One thing
we have learned so far is to be flexible. An hour north of Buenos Aires, headed
for Uruguay, we reversed course and head south toward Ushuaia. It was 10
o’clock on an early summer morning and the temperature was already 38 degrees. Riding
away from rather than toward the equator suddenly seemed like a good idea.
This decision
instantly recharged our levels of excitement. Ushuaia, “El Fin Del Mundo” was a
special destination. The port city lies at the end of the road in Tierra del
Fuego (Land of Fire). One must cross the Straight of Magellan to the island of Tierra del Fuego then ride south to 55 degrees latitude to find it. Antarctica is just a thousand
kilometers further south.
A "finca" (farm) in Rio Negro Province
We
stopped in tiny Cachari’s “Camping Municipal”, the first of many free campsites
we would use on our journey southward. We had thousands of kilometers to cover
and fuel is expensive. Finding free accommodations would help us stay on budget
while moving.
Sculpture made of preexisting materials
Several
people came over to our campsite to chat, curious about the two gringos on big
bikes. Sleep was difficult in the heat. There would be no more air conditioning
for us. A supervised teen dance began the evening in one corner of the park.
Other people arrived in different corners, each group with its own sound
system. The parties finally broke up at 5 am.
Wide open spaces
We got
off the main highway and spent the next day on back roads. It was nice to be
away from the trucks and to see all the prosperous farms on our way to Bahia
Blanca. Free wifi at the gas station allowed us to find out about “Refugio
Motoviajeros Ruta 22”. Some positive reviews in “iOverlander” attracted us to
the place. It was about 30 kilometers away, we decided to check it out.
Huge shallow lakes on the plains
We found
the building and welcome sign for moto travellers inside the tiny hamlet of
Argerich. There was no one around. There was a phone number on the door but we
don’t have a phone plan and couldn’t place a call. Eventually we set up our
tent, hoping that its orangeness would attract some attention. It wasn’t long
before Horacio came to visit. He lived close by. We chatted for a while and he
invited us over later for a drink and food. He also promised to send over his
neighbor who would let us into “El Refugio”.
Adalberto
Soon
after Horacio left Adelberto arrived and gave us a warm welcome, kisses all
around. Everyone kisses in Argentina. We moved our things inside and Adalberto
had some enthusiastic route advice for us. He displayed a passion for getting
moto travelers together. He clearly has pride in the travelers’ refuge he and
his friends have created. He told us the fee of 150 Pesos ($11) per person was
optional. We didn’t have to pay if we couldn’t afford it.
The place
covers about 1,000 square feet in open concept. There is a large table and
benches, two bathrooms and five bunks. The kitchen is fully equipped and the
air conditioning was welcome. The wells in the area are 130 meters deep. The
mineral rich water that comes up is hot, so hot that heater tanks are not
needed. We got settled in after Adalberto left but it wasn’t long before
someone else came by. It was Horacio’s Grandson who had come to bring us across
the park to the 16th birthday party of Luis. There we met
Adalberto’s wife who set out all kinds of goodies. We ate too much cake and sweets
and had fun conversation on their front porch.
The next
day was New Years Eve. We had been told about and had already experienced how
fun-loving Argentinians like to party in parks. The refugio was comfortable and
quiet. We decided to stay one more day. We sent a Whatsapp message to
Adalberto, asking if we could stay another day. His enthusiastic positive
response foreshadowed the day to come.
Morning at El Refugio, photo by Adalberto
The day
began with a visit from Adalberto. We met twin brothers Beto and Ariel on the
way to the church up the street. They had developed the web-page for the
refugio. Adalberto opened the tiny chapel and gave us a tour. He told us a
story involving the resurrected Jesus being invited to someone’s house. His
powerful baritone voice rang throughout the chapel as he sang about welcoming
Jesus. His passionate and beautiful performance gave us goosebumps.
Then we
crossed the street to see the old train station. It was build about 120 years
ago, during the time Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid started robbing trains
and banks in Argentina. In those days trains stopped every 50 kilometers or so
for water. Local farmers put produce on the train at Argerich and sent it for
sale in Bahia Blanca. The arrival of diesel engines changed everything. Water
stops no longer needed, the small stations closed. Then good roads and trucks
came along and things changed again. The Station Master’s house is still
standing, overgrown now, beside the old station. It was fun to see that small
piece of history.
Argerich station
The local
motorcycle community came out to visit us after Adalberto placed on the
internet some photos and news that a “matrimonial” from Canada was visiting El
Refugio. They came throughout the day in groups of 3 or 4, almost entirely on
motorcycles. Beto and Ariel invited us to lunch in the next town. Argerich has
just 100 people and no restaurant. We had thick steaks (what else would one
have in Argentina?) that were delicious. We met Camilla, a young daughter, who
had been recruited to join us for lunch and help translate if need. She was
delightful. Thank you again, Beto and Ariel.
Outside El Refugio
Shortly
after we got back to the refuge four more people arrived. Their warm greetings,
complete with kisses for everyone, were genuine and demonstrated the shared
passion they have for meeting moto travelers. Some of the people who built,
look after the refugio or who visited that day are: Alcida, Gloria, Camilla,
Quimey, Ariel, Beto, Carmelo, Carlos, Roberto, Tacauaka, Rubeu, Hugo, Rodrigo,
Ricardo, Javier, Horacio, Jose, Luis and of course, Adalberto.
Inside El Refugio
Alcida stopped
in to drop off her welcoming gift of a home baked cake. Lots of photos
were taken as others arrived, mate (herbal tea pronounced mat-eh?) and
comradery were shared all afternoon. Isa and I were overwhelmed by the warm
greetings and immediate acceptance we received. Exhausted at the end of the
afternoon, our brains aching from so much Spanish, we respectfully declined
more than one kind invitation to a family New Years Eve party. We planned to
get moving the next morning at about the same time the parties would be
breaking up.
We rode
500 kilometers the next day through semi-desert. Sparse grasses peppered with
small shrubs struggled to survive in the sand. The wind was of medium strength,
by Patagonian standards, sometimes with and sometimes against us. The road
surface was perfect. Free camping near a YPF station felt good after spending a
lot on fuel that New Year’s Day.
Patagonian Picture
Endless semi-desert in bloom
Peninsula
Valdes is large. We planned to spend two days there and to wild camp on one of
the beaches but the main attractions were the penguin and the sea elephant
colonies along the coast. The tourist town of Puerto Piramides was at the end
of the paved road, 1/3 of the way along the peninsula. It had plenty of
services and plenty of people. The beach was large and of good quality but we
were just there for the gasoline. We needed to fill our tanks, at this last
opportunity on the peninsula, to take on the lengthy ripio roads tomorrow that
would bring us to the seaside colonies.
Puerto Piramides beach
The ride
to that night’s beach camping was about 20 km long. The ripio started right
outside town. It was to be the first time we ventured off pavement in more than
two months since the crash. It was to be a “getting back up on the horse”
moment. It was also to be our first time
on the famous (or infamous) Argentinian “ripio” surfaces. It turned out to be
some of the most frightening riding we have done.
The road
was incredibly slippery and difficult to ride. The hard under-surface was
covered with a thick layer of rounded, smooth stones. The stones ranged in diameter
from that of small to big coins. Riding on them felt like dancing on slippery
marbles. Our handlebars swayed from side to side with little resistance as our
tires searched for traction in the soup of stones. The sound stuck with Isa. When four wheeled vehicles
passed us, they often did because we were so slow, they threw a wake of pebbles
sideways like a boat. The wake produced by the tour buses was especially
impressive as it arced through the air toward us.
The Road of Marbles
The road
to the camping libre (wild camping) beach was even worse. The fresh layer of
marbles gave way in time to “just” sand. The sand became deeper as we went
along and eventually our wheels dug into it, up to the axles. We remembered
what Clinton Smout, our BMW off-road instructor told us, “It’s like driving a
boat. Use first gear. You have to spin the back tire, propel sand backwards
and the bike forward. Put your weight back, get your eyes up and cause the
front tire to float across the sand.
Beach access road
It worked
and I only tipped over twice, stepping off in the soft sand. No one got hurt
that day but our hearts were racing.
Wild Camping on Peninsula Valdez, Argentina
The beach
was gorgeous. We set up camp and went for a swim in the sheltered bay. A sunset
walk down the beach after supper was enjoyable. The tide was in by then so the
sand was under water. We picked our way along the pebble beach. Each footstep
squished through the same polished pebbles that had been spread on the main
road. Sleep came easily that night. Adrenalin levels back to normal, we
listened to the hissing at the shore as beach pebbles were tossed by the gentle
waves, first up then back.
Lunch after a swim
End of the day, cleaning the catch
The coast about a kilometer from camp
Barely formed calcareous rock exposed everywhere
The next
morning, a large spider visited us during breakfast and before our sandy ride
back to the road of marbles. A grader had worked the evening before to improve
the sandy road back to the main one. He had given up clearing the drifted sand
from one bad corner and just cleared a path between the dunes to go around it. His
work had created a tough 100-meter section of deep sand. I started to walk back
to the beginning of the detour to ride Isa’s bike through the obstacle for her when I
saw her. She was rounding the final corner, rubber side down. She had made it through the hardest part. I took photos from that last corner of the detour. Way to go, Isa!
Breakfast at high tide
Visitor at breakfast
As Easy as 1...
2...
3!
Horizontal cattle gate, ubiquitous in Patagonia
The
riding became seriously challenging back on the main road. We discovered that the
tires on heavier vehicles thinned out the fresh layer of pebbles, creating narrow
tracks that we could follow. Thick berms of pebbles built up between the
tracks. Putting a wheel into one of the berms could easily cause an upset.
Clinton had told us, “Look where you want to go because you will go where you
look.” Keeping one’s eyes up to plan a route through the multiple, meandering
tracks and resisting the powerful urge to look down were essential to staying
upright.
This was
the toughest, most frightening riding we had done, even trickier than Ruta Del
Che in Bolivia and the Cordillera Route up the spine of Peru. Some “getting
back on the horse” moment. Seeing the penguins and sea elephants was the reward
for enduring it. Back at the gas station in Puerto Piramides we met a Portuguese
couple on a Triumph Tiger who had spent the day riding two up in the park. They
looked exhausted and told us that the ripio had really frightened them.
Seeing these little guys was worth the effort
Sea lions and elephants basking in the Patagonian sun
That
night’s free camping was at a YPF station in “the middle of nowhere”. It was
isolated by 200 km of pampa on either side. There were almost no buildings or
roads leading off the highway but the Patagonian wind was there. It was gusting
from the right, trying to push us into the oncoming traffic. It was
unbelievably powerful. We had been warned about it by numerous people and had
believed them. It was still shocking.
The
station had its own generators and well. Hard quarters for the employees who
staffed this remote post were around back of the station. There was shelter from
the wind available on the grass and behind some small trees. We parked the
motos into the wind and didn’t cover them, hopi
Shelter from the wind
We got
away at 7 am the next day hoping to have less wind. We rode the final 200 km to
Comodoro Rivadavia in wind as strong as yesterday. Just before town the road
went down off the pampa into a valley. The wind reduced noticeably and was even
behind us sometimes because of the confused swirling created by the valley
walls. According to what we had been told, the worst section for wind was
behind us.
Patagonia: big sky, big wind, big dinosoars
The next
80 km to Caleta Olivia had winds that could be described simply as strong, not
dangerous feeling. Maybe we were getting accustomed to them. We spent the night
further down the road at a YPF. The internet kept cutting out but the showers
were free and so was the camping. This station is very isolated, like the one
last night. It too had its own power and water sources along with living
quarters for the staff. Numerous truckers and some other overlanders stayed the
night. There was very little traffic on the road all night. The wind, potholes and wandering
animals made it far too dangerous to drive at night.
We rode
over 500 km the next day through the endless seeming semi-desert of the pampas.
The wind ranged from reasonable to favorable in sections, a welcome change and
stress reliever. There were countless guanacos along the side of the road or
keeping guard at high points, looking for pumas.
Guanacos on the pampa (these guys are real)
Guanacos
are deer like creatures with a long neck like a llama. They are wild and we saw
some easily leaping over fences that would stop the pumas that prey on them. Deer whistles mounted on
my bike make the guanacos pick up their heads as my moto gets closer. They
often retreat from the road. This seemed like a good thing at first but the
effect of the whistles can also be unpredictable. One large guanaco looked up
suddenly as I approached and bolted away from the road. After I passed it circled
around, possibly to return to a young one on the other side of the road, and
ran right in front of Isa. In the pampa there are no trees. Isa saw this
situation develop and predicted the road crossing. She had applied her brakes
early and avoided danger. The outcome would have been different in the dark of
night.
We camped
in the small, isolated city of Rio Galleros. It has a beautiful campground.
Motos were allowed in but not cars. It is not big rig friendly. The heated
washroom, kitchen and showers are clean and new. We were very comfortable. An
extra day to rest after that terrible wind and to do laundry seemed attractive.
Laundry day
The next
day was relaxing. We did chores like laundry and moto maintenance. I serviced
Isa’s chain and set up the extra circuit to power her heated jacket. She will
need it as we travel further south. I discovered a loose cable collecting tray
that was interfering with her steering. Two bolts had vibrated out. Luckily, I
brought a bag of extra nuts and bolts and easily found replacements for the
missing bolts. I installed them after applying a good amount of ‘lock-tite’ to
the threads.
Trepat
BMW Motorrad in Buenos Aires had tried to upsell me on a rear brake job. Their
price for the regular servicing they gave our bikes was very high, 1 ½ times
the Ottawa price for the same work. I had brought spare brake pads with me so
declined their offer to replace my rear pads for $300 CDN. The pads cost $55 off
the internet before leaving home. I took my rear brake apart at the campsite and
compared the wear indicators on the old pads with those of the new ones. They
were almost identical! I reinstalled the old pads confident they have a long
life ahead of them.
On
January 8th we crossed into our 13th country so far,
Chile. We rode across the cold, windy pampa to the ferry dock. The wait wasn’t
long for the ride across the Straight of Magellan to Tierra del Fuego, the Land
of Fire. We met a group of riders with the commercial outfit, “Moto Aventura
Chile”. They were all riding big GS motos like ours. We watched them follow us
up the ramp and onto the ferry.
Chilean border
The ferry
Captain was doing a good job with the engines and rudder, keeping the small
ship quite still as vehicles came onboard. The Patagonian wind combined with a
strong tidal current still managed to cause the ferry to move and the lowered
bow ramp to rotate on the concrete covered shore. The Moto Aventura group
leader rode confidently up the ramp and parked beside us. Some of the clients
that followed him seemed hesitant and shaky coming up the ferry ramp. Relief
came over each of their faces as their motos came to rest on the side stand.
A whole lot of GS motorcycles on the ferry crossing the Straight of Magellan
Chatting with French riders
There was
a stretch of 37 km still being paved half way to Rio Grande. We used the old
ripio road that ran beside the concrete road being constructed. Our tires
easily gripped the ripio surface. It did not feel dangerous at all. We were so
relieved to discover that ripio roads in Patagonia are as easy to ride as any
gravel road at home. The road on Peninsula Valdez had been an exception, not
the rule.
We
arrived late and cold at “Camping Azul” in windswept Rio Grande. Graciela’s
welcome was open and genuine. We spent a pleasant time in conversation enjoying
the warmth of her home and of her heart before she left for work at 8:30. Being
the only guests, our tent standing in her small yard, she trusted us with the
use of her house for the evening. There had been noticeable change in people’s
approach to security in Tierra del Fuego. Everywhere in Latin America so far,
home security in cities had been taken seriously. In the Land of Fire, mostly
gone were the typical bars on the windows and the gated yards surrounded by
walls that were often topped with barbed wire or broken glass.
The windswept Rio Grande estuary just across the street from Graciela's house
Graciela's smile, so engaging
Half way
to Ushuaia the next day we stopped for fuel and coffee in a small village. We
didn’t really need gas but fuel stations are few and far between in Patagonia.
Sometimes they don’t have any fuel and you get turned away. A few stops ago my
dashboard said that I had 14 km of fuel remaining. That was too close.
On the
way out of town I saw the flash of a tumbling car going into the ditch. The car had approached the corner with too much speed. The driver was trying to turn left in front of me. The car had slipped on scattered gravel, overshot the paved culvert and rolled over a couple of times into
the ditch to my right. A mother and daughter were inside the overturned car.
The ten-year-old daughter’s head had put a hole through the windshield and she
was panicked trying to climb out the passenger door, now on top.
I helped the
girl as she struggled to climb out the passenger door. There was no stopping her, no chance to ask if her neck hurt. Isabelle came to put her riding jacket around the child. The girl's face was bloodied but it was still possible to see shock in it. The victim was uncooperative at first but soon Isa was sitting with her back against a light post and cradling the girl in front. Several other people showed up. The mother remained pinned within the car, driver's side down. Water was entering from the ditch so we pushed the car over, onto its broken-off wheels. Emergency services arrived quickly.
Up at the roadside, Selena was
conscious and upset but Isabelle managed to calm her. Isa spoke softly to the Selena slowly answering her fear, “Voy a morir?”, and distracting her gently
with questions and talk. We left after the ambulances had gone and the police
had finished with their questions. We wonder about that little girl and about
the extent of her injuries.
In
contrast to the mayhem with which the day began, the final 200 km to Ushuaia
were stunning. The pampa gave way to forest covered foothills and finally to
real mountains. The wind was mostly behind us and the temperature rose too. We
saw lots of grazing livestock for the first time in days. We passed a couple of
very prosperous looking estancias (ranches) before reaching the small harbor
city of Ushuaia, latitude 55 degrees South.
"Barba de Viejos", lichen covered dwarf trees in Tierra del Fuego
Tierra del Fuego
Sheltered valley in Tierra del Fuego
A mirador in Tierra del Fuego
Full bloom in Tierra del Fuego
Arrival in Ushuaia
Ushuaia's harbour
"Photo op" in Ushuaia
The real "Fin del Mundo" 30 km past Ushuaia
We parked
and had a little look around. We enjoyed an expensive lunch along the
waterfront. Everything is extra expensive in this tourist destination. Then we
rode the final 30 km to the end of highway 3 (The Pan American Highway) to “Fin
Del Mundo”, The End of the World. This point, inside Parque Nacional Tierra Del
Fuego, marks the end of highway 3 and is the furthest point south in the world
that is accessible by road. We hope some day to ride to the other end of the
Pan American highway to reach the northern limit and see the Arctic Ocean.
Camping in the national park
Parque Nacional Tierra Del Fuego
Hiking in the park
Looks like northern Ontario
"Mariscos" in Ushuaia
We back
tracked a few kilometers to a beautiful campsite at a bend in a mountain
stream. The 360-degree views of the surrounding mountains were wonderful and
familiar. We realised that we had missed the mountains. It had been nine months
of riding over 33,000 kilometers that had brought us here. Crashes, broken bones and Bolivian surgery
had slowed us down, allowing us to connect with people and places. We had made
friendships. We had made it to the End of the World.
