I Went on a 100 Mile Cycling Trip Through Patagonia Completely Unprepared

What began as a grueling ride down Patagonia’s Carretera Austral became an unexpected digital detox.

I signed up for a 100-mile ride on Chile’s Carretera Austral even though I’d never biked longer than an hour. I’m a beauty-obsessed city girl who lives in Gel-X nails and heavily maintained hair and eyelash extensions. But Patagonia and this remote road, partly paved but often gravel and rocks, had an inexplicable pull.

Women’s cycling is experiencing a global surge in popularity, with participation and visibility growing rapidly. Strava, a social network for athletes, reports an 11% year-over-year increase in female cyclists, while the 2025 Tour de France Femmes drew record-breaking viewership. As gravel riding and bikepacking continue to rise, destinations like Patagonia are becoming more accessible, with expanded flight routes and major airport upgrades.

Still, none of the data prepared me for the ride’s reality. Our guides, Claudia Huepe, CEO of Cicloaustral, a Chilean cycling-focused tour company, and co-founder Fernando Padilla, later told us they had considered canceling the trip altogether. The weather the prior week had been brutal. Portions of Cerro Castillo National Park were closed, and the original itinerary was quickly reshaped.

Because of the changes, the hardest climb up Cerro Castillo Pass, originally scheduled for day three, was moved to day one due to the weather. It was a seemingly endless, relentless climb. Before departure, I had already decided on an e-bike; without it, I would not have made the ascent. Even with the extra boost, the conditions were punishing and the climb brutally difficult. Wind gusts were so strong that they knocked me off balance around one bend and sent my bike skidding. I remember silently thinking, what the hell did I sign up for?

The day ended with a descent locals call Cuesta del Diablo, or the Devil’s Slope. I gripped my brakes, fully aware that one lapse in focus could send me sliding off the mountain. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

By the end of that first day, after six hours in the saddle, my legs were shaking, and my sit bones throbbed despite padded shorts. After dismounting, the soreness hit all at once. That night’s hearty Chilean meal felt particularly comforting. When we learned the following day’s ride had been canceled due to the weather and replaced with a short hike to view ancient rock paintings, several less-experienced riders, like me, sighed with visible relief.

Patagonia may be one of the most scenic and remote cycling destinations in the world, but the terrain is unforgiving. Much of the route is gravel. I wasn’t able to keep up with the hardcore and seasoned riders at the front of the pack, so I spent long stretches riding alone, accompanied only by the crunch of tires beneath me. I passed grazing horses, waved to gauchos at work, and pedaled through vast glacial scenes.

What was most jarring was the lack of connectivity. There was no Wi-Fi during the day, and only faint signals at night. At first, it was unnerving. But somewhere along those silent miles, I realized the stillness I needed would never be found in my phone. The digital blackout became its own form of therapy, reminding me how meditative it feels to simply exist without the urge to document every moment.

One unexpected bonus was the camaraderie. There were ten cyclists in total, three women and seven men, from the United States, Canada, Brazil, Germany, Chile, and the United Kingdom. Ages ranged from about 30 to 70. Each evening, after long days of biking, hiking, or kayaking, we gathered around the dinner table to debrief.

At first, I felt intimidated. Most of the men rode traditional mountain bikes rather than e-bikes, often charging ahead at a fast pace. I worried about confirming whatever assumptions they probably had about me based on my Angeleno appearance. Over time, that faded. The most memorable night was spent at a gaucho’s home, where we ate cordero al palo (traditional spit-roasted lamb), listened to local musicians playing accordion and guitar, and danced into the evening.

On our final night at the lakeside Pared Sur Camp, we gathered for one last group dinner and shared our favorite moments from the journey. One rider from Portland admitted his favorite memory involved me. On the first day, he said he looked at me and thought, what in the world is she doing here? He imagined I had simply called the tour company and claimed I knew how to ride a bike, without realizing that in Patagonia, this meant tackling mountainous gravel roads alongside serious cyclists. The table erupted in laughter, and in that moment, I felt I had won them over without ever giving up. After five days on the road, I felt proud to have exceeded even my own expectations.

Throughout the journey, I pedaled through sideways rain and gale-force winds that whipped my eyelash extensions into my eyes, an unexpected handicap no one else on the trip could relate to. By the end, I was keeping pace with cyclists who barreled downhill with fearless abandon, all while glaciers and rainforests unfolded around us.

Between Cerro Castillo and the Marble Caves, uncertainty gave way to confidence. I fell in love with cycling and with the new version of myself that emerged. I can’t wait to do it again.