As I sat next to the rushing creek pumping our deteriorating water filter as fast as it can go, the scene before my eyes was ideal. Pure sunlight glistened off the slopes of the mountains right next to us, the air was fresh and clear, the sky was deep Patagonia blue, and the kind of tailwind bike tourists fantasize about was at my back. Perfect place for lunch, by all measures.
When I looked over my shoulder I saw Elicia in the shade of a tree that was shivering in the stiff breeze. She was preparing carrots, salami, cheese, and crackers. I was SO ready for a well-deserved lunch! But it was the view just beyond her shoulder that changed everything. The wall of purple, orange, and grey smoke actively billowing into the sky a couple kilometers away, blotting out everything in that half of the sky, was no surprise. We´d been rapidly swept alongside that by the tailwind for the last ten kilometers. But I was alarmed to see the towering orange flames, easily as big as a really big house, that stood out bright and clear in the transparent mountain air, just past her left shoulder.
¨Hey, look at that.¨
How far away were those flames, anyway? The wind was blowing the fire parallel to the direction we were headed, true, but the road had curved away from it for the last couple kilometers, and we had postponed lunch until we were sure we´d gotten well out of it´s reach. The road had every manner of official vehicle traffic (cops, park rangers, military, and even fire fighters), but also local traffic, and nobody had warned us or anything. Most people were pulling over to stare at the sight. It also increased our margin of safety that we knew the road, having come in this way three days ago. No huge slow hills or turns to the dark, dreaded, doomed-to-burn-very-soon lands east of us awaited. Just flat straight smooth pavement taking us south around a big lake before a long fast descent that trended to the west. No fire would catch us on this road, and the town of Trevelin, a good campgroud, and cold beer awaited us at it´s end.
¨How far do you think those are Andy?¨
MAN, those flames don´t look very far away at all! Could easily be a trick of the air. Or maybe they´re five times higher than I think they are and thus farther away…well, actually, that´s a pretty scary thought too.
¨We can ride twenty miles an hour easy with this tailwind, and the fire can´t advance any faster than the wind. It won´t be able to catch us unless it changes directions. At least I think…¨
All at once my mind was flooded with thoughts of the Santa Anna winds blowing wildfires across twisty mountain suburban roads choked with smoke and SUV´s trying to get the heck out of there, not knowing where the flames were cutting them off, probably amazed at how fast the fire could spread. And I heard the sudued voices of forest fire fighters saying something about how disasterous a change in the wind could be if you didn´t see it coming and run for your life in the correct direction.
¨Should we get out of here?¨
¨Let´s go!¨
As we rode on the colorful, towering cloud of smoke doubled in size. We asked a cop whether it was safe & he said sure, and then he went back to watching in awe.
So we had lunch, but not until a large lake was between us and the fire. The spot we were at before was still untouched, but we didn´t feel the least bit wimpy.
That night in Trevelin, which was fortunately not full of smoke, there was palpable tesion in the air. The owner of the campground told us the fire had been intentional, perhaps set by arsonists protesting something or another, or perhaps by lunatics. It started in five places at once, he said. First wildfire around here in thirty years. And the police had set up a road block on the road north to Esquel, where we needed to go the next day. The whole thing really pissed him off, along with climate change, increasing mosquito populations, and government corruption all around the world. What can you say? ¨Si, no esta bien.¨
After sunset the smoke to the north glowed bright orange. We tried to sleep but when I got up around midnight the orange glow had become twice as bright, and had reached the floor of the valley. It didn´t seem all that far away either. So we started packing everything except the tent, thermarests, and sleeping bags. If we had to evacuate, we could be moving in five minutes or less. Then we took a walk to the road block, where three cops who appeared to have recently graduated high school told us that the fire was out of control (No kidding!), lots of people were fighting it, but we were safe for now and if things changed, they had a plan. They made sure they knew where we were, told us to stay near other people, and went back to telling every car to go slow & be careful. So we finally felt ok to get some sleep, though we sincerely like Trevelin and hoped it would get to remain standing.
In the morning the air was still pretty clear and the fire seemed to have moved further away. The road was open, so we got to survey some of the damage on the way to Esquel. The flames had not gotten nearly as close to town as that orange glow had suggested, but an entire mountain had burnt and the fire was still going off to the northwest. The wind was blowing in our faces from Esquel (payback time, apparently), but that´s keeping the air fresh an clean here.
Safe! That´s the way to be! Touring like this presents you with lots of choices, and sometimes it´s fun to risk inconvenience by choosing the unknown path. But sometimes you play it safe. We´ve done pretty well with all the important decisions so far. And as scary as the fire turned out to be, it could´ve been alot scarier.
Just for the record, I am even MORE unwilling to fight forest fires than I was before!