If wind was the theme for the first 1000km of the ride then rough roads have dominated the second. Since Cochrane we have become used to crawling along at 10kmph and continuously braking down hills to avoid skidding over in the deep gravel. When we get fed up with it we wander how a relatively developed country like Chile has a quarter of its land mass isolated from the cities of the north. The Carreterra Austral was a project initiated by Pinochet to unite the country, but even today, 30 years on, only rugged 4x4s can tackle the only highway south from Puerto Montt. Of course the isolation adds to the charm and has kept the tourist hordes away and it is a privilege to see this remote corner of the world before the inevitable influx when people realize what a magical area this is.

In any one day we pass countless pristine lakes and ride through dank forests. When the birds are squawking and the clouds come down from the slopes above it feels like we have already reached the Amazon. The whole region is only inhabited by 160,000 people, half of which live in Cohaique, a busy but uninteresting town half way up the Carreterra. The rest live and work in the lonely farms and villages along the route. In general we have been unimpressed by these places. One would expect that the inhabitants would welcome a bit of contact with the outside world but we have found people stand-offish and unfriendly. The towns and villages are all very similar; grids of ramshackle buildings made of timber and corrugated iron, a little shop, perhaps a bakery, packs of stray dogs and hundreds of school kids that seem to vastly outnumber the adult population. My theory is that the latter is a result of a combination of Catholicism and boredom!

We have been repeatedly amazed by the complete lack of business sense displayed by the people down here. In the hostel in Cohaique we had to knock and wait about 5 minutes before the woman responded. Later that day I attempted to buy a replacement water bottle after my old one, a veteran of Oxford-Mediterranean, Lands End- John O Groats, London-Beijing four years of rowing, sprung a leak. The bike shop had one but they told me that it would be much cheaper to buy one from the supermarket! The icing on the cake was a restaurant we came across in La Junta where we had to go into the kitchen, drag the woman away from the TV and order the only thing on the menu. She didn`t even offer us a drink, as if our being in her restaurant and offering money was a huge inconvenience.

Out of towns though life is pleasant, with no problems finding good camping and ice-cold clean water available from the streams. This makes the area popular with cycle tourists and we tend to bump into someone once every 2 days or so. They are always interesting characters and many are on big trips, from Quito, Lima and a few all the way from Alaska. A Swiss couple we overtook were even cycling as a family, with Dad towing the 2 and 3-and-a-half year-old kids in a trailer and Mum carrying all the camping equipment as well as nappies on her heavily laden bike.

Instead of heading all the way up to Puerto Montt on the Carretera, we decided to head back into Argentina via the Futuleufu valley, which is a Mecca for rafting and kayakers. Now we are east of the Andes again the scenery has changed dramatically back to familiar pampas, albeit without the howling winds. Today we are having a well deserved off day in the town of Trevelin, which, as the name implies, was originally inhabited by the Welsh in the late 19th Century. At first glance it looks very Argentinean, but the odd welsh flag, red pillar post boxes and tea rooms allude to its heritage. We are told that welsh is even taught as a second language in the schools. Useful.