Wild Ride: Patagonia

Swiss adventure photographer Martin Bissig and Austrian trial legend Tom Öhler touched down in southern Chile to explore the raw, untamed trails of central Patagonia, far from the crowded national parks. From the slopes behind Coyhaique to private trails deep in back country, they encountered incredible landscapes and the pioneering spirit of passionate riders looking to build a bike scene at the end of the world.

The needle of the 100-year-old gramophone scratches across the record grooves. Tango sounds blast from the big horn. Tito is visibly proud of this heirloom he inherited from his grandfather. It is a memento of a time when the first settlers from Argentina tried their luck down here in Central Patagonia. Tito is a gaucho straight out of a movie: leathery skin, a body wired tight from working the fields and horses. You can just see the hard life on the 62-year-old.

His gaze falls on our high-tech e-bikes. "Back in the day, we didn't count in weeks or months, but in seasons. That's how long it took to trade our farm produce up north for other goods. You guys, on your electric horses, look like you came straight from the future."

He points to the mountain behind his farm and a path starting right behind the house. "My ancestors came from over those mountains. If you're up for it, head out tomorrow after sunrise and take a look at my home from above." Obviously, we accept the invitation. What a question!

REMOTE AYSÉN

There are places in this world that immediately conjure up specific images in your head. Patagonia is one of them. Jagged peaks glowing in fiery red sunlight. Deep blue lakes in front of massive glaciers. The region encompasses the vast southernmost tip of South America, spanning more than one million square kilometres across Argentina and Chile, with the Andes Mountains serving to divide the two countries. It is about three times the size of Germany, but has 40 times fewer inhabitants. There's no question that Patagonia is an absolute bucket-list destination for nature lovers, adventurers and alpinists.

For mountain bikers, however, this part of South America is still pretty much a blank spot on the map. That is exactly what Patricio Gocola wants to change. More widely known as Pato, he left the big city of Santiago de Chile in early 2020 to find peace in the deserted vastness of Central Patagonia. He's a passionate mountain biker, guide and mountaineer, and he could see the potential in this undiscovered wilderness. "The tourist hotspots down here don't interest me," Pato explains to us. "Torres del Paine or El Chaltén: undoubtedly beautiful areas, but way too crowded for my taste. Plus, you're only allowed to ride on wide gravel roads there, so that's a no-go for me!"

He settled with his wife, and now two small children, in Villa Cerro Castillo in the sparsely populated Aysén region of southern Chile. And it's this region, known for its vast glaciers, fjords and snow-capped mountains, that we'll be exploring on our two-week adventure. With Pato as our guide, my buddy and Austrian trial bike pro, Tom Öhler, and I are going to explore the trails and capture the trip on camera.

We ask Pato beforehand if there is anything to consider. "Bring warm clothes," he writes via WhatsApp. "Here in Patagonia, you can experience four seasons in one day."

CURVING DOWN TRAILS IN COYHAIQUE

After a journey lasting almost 48 hours, we finally land at the region's main airport in Balmaceda. It's the end of March, the start of autumn here. Perfect conditions for biking, Pato assures us. Not too cold yet, but popping colours and insane light.

In the nearby city of Coyhaique, we immediately notice that there's a lively bike community. There are several bike shops, and Pato raves about over a dozen marked and lovingly built trails on the mountain right behind the city.

We hit the summit at sunrise the next day, the mountains glowing in a soft, orange-red light. We reach the radar station, crack open the door of Pato's pickup just a tiny bit, and the fierce wind nearly rips it out of our fingers. It is freezing up here, feeling at least 10°C colder than down in the city. The view is absolutely killer, but we don't want to expose ourselves to the wind and cold for too long.

"Vamos hermanos," Pato shouts as he mashes the pedals to lead us down the mountain. The trail initially snakes over loose, gravelly terrain. The landscape somehow reminds me of Iceland. We paint wavy lines in the dirt and feel like freeride skiers drawing big turns. After a few hundred metres of vertical drop, we reach the treeline. The scenery changes abruptly. The trees are covered in lichen, indicating moist and high-quality air. Pato and Tom get into the flow and chase each other down the curvy trails. Mountain biking at its finest!

"Let's do that again right now," Tom shouts enthusiastically to our guide as we reach the outskirts of Coyhaique. We high-five, our shuttle is ready, and off we go for the next lap.

Once at the top, we decide on a different descent. We drop in over a massive gravel slope. After a few kilometres, we stand in front of a ski lift that has seen better days. "Actually, the plan was to build a bike park with a lift shuttle here," explains Pato, "but there were simply too few potential bikers to make it viable." We don't care. Thanks to Pato's shuttle and our e-bikes, we get to the trails without too much effort. And we soon realise exactly why such a lively biking scene has developed here.

Back in town, we stroll through the streets, listen to the guitar-playing of an Argentine street musician, and stock up on typical souvenirs.

CRANKING AROUND CASTLE MOUNTAIN

After three days in Coyhaique, we load our bikes onto the back of Pato's truck for the 90-minute drive to his home turf. Villa Cerro Castillo is a tiny spot at the foot of the striking mountain massif of the same name, the 2,675m-high Cerro Castillo. Fewer than 400 people live here, including Pato and his family. In the village, we chat with a few cycle tourists, get invited into the home of a gaucho, and drink coffee in a converted bus.

"The next few days I'll show you my own trails. Nobody else knows them," Pato tells us proudly. No big surprise, because apart from him, there is no one in the village capable of exploring this area on a bike. And foreign tourists only wander here with touring bikes, not full-suspension mountain bikes.

Over the next few days we ride various loops. The Lake Loop leads us from one lake to the next, back to Villa Cerro Castillo. We always have the mountain massif in view. The trails are flowy, and you can tell Pato puts in work here regularly. "We can consider ourselves lucky. We don't often have such a clear view of my local mountain," Pato explains on a high plateau. On the descent down to the village, he and Tom really let it rip. Tom just barely manages to stay on Pato's rear wheel. Our guide not only knows the trails inside out but is also a damn good technical rider.

In the evening, Pato shows us his "after-work" lap. On the private property of a farmer friend, we crank up a few hundred vertical metres on singletrack. Thanks to our e-bikes, it is child's play. Once at the top, we catch the last sunlight shining deep into my camera lens. What a scene, what light. We are all incredibly happy to be here.

FREERIDING ABOVE A GLACIAL LAKE

"You guys up for a little expedition tomorrow?" Pato asks us with a grin at dinner. "I have a tour in mind that I've never ridden myself. But with the e-bikes, it should be easily doable." We are in!

We reach the starting point of our mini-expedition after an hour's drive. With our e-bikes, we cover the first part of the route, on wide logging roads, easily. Then the ride gets more demanding. We stand in front of a massive wall of scree. A look at the map confirms my suspicion: we have to go up there. I decide to leave my bike and continue on foot. I am already lugging enough ballast around with my photo and video equipment. Pato and Tom shoulder their bikes and off we go.

What follows is a good two-hour hike-a-bike session up into alpine terrain. Luckily, I have my drone with enough batteries for the last few hundred metres of elevation. That way, I can accompany the two athletes from the air and don't have to scramble to the summit myself. I give the boys the signal via radio that they can start.

Pato rides in front, Tom follows. The two carve deep tracks into the gravelly ground. I can hear their whoops of joy from afar. When the guys reach me, I see huge grins on their faces. "That is freeride, hermanos," shouts an enthusiastic Pato. And he is damn right. We continue down to the glacial lake. Hard to believe that we are only at about 1,100m above sea level here. The landscape doesn't match this figure at all. Huge glacier tongues protrude directly into the valley behind us, no vegetation far and wide. My in-built Swiss compass tells me 3,000 to 4,000 metres above sea level, easily. But my body and breathing confirm the map data.

"Now I know why there have probably never been bikers here before," Tom says to Pato, laughing. You really have to actively search for this corner of Patagonia. Good thing we did!

RIDING IN SEARCH OF GAUCHOS

Pato wants to show us more than just his home trails. "Let's drive further south. I know a secret spot or two there," he says. But first, we use the good weather to paddle kayaks on Lago General Carrera. It's a welcome change to use our upper bodies after all the pedalling. The deep blue of Chile's largest lake, the colourful leaves on the trees and the imposing Cerro Castillo in the background make for a picture-perfect excursion — in T-shirt-wearing temperatures.

After lunch, we move on. Soon the well-paved road gives way to a gravel track. "That's it for asphalt from here on," explains Pato. "Except for a few metres through the villages, this gravel track stretches all the way to the very south of our continent." We are glad we aren't riding our bikes on it — there's traffic, and lots of dust.

It is already evening when we arrive at Gaucho Tito's place. Pato knows Tito's son Eugenio, a glacier guide and another passionate mountain biker. Pato, Eugenio and Tom pass the time with a typical gaucho game: the ankle bone of a cow has to be thrown as close as possible to a target. "I used to be a master at this," laughs Tito. He prepares the fire where pieces of meat will soon be sizzling.

Naturally, we can't refuse Tito's invitation to explore the paths of his ancestors with our bikes and we hatch a plan for the next day.

CRUISING AROUND CHILE'S LARGEST LAKE

We meet Eugenio at his house and set off at the crack of dawn. We have 1,400m of ascent ahead of us. First on wider paths, then on narrow trails through the forests. There are some carrying and pushing sections. But as a pro rider and with the motor support of the e-bike, Tom manages to pedal most of the way.

We leave the treeline behind after almost 1,000m of climbing and have an insane view of the largest lake in Chile, Lago General Carrera, and all the way across it to Argentina. Almost half of the nearly 2,000-square-kilometre body of water belongs to the neighbouring country.

My initial worry that the batteries of our light Haibike Lyke CF 11 e-bikes won't last to the summit vanishes. "See, still more than 40% capacity. We'll easily make it with that," says Tom.

The remaining 400 vertical metres are actually more rideable than the forest sections. With the help of Boost mode, we climb the summit. 16% battery capacity is still left. The vastness of Patagonia is even easier to grasp from up here. We lie down and take a break. Hard to believe that Tito's ancestors travelled over these mountain ranges to the south with all their belongings! Today it goes faster, especially down into the valley. Tom, Pato, and Eugenio are in their element and blast down the track in record time. They don't need a battery for that!

The back of Pato's pickup has enough space for two tents and camping equipment alongside our three e-bikes and gear. It would be a shame to leave Patagonia without having spent at least one night in a tent.

On the way to Puerto Guadal, we set up camp in Miraflores. Right by the river, we have a perfect view of the mountain range behind us. By the campfire, Pato tells us about his vision: "I want to make the region here a bike destination. You can see the potential." We agree with him and gaze into the sky, impressed by the incredible clarity of the starry night. The Milky Way is much clearer than back home, but I don't know the constellations in the southern hemisphere.

The next morning, we set off for our last stop: Puerto Guadal is a sleepy nest near the western end of Lago General Carrera with a range of hills full of minerals and fossilised prehistoric animals. We ride Pato's favourite trails for two days. There are no other bikers to be seen, and very rarely do we meet hikers. We practically have the backcountry to ourselves.

"Hermanos, I have good news and bad news for you. The bad news first?" Pato wants to know the evening before the return journey. "The ferry from Chile Chico to Puerto Ingeniero is fully booked. We can't get across with our truck." Great. Eight hours back on the same road we came on. And the good news? "You have e-bikes! Ride the 105km route to Chile Chico alone, take the ferry across the lake, and I'll pick you up on the other side. There's always room for bikers."

So Tom and I get to enjoy the longest bike stage of the trip. Luckily, the road isn't part of the main north-south axis, so we encounter only about 20 cars, tops! The route changes visually every 20km or so, making for a stunning journey. Tom and I agree: even though these aren't flowy singletracks, it is a really cool conclusion to our trip. We get a full dose of Patagonia for all senses one last time.

After the two-hour ferry crossing, Pato picks us up on the other side of the lake in the evening for the short drive back to Villa Cerro Castillo. An impressive trip has come to an end.

After 12 days of fair weather in Aysén, it rains buckets as we head to the airport. The sky is weeping, and we are too a little. Patagonia showed us its very best side, and thanks to Pato, we not only got to know the best secret trails in southern Chile but also got to meet a real gaucho. Patagonia conquered our hearts, even without a visit to its tourist hotspots. Or perhaps exactly because of that.

FAST FACTS

Getting there: Balmaceda is the main airport in the Aysén region and is about 55km from Coyhaique, the main gateway city to the far south of Patagonia.

Best time to visit: November to early March, over the Chilean summer, when there's mild, stable weather.

Costs: Budget travellers can expect to spend about US$50 per person per day for hotels and food; mid-range travellers will spend about US$100–130.

Language: Spanish. English is also understood in some tourist areas.

Currency: Chilean Peso. Most places accept credit cards.