bigplatcool

The final two days of riding and then saying goodbye and dropping off my new friend in Punta Arenas.

Just as we are starting to get to know each other, we will have to break the bond. And I also learning some very useful stuff. For a start I could not work out why I was finding it so difficult to get my feet down every time I stopped. The answer was easy once I worked it out. The suspension setting is different to/from my other two BMW’s and the setting for one person plus luggage is such that it raises the suspension height by about 6 cms higher than my other bikes, and this was enough to make it really difficult to get my feet down properly, with the knock on effect of my feet sliding out from under me and the bike tipping over. When you are tall, this rarely happens but I have watched the shorties battle for years.  This is of course very embarrassing and a “fall off” always happens in front of everyone who is by that time waiting to get going and they also know you personally.

The purpose of next two days is really only to enable us to drop our motorbikes off in Punta Arenas, which is in Chile. Moto Aventura, the organization from whom we have rented the bikes, is Chilean based. Customs regulations in South America make it virtually impossible to drop off Chilean registered bikes in Argentina. Our bikes are from Puerto Montt midway between Santiago and Puerto Natales. The bottom line is we are going to retrace our tracks and ride back from whence we had come from. We are not going to sleep at Cerro Sombrero but rather stop a bit earlier in Punto Grande. There is nothing Grande about this dump. We have been warned about this place and not getting our hopes up.

We are staying at the local casino, normally this means a good room and good food. Right on the former and wrong on the latter. We get great rooms but have been warned that in the morning, when we try to check out, we will have to have our rooms checked to ensure that we have not stolen anything from them. I have quick look around and there is not one thing in the room that I would like to keep as a memento!. Our bigger and more pressing problem is finding a decent meal this evening!

In the afternoon ET and I have a short walk around the town and there is nothing striking in this place. Biggest thing going for the area is that it is home to a few of the squadrons that were involved in the Falklands war. These were the only units that ended up covered in any glory after the conflict. The pilots had a thankless job: take off over loaded with fuel, rockets and machine gun bullets.

Fly a couple of hundred miles over the ocean in a single engine fighter aircraft. Fly over the island (Heavily defended) swoop in to Darwin bay. Release your bomb/s and or missiles, shoot at a few Brits on the way in and then get the hell out of there knowing that it was unlikely that you would have enough fuel to get back safely.

Day after day, with comrades and squadron mates being shot down around them everyday, These valiant pilots continued to fly, knowing full well that “their day” was shouting at them and was probably today! Their generals knowing full well that if this conflict continued they would lose more and more of their valuable fighter jocks! Without these hero’s there was no war. The Malvinas (As the Falklands are known in Argentina) still evoke visible emotional outbursts from Argentinians and in their minds the war has not been lost – NEVER EVER!!! They still talk about it as if it is currently underway.

We are going to eat in and have a very early start in the morning. We have a major border crossing which promises to be a pain as it is the start of an Argentinian long weekend. This means most of Ushuaia will be looking to save money by shopping   in Punto Arenas.

We are weather broken in for the coast over the Garibaldi Pass, with rain, light snow and some ice on the way. A fair amount of wind as well. There is no other route choice in or out of Ushuaia. The alternative is a small farm road that eventually will get us to another ferry over the Magellan Straights, but it does not run on a timetable and involves an extra 200km at the other end.

After the Garribaldi, we are going to the bakery at Tolhuin, to see what, if anything, we missed a few days before.

So what, if anything, did we miss?

Nothing that I coud see.

There were lots of sugar and sweet covered things to eat. Can’t do any of these anymore!

Sodas and average coffee, I don’t do soda’s and their coffee’s were poorly.

The disappointing thing about the Panaderia is that nothing was really good, including the staple food of the area, the Empenadas. It has just become a tourist trap.

And ET was once again chased by the dogs!  As you will soon see, he will need the practice.

So we are off again and on the way to Rio Grande. This evening I was once again trying to work out why we were in Rio Grande (Shithole) in the first place and not somewhere nicer on the coast.

The first answer is easy -there is nowhere nicer! This is not a particularly “nice” coast. If you want nice you need to keep going all the way to the west coast. Fortunately, Chile is not very wide so the West Coast is never too far away and “nice” is always nearby. Argentina does not have a “west coast” – OK you got it!!

So, two shitty cups of coffee and no sweeties later, we are on the way, knowing that some serious “Dog dodging” is going to be needed. I thought we had made it when the intercom in my ear let me know that the dogs were on form! ET was once again ducking and diving behind me! It would turn out to be essential practice for a world class late night “Dog Dodger and miss the chasing crowd player” in Punta Arenas.

If we had any idea of what was waiting for us, in ambush, in Punta Arenas, I think we would have had a trip rethink! We also had the very worst ever – and I mean the worst ever, ever customs and border post crossing. On the Argentinian side we had hundreds of vehicles and people, but nothing equipped us for the Chilean side, normally a sea of smooth organisation, but today literally hundreds of vehicles and people all in the middle of nowhere with too few officials to service us. But we were pretty much stuffed with no choices here!

So it was definitely:

1. The ferry over the Magellean Straights.
2. The Customs and Border post at San Sebastian.
3. Try and find something to eat.

The Cutom’s Queue stretched 2 kms down the road before it even reached the small revenue building. Freezing cold with a biting wind – so the queue went into the building before folding back on itself and winding inside the snake and then across and forming a new and parallel line. We had come through this same customs post at San Sebastian three days earlier without a second’s delay. And this time round we had a three hour delay in the hall of the Chilean building. Thankfully inside and not outside in the freezing wind. A very aggressive and arrogant group of truck drivers arrived and according to my translator (whom I have no reason not to believe) that they were instantly told what they could do with themselves after they had complained. They certainly got a message

I am not going to bore you with more roads over the Garibaldi Pass, other than to say this is another area into which would be ski area moguls are about to sink lots of money. And then loose it. Concrete is being poured in an obviously inferior skiing area, but I would suppose that these developers have some smart people hovering around the periphery.

Into town simply poses a new set of road related problems, and we can’t wait. Cruising along the main drag at Punta Arenas, I see out of the corner of my right eye, an Argentinian Sky Hawk jet returning from a sortie in the Malvinas – low, dark and dangerous. It comes hurtling down the road past me, dives through the side traffic in an unbelievable display of situational awareness, straightens up, turns on the power and carries on. By now you will have worked out that this is not an Argentinian Pilot Hero returning to collect the medals, but rather a traffic dodging dog from Tolhuin, focused resolutely on ET. ET in turn, is pretty focused on not ending up (on his back) in the road.

This Kamikaze pilot keeps this up for about 5 blocks and then stops as quickly as he started. When we get to our hotel the wind is pumping, and I mean pumping! So I mount the pavement and offload immediately outside the hotel. Which by the way looks very nice. Definitely way too much shit with me! Next time, if there is one, will be with a vestige of what I have here. Two elevator rides later and I am in my room. Before doing this, in an act of magnanimity and unselfishness, I ride my bike off the pavement and park it next to someone else’s, which is standing in the road. So I leave mine exactly there.

Back to my room for a shower. Into this and no sooner in than the phone starts ringing, I ignore, it rings, I ignore etc.. It is Simon. I rush downstairs , no motorbike! I wet myself, stolen today! Not possible, I suppose it is, but this would be a travesty. Simon is babbling. He has moved it, picked it up and moved it! Why did it need a “Pick Up?”

So the picked up is because the wind is so strong that it has blown a 300 kg motorcycle off its’ side stand and onto its side. This has, in turn completely split the Right Hand Rear Plastic Pannier and this is going to cost me money. So I have basically kept the bike upright and undamaged all the way from Puerto Montt to the very, very end, some 4,500 km further on. Now at the very , very end, I incur the only damage that is going to cost me some money. I am delighted to be here but upset that the bike has been damaged.

There is still a way to go. I have to get this baby to Moto Adventura and into their safe hands before it is really and truly over. Plus, believe it or not, I have to buy another dry bag. This often becomes an issue at the end of a trip when you have been collecting little bits and pieces along the way. Finally the laws of Physics reach their capacity and the bags simply cannot be stretched or crumpled any further. So I have reached this point. It is also not simply because of what I have bought. There are a few extra people on the ride with me in the same position. Because of my British Airways Life Time Gold Traveler Status I have a great baggage allowance and I am going to have to help people get home to the UK by carrying excess luggage for them. This is no problem as I am no longer continually trying to hold the record for the fastest traveler on and off the aircraft. Actually it really only becomes an issue when you are stuck in the middle of the aircraft or waiting for luggage at the collection, so as these are neither my issue given how little I fly. I am much more interested in how comfortable the ride is going to be.

So we are off to Moto Adventura, which is fortunately not too far away, and the bikes are handed in. I point out the damage to my pannier. The sms recording the charge is through on my phone and the money off my card in less time than it takes to blink. I suspect and based on the hidden damage to my front tire, that unless the damage is apparent and completely obvious, they seemake very little in the way of refunds.

It is always a bit of a sad moment when you have to say goodbye to a girlfriend, no matter how brief the interlude has been. This lady has shared my waking moments almost exclusively for the past three weeks, so I have to have a connection. Might not want to be a “Spend the rest of my life with you connection” Not always, as sometimes you just cannot get out of there quickly enough, almost giving a leap of joy as you pass through the door on the way out.

Funny things about us humans, on the way in we cannot get enough and the add the word “quickly” to the front of the “enough”. There is no doubt our greed and drive to always wanting more and bigger and better is a major driver of how society is structured and what its drivers are. As a leader if you can understand these and use them, then you have real power.

So I am going to be saying goodbye to my companion of three weeks. This lass has not really done it for me!. We have never really formed that bond that makes for the difference between good sex and great sex. Good sex for sure! Great sex not yet! Unlikely to have it happen as well as it has not yet happened and the conditions are not yet really conducive. Sometimes you start off slowly and build up over time to the threshold, then fall over it into paradise. Sometimes you never get there. Months of trying and it is never going to be really great, that total comfort and in sync you need for great riding, is not going to happen today or tomorrow.

This baby is not going to get a name! (Not from me) and I am not going to offer to buy her either!

Day 13

5 – 12-2017

410 Kms

Today we have a bunch of dirt

 

through the roadworks, en-route. We had decided not to take the mainly dirt route as this was an extra 100km of dirt and based on what we had experienced, we did not relish the idea. In addition we were facing a border crossing into Argentina. This proved to be a non-event but little were we to know that they would make up for this on the return as we had to come through the same border posts two days later.

Shortly after crossing the border we stopped at a great watering hole, based on the number of tour group stickers (Big motorbike and back packer groups all have stickers made up recording their details. These get plastered on windows at stopping points and serve as a who’s who who’s been here in each of these areas). Our stop shortly after the border meant a good coffee and for some a bit to eat. For us only a coffee but a few bits and pieces for the twins.

 

 

Then it is on to Tolhuin, where rumour has there is a wonderful bakery in the middle of nowhere. This is not great news for me as on my diet the sort of sweet stuff that is guaranteed to be there, is not on my menu. As we turn off the Routa 40 into Tolhuin, we soon realise that this is another dump. Thing perk up as we ride into town. The smell of freshly cooked meat permeates the town and we locate the cause, an Assador (Typical Argentinian Meat restaurant) . We make a command decision to miss the bakery and rather have a proper lunch. This is a great choice as we are cold and hungry, nothing a good piece of Argentinian meat will not sort out in a few seconds. The bakery is extremely popular and is testimony to how little is available in this part of the world because Tolhuin is in the words of the President, a “shithole” and other than for superb trout fishing in the nearby lakes, there does not seem to be much of consequence.

45 minutes later we are on the road and well on the way to Ushuaia. It is still cold but we are repleate and well fuelled. The road is reasonably good and is tarred all the way, at least after a fashion. So pot holes aside and ridges in the middle where one half of the road has been repaired and the other still waiting for a layer of tar, we bounce along and try to stay upright.

We are riding the Garibaldi pass. This pass separates Patagonia from the coastal area and was, like many of the great passes of the Western Cape, built by Italians. It is about 30 km long and the weather changes a few times. The wind continues to pump the entire way. As we were warned, Ushuaia has about three different weather systems that affect it. These occur three times in every day.

I also realise that I am riding with a “dog magnet”. ET is the flavour of the month in Argentina. In Tolhuin he gets chased by every dog in the town, but they leave me alone.

One of the other things I realise in Tolhuin is that South America is a completely different world and this is amplified by the pictures of celebrities on the walls in most restaurants and bars. These are not people we are familiar with. Not one known by me. Also very few people speak any English, so if you do not have a basic knowledge of Spanish, you are in trouble.

Ushuaia is nothing to write home about. It is one of two gateways to the Antarctic and the cruise ships are in harbour. Our hotel is on the far side of town and is not great. Once again the rooms are OK and warm, which is essential in this part of the world. It is however on the way to the “Fin del Mondo” – the “End of the World” which is the turn around point for our ride as we cannot go any further south. We head off there tomorrow for the obligatory photographs. It promises to be a nightmare ride, but fortunately very short for we will be on wet dirt which will be like wet glass.

Because we want to get there and back early the next day, we decide to have dinner in the hotel restaurant. This is a major mistake as the service is terrible and the food even worse. After this no-one has any stomach for a late night and everyone is early to bed.

It rains all night which does not bode well for the morning ride. We start the day in our wet weather gear and set off for the park. It is as bad as we feared it would be. Very wet and muddy. Very slippery and we all take it slowly as no one wants to spread themselves over the mud on the last bit of the ride. Eventually we get to the end. No bikes allowed where the sign is means some negotiating with the park rangers and then, provided we do not hang around, we can stop in front of the signs marking the “Fin del Mondo”.

Then we are here, and we have finally reached the turnaround point. It is an anti-climax and not very pretty here, certainly none of the natural beauty of Cape Point. Everyone has kept upright and no no-one has made a fool of themselves – Yet!

Not far from the viewpoint, there is the most Southerly Post Office in the world. I have brought a postcard with me, addressed to my grandchildren. This is a habit I have continued with, from my Alaska trip. It gives them a pictorial record of my travels and something for “show and tell”. However, when we get to the Post Office (Picture attached) it is closed. Classic South American situation, someone just did not feel like coming to work. So I will have to go into Ushuaia, pity!

I park my bike in a position from which I think I will be able to make an easy get away. It is not to be. I get on, start up and kick the side stand out of the way. Put the bike in gear and promptly fall off as I cannot get a foothold when I need to put my foot down. The bike is higher off the ground than I realised and the ground is very slippery. I am simply no longer strong enough to hold it up once my foot starts slipping. In Alaska I had a similar situation and legs six years younger and in better shape, enabled me to hold it up through sheer strength. Here I ended up on my face in the mud, with all the guys rushing over to help me. Apart from a dented ego and some mud on my jacket, there was no other damage.

So from here it was back to the hotel, a quick shower and into town for a few bits and pieces. Then a taxi back to the hotel, coffee at the entrance desk and a sit down to catch our breath and catch up with some notes to keep my mind fresh with what happened so that when the day that I complete the blog finally arrives, none of the key points will have been forgotten.

These are also always difficult moments, because in effect the ride is over. However the bikes have to be returned to Moto Adventura’s depot in Punta Arenas in Chile. As the crow flies Punta Arenas is less than 20kms away. But we are going to have to ride over 400 kms, take a ferry and brave another border crossing to get the bikes there. They are not going to be easy days. No one ever likes re-riding a route, a bit like sleeping with an old girl friend. All extremely exciting until you finally “meet” and then you ask yourself why??.

So Good Night and good luck and Good Bye.

Sleep well in the knowledge that at least one more gripping and riveting episode remains.

© Bikerpilot 2018

Day 13

5-12-2017

410 Kms

Today we have a bunch of dirt tracks through the roadworks, en-route. We had decided not to take the mainly dirt route option as this was an extra 100km of dirt roads and based on what we had experienced, we did not relish the idea. In addition we were facing a border crossing into Argentina. This proved to be a non-event but little were we to know that they would make up for this on the return as we had to come through the same border posts two days later.

 

Shortly after crossing the border we stopped at a great watering hole, and based on the number of tour group stickers (Big motorbike and back packer groups all have stickers made up recording their details) this is a well frequented coffee stop. These stickers get plastered on windows at stopping points and serve as a who’s who as to who has been here in each of these areas). Our stop shortly after the border meant a good coffee and for some a bit to eat. For us only a coffee but a few bits and pieces for the twins.

Then it is on to Tolhuin, where rumour has it there is a wonderful bakery in the middle of nowhere. This is not great news for me as on my diet the sort of sweet stuff that is guaranteed to be there, is not on my menu. As we turn off the Routa 40 into Tolhuin, we soon realise that this is another dump. Thing perk up as we ride into town. The smell of freshly cooked meat permeates the town and we locate the cause, an Assador (Typical Argentinian Meat restaurant) .

We make a command decision to miss the bakery and rather have a proper lunch. This is a great choice as we are cold and hungry, nothing a good piece of Argentinian meat will not sort out in a few seconds. The bakery is extremely popular and is testimony to how little is available in this part of the world because Tolhuin is in the words of the President, a “shithole” and other than for superb trout fishing in the nearby lakes, there does not seem to be much of consequence.

 

 

45 minutes later we are on the road and well on the way to Ushuaia. It is still cold but we are replete and well fueled. The road is reasonably good and is tarred all the way, at least after a fashion. So pot holes aside and avoiding the ridges in the road middle where one half of the road has been repaired and the other still waiting for a layer of tar, we bounce along and try to stay upright.

We are riding the Garibaldi pass. This pass separates Patagonia from the coastal area and was, like to passes of the Western Cape, built by Italians, but in this case not while they were prisoners of war. It is about 30 km long and on it the weather changes a few times. The wind continues to pump the entire way. As we were warned, Ushuaia has about three different weather systems that affect it. These occur three times in every day.

I also realise that I am riding with a “dog magnet”.  ET is the flavour of the month in Argentina. In Tolhuin he gets chased by every dog in the town, but they leave me alone.

One of the other things I realise in Tolhuin is that South America is a completely different world. This is amplified by the pictures of celebrities on the walls in most restaurants and bars. These are not people we are familiar with. Not one known by me. Also very few people speak any English, so if you do not have a basic knowledge of Spanish, you are in trouble. ET is therefore a godsend!

Ushuaia is nothing to write home about. It is one of two gateways to the Antarctic and the cruise ships are in harbour. Our hotel is on the far side of town and is not great. Once again the rooms are OK and warm, which is essential in this part of the world. It is however on the way to the “Fin del Mondo” – the “End of the World” which is the turn around point for our ride as we cannot go any further south. We head off there tomorrow for the obligatory photographs. It promises to be a nightmare ride, but fortunately very short for we will be on wet dirt which will be like wet glass.

Because we want to get there and back early the next day, we decide to have dinner in the hotel restaurant. This is a major mistake as the service is terrible and the food even worse. After this no-one has any stomach for a late night and everyone is early to bed.

It rains all night which does not bode well for the morning ride. We start the day in our wet weather gear and set off for the park. It is as bad as we feared it would be. Very wet and muddy. Very slippery and we all take it slowly as no one wants to spread themselves over the mud on the last bit of the ride. Eventually we get to the end. No bikes allowed where the sign is, means some negotiating with the park rangers and then, provided we do not hang around, we can stop in front of the signs marking the “Fin del Mondo”.

So finally we are here, and we have reached the turnaround point. It is an anti-climax and not very pretty here, certainly none of the natural beauty of Cape Point. Everyone has kept upright and no no-one has mad a fool of themselves – Yet!

Not far from the viewpoint, there is the most Southerly Post Office in the world. I have brought a postcard with me, addressed to my grandchildren. This is a habit I have continued with from my Alaska trip. It gives them a pictorial record of my travels and something for “show and tell”. However when we get to the Post Office (Picture attached) it is closed. Classic South American situation, someone just did not feel like coming to work.

I park my bike in a position from which I think I will be able to make an easy get away. It is not to be. I get on, start up and kick the side stand out of the way. Put the bike in gear and promptly fall off as I cannot get a foothold when I need to put my foot down. The bike is higher off the ground than I realised and the ground is very slippery. I am simply no longer strong enough to hold it up once my foot starts slipping. In Alaska I had a similar situation and legs six years younger and in better shape, enabled me to hold it up through sheer strength. Here I ended up on my face in the mud, with all the guys rushing over to help me. Apart from a dented ego and some mud on my jacket, there was no other damage.

So from here it was back to the hotel, a quick shower and into town for a few bits and pieces. Then a taxi back to the hotel, coffee at the entrance desk and a sit down to catch our breath and catch up with some notes to keep my mind fresh with what happened so that when the day that I complete the blog finally arrives, none of the key points will have been forgotten.

These are also always difficult moments, because in effect the ride is over. However the bikes have to be returned to Moto Adventura’s depot in Punta Arenas in Chile. As the crow flies Punta Arenas is less than 20kms away. But we are going to have to ride over 400 kms, take a ferry and brave another border crossing to get the bikes there. They are not going to be easy days. No one ever like going back over the same route and never when the wind is blowing like this. We are also forewarned that the night stop in Rio Grande is one of the worst on the trip.

I will finish the blogs off on the next iteration which will get us through Rio Grande and then into Punta Arenas in Chile. We will visit Rio Grande which lives up to the warnings and beats even Ushuaia as “–ithole”

My motorbike will be blown off its stand in Punto Arenas and sustain the only damage of the trip.

So good night, good luck and goodbye. From Ushuaia subbed in the Western Cape, where the sun shines and it virtually never rains.

© Bigplatcool 2018

 

Day 11:  12.04.2017

Puerto Natales to Cerro Sombrero (The Hill of the Hat)

350 km (But we are warned that fuel will be very tight and that careful riding is needed – I am on a GS Adventure with a bigger tank, so no problems for me, but ET will have to be careful)

We are warned upfront that the night stop at Cerro Sombrero is a dump but that there are no other choices along the route. This is mainly because we are now finally reaching Tierra del Fuego (The land of Fires – so named by the early Spanish settlers due to all the fires lit by the then Indian inhabitants).

We will also cross the famous Magellan Straights – by ferry, this time hopefully a RoRo – so we can ride on and then ride off forwards never having to turn around,  unlike the ferry at Puyuhapai which required a turn around either before boarding or once on board.

It is a miserable riding day, lots of wind and cold, but not freezing. We have also been warned that the first fuel stop may not be open and when we get there the warnings are accurate. It is desolate and deserted with the pumps locked and clearly not dispensing the juice we need. So, it is on to the next possible fuel supply, at a refinery en-route, but quite a bit further on.

As we head South the going gets progressively more unpleasant with the wind increasing and Patagonia baring its fangs, working on repelling the “gringos”! The gringo’s press on, through the deserted village of San Gregorio and soon we get to the ferry station at the Magellan straights. I am a bit tardy and ET has negotiated with the Ferry Master that we can make the ferry we see in front of us. I cannot make it and in any event, we both need a coffee and something in our tummies.

An eye opener was the clearly marked “minefield” on our right in the area between the road and the sea. A reminder that all was not well between Argentina and Chile in the 1970’s. Digging a bit deeper I find out that this has to do with a tussle over the land in Tierra del Fuego and what belongs to whom. This is a recurring theme in Argentina and resulted in the Falklands war. The Falklands, known as the Ilas Malvinas in Argentina are claimed by Argentina as their own and they still have difficulty in accepting the outcome of a vote held in the last ten years, in which the inhabitants of the islands, voted by an overwhelming majority, to remain British. More difficult to accept, I think, is the fact that a small island nation led by a woman, some 9,000 kms away, managed to comprehensively defeat the mighty Argentinian army. In truth the dominance of the army over all aspects of Argentinian life was shattered as a result of the war and the incompetence of a heavily shielded officer class exposed for the incompetence it had developed in isolation from reality. The suffering was mainly restricted to young national service conscripts who were poorly led, poorly clothed in bitterly cold conditions and underfed. In many cases the professional British paratroopers, hard off regular conflicts, took pity on these youngsters, preferring not to shoot them.

Apparently in the war, Chile stationed radar in the south and fed information to the English about aircraft taking off from their bases to attack the boats and troops in the islands, much to the ire of the Argentinians, understandably!

So into the ferry terminal we go, out of the wind and cold, for one of the least memorable meals on my life topped by a pretty shitty coffee as well. At least the toilets were clean.

Our ferry arrives. The trucks and cars are off through a short bit of sea. No flat ramps a la Norway here and for sure we are going to get wet. The challenge will be the steel ramp which is sure to be very slippery when wet. There is also an added challenge in the form of a small additional ramp in place for the buses which have a wider wheel base. SO we will need to negotiate this as it is not going to be removed.

Exiting the Magellan straight ferry – fighting the oil service vehicles. The big unit in front of me left hand side, is a fracking rig.

 

That is me in the dayglo yellow – so that ET can see me in front of him and follow. We are called for and on we go, head up and open up it is. Straight to the right hand side. No tie downs or securing blocks as one has in Canada or Norway. After all this is Patagonia. Land of the tough not some first world “nanny state”. We share the ferry with mainly large commercial trucks, all from names very familiar to me, Schlumberger, Weatherford, Halliburton. Oil Field Service companies and the equipment is for “fracking”. This gives us a hint as the territory we are entering. It is “oil country”, much like Alberta and the Yukon in Canada. I expect to see the “donkeys” shortly. This are the Don Quixote like oil pumps, and I am not disappointed as the first one appears shortly after setting off from the ferry station. This is cold, godless and windy countryside mainly inhabited by shepherds and tough oil field workers.

ET and I forge on through this barren countryside, finally starting to see some signs of life in the form of depots for the oil service companies. Then an airfield, although given the strength of the wind I wonder how any light aircraft (This includes executive jets and turboprops) can land here if the wind is not blowing directly down the runway. In addition taxing must be virtually impossible for small Cessna’s and Beech aircraft. My Aviat Husky would have been blown away and it reminds me of a day I nearly wiped out at Moreson on my home airfield, with a wind of similar speeds.

Cerro Sombrero is a short distance off the main road south and we peel off, stopping by the gas station to fill up. I have learnt over the years of riding in remote locations to always fill up before hunkering down for the night. In the morning you never know if there is going to be fuel and it is better to have an afternoon and evening to search for it. There is no problem here and soon we are at the Hotel.

The Hosteria Tunkelen is no-one’s idea of a dream honeymoon destination, but we are delighted to be out of the wind. There is no electricity in reception and ET has to assist the receptionist to reboot her computer. The beer is cold and delicious, nevertheless I limit myself to half a glass. ET is thirstier.

 

We chuck our stuff in our rooms which are functional and clean, but more importantly warm. We drift down to the small dingy reception area. This is similar to a lot of small South African country hotels of days gone by. There are interesting pictures of the early Indian inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego. They look very similar to Eskimo’s and the First Tribes of Northern Canada. Tall proud people with displays of successful fishing and hunting. This is also interesting as with the exception of the llama like guanaco’s, an armadillo (once) and the very occasional fox we do not see any wildlife at all. Compared with Africa where as a minimum one sees buck and other antelope everywhere, this is disappointing. Clearly it has all been hunted out, starting with the Spanish colonists and then by the South American’s themselves. This is mainly sheep country and the flocks are enormous even by Karoo standards. Patagonian lamb is also famous but I am not convinced it is as good as Karoo lamb. It misses the taste that is infused from the herbs in the veld and Patagonia does not seem to have the same abundance of scrub but rather only windswept grassland.

A bigger surprise is to follow. Dinner is at the hotel. We are dreading a hotel dining room dinner here but there are no alternatives. However in the same way that the Estanza Angostura had setup to handle groups of backpackers, motorcyclists and the like, so to had this establishment. Their dining room was very nice. They had a good menu and an excellent wine list. We have a great evening with a very social communal meal. The restaurant is busy and the owner runs a tight ship with tremendous personal involvement. I love seeing these entrepreneurial people creating businesses and making money in crappy places. I am left reflecting on what a big money and job generator tourism is. In South Africa we have so many advantages, particularly in respect of European based travellers, most of which are being squandered by red tape and deep-rooted corruption.

Once again bed is most welcome. We have our second biggest day tomorrow. ET and I have already decided we are not taking the mainly dirt option, there is enough dirt riding on the mainly tar option to keep us happy and in any event the additional distance does not warrant the dirt choice. Not with this wind. Our destination is Ushuaia, the most Southerly city in the world and one of the gateways to Antarctica. Already our English riding friends, Andy and Emma have dropped their bikes in Punta Arenas (our end point in four days time, as well), they have been picked up by the support vehicle and driven enroute to meet us in Cerro Sombrero. They will not ride again as they are booked on an Antarctic cruise leaving from Ushuaia. They will be staying with us in Ushuaia.

So sportsfans, good night and good luck.

The next episode will deal with riding to Ushuaia, the world class bakery in the middle of nowhere on the way. ET being a “dog magnet” in the town after we we stop in to have lunch and then the ride from Ushuaia to “Fin del Mondo” – “The End of the World”.

©Biker Pilot 2017

 

 

Days 9 and 10:

 

Estanza La Angostura to El Calafate and the Glacier

30.11.2017 and 01.12.2017

 

320 Kms and a border crossing, then a day at the glacier

Firstly sportsfans please accept my apologies for the delay in this episode. It covers one of the best few days on the trip. I have been behind since the outset with the blog, but slowly and surely I am getting there.

On day 2 we missed the first Butch Cassidy showpiece, a small cabin where he was rumoured to have hidden when he was on the run. I was unaware that he escaped from prison in Wyoming and then made his way south initially to Argentina, then to Chile and finally to Bolivia where he, the Sundance Kid and their girlfriend, were shot dead.

 

The reason we missed the first hide out was that we were dealing with the front tire puncture and this distracted us and set a different group of priorities.

 

The more important place was on today’s route – the La Leone Hotel at which we could have coffee and lunch.

 

The first bit of the day was 120 km on horrible dirt, the worst of the trip. A strong wind did not help and we, at the front of the party, were able to take our time. After about 70 km we saw a dust storm in our rear view mirrors and then were overtaken at high speed by the fast riders, being Rob Rees (Our Tour Leader, The Searle madmen and two others, both ex racers and very, very quick, even though two up. Their passengers are all very experienced on the back – being ridden hard by their men! -Seemingly happy women) These are all experienced bike tourists and travel to the continent every year.

 

So, after being overtaken ET is chomping at the bit to catch up and I nix this, reminding him that the tortoise also gets to the end and we are not exactly laggards, just progressing at a more sensible pace. About 20 km further on we see a group of bikes stopped in the middle of the road and it soon becomes apparent that one of the “high speed” bunch has come off. Who could it be?

We get there and the person dusting himself off is none other than Rob Rees, the tour leader. This is a major embarrassment and in some circles would be a drink all round as a minimum. He is meant to be shepherding us and not us picking him up! Anyhow fortunately he is OK and has nothing other than his pride dented. This is not dented but rather buckled. Bikers do not revel at one another’s misfortune as we all know it can and will happen to everyone of us at some point.
His bike is a bit more bent with its mirrors askew and the panniers buckled and dented. There are sufficient people around to assist him so we set off again. Eventually after what seems like an eon, we negotiate a very dangerous cow grate which is half hidden and then we are on the tar again, thankfully. Over a small bridge and on the left lies La Leone. This is a thriving stop off point with a roaring tourist trade. It is still cold and windy so a coffee is welcome. We also have empanadas. These are local specialties. Pastry with beef, or lamb or vegetables chopped up inside and when well made, are delicious.

 

The road from La Leone, is mainly tar and relatively easy despite a very strong wind and now we are on the famous Ruta 40. The mecca for motor bikers from all over the world. This is the real thing! The Carretera Austral and the Ruta 40 – Nirvana has been reached. We ride along Lago Argentinato to El Calafate, adventure capital of Patagonia and a thriving town. We are also about to reach the next great site – the Perito Moreno Glacier!  After stopping to fill up, never easy in Argentina due to the limited number of service stations in most places and endless queues, we proceed down the main road where there is an endless number of outdoor stores and restaurants. This is good news as is our hotel – The Hosteleria Kosten Aike.

We are in a good position in town, just two blocks off the main road and with very comfortable rooms and a friendly staff. The real reason for El Calafate is the famous Perito Moreno Glacier so we schedule a car to take us to the Ice Museum- The Glaciarium de Hielo. I am not a big museum person but this is absolutely worth the trip and the entrance fee as it has great displays as to how glaciers are formed and the glaciers of southern Patagonia.

 

For those of you interested Glaciers are formed by snow falling in their upper reaches and then compacting in layers. These push down due to gravity and then in turn force the glacier along as it moves slowly and relentlessly to its head or as it is correctly called its snout. The Perito Moreno is a text book example of a perfect glacier. It is about 30 km long and is advancing at about 4m per day. It is the third largest store of fresh water in the world.

This glacier is not getting smaller. It has a snout which often strikes land and then its leading edge which “calves” every day, throwing off large and sometimes huge ice blocks as it moves forward and there is nothing to support the ice at the leading edge.

 

Pressures from the weight of the ice slowly pushes the glacier over the southern tip of Lake Argentina damming the section and separating it from the rest of the lake. With no outlet, the water-level on the dammed side of the lake can rise by as much as 30 meters above the level of the main body of Lake Argentina. This eventually this causes it to “rapture” and then huge blocks of ice tumbles down on the lake. It is one of the most beautiful sights to see. When it breaches, the water has to level off and results in a torrent flooding from one side of the lake to the other.

This event attracts tens of thousands of people from all over the world but will not occur while we are in El Calafate, but we are witness to a number of large, sometimes huge, ice blocks breaking off the front and crashing into the water below. We see a few of these all of which are accompanied by a large crack like a gunshot! This is spectacular enough!

After two hours we decide to go back to the hotel, but are all in agreement that this has been a highlight of the trip and are all in awe of nature’s power and its spectacular displays.

 

ET and I decide to do dinner alone as we have been with Andy and Emma for the entire day. We can have a chance to chat and regroup a bit before setting off the next morning with some more big days ahead of us.

 

We choose a highly-recommended steak house nearby and although it is smart we have the first disappointing piece of meat since arriving in South America. Tough and cold. I send mine back! This is surprising as the restaurant was busy which is normally a sign that it is good.

 

I have no problem in falling asleep. Tomorrow will be a big ride to Cierro Sombrero – we are getting deeper and deeper south. We also have a border crossing which potentially means more delays.

 

Day 8

29/11/2017

 

The biggest day of the trip

510 km (151 km Dirt and 309 km on tar)

 

Malin Colorado to Estanza La Angostura

 

Knowing this was going to be a really challenging day we were up and off early, at about 07h30. Generally, the Brits don’t do early mornings, but with the sun up from around 04h00 we do!

The first part of the Careterra is very winding and poor surface but very beautiful. We make good progress and stop on the lake for coffee out of our Thermos’s. Unfortunately no biscuits allowed by the “sugar policeman” but some Finn Crisps and cheese slices help the gnawing in our stomachs. We have been working hard on the bikes and this chews up energy. I am at this point in the trip, seriously ketogenic and smell like a miner emerging from underground. But this is good for me. My mind is crystal clear as a result and I have lots of energy.

This shows why the lakes are so cold.

I have now been on the ketogenic diet for over a year as part of the fight against the cancer in my body. I have lost close on 15 Kgs. and my body is back to where it was 25 years ago. Initially I had to test my blood to determine my ketogenic state, but now using my body aroma, the speed with which people recoil from my breath and the smell of my urine I can determine my state quite accurately. Also, my mental clarity tells me a lot. When one is ketogenic the mind is a sharp as a razor blade.

 

The food in South America is reasonably conducive to my eating habits. Steak, Fish and salads form the core of the diet. No sweets and no sugar are not too difficult although I love Dulche de Leche the Argentinian staple and a form of Condensed Milk, but this is an atomic bomb to cancer. It is also Papas Country (Potatoes) in every form. Papas fritas – French Fries, Papas Natural – Boiled, Papas Pure – Mashed. I love all potatoes and have to refrain. Oddly enough we do not often see Sweet Potatoes.

The no alcohol is more difficult as nothing beats a beer at the end of a hard days riding and I cheat from time to time with half a glass and some red wine with dinner. By choice I am a wooded Chardonnay man. Chile is a good Chardonnay place, second only to Franschhoek. But red wine is better for me as it is lower in sugar and the resveratrol is highly recommended. This is not a big problem as I love Malbec and I am discovering Carmenere Reds out of Chile.

 

We cross the border at Chile Chico without major delays, but it is cold and the fire in the customs hall is welcome. Shortly before the border while stopped on a bridge to have a wee and take photos we are over taken by two Argentinians on BMW motorbikes. They are from Ushuaia which is where we are ultimately headed. ET and these riders converse in Spanish. They plan on getting there in two more days. We have 5 to go. Their bikes are hammered and they ride at high speed on the dirt. We do not see them again.

 

Back onto the tar and a quick stop at Los Antiguos for Espenades, Salads and Espresso’s is welcome. Then it is off to the Estanza. This is a typical Argentinian ranch. We have been advised to look for an airstrip on our right which will mark the turn off road to the ranch, which is still another 40 Km away. We see the Windsock on the right and turn off. The wind is howling. I would not like to be flying a light aircraft in these winds.

 

Tar soon turns to dirt complicated by the very strong winds. We battle on trying to stay upright – a foretaste of what of to come later in the trip. We find the turn off to the Estanza and take the narrow entry road in. This is another challenge – a farm road with strong crosswinds.  Arriving at the Estanza the scenery unfolds in front of us. It is wide open wetlands with ducks and geese everywhere. Horses grazing and dogs running around. There is a travelling party of Germans in a Mercedes Truck/overland bus with small sleeping vaults in the back – so about 30 people can travel in and sleep anywhere, in private. They all seem happy and in true Deutche fashion are highly organized. Immediately after arrival everyone has an allocated job and they start. Chopping the salads, setting the tables and getting ready for the night. The Estanza cooks the Cordero – lamb which is splayed out on a cross like spit and then grilled around an open fire. Delicious.

Views of the Estanza. The gang finally arrive with the support vehicle.

 

 

 

 

We are allocated our rooms. We have to share. Four bachelors in one room boarding school style. Getting there first has advantages. We choose the beds and go for the two biggest, nearest the door. This is our room.

Not the one below. Those rooms belong to the Germans!

 

After a few beers, we have a shower and then it is dinner in the communal dining room, with the lamb cooking on the fire. Not a good part of the world to be a lamb! Tomorrow’s sacrifice is already hanging outside.

 

Dinner is delicious and devoured by everyone. I quickly calculate that this operation is highly profitable. Between plentiful motorbike tours and European backpack operations they are probably hosting between 40-60 people per evening at about $50 per head excluding beer and wine. So upwards of $3500 per night on minimal overheads. This is not a bad extra revenue source for farm in the middle of nowhere. Employment for a number of locals also in the middle of nowhere. I do love entrepreneurs. We are to meet another set of these a few days later, also in the middle of nowhere.

 

None of us last long and by the time I get to bed ET is kaput sleeping sitting up! My man of steel has finally buckled!!

.

I am not far behind.

Good Night and Good Luck.

©Bigplatcool 2017

The South American Odyssey continued, Day 6 to Day 7.

 

So I have physically moved way past Santiago and Broad Hinton. Just catastrophically short of time and so busy that all I am capable of is to collapse into bed at night.

After getting back from South America I have had a few days to recover and then on the Wednesday my shooting buddies arrived from South Africa and the USA, so no time left.

Two busy days in the field in the English countryside in freezing cold weather, but fortunately no rain. I had been acclimatized for this by the last week of the ride in Patagonia, so these conditions were nothing unusual for me.

So let me get going with some more of the trip.

 

Day 6 (27-11-2017)

 

Puyuhapai to Coyhaique
234 kms.

 

Started off on tar but quickly became very challenging due to earthworks on the Carretera Austral. This remarkable road runs down the length of Chile from Puerto Montt to close to Punta Arenas. Original built by General Pinochet, the dictator of Chile as a military road to enable the swift deployment of troops to fight against Argentina in the disputed southern areas. This is a conflict I knew nothing about but testimony to it exists in the form of minefields alongside the roads in the deep south.

Apparently, the enmity between the two neighbours was such that during the Falklands Conflict (Malvinas in the Argentine least one ever forget there are signs all over to remind one. One of the border jumping Brits, Andy Searle continually has a problem remembering this so it is incumbent on us to remind him at every opportunity!)

These road works mean that the road running along the sea is closed for blasting daily for a few hours and almost immediately after leaving Puyuhapai we hit dirt and then a ferry that is transporting vehicles around the earthworks. This is a trip of about 30 mins on the boat. The challenge however is getting on and off the ferry. It is not a RoRo (Roll on Roll off which means that you drive on and then drive off the other side). This makes it easy. But who wants easy? This ferry has on and off at the same end.

The big trucks have to go down the ramp and then execute a 180 degree turn and reverse onto the ferry. The boarding ramp is nonexistent. So unlike Norway where everything was almost level and the ramp had a non-slip covering, here we have to go down a steep wet dirt incline, through a bit of sea water and then up the ferry’s now wet and slippery ramp. So it is a case of “look up and open up – but just a bit!!”. Like gentle final strokes. I manage it better than I thought that I would and we are on the ferry which quickly gets under way.

 

ET and I were first up and early out, fortunately this means we are ahead of most of the traffic so no major jams. We have carried bike covers for mornings like this when the bikes are wet due to morning dew and condensation from being near the ocean and cold, cold weather. Luisa had a reason for wanting to show us how the heaters worked.

We however did not put them on so a towel from the B and B was taken to do the job.

On the ferry a surprise, approached by a young girl who started talking to us, this was not a surprise as I have a hunk with me. It was the Afrikaans. Emily Currie from Jansenville in the Eastern Cape had heard our accents. She was four months into a pedal bike trip down the whole of South America and had a job with the company organizing the trip.

We offered her some of our Woolies “Tong” which went down like a BJ in Washington! Mrs. Currie your daughter is fine and doing well but seriously homesick. All us SAFFA’s are the same – we get home sick! More than any other nation. The Brits never want to go back. The Aussies know they come from the shitiest country on earth and the Yanks also are never in a hurry to get back. They all tell you that they want to keep on travelling. Not us. We cannot wait to get back despite all the problems in SA.
We reach the end of the sea leg and reverse the challenge up the ramp and off onto the road which is still under construction and very technical.
We make the suggested coffee stop in Villa Amenguel and hurtle on. Very technical riding now and intense concentration is required. ET and I swap the lead as the front man must talk his wingman through the various dangers (potholes and loose gravel etc.). I am thankful for the intercom system and have for this reason brought a spare unit plus mount – more about this a bit later on.

Lunch then at Via Maniuales where the suggested restaurant is closed and fortunately we find another on its very first day of business. They have an excellent soup, but nothing else. Andy Hill and Emma arrive shortly after us and join us for lunch.

Andy has bought a new top of the range Sena Intercom specially for the trip and this has bust. So I tell him that I have a replacement for him. He is beyond grateful as the two of them ride separate bikes and are suddenly looking forward to two more weeks of no speaks. However, he will have to wait until the end of the day to get this as it is in one of my too full bags.

After lunch we set off again and after more dirt hit tar and a hill before town. We stop at the top and look at our objective, which is a mid-sized town originally built for the military and now trying to become a tourist attraction. So, the first thing the wise city elders did is build a casino and so we are staying at the Hotel Dreams Coyhaique. This is part of the casino and is very nice. It has a pool and a sauna which we use.

That evening ET, Andy, Emma and I go out to La Casona, a small family restaurant across the road from the Dreams and have an outstanding meal. I have one of the best pieces of Salmon I have had since my time in Alaska. Perfectly cooked. The Chilean Caminiere Red wine is also outstanding and my first introduction to this varietal. This is not going to be my last bottle.

In the tradition of good bikers I pass out into dreamland.

Day 7 – (28-11-2017)
Coihaique to Puerto Guadal

270KM all dirt

 

A total dirt day – no letup but road conditions are generally good and we make good time. We decide that we are going to stop in Puerto Tranquillo on Lago Buenos Aires for lunch. This is a fuel stop and a busy little town with lots of adventure tourism related activities.

Shortly before town we have the funniest incident on the whole trip. We are stopped at a “ry/go” road works stop. The lady in the hut positions herself firmly in the middle of the road with a stop sign. We wait. After about ten minutes a pick-up truck comes along the road works. We can see the entire length (about 2 km) of these into town. It stops next to her. She gets in and off it goes leaving us sitting on our bikes without any explanation. We wait about 5 minutes and then decide to ride. We nearly get taken out by a digger loader coming in the opposite direction and the road surface is treacherous. Built up soft sand with steep drop offs on either side, recently watered by the contractors and very, very slippery. The guy manning the check point at the other end nearly has a fit as we pass by, as he is still letting traffic pass in the opposite direction. ET explains the problem to him and he just shrugs. It is no longer our problem as the town is right there.
We find a small place for lunch and have the daily special, which resembles a beef stew and is tasty. Andy and Emma arrive as we are leaving as do some of the other riders. We do not wait and set off again, on dirt virtually immediately after leaving town.

The road takes us through magnificent countryside alongside Lagos Buenos Aires, a glacial lake reminiscent of those in the Glacier National park in Wyoming.

Near the end of the lake we come upon a few lodges and one of these is ours. Marlin Colorado. The access road is a small dirt track up to the lodge built of wood and situated up the side of the mountain overlooking the lake. As I am in the lead I turn up and accelerate to get up the slope. My back tire hits the grass in the middle of the track and in a second I am off. At no speed but I am off with the heavy bike on top of me and my left foot is trapped between passenger’s foot peg and the ground. I have my face in the grass and cannot extricate myself. Without help there is no way out. ET is there in a flash, concern in his voice as he is aware his mother has threatened him with a fate worse than death if he allows any damage to me. I assure him I am ok but stuck. It is not easy to get out but fortunately ET is strong and virtually picks the bike up and this allows me to get my foot out, all before the rest of the crew arrive. He rides the bike up the ridge for me as I am feeling a bit wobbly. We go into the main lodge room and have a beer to calm down. The other riders start arriving. ET and I are sharing a great room in our own cabin a bit further up the hill.

After dropping our stuff off we decide to go for a swim in the glacial lake. Mark who drives the support vehicle decides to come with us. He takes us down the road looking for a beach which we do not find. Eventually we make our way to one of the other lodges as they have a jetty off which we can jump. The people at reception tell us we are mad as the water is “freezing”, but we are here and we are bikers! No water is too cold for us and I have done this before in Wyoming. The water is at about 3ºC! As we go in my breath disappears and we rush to the shore. Once out in the ambient air that is in any event cold, our bodies feel incredible and alive.

Back to our cabin, a hot shower and off to dinner in the main lodge. The whole crew at one table and an excellent evening, then off to bed and an instant pass out as we have a big day ahead.

I started to write this in Santiago  (CHILE) on the way back to the UK, The long road now behind us. I will post this in portions as I find the time to type it all up. But fear not as I have made notes of the whole trip, so you will get the story.

 

El Toro and I are back in civilization, with our ride behind us.

This has been a very intensive, almost brutal experience. One with numerous highs and a number of lows on the road. I am not sure I could have made it with ET to support me and will me on when my strength and endurance was flagging.

Of all the motorbike trips I have done, this has, by far, been the toughest. Why?

 

• Very long distances almost every day.
• Weather which varied but near the end was appalling and very cold.
• Strong head and cross winds (for which Patagonia is renowned) making riding extremely tiring.
• Tough dirt roads with very bad surfaces.
• Wet dirt roads near the end on the way to “Fin del Mondo”
• Poor hotels in a few of our overnight points with inadequate breakfasts and in these conditions the body needs fuel.
• Virtually no good coffee anywhere.
• Nightmare border crossing with few easy transits and massive doses of officialdom everywhere. An empty passport is now full of stamps.
• Problems with my rented bikes front tire. This had been repaired before and resulted in a day of flats and hassles.

Nevertheless, a fantastic experience and a trip of a lifetime.

 

The scenery was fantastic. Our tour leaders were great and the people in our tour group outstanding to spend time with. Great sense of humor and ready to help the “old man” being “me” at at the drop of a hat.

 

I will try to summarise each day (Days 1 through 5) in as brief a description as possible.

 

1. Day 1 (Wednesday 22.11)

   Arrive in Santiago, met by ET and transited through domestic departures for Puerto Montt.
   Pretty flight with spectacular views of the Andes and the Fjord area out of my window. At Puerto Montt met by the Motorrad- Tour people and taken to our hotel at Puerto Varas, the adventure capital of Chile on Lago Llanquihue with beautiful views of the Osomo volcano out of our hotel. This towers over everything.
   Found a great steak restaurant near the hotel and ate there two nights in a row.

2. Day 2 (Thursday 23.11)

   ET and I mozy about town in the morning. Find a good coffee. This generally proves to be more difficult than expected in South America!
   Motorbikes delivered in the afternoon.
   Mine is a blue GS 1200 Adventure and Simon’s a grey GS 1200.
   Mine has about 19,800 km on the clock and Simon’s about 12,000 km.
   They are both a bit shagged and the evidence of the roads to come clearly visible. However the tires are in good shape, or so we think until mine start failing two days later.
   Dinner with the entire team at the self-same steak restaurant on this evening and early to bed.
   For the first time I figure I have brought far too much kit with me!! I have a onc
   e-off opportunity to send some ahead to Punta Arenas to await our arrival at the end and I stupidly fail to take this. I will regret this decision for the next three weeks.

3. Day 3 (Friday 24.11)

   First day of riding.
   320 Kms of easy tar along the lake. The only instruction we have is “Keep the Lake on your left and the Volcano on your right”
   This is not difficult and soon we crest the side of the volcano and ride through the Nahuel Huapi National Park to arrive in Bariloche, the ski and chocolate capital of Argentina. Simply described it is totally over rated and a shit hole of epic proportions.
   The chocolate shops are of no use to me on my diet and our hotel is awful. A requirement for hotels on a motorbike trip is secure parking. This hotel has secure parking but not much else going for it. It is however centrally situated. My room is stinking hot on check in but cools down quite quickly once the windows are opened.
   All looks up when we go out to a highly recommended steak restaurant where we a re advised to be before 20h00 as they do not take bookings and apparently the queues can be lengthy. We get there at 19h50 and there is already a queue. However we do not have to wait long and our table is ready – for 12 people. We walk past the grilling fire, which is as with all Argentinian Assado’s charcoal burning with huge slabs of meat on it.
   This is not vegetarian country.
   I order Biefe de Chorizo (Sirloin) cooked “A Punto” or well done knowing that it will be medium at best. Huge salads and various varieties of Papas arrive (Papa Fritas, Papa Pure, Papa Naturel) All the different cooked potatoes and great salads.
   The meal is epically good and devoured by all plus copious bottles of Malbec and beer for the Brits.
   ET and I are out early as we have a lot of riding the next day and our first dirt roads.

4. Day 4 (Sat 25.11)

   295 kms from Bariloche to Esquel
   We are both up early and down for breakfast – which is miserable. Sliced cheese and ham. Bread and rolls. Shitty coffee.
   We leave and follow the tour leader who takes us up a dead-end dirt road. We all turn around and go back to a round about some 4 kms back on our tracks. We head off again and find the correct dirt road which winds its way along one of the lakes in the area. We stop in a little village El Boison for coffee. Highly recommended which, as we are to find out more regularly, means nothing in Argentina. This is however the Hippy capital of Argentina and there is an Ice Cream Parlour that is famous. Does not help me and my sugar policeman will not let me near it when he sees that I am wavering.
   We are introduced the large number of stray dogs that populate every Argentinian city. They are all amazingly well behaved and generally sleep on the sidewalks minding their own business. They are not all like the Friedman pack at Bread and Wine on Môreson.
   Along this road there is apparently a hut in which Butch Cassidy hid out for a time when he was in Argentina. ET and I cannot find it. We push on. Along the way my warning light comes on. I have a puncture in my front wheel. The pressure is dropping slowly. This is odd because virtually 100% of motorbike punctures occur in the rear tire. We stop and inspect the tire and locate a hole in sidewall. Even more unusual as we have not been on any roads that would be likely to cause this.
   We decide to ride on and find a spot to repair it. This is a disused Petrol station in a hovel called La Cholila, which is literally a two-horse town from which the horses had fled years ago. But it offers us a hard surface on which to work. I start getting the repair kit out. A sidewall repair is much more difficult than a normal hole in the rear wheel. At that point some of the other bikes arrive and tell us that the support vehicle is not far behind, so we stop working on it and wait.
   Soon the VW Amarok with Mark the Magician arrives. In a flash he is out and on the job. He reams the hole out and inserts a plug, then pumps the tire up. We set off again along the lake on a tough dirt road. The tire repair does not hold and within 20 km the pressure is dropping again. We wait for Mark. He arrives and once again pumps up the tire. We try again and the saga repeats itself. Eventually after about four goes we decide to abandon the bike and I will drive into Esquel with Mark. Then he and Rob (Our tour leader) will return and load up the bike and bring it back to Esquel for more substantial repair. It is a Sunday which means nothing will be open.
   Along the way we see one of the other bikes standing. This bike is a “two upper” Husband and wife (Andy and Marie Searle) . Also has a puncture. There is no room in the bakkie so I offer my place and say I will ride on the back of Simon’s bike to Esquel.
   So there we are, the two biggest guys in the group, on one bike! We ride the remaining 30 kms to Esquel like this. As we enter town we have to go over some speed bumps and my nackers get pinched in my riding trousers causing me major discomfort. The only way around this is to get myself off the saddle before every bump. We stop at a garage to fill up and pump up ET’s tires. The air does not work and I see the input pipe has been stolen or is not there.
   At the hotel we meet Pablo, the owner and the best fly fishing guide in Patagonia (At least according to Pablo). He speaks excellent English, a rarity in Argentina. He rides a KTM motorbike but cannot help us with the flat tire as his bike has a different size tire front tire.
   Mark and Rob recover the bike and have it back at the hotel before dinner. Mark takes the tire off the rim and discovers that the supposedly new tire already has a patch in it, meaning it has been repaired before. So, Mark put a tube in the tire and this repair held out for the remainder of the trip, although I did not enjoy riding without the tire pressure sensor working on that wheel as this has to removed if and when a tube is used.
   ET and I did not like the dinner choice of a Pizzeria as it was virtually certain that there would not be a low carb Cauliflower base option, so it was steak again.

5. Day 5 (Sunday 26.11)

   285 Km all dirt other than first 10 kms to Chilean Border.
   Searles (both father and son) ride straight through the border post because barrier is up and conditioned by years of travelling in Europe where there are no barriers they just carry on. But this is South America and this behavior does not work. They are turned back at the Chilean border because they do not have the required multitude of stamps and come back. The Argie customs official has a knack attack and they have to endure a ferocious crapping out in Spanish, which is lost on them, and then unpack their bikes and take all their luggage to be scanned. This is not lost on them!
   We were delighted that they were taking the heat as we had “tong and nuts etc” in our luggage.
   It is tar to another town called Fuetalefu, a tiny dump, with a supposedly great coffee shop, which we find. It is being run by the owners two daughters, aged about 12 and 10. Knowing that they are about to be overwhelmed we order the last two empanada’s and another crappy instant coffee.
   Gapping it out of there to stay ahead of the pack we immediately hit dirt again, this time not so nice but magnificent scenery running along an aquamarine river straight out of the glaciers.
   ET and I come hurtling down the road onto a bridge and stop for a Pee. I nearly drop the bike as I put it on the side stand. It takes me another ten days to find out why as I repeat this basic error about four times during this period.
   We pass a young group recently out of the river rafting, all changing on the side of the road, the girls self-consciously trying to hide their assets. ET is transfixed! I nearly drop my bike again!
   We ride on into La Junta for lunch. At the recommended restaurant, all we find is 3 dudes sleeping on the chairs. We continue along to the Carretera Austral road sign for the mandatory photo opportunity and then find a small place further along with some bikes parked outside. They are closing up but make a plan for us with some salads and mineral water. The bikers are from Puerto Montt and are headed on the same route as we are. They tell us that Puyuhapai, where we are going, is a shithole but offer no alternative suggestions!
   So the intrepid adventurers set off again. Initially good tar and then 50 Clicks on horrible marbled dirt being part of road construction works. This is my very worst surface to ride on and we both nearly loose it a couple of times. My heart is in my mouth and we ride along Lago Yelcho, at the other end of which is the luxury fishing lodge owned by our friend Michael Pavlowski (formerly of Franschhoek).
   Eventually we hit the Pacific Ocean and slide into town. Town is a nothing and the fuel station is something out of a western movie, part of the general dealer in town. We nearly loose our bikes in the potholes, but soon fill up and ride onto to Casa Ludwig, a large B and B near the end of town. This is on the only portion of tar road in town and the road marking team which has been busy will not let us cross the newly painted lines on the side of the road into the establishment. We have to go back and ride on the pavement so as to not cross the line. I am exhausted so I ask ET to do it for me, which he does effortlessly. We meet Luisa the owner. She speaks impeccable English with a German accent, so I converse with her in my broken Deutch. Her parents came to Chile in 1936 to build the local sawmill and she was born in Puyuhapai. After a stint at university in Santiago she returned to this small village and has been living there ever since.
   ET and I had been forewarned that we would be sharing in casa Ludwig. I grab the big bed and he gets a single. Luisa kept on telling us that she would come and show up how the heater works – so we know it is going to be cold!
   We have a great evening at a tiny restaurant – Mi Sur- on the Pacific. I have a fantastic Octopus stew and soup. Exhausted I leave early and by the time ET gets back I am locked up under the blankets and fast asleep.

   

   Pacific out of Casa Ludwig Lounge

   

   Casa Ludwig

   Days 6 through 19 to follow.

   ©Bigplatcool 2017.

Hello Sportsfans,

I realize that you must have been disappointed not to get the evening update from Biker Pilot and El Toro his wingman, but we have been riding hard, very hard, so hard that most grown men would be weeping at this stage. Good thing that Scope and Panto are not on this trip because the tears would add to the already huge rivers we have witnessed. Their bleating would be epic especially the Cambridge Pom’s.

We have ridden 1,200 km of which about 800 have been on extremely difficult dirt roads, most of which have my personal worst surfaces on them, being loose gravel of a depth of between 5cm and 50cm due to all the road works being undertaken at the moment.

This means that the lady you are attempting to ride becomes a bit of a bucking bronco and is very difficult to keep on the straight and narrow. The only way out of this predicament is the opposite of what we do in these situations. Not a firm hand but rather a very light touch. Lots of power applied smoothly and weight forward.

Like all good things once the technique has been mastered it results in endless pleasure and enjoyment for all parties. The rider (who knows that he/she has mastered the steed) and the steed who does not end up mangled on the side of the road. However it is exhausting and at the end of each day on this trip, El Toro and I are collapsing and fall into bed.

Last night he and I shared a room at Casa Ludwig in Puyuhapi, on the Pacific coast in the middle of Patagonia. I left dinner earlier than he did and was absolutely fast asleep when he got in about an hour later. Our days generally start at about 07h00 and we try to get wheels up by 08h00 to get ahead of the gang who only leave at 09h00. SO at best we are only getting 7 hours sleep which is simply not enough given that we are physically active for about 10 hours every day and in a state of “close to terrified” for about 6 of those hours while on the dirt!

Right now my eyes are drooping and I cannot finish this so it will all have to wait to Friday at the end of this week when we have a free day in El Calafate or elsewhere. By then we would have broken the back of the trip with a few very big days of riding under the belt.

So until then Good Night, Goodbye and Good Luck

My wheels have officially come off and admit exhaustion.

After eight days of riding, about 2,500 kms so far, with much of that on very difficult dirt roads, but all of it an incredible experience with emotions between ecstasy and intense fear of crashing , I have taken a full day off in Puerto Natales. This is a small coastal town in southern Patagonia. Check out our Instagram posts at Friedman2111 and Simon_is-Travelling. All the photos are there.

We have two nights in the same hotel, the Costa Aurelis, with an out ride to the nearby Torres del Paine National Park. As spectacular as this may be, my body more urgently needs the rest. Starting tomorrow we get going again and have 5 more days of riding, with expected strong winds and more tough terrain – so I need to regroup a bit. El Toro has gone and I am worried about letting him out of my protective clutch, although truth be told it is he looking after me.

Puerto Natales is a very pretty town, in the throes of a rebirth from squalid to hip, much like the Bree and Kloof street revivals in Cape Town.

I am off now to top up my caffeine levels at a very cool Australian Coffee shop nearby. In this part of the world not doing any sugar is very, very difficult. In addition I have the most focussed “Sugar Policeman” watching my every move, ET himself. So when I have a moment of weakness he is on my case and will not let me buckle! This is of course good as it would be tragic to start undoing the good effects of all the hard work to date on the ketogenic diet, something that I am convinced has gotten me this far and enabled me to get to Patagonia. The hard work riding is also chewing up the calories big time.

We have hooked up with a great British couple, Andy Hill and his partner Emma. They both ride. he is a brilliant motorcyclist and she is not too shabby either. Both are much quicker than us on the dirt and ride this very competently. She is a proverbial pain in the butt being able to do all this stuff better than most men. I know the feeling as I am married to one of the kind! Skis better than me, could ride a bicycle better, walk uphill more strongly and in general better at everything except where a ball is involved. Andy is an A320 Captain with EasyJet and Emma studying for a PhD in Psychiatry. She has three grown up children and Andy none. Dogs are their thing with a wirehaired Dachshund and two retrievers at home. Our sort of people and good fun to spend time with.

Andy and Emma are leaving the tour two days early as the bikes have to be dropped off in Punta Arenas in Chile. We go through there on Friday and they are going to Ushuaia to pick up a cruise to Antarctica. Getting bikes through customs in South America and especially Argentina is a nightmare, so the transfer of imported goods through the various borders involves mountainous paperwork and stamps. This means they cannot drop the bikes off in Ushuaia.

Last night we did dinner in a great seafood restaurant they found. The building made entirely out of shipping containers and featuring fantastic crab on the menu. King Crab and scallops are the area speciality, this suits me.

Yesterday our border crossing at Cancha Carrera between La Calafate and Puerto Natales was a nightmare, one that made the crossing at Kasane, between Namibia and Zambia, look efficient. There were about 30 people in the queue to exit Argentina at the customs check out. One young girl working and she had to check the paperwork, collect money from the Aussies who have to pay to get into and out of Argentina, in a welcome response to the cost of visas for Argentinians visiting Aussie – nice to see the wheel turning round! Nothing for Saffers and Brits! Then after every 3-4 people she had to get up, go outside to let exiting vehicles through and check those incoming!

Eventually we got through and made our way to the Chilean immigration and customs. Much more efficient but everything gets checked, which becomes tricky when you have your emergency supply of “tong” and nuts in the panniers!

We have had great hotels for the past few nights in La Calafate and then in Puerto Natales. Also special experiences in Puyuhuapi where we stayed in an old house B and B with ET and I sharing a room and then on a working Estancia – La Angostura- with the 4 bachelors in one room. ET and I  arriving first giving us the choice of the most comfortable beds. This farm was singularly beautiful with horses grazing in front of the farmstead, dogs everywhere. Geese and ducks on the wetlands which seem to be everywhere in Patagonia – no water shortages here! Patagonian lamb cooked on the open fire on the cross. Crisp and well done as I like it. Salads, fresh and crispy. Malbec rounding off a great meal. Then collapse into bed with ET sleeping sitting upright on his bed! We were tired after a super long day of riding, over 500 kms mainly on dirt. Wind blowing us off the roads.

The wind speeds in this part of the world are legendary and we regularly are experiencing winds of 60-90 km/h. Given the crappy road surfaces, staying in the track is essential, the riding is very challenging. I ride behind ET and we talk on our intercom all the time. On more than one occasion we have both almost come off as we inadvertently enter really loose areas of gravel. You have to look up and open up or a spill is certain.

In fact three days ago our intrepid tour leader, Bob Rees, from Wales who is an excellent rider, came off quite spectacularly, denting his bike and ego. Lucky not  be seriously injured!

I have come off once. After riding the whole day with some very tough dirt I managed to lose it as we entered our lodge at Malin Colorado in Puerto Guadal. Literally in last 30m as we went up the entry drive, on some soft sand, the bike’s rear wheel came around and down I went with my face on the grass and the bike on top of me. I could not get out as my foot was trapped between the rear foot peg and the pannier. So I had to lie there stupidly with the bike at rest on top of me. Eventually a joint effort between ET and myself freed everything up and ET gallantly offered to ride my trusty stead up the rest of the way. I think he was making sure he did not have to pick my bike (or me) up again, but I was not arguing.

Tomorrow we head further south. We are currently at about 51° South. Cape Town is at 30° S so this is well into the “frantic 50’s” which is tougher than the “roaring 40’s”. We have been very fortunate with the weather other than the wind, as by normal standards it should have been colder and wetter. No complaints. We are getting used to riding layered up in ambient temperatures of under 10°C. The part of my body taking the biggest strain appears to be my thumb where the wear and tear inside my glove means that my fingerprint recognition on my iPhone and iPad only works intermittently.

I am going to sign off now as I need some time to sort out the mess that my bags are in and then get ready to enjoy the dinner tonight. When I get to Santiago on the coming weekend and then on BA back to London, where I have 16 hours to pass, I will update the blog with more details of specific days. No photo’s though as these are all on Instagram

So goodbye and goodnight.

©Biker Pilot 2017.