DUST, MARBLE AND THE COLOUR OF WATER

7 – 10th January. Leaving Cerro Castillo behind, the carretera carried us onward toward Puerto Río Tranquilo. The landscape opening out into wide valleys and 100km long, exposed stretches of very dusty gravel roads. Traffic was 80% adventure bikers and cyclists, 10% overland vehicles and 10% locals. Brazilian and Chilean plated, adventure bikes in surprising numbers flying by us in clouds of dust. Oversized bikes, oversized luggage, and often oversized riders to match. Every pannier bulged, dry bags were strapped on wherever there was space left. We felt most for the cyclists grinding along with faces covered, desperate to filter the dust.

PUERTO RIO TRANQUILO

Puerto Río Tranquilo announced itself before we even parked. At the edge of town we were immediately beckoned by people from the roadside selling boat tours to the Marble Caves — the sole reason everyone comes here. We wandered the waterfront, chatting with a few operators, gently haggling and comparing prices. Eventually we settled on a small boat, a “group of six” rate, and an English-speaking guide — a student doctor, he told us earnestly, trying to make ends meet, planting the seed for a generous tip later on.

Before heading out, payment was taken — not by the reliable receptionist we’d been dealing with, but by the company owner instead. It wasn’t until we glanced at the receipt that Tim noticed one too many zeros. He’d accidentally keyed in 900,000 instead of 90,000. That’s a $9335 USD overcharge.

Instant acknowledgement of the error and they were on the phone to the bank only to be told it would take ten days to reverse. That wasn’t going to work. We politely explained that we’d be out on the lake for the next hour and would happily accept the refund in US cash. They had until we returned.

THE MARBLE CAVES

The lake water was unbelievably clear, shifting between deep transparent blue and milky turquoise depending on the light. Our first stop was a half-sunken ship, a quiet relic from the mining days when this region was carved open in search of minerals and marble. Transported across the lake to awaiting steam locomotives. Now it sits partially submerged, slowly being reclaimed by the lake and time.

Rounding the corner, the Marble Caves came into view. Formed over thousands of years as waves carved into calcium carbonate rock, the caves revealed textured, smooth-grooved, pitted walls, swirling in ‘marbled’ colours, polished by water. Veins of white, grey, blue, and gold ran through the stone, the colours intensified by the sun’s reflection.

We drifted slowly along the formations, ducking beneath overhangs and gliding past arches, each turn revealing another variation, entering some caves that went — until finally reaching the Marble Cathedral, the most dramatic of them all. It was quiet, reverent even, one of those places where nature feels both deliberate and generous. For an hour we had fun exploring the caves before heading back across the lake. The wind had picked up, waves were forming, slamming the boat rather violently. Much longer and I would have needed a trip to the chiropractor.

Back on shore, we discovered our gamble had paid off, $940 USD in cash had been gathered while we were gone. We thanked them, wished them well, and left, grateful for the smooth resolution.

FISHING IN THE RAIN

Driving out of town, we turned up a quiet valley road toward one of the Patagonia National Park entrances, eventually camping for the remainder of the rainy day beside a picturesque river. The afternoon slipped by with rods in hand, but despite our best efforts there wasn’t so much as a nibble.

Clouds hung low, rain drifted in and out, and hiking in wet gear held little appeal. Sara and Huw chose to head off regardless; here we parted ways once again and continued onward.

Not venturing too far, we stopped beneath the big orange bridge spanning General Carrera Lake for lunch and eventually for the night as there was a road 20 kilometres further closed for works. Camped alongside a Dutch family in their big rig. Sara and Huw arrived a few hours later.

Of course Jaxon tried his luck fishing. It was a quiet night at our beautiful camp next to these iconic blue Patagonian waters, framed by distant mountains. This landscape never stops offering moments of awe, and I never get sick of it.

The next morning came slowly. After coffee Tim swapped out the broken leaf spring on the cab that first broke up in Norther Chile after coming off the Lagunas Route. We had it repaired, welded and it held for 6,000km. Knowing it would ultimately break, we picked up a new, replacement part in Santiago. And another beautiful dog we all wanted to take with us, a young boy with the sweetest nature.

CONFLUENCIA

10th January, 2026. Pulling out around 11 a.m. we’re heading toward Confluencia just 45 mins down the road. Here two mighty rivers meet, turquoise clear and cloudy blue. A short walk down a dusty path brought us to the viewpoint and just steps from the edge. No guard rail or big warning signs of danger like in North America. The waters collided and merged, visibly different in colour and speed, before continuing on together.

Next stop, Patagonia National Park! How spoiled we are to have all these amazing adventures, one after another after another.