outside was 42F (5.5C). But with the humidity at 93% it felt really cold. Luckily for us the sun had come out, taking the edge off the morning chill. It was a beautiful day for cycling.

From Frutillar our route left the Pan-American Highway. In a big change of pace, we found ourselves back on lightly-traveled, rural, two lane roads.

A wind farm along our route suggested that this area must be pretty windy. But with a lovely blue sky and a tailwind, we didn’t have to worry. South of Puerto Octay, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

With the newly, clear skies we were finally able to get a good look at the volcanos on the far side of the lake. And they were awesome - particularly the Osorno Volcano, which rises into a picture-perfect, snow-covered cone. We could even see a third volcano farther away, in the direction we were headed. The Osorno Volcano was so mesmerizing that it somehow managed to work its way into 90% of the photos we took that day.

The spectacular Osorno Volcano rose like a mystical giant on the far side of Lake Llanquihue. With the newly-cleared sky, we could see it in all its glory. Puerto Octay, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

When our road turned eastward, we headed straight towards the distant, snow-covered cone. Osorno Volcano, North of Puerto Octay, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The modern wind turbines weren’t the only sign that this area could get windy. Several ranches along the route featured windmills in the old, European style. Apparently the original German settlers took advantage of the wind resources to power their industries, too. This ranch even had a silhouette of Don Quixote “tilting at the windmill” (a literary reference to a scene in the book by the famous Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes, where Don Quixote picks a fight with windmills, believing them to be giants). Los Molinos, East of Puerto Octay, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

For many miles we cycled across a largely uninhabited plateau that was covered with eucalyptus plantations (an introduced species). The ‘forests’ of eucalyptus grew in patches of even-aged trees, some 100 ft tall and others newly planted. Once in a while, we passed sawmills with stacks of eucalyptus lumber. It was a huge forestry operation, that had completely transformed the landscape.

Eucalyptus logs piled high. The plateau north of Lake Llanquihue had been completely converted to eucalyptus plantations. East of Puerto Octay, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

A little over four hours into the ride we passed a little cafe known for allowing cyclists to camp on their property. We considered stopping for a snack. But when we arrived, the truth was we weren’t yet ready for a break. We had some food with us, so why stop? We decided to cycle another 10 miles or so (16 km), then look for a nice roadside spot to take a rest.

However, after cycling 10 miles we were still in the middle of the eucalyptus plantations. There just weren’t any appealing places to pull over. Feeling energetic we pushed on, telling ourselves we would stop at a food truck that was supposed to be just five miles (8 km) further up the road. Of course, when we got there it was closed.

By that point we had been cycling for six hours, and were starting to feel fatigued. We had not eaten much all day. Grasping at straws, we cheered ourselves with the fact that our map showed one more cafe, just over a mile further down the road. We crossed our fingers, and hoped that this time the map wouldn’t let us down. Then pedaled onward for one more mile.

When we finally rolled up to the little cafe, there were only seven miles remaining in our ride for the day. But it didn’t matter, we needed a break. If we hadn’t been so hungry, we might have been disappointed. The cafe had a large menu but almost none of it was available. Pretty much the only things the lady behind the counter was serving were sopapillas (fried bread) with a slice of farm cheese warmed on top. However, given our state, these simple snacks looked like a feast. And truthfully, they tasted pretty good.

While we were savoring our food, to our surprise another cyclist pulled up (we hadn’t seen many cyclists since leaving the Carretera Austral). The only thing he ordered was a huge coffee (it looked like it was at least a liter). Then he sat down to visit with us.

His name was Tony, from the UK. He had one month left of a three month cycling vacation around Chile, and was heading back towards Santiago. He explained to us how he was mixing traveling by bicycle, bus and ferry to cover almost the entire country in three months. It sounded like a complicated trip, but he was hitting all of his own, personal highlights and having a blast. As we were all getting ready to go, we learned that he planned to cycle another 50 miles that day (compared to our 7 miles). We left the cafe before him, but he zipped past us pretty soon after that. He had a lot farther to go than we did and was traveling light.

After that beautiful day of cycling, we got socked in by another rain day in the town of Entre Lagos (pop. 5,000). We spent the day inside, warmed by a salamandra (wood stove). Although the town had a nice location on the shore of a big lake, Entre Lagos was pretty quiet when we were there. We definitely got the feeling that the summer tourist season had ended. The waterfront restaurant where we ate dinner the first night actually seemed like they had opened just for us. We had a sinking feeling when the waitress told us they only had two of the items listed on the menu (kind of like the cafe where we had stopped out on the route). Fortunately, the food was ample and delicious.

Puyehue National Park

The morning of our departure from Entre Lagos, it was raining. Hard. The weather forecast said it should stop around 9am, so we took our time getting ready to leave. Yet even at that time the rain was still coming down. We dawdled some more, waiting for the weather to clear. By 10am we were getting restless, and started to fret about the miles we would have to cover over the course of the day. So even though there was still a light rain, we saddled up and hit the road.

After 1.5 hours of cycling along the mellow southern shore of Lake Puyehue, we reached the foothills of the Andes mountains that lay between us and Argentina. Like many long mountain ranges, the Andes are guarded by a series of lower ridges that run parallel to the higher mountain chain. For the next three hours we powered over the foothills. By the time we entered the lush rainforests of Puyehue National Park the sun had come out, casting a warm glow over the dark, evergreen hills.

A sign near the entrance to the national park cautioned motorists to watch for wildlife. We thought it was an unusual choice to highlight a skunk - not typically one of people’s favorite species (although they may be particularly at risk of being hit by cars). Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The abundance of active volcanos in the area endowed Puyehue National Park with multiple hot springs. We stopped for a break near the entrance to this resort, which offered the chance to soak in geothermal tubs perched atop boardwalks within the forest. Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

A rustic shelter by the entrance to the Anticura Campground housed a young man whose job was to greet (and collect fees) from people coming to use the facilities. We weren’t sure whether we wanted to pay to stay in the park or find someplace to camp for free up the road. We asked the attendant a couple questions about the camping, and got an enthusiastic response that went on for quite a while. But we were tired, so we only heard the first few words before our minds went to the equivalent of low battery mode, and started to shut down from lots of cycling on little food. We politely listened, but he soon realized that the best thing would be to let us go and see for ourselves.

The campsites were fine, although rather soggy. However, the cabins looked quite nice. They had a lot more beds than we needed (seven, to be exact). But they also had plenty of space, hot water, a fridge, and a nice salamandra (wood stove) for warmth. It didn’t take us too long to decide that staying in a cabin would make it much easier to get an early start the next morning - which was crucial because we had to make it all the way up and over the Andes mountains early enough to arrive at the Argentinian border office before they closed at 6pm. We chose the cabin.

Our A-frame cabin at the Anticura Campground. Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

We found this sign, written in Spanish with ‘English translations,’ below, particularly amusing. It was hard to believe it was worth the trouble to ‘translate’ those words to English. Camping Anticura, Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

After getting settled we went for a walk in the woods. Over the next couple of hours we hiked around two loop trails that led through ancient forests (800 year old trees) to a series of picturesque waterfalls. The hike was particularly scenic. Unfortunately, the forest had been invaded by an introduced species of bamboo that is having a very large impact.

The views of the falls were lovely, but the thing we enjoyed the most was that we finally saw a Torrent Duck. These elusive ducks range throughout the high Andes, living in steep-sloped, fast-moving streams. We had been keeping an eye out for them in Colombia, as well as in every rushing river along the Carretera Austral - to no avail. Now, after checking out the last 100+ streams and months of searching, we finally saw a female Torrent Duck at the base of one of the waterfalls. It was awesome. Torrent Ducks have a unique way of handling the turbulent “torrents” in the water around them. They swim high in the water - appearing to almost effortlessly float above the surface as they move around from place to place in the strong currents.

Salto de Indio Waterfall

Torrent Duck at Salto de Indio Waterfall

Salto de Indio Trail

Salto Repucura Trail

An ancient tree along the Salto Repucura Trail

Salto Repucura Waterfall

Invasive bamboo along the Salto Repucura Trail

Crossing the Andean Cordillera

It’s not so easy to cycle from Chile to Argentina - you have to work for it. Outside of southern Patagonia, the Andes mountains will be in your way, forming a natural border between the two countries and requiring you to cycle over a high alpine pass. Another quirk is that both countries apparently prefer to build their border stations at lower elevations, pretty far from the top of the passes. So there often is a long stretch of road (the highest and most remote part) between the Chilean and Argentinian border stations.

Furthermore, you’re required to cross the gap between border stations in a single day (no wild camping in the no man’s land between borders is allowed). If you don’t make it on the same day, you have to return to the country you checked out of and get a new stamp. Occasionally you hear of cyclists who unwittingly camp in the area between border posts and end up having to cycle the same pass three times before being able to leave (i.e., Chile to Argentina, Argentina to Chile, Chile to Argentina). That leads to a long, strenuous day of cycling. That’s just the way it is.

After nearly three months in Chile, it was our time to tackle the crossing. Fortunately for us, Cardenal Samoré Pass is one of the lower places to traverse the Andes, topping out at a mere 4,334 ft (1,321 m). (There are actually six border passes between Chile and Argentina that are a whole lot higher (over 10,000 ft) - but all of them are much farther north.) However, since we were starting the climb from a relatively low elevation, we still had nearly 4,000 ft of climbing ahead of us. Thus, we had to leave ourselves plenty of time to make it over the pass, so we could arrive at the Argentinian border station by 6pm (when they closed for the night).

We arrived at the Chilean border station about 15 minutes after they opened in the morning. Luckily the exit from Chile was not nearly as arduous as the entry had been. Neither the immigration officers nor the customs officials asked us any questions. After exchanging our Chilean Pesos for Argentinian Pesos we were out the door and ascending the mountain by 9:30am.

Departure from Chile at the Cardenal Samoré border station. Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

For the next 4.5 hours we ascended slowly towards the clear, blue sky. Dense, evergreen forests mostly obscured the mountain views. Along the way we were serenaded by the staccato calls of the tapaculos and huet-huet birds.

Enveloped within the dense Chilean rainforest, we had only occasional views of the surrounding mountains. Climbing Cardenal Samoré Pass, Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

However, as we approached the summit of the pass the landscape changed dramatically. For two hours of cycling the vast majority of the mature trees that bordered the road were dead. It was startling to see the level of devastation.

Dead trees lined the road for many miles as we approached the top of Cardenal Samoré Pass. Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos, Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The ground among the dead tree trunks was covered with a thick layer of fine, ivory-colored gravel. We immediately suspected that the forest had been ravaged by a volcano, and that the gravel was a layer of volcanic ash. Later we learned that the nearby Puyehue Volcano, which had erupted at least seven times in the 20th century, exploded again in 2011. That eruption lasted for nine months. The ash cloud circumnavigated the globe several times, disrupted air travel across the southern hemisphere, and dusted towns up to 50 miles away with with the fine, pumice gravel. But the worst damage occurred to the forests near Cardenal Samoré Pass. Along this ridge, nearly 20 inches (50 cm) of volcanic ash smothered all of the vegetation.

Cycling through the forest of trees killed by the 2011 eruption of the Puyehue Volcano (seen in the background). Approaching Cardenal Samoré Pass, Puyehue National Park, Los Lagos Chile. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Arriving at the top of the pass around 2pm, we let out a big sigh of relief - we were well ahead of schedule. No longer worried about reaching the Argentinian border office before they closed, we metamorphosed into stereotypical tourists - ooh-ing and aah-ing at the views and posing for photos with the border crossing signs. At the summit, a thick layer of pumice-ash was piled high along the sides of the highway. It looked like it had been pushed into drifts by road-clearing equipment.

High, volcanic bluffs near the border between Argentina and Chile. Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The nearby core of an extinct volcano rose in a striking profile along the horizon. It reminded us of the ‘Devil’s Nose’ formation we had seen in Ethiopia. Cerro Pantojo, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The descent from the top of the pass was very welcome. The forests on the Argentinian side were quite a bit more open, yielding stunning views of the surrounding mountains. Flying down from the top of the pass, we reached the Argentina border office around 3:30 in the afternoon.

Gorgeous scenery on the descent from Cardenal Samoré Pass. Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Our return to Argentina was one of the easiest immigration experiences we’d ever had. It took less than 10 minutes to process both of us.

We were about to take off on our bikes when it suddenly dawned on us that we were just a short walk away from a little, border mini-market, and that we were actually very, very thirsty. PedalingGal stayed with the bikes while PedalingGuy hustled back to the market (which was back in no-man’s-land, on the far side of the border office). But she was thrown for a loop when he returned hauling multiple drinks, a bag of potato chips and a big chocolate bar. Our short break suddenly turned into a full-fledged picnic stop. We spent the next half hour savoring several drinks apiece and polishing off the snack food. It was a huge boost to our energy.

From there is was just a short, 20 min ride to our destination campground. It was surprisingly crowded for being in a remote location at the end of an inconspicuous dirt road. Most of the sites were already occupied when we arrived. The campground was located at the edge of a big bay that branched off of an even bigger lake, and all of the other campers looked like fishermen. We were the only ones sleeping in a tent. Everyone else had a camper or van to sleep in, and quite a few of them looked like long-term residents. Fortunately, we were able to stake out one of the vacant sites.

Our campsite among the fishermen’s camp. Camping Brazo Rincón, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The campground was positively overrun with Chimango Caracaras, like this one. There seemed to be multiple families of the crow-sized scavengers, complete with parents and multiple siblings, adding up to at least 30 birds. They were quite bold, making their living by stealing unattended scraps and raiding the campground’s trash cans. Brazo Rincón Campground, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

As might have been expected, given the fact that there were so many people around, it was not a particularly tranquil night. A couple of families returned to a nearby campsite after dark, and their crowd of kids played soccer until 11pm. They also ran their generator late into the night. A dog kept barking. Roosters crowed in the morning. Sleep was elusive.

The next morning, fog hung over the lake next to the campground, shrouding the fishing boats in a cloak of mist. Camping Brazo Rincón, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Route of the Seven Lakes

For the next 3.5 days we cycled the Seven Lakes Route, an ultra-scenic section of Argentina’s fabled Route 40.

Route 40 has its own mystique. As one of the longest continuous roads in the world (appx. 3,250 miles or 5,200 km), it ranks up there with US Route 66, the Trans-Canada Highway, and the Stuart Highway in Australia as a top road trip that captures the soul of a nation. Within Argentina, Route 40 holds near mythical status, and many people aspire to drive its remote stretches in search of adventure. It runs the full length of the country, from south to north, traversing some of the most lonely and out-of-the way regions, inhabited by ruggedly-independent gauchos and timeless villages whose people can trace their heritage to the era before the Spanish arrived. Whenever you mention La Cuarenta to an Argentine, you can see a touch of nostalgia in their eyes.

Given its extraordinary length, it stands to reason that some sections of Route 40 have become particularly popular for tourism - and the Seven Lakes Route is one of those. For the vast majority of its length Route 40 crosses Argentina’s wind-swept grasslands and deserts. But in this region, the road hugs the Andes. As a result, the Seven Lakes Route is renowned for its soaring mountain vistas, shimmering lakes, and picturesque valleys.

As we set out on our own journey along the Seven Lakes Route, we were glad that the first day was a relatively short one. In addition to the fact that we were somewhat sleep-deprived, PedalingGuy had strained his back the previous day by hauling too much weight over the high pass. (Having not thought too carefully about the consequences, we had bought a bit more food than we really needed. Somehow it all ended up in PedalingGuy’s panniers.) Throughout the next day his hip was tight and his back muscles had spasms. We were glad to be able to take it slowly, and took the chance to soak up the beautiful scenery.

Being in the foothills of the Andes, the road came with its share of big climbs. The payoff was that at the top of most hills there were overlooks with sweeping views of the lakes and mountains.

Lake Espejo Overlook. Many of the route’s namesake lakes had big, public beaches like the one seen below, where folks on holiday would go wading or kayaking. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Some of the overlooks had signs with information about the surrounding landscape or local wildlife. Lake Espejo Overlook, Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Lake Bailey Willis Overlook. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

We weren’t quite sure what to make of the Hostería 7 Lagos - our first overnight stop on the route. Nearly everything about the wooden structure was aged and weathered - as if it hadn’t seen much love in the last 100 years. Several signs proudly announced that the property had been occupied by the same family since 1892 - as if to encourage visitors to appreciate the building’s historic character, and also excuse its shortage of modern comforts. The presence of a satellite dish and a solar panel were reminders that we were in the 21st century. But other details like the tiny rooms, sagging furniture, dim lighting, wood stove for cooking, creaky wooden floors and vintage, lace curtains evoked a bygone era. The multiple dogs, cats, geese, cows, sheep and chickens roaming the property (not to mention the pet pigeon that lived in the kitchen) added to the feeling that operations here were pretty informal, and this was very much a working ranch.

The historic wooden structure of the Hostería 7 Lagos, complete with solar panel and satellite dish. Quintupuray, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

In the end it turned out to be an unexpected, but particularly rewarding experience - giving us an up-close glimpse into a rural lifestyle that is rapidly fading. The house where we stayed was actually a central gathering place for what appeared to be a large, extended family. We were the only guests, but one of the other four rooms upstairs was occupied by a couple family members. Most of the other people lived in small out-buildings that were scattered around the property.

The old-fashioned, wood-powered, cooking stove inside the spacious, well-used kitchen. It was by far the biggest room in the house, and served as the evening gathering place for the extended family. Hostería 7 Lagos, Quintupuray, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

For most of the afternoon, we only saw a young guy who’s primary responsibility seemed to be just keeping an eye on things while watching soccer matches on his phone. There was also a woman who prepared our room and helped us check in (then disappeared). But from 9:30-11:00pm (typical dinner time in Argentina) a big group gathered in the kitchen downstairs to share dinner - banging pots and dishes, and shouting to each other over the high-volume music. Then very quickly after 11pm, the crowd dispersed, and the house went completely quiet (except for the snoring of our neighbor, which we could hear through the thin, wooden wall).

The following morning as we were getting ready to depart, some of the ranch hands, otherwise known as gauchos here in Argentina, were also saddling up - on their horses - to head out for their day’s work.

Ranch hands prepping for a day’s work out in the forest and fields. Hostería 7 Lagos, Quintupuray, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The next couple of days cycling along the Seven Lakes Route passed much like the first. We continued to take it easy, with shorter days and plenty of time to enjoy the scenery. The road bounded over a continuous series of long, gently-graded hills, overlooking wooded valleys and picturesque lakes. The roadside margins were dappled with late-summer flowers.

Looking down, from the crest of one of the hills. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Black Queen flowers blooming along the road. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

A buff-tailed Bumblebee on a Bull Thistle. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Surrounded by scenic mountains. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

View from the Lake Machónico Overlook. Seven Lakes Route, Lanín National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The next night we stayed at the “Camping Libre” (free camping) area near Lake Villarino. There are 4-5 official, free campgrounds along the Seven Lakes Route. They’re light on amenities by Argentinian standards, but each site had a picnic table - which was all the luxury we needed. We found a beautiful spot on a hillside covered by a grassy lawn, with an awesome view of the mountains in one direction, and Lake Villarino in the other. We had heard that these free campgrounds can get very crowded during the summer season, but it was pretty quiet in mid-March (kids’ summer vacation was over). We had the hillside practically to ourselves (all the other campers who showed up preferred the sites right along the lake shore).

Our campsite on the lawn at the Lake Villarino Free Campground. Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The groundskeepers for the free campground were a small herd of cows. Their primary responsibilities were to keep the grass short, and rest in the shade when not working. PedalingGuy would try to chase them off when they got too close to our tent, but it was hopeless. Apparently the grass near our tent looked particularly tasty. During the night we had to resign ourselves to listening to the sound of cows munching grass nearby. Lake Villarino Free Campground, Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

There was just one problem. We had read that there was a food truck at the campground, so we had planned on purchasing our dinner (since we didn’t have much food left). But when we arrived, it was clear that there wasn’t anyone selling food. Either we had gotten bad information, or the food truck only worked in the high season. Regardless of the reason, we would have to figure our a different plan for dinner.

We spotted another cyclist packing up his things to depart (once again, we were astonished at the late starts some cyclists seemed to prefer, as it was already after 2pm), and asked him if there was food for sale nearby. He said, ‘no.’

However, we must have looked hungry because he then proceeded to try to give us some of his food. It was incredibly generous, and reminded us of how kind other travelers can be. In spite of our refusal, he was quite insistent. After a few minutes, with a look of concern on his face, he put the food away - only because we reassured him that we had some food, and would not starve. We really didn’t feel comfortable taking his food since we weren’t sure how much extra he had. Eventually he seemed to believe us, and rode away.

We did have our own food, but it would have been the third peanut butter dinner in a row, and we both were craving something different. Our map said there was a paid campground just another mile or so down the road, that was rumored to have some food for sale. So after pitching the tent, we decided to try our luck.

Things were looking up when, after a quick, flat ride to the next campground, we saw that they had a little shop. Unfortunately, our bubble was burst when we learned that they weren’t selling any real food. They had recently closed their hamburger stand, and were in the process of constructing a big, fancy new restaurant that wouldn’t be open until winter. All they had in their little store were drinks and snacks. We purchased several drinks plus some crackers and potato chips, and enjoyed our snack on a bench overlooking Lake Faulkner.

But dinner was still going to be a problem, because the peanut butter and jelly hadn’t gotten any more appealing. So after careful consideration, we decided to finally eat the last two, freeze-dried lasagna meals that PedalingGuy had been carrying, literally, since Canada (purchased in the Yukon, 2.5 years ago). We had been holding onto those meals as ‘emergency’ rations, but clearly hadn’t needed them - and warm lasagna sounded like a wonderful treat. The lasagna was surprisingly good, finished off with some sweet biscotti chips we brought back from the kiosk. We finished our dinner in the fading twilight.

A gorgeous sunset over the nearby mountains. Lake Villarino Free Campground, Seven Lakes Route, Nahuel Huapi National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The moon had been incredibly bright the past few nights, even casting shadows on our tent. But when the moon rose over the eastern ridge this night, it gave a warm, orange glow through the fabric of our tent. We didn’t think anything of it, assuming there were some clouds.

Around midnight PedalingGuy got up and went outside the tent, and was startled to see that the moon appeared to be just a thin, faded orange, sliver. He also noticed that the sky was crystal clear, and shimmering with stars. At first it didn’t make any sense to him, since the moon had appeared full just a day ago. Slowly, in his sleep-fogged brain, he started to realize that it could be an eclipse. He even wondered if he should wake up PedalingGal. But he was very tired, and not sure about what he was seeing. So he went back to bed.

In fact, it was an eclipse. Later research revealed that we had actually camped in the path of a total lunar eclipse that completely blocked the moon for an hour (around 2am). We don’t get as excited about lunar eclipses as we used to, but this one seemed extra special because it was so unexpected. It gave PedalingGuy a sense of how it must have been in the past, when people would discover something amiss with the moon without any prior warning. These events lose some of their magic with modern communication, which gives most people advance notice of an approaching eclipse.

We spent our last couple of nights along the Seven Lakes Route in a lovely, almost-brand-new cabin in the little village of Río Hermoso (pop. <50). Since we knew we wanted to spend a day or two there, we asked the host for info about stores and restaurants nearby. Unfortunately, her response gave us pause. Since it was the off season, she wasn’t even sure if the one restaurant in town would be open. Other than that, she said there was a single, small store that would have a few supplies - but she made it sound like the options would be severely limited. She even offered to give the restaurant a call to see if they would open just for us.

Our cabin in the village of Río Hermoso. It seemed practically brand new, and was very well insulated. Seven Lakes Route, Río Hermoso, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Interior of our cabin in Río Hermoso. We stayed warm and comfortable for a couple of days. Seven Lakes Route, Río Hermoso, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

That made us nervous. We decided the very first thing we should do would be to walk over to the store and see if this was going to work. To our great relief, the store was a bit bigger than we expected based on the comments of our host. They had a little bit of everything piled on shelves and scattered in boxes on the floor, plus a couple of drink coolers, and a freezer. We took a minute to survey all the stuff they had for sale, then set about collecting enough food for a couple of meals. For starters, we bought all 20 of the eggs they had in stock. Then we threw in some canned food, ham and cheese, bread, and a pile of drinks.

Then we had our first experience with making an actual purchase at this store. Their system was VERY informal. We have traveled widely in small towns where things are added up with a calculator without the help of price tags, bar codes or cash registers - but things here were a little less organized then most.

When we arrived, a handyman who had been welding something on a nearby storage shed came in to help us. He didn’t seem to know the prices of some of the items, so he started calling people on his phone and going outside to talk to someone. He was a little shaky with the whole process. But as he was trying to figure things out, another guy (who turned out to be the proprietor) showed up to help. He seemed to know the prices of things - or at least was able to confidently make them up.

From that moment on, things became even more chaotic. The handyman pointed to each item we wanted to buy, and the proprietor told him how much it cost. Then the handyman entered the numbers into a calculator to add them up. Since we had a large number of items which were all stacked in a pile, it was hard to know what was already tallied and what still needed to be counted. It didn’t help that we added a few things to the pile while they were calculating the bill. Organization was not their strength.

The whole process seemed a little sketchy, so we decided to put a few items back on the shelf - which unfortunately restarted the whole process of adding everything up from the beginning with the calculator. Apparently subtracting an item was not something they were confident handling. It seemed like some of the prices were different the second time around. To top it off, the proprietor didn’t know how to use the credit card machine, so that step defaulted to us and the handyman.

We’re pretty sure they made some mistakes - and since the cost was higher than expected, we had the feeling that the mistakes were not in our favor. Nonetheless, we were also fairly confident that any mistakes were not too large or intentional. They were the only store around for many miles, so we didn’t want to cause any more of a fuss than we already had - especially since we were going to have to rely on them for our food over the next couple days. In truth, we really appreciated that the store was available at all, in this out of the way location.

Over the course of two days we ended up going back to that little store at least three more times. That was partly due to the fact that we were limited by how much stuff we could carry on any given food run. But we also were motivated to try to keep each checkout process as short and simple as possible, so things wouldn’t get quite so chaotic (and maybe there would be fewer mistakes).

Each time the prices seemed to fluctuate a little bit for the same items.

To complicate matters, the proprietor could turn on the credit card machine but that was about it. He would just hand the machine to PedalingGuy who would take it from there. That presented a challenge because PedalingGuy could not translate some of the Spanish menu items in the machine’s interface. Somehow he always got the machine to accept the transaction, but there were hiccups. One time PedalingGuy put the wrong amount into the machine because he wasn’t exactly sure how many zeros to add (for instance, 1200 pesos vs 1200.00 pesos). To us, both of those amounts are the same - but not to the credit card machine.

Pedaling guy figured out the mistake after leaving the store, and the next time he returned he confessed about the error. The proprietor understood the issue, but adding up the new items we wanted to buy and combining that with the amount owed from the previous transaction was more math than he could handle. PedalingGuy did the calculation for him, and walked him through the math.

One time the proprietor couldn’t get the credit card machine to work at all. It would take a few minutes to boot up, then go blank. The battery appeared to be dead. But instead of making us pay cash, he just wrote down the total amount on a little slip of paper, and handed it to us with a request that we come back and pay later. It seemed crazy to us, since he knew we were from out of town and might leave at any time. But by then we were ‘regulars,’ so he trusted us. In general it seemed that trust - and not making a big deal over exact prices - was a big part of the equation for running this store.

Back To the Pampas

Our final day of cycling on the Seven Lakes Route we had just a short hop to reach the end of the scenic drive, in the touristy town of San Martín de los Andes. It was a brisk morning, with the temperature in the mid-30s F (~1.5C), so for a change we were glad that the ride started with a big climb. That helped us warm up, and made the cold air seem like a bonus.

Before long we reached the highest point in the day’s ride. From there, the route plunged into a mountain valley, to the shores of Lake Lácar, and the resort-filled, mountain town of San Martín de los Andes (pop. 32,000 and rising).

An overlook near the top of the pass provided a grand view down the Pil Pil Valley, towards Lake Lácar. Seven Lakes Route, Lanín National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The sapphire-blue water of Lake Lácar. Seven Lakes Route, Lanín National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Pu

View of the town of San Martín de los Andes on the shore of Lake Lácar. Seven Lakes Route, Lanín National Park, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

A Ringed Kingfisher on the shore of Lake Lácar. San Martín de los Andes, Seven Lakes Route, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Since the mid 20th century, San Martín de los Andes’s economy has relied heavily on tourism, especially natural gems like the Seven Lakes Route, nearby national parks, and skiing in winter. The cross-timbered buildings crowded near the waterfront gave the look of a bustling, German village. There were quite a few outdoor/ski shops. But we were not tempted to stay. After our layover in Río Hermoso, PedalingGuy’s back was feeling much better. So we just took a quick rest break in San Martín, then headed eastward out of town.

For the next 1.5 hrs we slowly worked our way out of the alpine bowl that holds San Martín and Lake Lácar. As we emerged from the basin we officially re-entered the Patagonian Steppe, which we had left behind in far-southern Chile. The forest rapidly disappeared, and the surrounding hills became covered with lime-green and golden grasslands. Instinctively, we both started looking out for guanacos, but we didn’t see any (perhaps because we were still too close to the urban area).

Grasslands east of San Martín de los Andes, with El Lanín Volcano rising in the background. Route 40, South of Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Out on the grasslands, it wasn’t a big surprise that the wind picked up dramatically. To our delight, it was mostly a rare tailwind that gave us a nice assist on the last leg of the day. By this point we were on our 7th consecutive day without rain. It seemed amazing to have had an entire week of no precipitation. But in the dry, eastern shadow of the Andes, rain would become scarce. We cycled into Junín de los Andes (pop. 14,000) under a clear, cloudless sky.

Although it doesn’t rain much in Junín, the river that flows by is full of clear, mountain runoff year round. Trout were introduced in the early 1900s, and before long Junín became a pilgrimage destination for fly fishermen hoping to catch a trophy fish. To this day the town is known as the Trout Capital of Argentina, and the fish’s image can be seen everywhere. Route 40, Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

As we turned onto the road that led to our rental apartment, we both had a sinking feeling. It was a very rough dirt road along the banks of the river, and it felt like we were really on the outskirts of town. The only thing that gave us comfort was that the houses along the road looked prosperous enough - not dilapidated or rundown. So we crossed our fingers and hoped everything would work out okay.

We needn’t have worried. It turned out that, for some reason, hardly any of the roads in this fairly large town were paved. Every morning a water truck would drive around town, spraying the roads to help keep down the dust. But predictably, by mid-morning the water would evaporate, and any cars driving the roads would kick up fine dust that coated everything else in town.

The town’s water truck getting loaded up for its morning run. The truck sprayed water on all the roads, in a futile attempt to control the dust from the many dirt roads in town. Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

The apartment complex of our rental was actually quite modern, and ended up being the best accommodation we’d had in several months. All of the furnishings seemed new. Perhaps the biggest luxury was that it had a wall-mounted heating/AC unit - PedalingGuy was psyched that he wouldn’t have to mess with a wood stove for a couple nights.

That evening we walked into town for dinner. In the fading light we passed the Church of Our Lady of the Snows - the town’s central place of worship - which blends both Catholic and native Mapuche symbolism. Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Junín de los Andes’s most striking feature is the trout-filled river that envelops the town in a close embrace. On three sides, the streets of the town run right up to, and along the river’s edge. Each morning we took long walks along the scenic river bank. There were usually at least a couple of well-appointed boats loading up along shore to take fishing groups out on float trips. One sight that made a particularly big impression on us was that the trees along the river had started to turn a warm, lemon-yellow in response to the arrival of autumn. It was a reminder to us that it would be wise to keep heading north, so as not to get caught by the approach of winter.

The lemon-yellow hue of the waterfront trees was a signal that autumn was catching up with us. Chimehuín River, Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

Burrowing Parakeets (shown here) were our favorite new bird in Junín. While some other species of parrots will nest in holes or cavities, burrowing parakeets are the only ones that will dig their own burrows in soft cliff faces. Huge flocks of these birds will excavate labyrinthine tunnels in an interconnected web, with some nesting colonies housing tens of thousands of birds. Junín de los Andes, Neuquén, Argentina. Copyright © 2019-2025 Pedals and Puffins.

From Soaking Wet to Sunny and Dry

It would be hard to overstate the influence of the temperate Andes mountains on the region’s climate. Much like the Cascades in North America, the high mountain chain wrings nearly all of the moisture out of clouds that blow in on westerly winds from the Pacific Ocean. To the west of the Andes, abundant precipitation nurtures temperate rainforests. But to the east of the mountains, the land is much more dry, with abundant sunshine.

Having crossed the Andean Cordillera into Argentina, we left rainy days behind and replaced them with clear, crisp blue skies - a harbinger of the new, more arid landscapes to come. The scenic Seven Lakes Route had kept us within Argentina’s forested hills. But eventually we descended onto the grassy steppe. Ahead of us lay lands even drier and more remote - the high deserts of Argentina’s western plateau. While the forests and lakes of Chile had been spectacular, we were eager to experience the changes ahead as we cycled back into the legendary Argentine pampas.

Cycling the Pan-American Highway and Seven Lakes Route: Puerto Montt, Chile to Junín de los Andes, Argentina

Which Way North?

Back on the Pan-American Highway

The City of Music

The Volcano On the Horizon

Puyehue National Park

Crossing the Andean Cordillera

Route of the Seven Lakes

Back To the Pampas

From Soaking Wet to Sunny and Dry

Click here for quick links to all of our other Cycling the Americas blog pages

Cycling the Pan-American Highway and Seven Lakes Route: Puerto Montt, Chile to Junín de los Andes, Argentina

Which Way North?

Back on the Pan-American Highway

The City of Music

The Volcano On the Horizon

Puyehue National Park

Crossing the Andean Cordillera

Route of the Seven Lakes

Back To the Pampas

From Soaking Wet to Sunny and Dry

Click here for quick links to all of our other Cycling the Americas blog pages

Top 6 Observations on Cycling the Carretera Austral