Across Andes 2024
The photograph is a undeniable powerful medium free from the constrains of language, and harnessing the unique qualities of a single moment frozen in time. - Steve McCurry
Take a look to the full gallery of photos i’ve taken on the race below. Or scroll down and read the recap :)
PART 01 - THE ARRIVAL
As a second-year visitor to Chile, this time I decided to spend some time in the capital, Santiago, and also get to Patagonia earlier. Last year, I did something similar and discovered stunning places and met amazing people, who left me wanting more. So, there I was, coming back for it.
The days in Santiago were amazing. I joined every single social ride in the area, starting with the guys from Gravel Academy, followed by a little afternoon ride through one of the ‘cerros islas’ (small mountains). There are 26 cerros around Santiago, and most of them are open for sports, though only a few are popular, especially for cycling. Santiago is a city of several million people, and you can see how cycling has grown year after year. On Sundays, they close streets just for cycling and sports. They've built new bike lanes, and when you gather in the afternoon at the main mountain, El Cerro San Cristóbal, you can see hundreds of people riding all kinds of bikes. That’s where I went straight after I landed — it was pretty cool to see so many amazing people on two wheels.
The next few days were already booked with social rides organized in collaboration with Across Andes, where two girls, Cynthia and I, were the main guests. One ride was hosted in Santiago, where we climbed half of the famous "Farallones" climb and then transitioned into some gravel sections until it became unrideable. The other ride was in Curacaví, a beautiful area with cacti, rivers, and stunning landscapes with small towns. That day, they were hosting a rodeo, and I even found my famous "chupalla" (Chilean cowboy hat).
Flying to Patagonia a bit earlier gave me time to explore places I didn’t visit last year, like "El Fragile," the only ski station near Coyhaique. And, of course, as part of my ritual, I made the most of my free day by going horseback riding with a true gaucho, Richard, and his wife. They live, breathe, and do everything with their animals. For me, it was a pleasure sharing a horse ride with them, but also helping with some of their daily tasks, like taking care of the land, checking the fences, and, to finish the day, herding all the sheep into their nighttime pen. I became completely hooked by the life there — I could even see myself retiring there, haha.
The start of an ultra-endurance race has its steps and preparation: bike check, number/cap pick-up, riders' meeting, clothes prep, bike packing, and eating carbs, carbs, carbs. You can picture me trying to get everything done and finishing some media duties before the event. The night before the race, I had a very anxious moment with my clothing choices. I was worried I might be cold or face another DNF like last year, due to the weather. But this time, I knew I was ready with rain gear and cold-weather clothing — I just had too many options. I called Isidora and shared my struggle with Cynthia, both of whom gave me their opinions that evening around 8 pm, which helped calm me down. I went to sleep with my mind at ease, thinking, "That’s it, what you’ve chosen is what you’ve got, and you just have to go for it."
Part 02 - The start
I ate my porridge with a little knot in my belly. I was nervous, but also very, very excited. This edition, compared to the last, I was bringing my camera with me. I had trained to be efficient and as fast as possible. Having done many bikepacking trips in my life, I knew that the arrangement and stops had to be as streamlined as possible — but I didn’t truly understand it until I was out there.
Cruising down the streets of Coyhaique towards the start line, right in the heart of the town, there were many people coming out to watch, and lots of familiar faces from the past few days and rides. Everyone was there, ready to go, excited to explore this land. There was no rain in the forecast for a while, so everything was, let’s say, perfect!
This year, only 11 women took part in the Across Andes event. I normally try to get a portrait of most of them before the ride, but this time it was a bit harder. So, I took photos of the ones I saw earlier. At 7 a.m., we took off with a neutralized 4 km ride into the first gravel section, heading south. I was on such a high that for the first 60-70 km, I probably overpaced myself and pushed harder than usual. But I still didn’t know how to calm down — everything was too beautiful, and I was taking photos of everything and everyone! It felt like a dream.
Bit by bit, I shared sections of these kilometers with many different people. I even met two bikepackers from Scotland who were on the same course and knew Lena, a good friend of mine! It was pretty cool to find them in the middle of nowhere. I continued my ride, one pedal stroke at a time, filling water from rivers and gazing at the stunning landscapes, passing one of my favorite stretches: Lago Frío. Then, that left turn by the Argentine border took us up to the highest point of the route, Coyhaique Alto. I stopped to photograph Jason descending and captured the breathtaking landscape. That stop cost me a lot — strong headwinds hit me, and I had a tough mental moment. But I remembered what Cynthia had said when we were riding together: “I don’t care about the wind because everyone has it.”
I reached CP01 nearly bonking. The wind was so intense that it was hard to eat, and all I wanted to do was make it there. I thought I was getting closer, but 10 km/h never seemed to bring me any closer. When I finally made it, I saw Carola, Pia, Diego, Tomas, and the rest of the riders. I had to sit down on a chair because I felt so dizzy, and they handed me a massive burger. I’m not usually a big meat eater — I was vegetarian for 12 years — but I had started eating meat this year to train my stomach for Patagonian food. I knew if I wanted to make it through, I could do better with some meat in my body.
After the burger and a refill of everything, I set off for what was meant to be my first real stop and resupply. Originally, I didn’t want to stop too long at CP1, but in ultra events, things can go in all directions. My goal was simple: to finish.
I cruised along the beautiful “El Gato” path, lined with Notro trees, Lady’s Slipper, and Lupins. Halfway through, I met a gaucho who was out doing his rounds with sheep and heading back to his house. It was just such a simple, peaceful life.
When I reached Mañihuales, Diego caught up to me, and we ran into Jason at the supermarket. We thought it would be cool to stick together for the night. We all had the same plan: stop at Amengual so we could cross the big pass in the morning, with the light on our side. We found a small place in town run by a very sweet couple who had waited up all night for riders. They served us sopaipillas and a plate of rice with eggs. We had just come through a rainy night, so anything was better than nothing.
The plan was to sleep for two hours — or maybe three, if you count the time spent fussing with gear and sitting down to eat. At that point, we had already covered 290 km.
Part 03 - The days in
We were lucky enough to wake up and pass the famous Qeulat climb, where some people scratched out last year, others got hypothermia, and it really hurts. But, as I mentioned, we were lucky to pass it with no rain, just at sunrise. The day was still a bit overcast, but we did manage to catch a glimpse of the Qeulat Glacier at one point and cruise through the million lakes Patagonia offers, all while passing massive leaves of the Nalca plant, which I fell in love with.
At this point, I was holding 3rd place. I never came here to race — the only person I was racing was myself. But at that point, I was happy to keep going and push my limits, if there were any. It was my first ultra, and I wanted to experience it all for real. Along with that, I never wanted to leave my camera behind. It was my motivation to keep going, to see the places ahead, and stick to my plan: finish it in 3 days.
When we passed over Qeulat, Puyuapi, and made our way into La Junta, it started raining. I’m lucky to have partnered with Tailfin for this adventure, so I could hide my camera in the rack while I layered up in my rain gear. That was all the way back and forth to checkpoint 2, unfortunately. It was probably the hardest section of them all, just because it was a constant series of rolling, short hills where you could never get into a steady pace. It was grim, and there were basically no views because we kept our heads down to avoid getting drenched. It felt eternal, and we had to do it both ways.
It’s a funny format — going out and back on the same course. Logistically, it’s kind of easy because you know what to expect, but mentally it’s so much harder. At least, that’s how I felt.
We arrived back to La Junta after what felt like hours — I didn’t even want to check my clock. But when we were coming back, I crossed paths with a girl, a girl I hadn’t seen on the live tracker. Nobody knew about her; she was just around 35 km behind me. As I said, I wasn’t here to race, but I was doing so well that a little competitive spark got to me, and I decided to keep pushing. So, Diego, my friend who was also looking to push his limits, and I decided to keep going. But first, we wanted to get some stuff dry, so we teamed up with Tomas and Cristian and rented a cabin where we could unpack our gear and dry everything out. We even burned some stuff — yeah, my Rapha Gore-Tex insulated jacket burned on the inside. Just hours earlier, Cynthia had told me her shoes had burned too, and she had to make holes in them to fit her feet. Those stoves were really warm!
Once we were all set to go, we headed out into the night with a weather window of less rain. It took us about 4.5 hours to get to CP3, where some bunk beds were waiting for us. Lovely. By that point, I was already having little hallucinations of rabbits. We had seen many on the road during the day, and I think that stayed in my head. I was wearing a cap on purpose to avoid seeing shapes, lights, or trees that might mess with my mind.
We arrived at CP3 just as the first light of day was breaking, which gave us a little energy boost for the last 10 km. We got there, stamped our brevet cards, charged our devices, and slept for two more hours. When we woke up, I had pasta for breakfast, which gave me all the energy I needed, along with a shot of Oleus pre-training supplement to give me a bit more of a boost for the next leg.
I always think that experiences like this are best shared with others. Sometimes, you find people who are pacing with you and want to push their own boundaries. That was Diego — it was his first ever ultra, and just one week before getting married! We also shared a great time with Jason up to CP2, but at a certain point, I was going a bit slower and stopped to give Cynthia a hug and chat with her. He kept going to avoid getting cold, but unfortunately, the weather hit him really badly, and he had to DNF at La Junta, part of the ultras.
Diego and I kept going, helping each other and sharing that mile-to-mile experience. After CP3, I felt really good and had a high, so I sped up, thinking Diego might catch up to me at La Junta. But a few kilometers later, he pushed hard and caught me, so strong, so we stopped again at the Copec station in La Junta for what was our second pizza, snacks, Ferrero Rocher for the road, protein bars, and a little bathroom break with a toothbrush. Then, we were off again.
I had a clear plan: two stops for 3 hours of sleep, one at Amengual and one at CP3. But those plans changed, and we ended up only taking two stops with a potential third coming up. We pushed hard to get over the Qeulat climb before nightfall. That’s when I started struggling with intimate pain. I think a lot of people experience this, so I don’t mind sharing it. My skin was already raw, and no chamois cream was helping anymore. I didn’t know what else to use, but I kept pushing through it. The weather was crazy, like the tropics — hot, cold, rain, humidity, and repeat.
At Puyuapi, I decided to put on my rain gear again as the rain intensified, which wasn’t ideal knowing that a big climb and a very cold descent were next
At this point, I was holding 3rd place. I never came here to race — the only person I was racing was myself. But at that point, I was happy to keep going and push my limits, if there were any. It was my first ultra, and I wanted to experience it all for real. Along with that, I never wanted to leave my camera behind. It was my motivation to keep going, to see the places ahead, and stick to my plan: finish it in 3 days.
Part 04 - the final stretch
Climbing Qeulat from the north side was not easy. It's a 5 km climb, but this side was all gravel. About 2 km in, just after a few curves, I heard a loud “bonk” a few times, followed by something even louder. I had no idea what it was until I rounded the curve and saw a truck full of cows that had flipped due to the bend. I think the truck’s middle axle broke. There were still around 4-6 cows inside, and one of them had its head hanging out but was still moving. Just writing this gives me grief. I slowly pedaled up and asked the drivers, "Are they dead?" They said no, but I think at least one or two of them sadly didn’t survive.
That was probably the hardest moment of the whole race. It brought me to tears, but at the same time, my head was telling me, Please, don’t get involved. I was alone as Diego had some issues with his knee, so I had to keep going. After that, I stopped every single car to let them know there had been an accident, and that the cows were anxious and disoriented, wandering on the road, much like I was.
After stopping and waiting a few minutes near the top, a car approached me and told me that Diego had been going slower because of his knee, and I should keep moving to avoid getting cold. Leaving a friend behind was tough, but I couldn’t risk getting cold. This is ultra cycling, and you can't always match the exact pace of others. So, I kept going. I stopped again in Amengual, where Cynthia had also stopped, and I figured out that she was there because a guy was standing at the entrance of the town and told me about it.
I was struggling, mentally and physically, and I kept thinking Amengual was much closer than it really was. I started having more hallucinations of rabbits, like I did before. I made it to the same place where I had scratched last year. I really wanted to stay there, but they were full, so I had to go back up the climb and stay at the spot from the previous day.
I managed to get another 2 hours of sleep, had a dinner/breakfast, and set off again around 4 p.m.
The return journey took much longer than expected. My intimate discomfort was a nightmare, and I just wanted to get off the bike every 5 km. I stopped in Mañihuales for a well-deserved breakfast, but I had no more chamois cream. I asked a woman in a shop for some, but all she had was body cream with perfume — probably had alcohol in it, so that was a no-go! I decided to make a cushion for the next gravel section by stuffing my two deep winter gloves into my shorts and attaching them with latex kitchen gloves, as all my tape was wet and wouldn’t stick anymore.
That turned into a nice sofa, and I cruised through the beautiful Vila Ortega section and the last harsh gravel descent. At that time, I reflected on all the things I had seen, all the moments, and all the pedals. When I saw the Coyhaique rock and started descending, tears of gratitude and happiness started falling from my eyes.
I came here with a lot of doubts. I didn’t know if I was strong enough. I trained okay but didn’t feel great. I compared myself to other riders, had gone through a breakup, started therapy again, and struggled with a very hard year. I came here scared of failing again and unsure if I would be able to push my new project, Adventure More, far enough. But I had put my heart into it, I was motivated, and I wore a smile on my face every minute I was in this place. I was lucky to be doing what I love — living off my two biggest passions and professions, cycling and photography. And off the track, I ended up finishing second, something I never expected.
This sport is beautiful. It’s magic. It takes us on a journey where everyone has a different perspective and experience, but at the end of the day, we’re all pursuing something. For me, that something is to inspire others to get outside, explore, and adventure into the unknown. If you don’t try it, you’ll never know. So, why not?
A huge thanks to:
Mariano and Pauli for putting together such a beautiful event and the immense effort they put in all week to welcome everyone to the finish line.
Corina, who hosted and managed my Instagram in such an incredible way. Hope you guys had fun because this definitely won’t be the last one!
Diego, my partner in crime on this amazing journey.
Jason, for being honest and sharing those unforgettable times together.
Cynthia, my inspiration and reference for everything related to ultra cycling.
My coach and physios, who have been so patient with me over the past months.
And, of course, to everyone out there cheering for me, following the journey, and supporting this incredible adventure! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
