Day 23 to 24 - Punta Arenas, Chile

13 to 14 April    Kms travelled – 3,723

I have gone quiet, sorry about that.  And particularly sorry that some of you avid followers have grown a little concerned about my absence from this blog.  There are a few reasons, however. 

I´m now entering one of the hardest stretches of the trip in terms of the riding, and a period when internet access is at best limited.  I´ve also agreed to do some writing for the media about this part of the journey in a bid to extend readership and help boost my fundraising for Unicef. 

Lamb in Argentina - nice!

Understandably publishers are not interested in reprinting material that is already freely available online, so I am under a form of embargo with regards the stories and experiences I am picking up along the way – and they are many.  Don´t worry though, I am still travelling and still writing, and I will be letting you know in due course when and where you can get your hands on this stretch of the Pat Around the Americas story.  I´ll be posting a few pics that don´t conflict with the stories being prepared for the media.

Normal service will resume in due course, and in the interim (and while I have good internet connections) I will be taking the opportunity to update some of the supporting pages to this website.  This will include more detailed information on the route south (including the border crossings for that part of the trip), updated stats, and some reviews on how the kit and bike are holding up.  I´ll highlight what has been updated in my posts over the next couple of weeks.

You can now read about this section of the journey in Issue 13 of Adventure Bike Rider magazine.  See:  www.adventurebikerider.com  for information on how you can get your digital copy. 

Day 21 to 22 – Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego

11 to 12 April    Kms travelled – 3,168

I made it to Ushuaia, the most southerly city in the world!  No point keeping you in suspense about that, the clue is in the title of this post, but I nearly didn´t – and I am kicking myself about it.  Read on intrepid followers.

I was up early in Rio Gallegos and really keen for the off.  So keen in fact that this day I didn´t even wait for the sun to rise, but was on the road (3) well before the breaking dawn.  Eduardo had suggested a stop at the Lago Azul (blue lake) just before the Chilean border.  A volcano which has filled with water.  I´m sure on a clear day it would indeed be blue, but this day it was decidedly grey.  It did, however, provide the location of my first emergency loo stop of the trip – which I hope I managed without any noticeable effect to the environment.  Was it breakfast – or perhaps the fact that I was arriving at my first border crossing?

In any event, I needn´t have worried.  I´ll be posting more detailed information on these crossings in due course on the ´Borders´ page on this site – but just to note here that it was well organised and friendly.  So much so that someone without any Spanish would be able to complete the process of signing out of Argentina and into Chile with ease – a simple one, two, three process.  I also had a nice chat with the customs chap about Idris.  It seems that the 660 Tenere is much admired in these countries – perhaps a question of wanting what you can´t have – but it is a nice looking bike though.

Through the border and into the worst wind I have encountered so far.  So much so that I was down to 50 kph at one stage, when I was swept three times over into the oncoming traffic lane – luckily empty of any danger.  It seemed to take an age to battle the bike over to the ferry terminal (if you can call the couple of small buildings that) for the short 20 minute hop over to the island.  It is at this stage that I nearly didn´t get there.

I have a series of must dos planned for this trip, then some really want to dos, and also a number of would like to dos.  Getting to Tierra del Fuego was a must do.  And it is only that that pushed me onto that boat, and stopped me turning around and heading out of the wind.  I´m not pleased with myself about that moment of weakness.  The weather had got to me, and I was doubting my own ability, and the bike´s capacity to manage the trip further south.  
If it was like this on the mainland, what would it be like on the island?  
Well, pretty much the same is the answer - initially.  The crossing was quick, but I was unable to leave Idris´ side on the ferry less it fall in the rising swell.  This left me without having paid a bean, and on landing (which couldn´t have come any quicker) I was looking around like a lost sheep for someone to pay, when I was told in no uncertain terms to get myself in gear and off the boat.  The other side was even less populated than the mainland, and I was pleased when a very smiley chap strolled over – I pay him?

  

Nope, he was a biologist who was in the process of setting up a wildlife observatory – and invited me to pop in should I have time on my return.  He also kindly took a photo of us, and wished us well for a great stay.  Something to lift a flagging spirt, so armed with this warm welcome, I headed on.  
I´ve donated the cost of the ferry to Unicef – you might like to do something similar (nudge, nudge).

A short run on paved road to Cerro Sombrero for a refuel, left me wondering at the life these (mostly) oil workers must live.  This place is bleak!  I asked the gas attendant if the wind was always like this – to which he replied “no, sometimes it is really windy”.  I wonder how long he had been waiting to use that line. 

I decided to take Eduardo´s advice again and head off the Ruta 3 to avoid the truck and bus traffic on the gravel roads (ripio) that are a feature of the Chilean side of the island.  

So it was directly south for me from there (Y665).  This had the unforeseen blessing of directing me through some lovely rolling hillsides, which protected from the worst blasts.  The ripio was in pretty good condition, I was feeling better, and I decided to give Idris its head.  Standing up on the footpegs has the effect of lowering the bike´s centre of gravity, with all my weight now being transferred low down, the bike´s handling changed instantly – and Idris flew!  
This is what the Tenere was built for, this is what it is best at.  And even with a full load, I quickly realised that the bike could cope with everything I threw at it, with a smile.  In fact, it was I that couldn´t stop grinning for the rest of the day – and I´m even smiling again now as I type.  This, for me, is adventure bike riding.  

It didn´t last, the hills receded and the wind returned, to be met with fresh regrading of the gravel road – which caused some tricky moments on loose earth, including a plough through a mound of the stuff to get back on my side of the road.  But nothing could stop us now.  With renewed confidence I headed back (Y71) towards the Ruta 3 and the next border crossing back into Argentina.

Unlike the first border (which is all done in the same building), this second one had me sign myself and the bike out of Chile some 12 kms before hitting the Argentinean entry.  Signing out only took me some 20 minutes, but on my return I found Idris taking a lie-down in the wind, which had picked up considerably in the intervening period.  The crash bars did their job, with only a minor bash to the headlight protector needing to be superglued at a later date.  The ripio in-between the border posts is in poor state, and with the wind now at its height, any riding on the pegs was out of the question.  We made it without further incident, and then back in Argentina and lovely tarmac.

Time was getting on, however, so I headed for Rio Grande to spend the night.  My guide book suggested to book ahead – and I soon found out why.  So then followed a mad dash from hotel to hotel looking for a place to stay for the night.  The sun was now setting, and it was really cold.  


In this quest I happened upon another ABR, Clark White from Arizona, so we pooled resources and, following a quick stop at the tourist information centre, secured ourselves the last twin room in a reasonably priced (for this town anyway) hostal.  Clark, a paramedic, was pretty much finishing off his long 4 month ride down (GS1150) from the US, and we decided to more or less meander into Ushuaia together the next day.

The wind didn´t hit up so much this day, and the ride over was quite enjoyable first hugging the coast (windy, but manageable) before heading across the island through some strangely adorned forest.  


So spooky in fact were these trees that I would not have been surprised if Uncle Fester and Cousin It were seen strolling through this knarled woodland. 

Then it was the mountain range, with the warning to look out for black ice.  Clark suggested that I take the lead, as there would be little point in the paramedic getting hurt.  I think I saw some logic in that – somewhere – hmmm.  The Garibaldi pass held spectacular views, but I was too fearful of the wind, the drop, and the cold to stop and take any shots from the highest point.  My heated grips were now on max, as was my heated jacket.  I would not do this trip at this time of the year without them!  Clark´s camelpac water supply had frozen! 

Then, before I knew it, we were winding our way down and around a bend to be met with the most wonderful welcome signs for Ushuaia.  We had made it! 

Eduardo had recommended I stay at La Posta hostal when I got into town, and had e-mailed the owner for me to let him know I was on my way.  Riding right through the town and almost out the other side, La Posta is right on the roundabout for the airport.  And what a great place.  In fact it is probably the best hostal I have seen, having all the amenities, and a standard of finish usually reserved to good hotels. 

And Hector the owner was also an ABR (KLR650) – so we were soon shooting the breeze about Idris – and he kindly invited me to dinner with his bike club mates the following night.  We also bumped into a couple of ABRs from the States, Billy and his mate (who said he didn´t have any?) – sorry, I should have remembered the name.  
Much swapping of bike stories followed.

I liked Ushuaia a lot – and originally planned a couple of days rest there – so a bikers dinner was really tempting.  But that was before I lost a week in Buenos Aires – and I needed to sacrifice a few rest days to make up a bit of time, particularly as the wind was also making my progress much slower than I had thought.  So it was a one night turnaround, and sights set on Alaska!

Thought for the day

A moment of personal weakness almost cost me one of the best biking experiences of my life, so I couldn´t help wondering how many other occasions fears and doubts have held me back from something incredible.  Having boundaries and knowing your limits can be very useful, and I would not advocate straying beyond them, as that would likely lead to misery.  But should we not be constantly butting up against those boundaries to ensure they do not start, unknowingly, to close in.  It is often said that we only have one life.  But the clue is in the wording – we do not say we only have one existence.  So we should live the life, should we not, and not merely seek to exist. 

Day 18 to 20 – Rio Gallegos

8 to 10 April    Kms travelled – 2,513

An early start again, and a nice send off from the Patagonian Welsh community saw me on my way.  I have taken local advice, that mirrors the writings of other travellers, by trying to beat the wind through rising before the sun and hitting the road at dawn with the aim of getting the required mileage done before lunch.  The wind is at its worst in the afternoon, when the sun causes a greater thermal effect, adding real impetus to the constant west to east blast.  Even in the mornings you need to ride safe, and try to anticipate areas where gusts can take you off line.  You think the winds can´t be as bad as people say.  They are.  Really.

I´m heading to Comodoro Rivadavia this day on the Atlantic coast on a largely unspectacular landscape.  So unremarkable in fact, that I am lost to find anything notable to record here.  One thing I have noticed is that each day I spend heading south, the plant life is changing more than the landscape itself.  Yesterday there were trees, today only waist high shrubs.  Over the next two days, these will shrink even further to knee high scrub, and then to impoverished grasses struggling to reach sufficient height to feed some of the local wildlife.

Idris at a fuel oasis

The road itself (3) is still of good quality, but as I approached the last 20 kms or so before entering Comodoro I saw hills beckoning.  Great!  At last some more interesting riding... be careful what you wish for!  In fact that stretch was the hardest ride of the day, as the capricious wind failed to decide when and from where it would make its presence known.  But boy when it did decide to say hello, it did so with real gusto! 

The city itself is dominated by the local oil industry and proved to be considerably more expensive than anticipated, by far the most costly stay to date.  There is gold in them there hills – black gold.  

One advantage was that the town seems to reside in its own little mirco-climate with temperatures reaching some 26 degrees in the afternoon - but with a sharp drop at night.  After a lovely sung mass at the local Cathedral (it was Easter) I did manage to have one chat with a chap who had fitted a 50cc motor to his mountain bike, and was out in the street testing the brakes!  When the local police took interest, he made his less than swift getaway, leaving me to shoot the breeze with the local law – who had in fact just finished their shift, were waiting for their bus, and were only interested in the mechanics of his invention.   

Early again, the next day south started with the worst road conditions to date through the series of small hills that are a feature of this region.  Around 130 kms south of Comodoro presents a series of roadworks, pressure ridges, potholes, and badly patched roads to the extent that my progress was severely restricted.  There were even short patches of (bad) gravel roads, where makeshift diversions had been improvised around new construction.  As with earlier road works I have encountered, this looks like it will be some time before it will be completed. 

I never thought I would be so happy to see a return to the long straight flat smooth roads – but that is what I had for the rest of the day.  I even had the lightest wind so far, which meant for some smooth sailing and the opportunity to gain lost ground.  I also started to encounter more wildlife, though unfortunately much of it was spread over the tarmac like strawberry jam over burnt toast.  Sad as it was to see such wonderful creatures lost in this way, the roadkill did serve as a constant reminder to this adventure bike rider to watch the roadsides.  I saw guanacos aplenty, choikes (like little ostriches, which when feeding looked just like the plantlife!), rabbits and grey foxes.  I also saw mora (a type of eagle) – or possibly caranchos (also a bird of prey) – taking advantage of the repast served up by passing traffic.

Early afternoon and I was rolling into Puerto San Julian and up to the local tourist information office where I was met by a lovely lady who positively buzzed with enthusiasm over Idris.  If the bike wasn´t already red, it would have been after the fuss that was made over it.  XT660Z Tenere Dragons are not available in this part of the world.  She also provided a wealth of information about the local area, and rung around to secure me a really good deal on a room at a sea front hotel – with secure parking around the back (which she insisted was not needed, as locals don´t often even lock their doors).  I was the only visitor, and had a pleasant few hours wandering around the local sights in the nice little town, with the most spectacular sunset over the bay.  Check out the replica boat and the sight of the first mass said in the Americas. 

Idris and Eduardo

The next day was an easy ride down into Rio Gallegos, with (yet again) some very nice conversations mostly taking place at the petrol stations.  We are now in the south and the cost of fuel has dropped considerably, being offset by most other things being more expensive.  I was fortunate to be met in town by Eduardo, a tourism student and fellow ABR (KLR650).  I´d been in touch with him for a while through the Horizons website (see link on the right), with his regular updates on weather in the south etc being of great value.  I was treated to a tour of the town and to dinner!  Great company again and further evidence of Argentinean hospitality.  Cheers buddy, and best of luck with the work plans.

Thought for the day

I know I have previously mentioned the scale of this country – it being the 7^th largest in the world – but these roads seem to go on forever.  You can see countryside like this in many parts of the world, including the UK.  You can experience this sort of weather too.  But it is the scale of this place that staggers.  Day after day, the roads just go on and on, that is until they end...  but that is a story for next time.

Day 16 and 17 – to Gaiman (and Trelew)

6 to 7 April    Kms travelled – 1,540

Camwy Secondary School, Gaiman

After a comfortable night I treated myself to a lazy morning and a skype call back home.  It was Good Friday after all, and there is nothing ´gooder´ than a chat with the lovely Mrs Pat.  I also knew that there was only 230 kms to travel, so I rolled out of the hotel car park at around 9:30, to be met with stiff winds as soon as I had cleared town.  

These were the worst I encountered so far, which made the relatively short distance a much longer ordeal than anticipated, requiring quite a number of rest breaks on the otherwise uninteresting and not particularly good quality road (3 then 25).  There is another surface under preparation, which teased continuously alongside the rutted and damaged original, but it is not yet open – and may not be so for a while yet.  In fact, it was 13:00 by the time I leaned into Gaiman, and what a pleasant surprise.  A green valley – and trees!

Fabio, Idris and me outside the B&B

Even more pleasant was the welcome that awaited me from the resident Welsh community.  Now, the Welsh are traditionally (and rightly) proud of their welcomes – they even sing songs about them, and keep them in the hillsides – and the hillsides of the Chubut valley were no different.  Interesting that this aspect of the Welsh character so closely mirrors my experiences so far of Argentinean hospitality – there is more that binds us, than separates us. 

My first port of call on arrival was lunch at Plâs y Graig, the impressive family home of Tegai Roberts, Luned Roberts de González and Fabio González – stalwarts of the Welsh community in Patagonia.  They had thoughtfully laid on fish empanadas, pizza and salad, which went down very nicely thank you very much.  They had also organised accommodation for my two night stay, a programme of activities, and secure parking for Idris at the (YPF) El Duki´s Service Station run by Meira Jones – who also happens to be Treasurer of the Camwy Association (Camwy being the Welsh name for the Chubut river).  Many thanks Meira, I rested easier knowing ´the dragon´ was in safe hands!

St David´s Hall, Trelew

A quick change and I was whisked off to Trelew by Luned and Tegai for the Welsh Association´s weekly radio programme.  A mix of community news and delightful Welsh music was interrupted this week by an interview with yours truly.  I hope at least some listeners were interested in my work, travels and the fundraising for Unicef!  

Yes, a timely reminder folks.  

A click on the link at the top right of the webpage will enable you to make a direct donation to this excellent cause - and many thanks again to those who have already done so.

The radio show was followed by coffee with Dewi and Eileen Jones at the Touring Club Café.  A delightful couple, and we passed a lovely moment together – I even learnt a few new jokes.  Dewi was chairman of the Chubut Eisteddfod committee for several years and helped re-found the Gorsedd (bardic stone circle) in 2002, and was distinguished by the Welsh Government in 2010.  Excellent!

Plas y Coed Tea Rooms and B&B, Gaiman

The overnight stays in Gaiman were the most comfortable so far.  Much smaller than its neighbouring Trelew (some 10 kms away), the town itself is pretty and a wise choice as a place for any stop over.  The location seems to provide a natural shelter from the constant winds, clearly the Welsh settlers some 140 years ago knew what to look for, when David D Roberts built the first house. 

For me, a room had been set aside at the Plâs y Coed B&B (see link on the right) - a place I cannot recommend enough.  The B&B and adjoining Welsh tea rooms are run by Ana Chiabrando, a Welsh speaker who delights in her cultural heritage.  Indeed, it was Ana who kindly agreed to show me around the Welsh schools, Chapels and sights of Trelew the following morning.  Set in a traditional home right in the heart of town, the Plâs y Coed tea rooms are a must do – with some of the best apple tart (apple pie for North American viewers) I have ever tasted!  Needless to say the traditional tea and bara brith were pretty good too!  My thanks to Ana for all her help and support.

Ysgol yr Hendre, Trelew

Through a mix of hard work, volunteers, local government support, and support from Wales, this small community of Argentineans with Welsh ancestry manage to achieve a lot, with relatively little.  It is indeed impressive that the Welsh culture has so noticeably been kept alive.  I´ve heard it said that visitors have been disappointed at not hearing more Welsh spoken - but all it takes is a few words (eg bore da – good morning) and you´ll be surprised at the number of speakers that are around.  Go on, give it a go!

Ana at Ysgol yr Hendre, Trelew

The bilingual nursery and primary provision in both Trelew and Gaiman is growing and each year more adults (such as Ana and Fabio) develop their linguistic skills further.  This Welsh provision is supported through the work of teachers and events workers from Wales who visit, usually for a year, and quickly become part of the local community.  Elliw Baines Roberts and Lois Dafydd are two such people, who kindly agreed to give me a tour of Gaiman after yet another fabulous lunch at lunch at Plâs y Graig.  

Elliw and Lois at Camwy Secondary School, Gaiman     

Although Elliw had never been to Argentina before, she has relatives in the local community - nice!  If you are wandering around town, the local museum overseen by Fabio (Camwy Association) is well worth a stop.  Housed in the old railway station, the place is packed with original items, including a fascinating map showing the partition of the valley land. 

I also had the great pleasure to visit the home of Oscar Arnold and Edith Macdonald.  Edith is the chairperson of the Camwy Association and Oscar Arnold is a former chairman of Trelew Saint David´s Association. 

David D Robert´s First Home in Gaiman

I was then introduced to Héctor Ariel Macdonald, who kindly showed me round his recording studio and I heard a sample of his work with local folk artists to full orchestral arrangements for BBC Wales and mixed choirs.  There is something about sung Welsh that, when done well, sends shivers down the spine.  There is not only Welsh cultural tradition in Chubut, but also real modern talent as well! 

Bethel Chapel, Gaiman

A busy day and a half was rounded off by visiting probably the best eatery in town – which also happens to be owned and run by a Welsh speaker.  And boy can they cook too!  If you are ever in Gaiman treat yourself to dinner at Gwalia Lân on the main street, run by Andrés Evans and Marina Brágoli.  You´ll even find locally brewed Celtic beers – which are well worth sampling. 

Much has already been written about the history of the Welsh settlers in Patagonia, so I´ll not risk any errors by trying to repeat it here.  Those interested in more might like to have a look at this:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Y_Wladfa

Luned outside Plas y Coed Tea Rooms in the centre of Gaiman

I feel both honoured and blessed to have had this experience, and to have felt the warmth of such hospitality – and I have yet to visit the other end of the Chubut valley on my route north!.  But I cannot sign off on this episode without recording my special thanks to Luned.  Her perfect English tempered with the accent of her excellent Welsh, belies the fact that she was born and bred in Argentina.  I shall treasure the memories of this visit.  

Diolch yn fawr iawn i chi.    

Thought for the day

Humans are a race of explorers and adventurers – whether that thirst for something new is quenched through physical travel, or exploration of science and technology, or even a greater understanding of ourselves.  We have this seemingly unending drive to develop, to improve, to know.  So what is it that also drives us to understand where we come from, and to retain that link to the past?  Is it a form of societal anchor that keeps us grounded as we reach out into something new?  Like any basic map reading, knowing where we come from helps us know where we are going.  The sense of identity gained from being part of a social group – whether a linguistic one, geo-political, cultural, or even an adventure bike rider! – also helps us feel that we are not alone, that we belong, that we are valued.  This is an important aspect of personal wellbeing.  It also has the added benefit of helping maintain the best of traditions – something that the Welsh community in Patagonia do so very well, and long may that continue.

Elliw and Lois at Gaiman Library

Day 15 – to Sierra Grande

5 April    Kms travelled – 1310

Up with the dawn, or at least some squawking wildlife!  Packed and off at 8:30 – which was pretty good considering I´m still getting into my rhythm.  I had no phone signal at the campsite, so as soon as I heard the bleep of incoming texts, I sent a message off to my online tracking system to let family know I´m OK (and where I am). 

Around 100kms down to Bahia Blanca only resolved to confirm Javier´s advice that it is best avoided.  A sprawling industrial town with little to commend it – but it had fuel – of which Idris partook – and we were off again.  Well, not quite.  I know it is a bit of a crappy place, because I got lost and spend around half an hour ´exploring´ before I finally turned the GPS on and got out of Dodge! 

I took the 22 inland and then the 251 and 3 south – neither of which I have anything notable to say about other than they are flat, straight roads, with little or no places to stop.  Javier´s advice to fill up with fuel every time you see a petrol stop really struck home now.  You can be fooled into thinking that there are many, as around (some) towns you could see three or four – but then nothing at all (not even other buildings) for hundreds of kms.  And be prepared to become some form of minor celebrity as the locals all want to know about the bike, you, your trip, and can they have a photo with you!  I filled up the extra fuel bottle that Javier kindly donated to the cause – even though Idris has good fuel consumption and a 23 ltr tank - and I´m glad that I did.

You see, I had the opportunity to whisk off the Nolan helmet and don my good Samaritan hat, on not one, but two occasions.  A couple of middle aged ladies with a flat could not be ridden past!  So Pat and Idris to the rescue.  Thankfully I also had my compressor, as their spare was a little worse for wear, but at least it saw them on their way.  Next, only around 30 minutes from what was to be my overnight stop, a local biker and his better half out of fuel.  A few litres from my spare supply, saw them on their way after having only stopped about 2 minutes before I arrived.  The look on the guy´s face when I told him who I was and what I was doing was priceless.  You run out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, getting dark, windy and chilly, and this chap from Wales turns up with a spare can of go go juice – what are the odds!  Good to get some karma points in early methinks! 

The delays and the wind did mean that I pitched up in the dark at around 7:00 pm at the Sierra Grande Hotel, probably still a couple of hours off my planned destination.  I felt bad about that, as contacts in the Welsh community had put on a little welcome dinner – which I was to miss.  But it is a long adventure, I was tired, it was dark, and I had already been warned about the conditions of some of the roads ahead.  I opted for common sense, and I took a walk around town for about an hour (or until the dust being kicked up from the road got too much for me) to get some blood circulating again.  And settled in for the night.

Thought for the day

I´ve had a few thoughts today, and they go something like this...  Boy is this country big!  And boy is this part of it really boring to ride through.  And boy is that wind already starting to get tough - so what is it going to be like in the deep deep south.  And why do they plough the surface of the asphalt so that on a bike it feels like riding on train tracks.  And why to trucks (of which there are many) all seem to be so considerate, yet so many car drivers think that overtaking me in my lane in this wind is an OK thing to do.  And isn´t it a nice feeling when you can do something for someone else, even though I also feel bad about letting down those in the Welsh community in Patagonia. I´ll try and make up for that tomorrow.

Day 14 – to Sierra de la Ventana

4 April    Kms travelled – 741

After packing the night before and saying goodbye to the guys at DM, I was ready for the off at 8:00 – but it was around 10:00 before I finally cleared the main city traffic, despite some nifty filtering, and having to give one car a slight kick just to remind the driver that I was not some phantom figure, but real flesh and blood.  It was also hot!  It also tried to rain, but not so much that would have a cooling effect, but just enough to add to the sticky humidity that surrounded the city that morning.  I was mindful of the thunder that accompanied my departure from Barcelona.  Does this mean that it is going to be hot and wet every time I encounter an unwilling exit – because despite its faults and the fact that I am not a fan of big cities as a rule, BA gets under your skin.  If you ever get the chance, try it out, you might like it too!

Javier at DM furnished me with probably the best route south, for the first part where there are some options at least.  The word is that the Ruta 3 south is pretty much one of the more boring rides around.  I can understand that this would be a particular anticlimax for anyone coming to BA at the end of a great adventure.  But for me the adventure is just beginning, so I viewed a few easy days in the saddle as a welcomed boost, to give me time to get in the groove, and iron out any bike or packing issues.  Hmmm, easy days?

Passed the airport and it was on to Cañuelos (205) then to Saladillo (51) and Azul.  Remembering to fill up at Olavarra (76) as there was pretty much nothing beyond that point until reaching the evening destination at Sierra de la Ventana, a pretty collection of hills that reminded me of Mid Wales, with some excellent camping.  The word was to avoid Bahia Blanca. 

My camp site was on the southern side of the range, at Asuara Camping – though despite the clear signs from the road, I still had to ask the locals how to find the entrance (which was tucked away on the other side of a dry river bed).  A dinner of milanesa and papas awaited, alongside good wifi, for A$35. 

Thought for the day

These hills and the good camping appeared in some way as a reward for a long day in the saddle.  The 50kms or so of strong winds (by European standards) after Olaverra were a sign of what was ahead.  It appears that the wind is not reserved to Patagonia.  My planning, even after the first day, was in error.  Any map belittles the scale of this country and your ability to make rapid progress.  Though the hilly reward did allow me at least an hour of riding where I really started to feel one with the bike.  Idris and I are off!

Day 13 – Buenos Aires

3 April    Kms travelled – 35

Thirteen may be unlucky for some, but not this fine fellow.  Today was the day that I was reunited with Idris.  An 8:00 start with a Taxi to the airport to do the necessary under the expert eye of Sandra from Dakar Motos.  It may be due to me being completely zonked when I arrived from the airport, but the long mad dash back this day has, at times, my heart in my mouth.  And I am used to Spanish driving!  Clearly I´d need to take great care on my return trip.

Aside from another heart stopping moment when the papers showing the bike had arrived could not be located (I could have almost kissed the bloke who popped his head round the door with another bundle of documents – well, perhaps not – but you know what I mean).  Shuttling from one office to another, and waiting around, and before I knew it they were opening the crate, and there was Idris in tip top condition.  While the extra week has been a bit frustrating, you have to give James Cargo their credit – they sure know how to pack a bike.  A satisfying bark, backfire, and the thumper roared into life.  Nice!  A bit more paperwork, payment, and handshakes from the nice customs chap and I was on the road.  As it turned out Sandra´s directions back were perfect, and the rush hour traffic had eased back to only major congestion, as opposed to manic gridlock.   35 minutes later i was back at Dakar Motos chatting to the guys and asking Javier if he could wield his much experience in Idris´ direction to finish off a few things I was unable to get to.

Andrew and Ben from Taz (and me)

While Javier rolled up his sleeves, I was back in the city centre sorting out the insurance for most of the South American counties I will be visiting (and some that I´m not – same price), getting to the bank, picking up a few last minute supplies, and making a call on the great people at the British Council in BA.  

Then back at DM, it was time to pack and have a few beers with the guys, ready for the off the next morning.  


Thought for the day
Today I have mainly been thinking about packing, the bike, and the route.  To be honest I have not managed to process any other issues that may have sprung to mind.  How very thoughtless of me!