From Ushuaia to Buenos Aires

I should have known. Just after labelling northern Tierra del Fuego as boring (in my previous blog entry), Nick, Ivanka and I had a great drive through the same area. We left Ushuaia late morning, wound our way through the surrounding mountains and followed Ruta 3 northeast. The wind battered us the whole way to the border. Leaning against gale force winds so as not to be blown over or off the road was exhausting. Cooking up some coffee during a roadside break was impossible, as our cookers' flames would just blow out.

It was in that fatigued and wary state-of-mind that we reached the border, crossed over into Chile and once again faced the loose gravel roads of northern Tierra del Fuego. We decided against the same roads we took going south and so pushed inland a bit more this time. At the first crossroad, we asked a surveyor which way to go. He pointed up the smaller road. Hm. To our great relief, this was a dirt road more than a gravel one, so the driving was much more pleasant. Better yet, the wind died down. We passed only a couple pickups on this road, otherwise it was ours alone...along with occasional flocks of geese (they were also going north), guanacos (one of which ran just ahead of us thinking we were chasing it), and a rancher and his dogs herding sheep. This narrower road felt cozier and turned spectacular in a subtle way as we descended into a shallow valley that seemed very significant in this otherwise flat land. The ride became adventurous again when confronted with a little brook blocking our way. There was no quick way to gauge its depth or seek obstacles, so being on the bike with the lighter load, I shrugged my shoulder and cranked the throttle. Water somehow managed to fly up over my windshield. Exhilarated, I hopped off my bike and photographed Nick and Ivanka doing the same.

We were relieved to reach pavement again and then the Straits of Magellan and to have caught the day's last ferry. The sun had set before we reached the northern shore. We pushed on into the dark hoping to reach Rio Gallegos across the border in Argentina. Just before the border it started to rain and our vision was rather limited. So, at the border we asked where we could camp, as driving was unsafe for us. The boss told us we could sleep in the next building just outside the bathrooms. It was a bit smelly, but it was warm and secure. And free!

In Rio Gallegos, Ivanka needed to Skype with her boss. We needed a cafe with wifi. We parked to begin looking for such a place by foot. Out of nowhere, Mark appeared. He and Kevin and Andre had slept right across the street. While laughing about the coincidence, Adrian drove by.

I was worried about my bike's front end. Something did not feel right, but a quick inspection the previous day turned up nothing. There was a squeak too, but we figured it was just the front brake. I asked Mark to take a quick look and he showed that he could wiggle the front wheel from side to side. My nearly new wheel bearings were shot. Adrian also had to get work done, so we found the local bike shops and ordered the repairs.

The ride up Ruta 3 is a long one...nearly 2000 miles. It follows Argentina's eastern coast and is known for relentless winds and a rather featureless (dare I say 'boring'?) landscape. Indeed, the winds were constant and usually perpendicular to our path or against us, almost never at our backs, and the landscape was flat, flat, flat. There were very few trees but lots of scrub brush. It was during the long hours of driving through here that it dawned upon me that the wind is the reason all the trees in southern Chile and Argentina have such tiny leaves. Bigger ones would simply blow away. Nevertheless, to declare this whole region of steppe boring is a grave injustice to the coast. We visited two national parks (Monte Leon and Peninsula Valdez) with spectacular shorelines, tremendous tides (up to 12 meters!), and wildlife - penguins, seals, sea lions and elephants, whales, and orcas. The whale calving season was way past, but we saw magellan penguins, seals, both sea lions and elephants, and we hoped to see orcas rush the beach to snatch a seal snack. The orcas were a no show in both parks, but we still very much enjoyed the natural beauty of these places.

Rain is a seldom visitor to this region, but we drove through when they reportedly received more rain than in any other single storm in over five years. It still did not seem like all that much, but it was certainly impressive to watch the dark clouds roll by and to see how rain would fall straight down from a cloud and then suddenly turn 45 degrees at the elevation where the wind hit it. On Peninsula Valdez we witnessed heavenly art as distant rain mixed with the purples and oranges of the setting sun.

This treeless land is also nearly people-less in many places. Camping was difficult with the crazy winds and fence enclosed ranches. So, our new campgrounds were the isolated gas stations/truck stops along Ruta 3. This was ideal. We could stock up on drinking and cooking water, get a snack, and sit in the small dining areas (after we had eaten our own feasts) and play scrabble.

Slowly, the land transformed. Just south of San Antonio we encountered cultivated land. Fields of sunflowers welcomed us as did the smell of freshly unearthed onions. North of Viedma, Ruta 3 is lined on both sides by vast green farmland with occasional patches of trees. It reminded me of very flat sections of Michigan or what Iowa might look like. Compared to the unforgiving steppe of Patagonia, I felt very at home here.

One more national park was on our list - the Parque National Tornquist. This park protects a patch of mountains that pop out of the flat lands in spectacular fashion. We spent two nights there enjoying the scenery, a couple short hikes, the campground showers, and a dinner with perhaps the best sausages any of us had ever eaten (available at the mercadito in Villa de la Ventana, if you're wondering).

We left the park for what was Nick and Ivanka's last big ride. Buenos Aires is their departure point for flying home. Our arrival in Argentina's famous capital happened the next day though, after one more night camping at a gas station (albeit a natural gas service station - lots of Argentine's are driving with natural gas that cost just 2 pesos a liter - gasoline costs at least 5 pesos a liter).

We wisely rolled into this city of 13 million on a quiet Sunday morning. The traffic was minimal and considerate. We asked and were directed to a great little breakfast nook where we enjoyed tasty sandwiches and sinfully indulgent churros. Neighborhood men came out and appreciated our bikes and took pictures with us. Soon we were deep in the city, in awe of this urban cityscape with grand buildings overlooking plazas and narrow streets with apartment buildings reminiscent of Paris. With a little leg and phone work from Ivanka, we selected a hostel and made our way there. That short drive put us on Avenue July 9, which, with a total of 18 lanes, is the widest avenue in the world. Our hostel overlooks this avenue, the surrounding business edifices, and the very phallic obelisk.

One remarkable thing about this city`s traffic is the very spare use of horns. New York streets echo incessantly with audibles of frustration and indignation. Buenos Aires` streets are quiet and cool for the most part. This fits with my positive perception of Argentinians. Walk into a store or restaurant and you are greeted right away by perfect strangers. Lots of people ask us about our bikes and the journeys we have made and all wish us well. Many Argentinians are also considerate when speaking to us in Spanish, slowing the pace so we can grasp what they say or even writing out directions as opposed to just pointing and gesturing where we should go.

So far, Buenos Aires has been fantastic. Nick and Ivanka and I enjoyed the enormous San Telmo Sunday street market that teems with shoppers, vendors of all sorts of crafts, and street musicians, some of a remarkable calibre. And speaking of music, Nick, Ivanka, and I saw Roger Waters` The Wall last night. I call it a show rather than a concert because this really was more of a rock opera or perhaps a rock oratorio than a band playing and interacting with its audience. Images and names of dead soldiers and other victims of war and hatred from the First World War up to current conflicts were projected on the Wall. Clearly Water`s anti-war, anti-capitalist, anti-fascist philosophy has not waned. In a country with a history like Argentina`s, especially the latter of those three is very well received. Regardless, it was amazing to see music that has been with me nearly all my life performed live...and under the Southern Cross with 60,000 good people from all around the world.

Aside from the imminent departure of a number of my rider friends, the only bad news to share is that someone has stolen money from my bank accounts...and not just a little bit. Mark, Kevin, and Andre have also been victims of someone we are guessing is in Peru. I will sit tight here for a few days until a new bank card arrives. I was planning on staying here for at least a week anyhow and there is soooo much to see that I am not at all bummed by this imposed wait.

If you would like to see a fun video of our ride through Patagonia, arrival  in Ushuaia, and a debate of the EggGate scandal, follow this link. You might also enjoy the music from New Order.

Ushuaia

In terms of latitude, Ushuaia is about as far south as Calgary is north, but Calgary is nowhere near the end of the road in North America. South America's travellers reach the fin del mundo in this blustery tourist magnet where the southern shore of Tierra del Fuego meets the Beagle Channel.

Setting out from Vermont, Ushuaia was not my primary objective. It was and still is my goal to settle for a couple months in some major city so as to satiate my urban cravings before returning to Vermont, that most bucolic of states. That is still my plan (and Santiago, Chile will be that city), but Ushuaia has long been in my sights. Almost all my fellow riders planned on coming here and curiosity has also made Ushuaia appealing. As a teacher of history and geography, how could I not seize the opportunity to cross the Magellan Straits and explore this contested tip of the Western Hemisphere? Even the Beagle Channel is significant, being named for the historic HMS Beagle whose crews surveyed this area on two separate voyages. Darwin was aboard during the second voyage and wrote many observations about Tierra del Fuego in 1833. So, it seemed I should go.

Nick, Ivanka and I left Punta Arenas, Chile around 9am (our typical departure time) and drove along the north shore of the Magellan Strait for a couple hours until we reached a ferry crossing to Tierra del Fuego. We were not alone. There were trucks, cars, and about a dozen riders from Sweden on rented BMWs. The thirty minute crossing was over almost before we were able to take pictures and appreciate what Magellan must have seen as he cautiously entered what he hoped would be a southwest passage to the Pacific.

We hit the shore, headed inland and were very soon riding gravel roads again. That part of Tierra del Fuego belongs to Chile, but most of the people passing on that road are going to Ushuaia in Argentina. It seems Chile doesn't care to pave roads for the benefit of Argentina...nor for our benefit!

I was happy to fixate on the road both for my safety and because the scenery was boring. In the first couple hours I counted a total of three rather weakly trees. The landscape was mostly flat with a few very gently rolling hills...probably ancient moraines from the last ice age.

Rain soon dampened our ride and our spirits. We found temporary shelter in official buildings as we crossed from Chile into Argentina. We pushed onward and arrived in Rio Grande after a couple hours. Camping didn't seem very palatable in such weather so we looked for lodging and found nothing affordable. However, after sharing a couple pizzas and another hotel search, the rain had stopped. So we left town determined to find a place to camp...in the dark. After an hour of riding, we saw a home behind a fence and stopped to see if we could camp behind the fence. The owner was already outside and immediately said we were welcome. Indeed, he apologized repeatedly for not being able to offer any hot water or other amenities. We were just happy to set up camp and sleep in a safe location.

The next day's ride was considerably more interesting. Soon there were trees and then bigger hills and then mountains and lakes and herds of guanacos (like a mix between llamas and vicunas) and even a ski resort (closed for the summer). Ushuaia is nestled between these mountains and the Beagle Channel. At the city gates, we stopped for photos and did another dance routine for Nick and Ivanka's Ushuaia video.

There are lots of bikers here. I'm sure some of them party like crazy when they get here. I suspect though that a lot of them feel like I do - it's great to be here, but it is a bit of an anticlimax and even a bit sad as this signals the end...even if that is still months off. Nick and Ivanka will be heading to a home in Croatia (Ivanka has a big chat with her boss coming up and Nick is looking forward to being a house husband - only partly tongue in cheek.). Andre will soon return to Switzerland. Carole and Laurent (who I met in Palenque, Mexico) will ride up to Rio before flying home to France. Kevin, who has ridden all through Asia, and Mark who rode with his wife for three years around the world...both of them will be going home to their women in Australia. Other riders I know are scrambling to find good rates to ship their bikes home from here. So, to be sure, we have thrown back some drinks, toasted with champagne, and eaten our share of Argentine beef, chicken and mutton, but the mood is not necessarily jubilant. Almost all of us would keep riding and exploring if the money and circumstances would permit.

What have I done in Ushuaia? Not a lot really. I have slept well in a nice hostel with a very stern caretaker (n.b. I am NOT sleeping with the caretaker!). I have visited with friends and cooked much more than eaten out. I have changed the oil of my bike and had the pannier rack welded for a third time (this job was very well done and should last.). I have not visited the very good maritime museum nor the national park. Both are simply too expensive. I understand why food and many things cost a lot in such a far-flung location. However it is also clear that tourists are being fleeced here. I am keeping my fleecing to a minimum.

Tomorrow we will leave this nice little city and Tierra del Fuego. It is extremely satisfying to have been here and to have a greater understanding of this place...and of course the getting here has been amazing, both in the last couple weeks and ever since Vermont for that matter.

I am very grateful to all of you who have made this trip possible and who have supported me even if it's just been a kind comment on Facebook. Now keep that love coming for a few more month and I will do my part not to let my guard down - there are still a lot of miles to go!!

Patagonia

Patagonia in southern Chile and southwestern Argentina is a remote area. People come here to enjoy the amazing scenery and wildness and to get away from civilization and all its trappings including the internet. As much as I enjoy those aspects of this amazing region, I am now very happy to have reached Punta Arenas and to be staying at a hostel where I can access my blog. The backlog of photos I need to upload is enormous, but all I can hope to do now is to share some highlights from the last couple weeks.

My last posting was from a very rainy Chaiten, Chile in northern Patagonia. This is where I feel our adventure on the Carretera Austral (The southern highway) really began. My friends and I headed out the next day and were rewarded with blue skies and a warm sun. We drove past gorgeous mountains through green valleys and along rivers gushing with glacial melt. Rain returned the next day and what a shame. That day's drive took us past some stunning scenery...and that was just the parts we could see through the cold fog and rain. At one point, we stopped for a break in a mountain pass where we could seen dozens of waterfalls dashing down from their hidden glacial sources. It was really cold and I was soaked to the bone. I have known since the beginning of my trip that my rain gear would not protect me from the elements we would encounter down here, so I resolved to do some shopping in the next big town.

While Patagonia is known for its nature, it was its people who made the biggest impact on us for the next couple days. As we pushed south, we started encountering roadblocks. "Patagonia sin Represas" was a message posted in many locations. I had forgotten what the word 'represas' was since I had first learned it in Ecuador. Patagonia without dams. There are plans already being put into action to build a major dam in Patagonia and the locals don't like it. Environmentalists from around the world are also upset. We encountered our first road block at La Junta. A small group of indigenous peoples blocked a bridge. We met a German heading north from the bridge on his BMW bike. He told us about the blockade and suggested a very long way around it. We decided to check things out on our own. We concocted a story about needing to deliver meds to a friend south of us, but when Ivanka and I walked up to the people we were rather surprised. First of all, these people were more interested in getting government support for a new school and bank in their town (other protesters express frustration at the high cost of living in Patagonia - think Alaska). Second, they pointed out a path around their blockade that motorcycles could take, but not cars. Perfecto! We hopped on our bikes, cleared the path of obstacles and went around their blockade.

The next road block was the same day as the terribly rainy and cold day mentioned above. Tires were burning across the road and a band was playing oom pah pah music for the participants. We warmed ourselves in front of the fire and waited until they let traffic through, which they were doing every couple hours. Things were more grim in Coyaihaque. Here the problem was a bit different. Protesters in this city of 40,000 were blocking trucks bearing gasoline and diesel meaning there was a severe shortage of fuel in the town. We arrived in the evening, found lodging and then planned our next day. At about 9am, we rode our bikes to the line forming near the station that was supposed (according to rumor) to get gas that day. We waited patiently in line for over 13 hours. By that time, the gas trucks had arrived, but protesters would not let people go to the pumps. At about 10:30pm, a riot started. A small number of young demonstrators started throwing rocks. We were warned to get away, but we saw the kids run past us and start throwing rocks at the local grocery store windows (probably the most appealing glass target in the vicinity). The gas station was also cosmetically damaged, but that still crushed our hopes of a reward for our marathon of a day. Fortunately, Nick and Ivanka were up at the crack of dawn and found a line to a station that was pumping gas...at an hour way to early for the protesters. We filled our bikes and our additional canisters. I had a total of 15 extra liters strapped on my bike. We had a long way to go and weren't sure where we could refuel again.

The next grand natural highlight and the next roadblock coincided at Lake General Carrera, South America's second largest lake. The incredible blue waters were a lovely reward for our perseverance in Coyaihaque. Our progress was stopped though by another small group of protesters. No riots here, just music and dancing. Ivanka and I walked past the protest to shop for dinner fixings while the others waited with the bikes. After a couple hours, we were allowed to pass. We rode just another couple miles before settling in at a beautiful campground with awesome views across the lake.


Buying gasoline (or benzina, as they call it - just like in Germany) was not an issue. Getting to it was. We were now about to head south on the famed Ruta 40, a road infamous for long stretches of gravel, fierce winds, and its lack of towns. Again, we filled our bike tanks and all our canisters and headed south. Surprisingly, more of the Ruta 40 was paved than we thought. Still, we traveled close to 300 miles of gravel in two days...and were not able to refuel until after 372 miles in El Chalten. Driving on gravel is exhausting. The bike wobbles and the driver has to be totally focused all the time. The road typically has three to four narrow channels (a couple feet wide) that all vehicles stick to. Their wheels throw most stones aside so that each of these lanes has gravel piled three to four inches high between them. If you drift unawares into one of those piles you better hold tight and be ready to crash. Nick, Ivanka and I managed not to crash, but they were not quite able to make the distance to El Chalten. I drove the final miles to get gas for them. They managed to get fuel first though from a Czech couple in a van.

Patagonia's mountains are the product of two tectonic plates colliding and the Pacific one pushing under the South American one. A number of spectacular parks protect the results. One is in El Chalten, Argentina. After two hard days riding through treeless brown steppe, the abrupt appearance of El Chalten's granite towers blows the mind. To a boy who grew up in the flat Midwest, mountains always seem majestic, but these narrow towers of light-colored stone are just eye-popping. We spent two nights there and took a seven hour hike to a glacier and a glorious close up view of the Cerro Torre (the highest peak is the Fitz Roy, which attracts climbers from around the world).

A few hours away is El Calafate and an hour beyond that is Argentina's Glacier National Park. Nick, Ivanka and I spent one night at that park, but it was a night to remember. Following a couple tips that Nick and Ivanka had gotten, we drove to the viewing platform for the Perito Moreno Glacier. We cased the premises and then left and waited until 8:30pm when the park closes. When we arrived at the parking lot, only a couple cars remained and all the employees had left. We unpacked our sleeping gear and set up camp on the viewing platform right in front of one of the world's most active (and not shrinking) glaciers. All night long, under the Southern Cross, we listened to the pop and crack of compressed, advancing ice. At 5:30am we were awakened by an earth-shaking mass of ice tumbling from the glacier. It was an amazing night!

The next day we headed further south to the Torres Del Paine National Park - back in Chile! As in El Chalten, Torres Del Paine is known for its torres - towers. We set up camp just outside the park where we had a view across a small salty lake (including pink flamingos) of the towers. It was an perfect campsite...until the police arrived. We were told through a translator that our fire was forbidden and that we were on private property. Perhaps not so coincidentally, the owner of the land also owned a campground just four kilometers up the road. So, at ten at night, we were forced to pack up, move, and then set up camp again. We were upset that there were no signs, no fences, not even anything telling us if we were in the park or not. Plus free camping is so common in Chile that this took us by surprise. The fire ban, however, was not a surprise. Torres Del Paine suffered from a terrible fire, possibly set by an arsonist, just a few weeks before our arrival. The damage is enormous. Some trails now require face masks if it is a windy day. But nothing can obscure the majesty of the Blue Massive, another product of incredible tectonic forces and of the glaciers in the last ice age some 15,000 years ago. Nick, Ivanka and I spent two nights in different campgrounds inside the park. We simply enjoyed the scenery and the relaxed, quiet atmosphere of the campgrounds peopled by hikers from around the world.

Right now, I am sitting in a hostel in Punta Arenas, a former penal colony, and now home to some 150,000 plus people including a sizable number of ethnic Croatians, which is very exciting for Ivanka (half English, half Croatian). Punta Arenas sits on the Magellan Strait - and that is very exciting for me (history teacher). Magellan sailed past here in 1520 just to get himself killed in a stupid skirmish in the Philippines.

You might wonder what it looks like down here. Driving from Torres Del Paine, we left the mountains behind today. It was almost sad to look back at them. The three of us sat in a wonderful cafe in Puerto Natales with views west over a bay to the snowy mountains which extend farther south to truly remote regions and islands. Then the land levels out thanks surely to the last ice age. The sky is big, not even trees get in the way. Much of what we saw today had only patches of rather stunted, twisted trees. Land is enclosed by fences and signs announce the name of each "estancia" or ranch. The weather has been gorgeous for at least a week now, but it looks like rain is in our immediate future...or snow. Ushuaia has already had a couple small snowstorms. Fortunately, I have invested in rain gear and am ready to go.

Tomorrow we begin our two day ride to Ushuaia...and the end of our journey south. Stay tuned. Hasta luego.