The Long Road Home

Our trip officially ended in the parking lot of the Argentinian equivalent of Walmart on Saturday March 14, 2009 at 5:46 p.m. After traversing the most spectacular and difficult terrain on earth Marty and I ended up lost in Lanus, Argentina on a Saturday afternoon and took refuge in the Carrefour parking lot. But don't cry for me Argentina, we had a friend come and lead us safely to her house in Lanus Oeste and declared the ride successfully completed. My odometer reads 23,721 miles, for a total trip of 16,768 miles or about a zillion kilometers.

The last couple of weeks have been stressful because we finally had the major breakdown we knew would come. On March 2 the fuel pump on Marty's bike just died 56 km south of Cerro Sombrero, Chile on the Island of Tierra Del Fuego. There are more remote and inconvenient places to break down I am sure, but I can't name any!! The motorcycle just died in the middle of the dirt road. We were able to push it onto an estancia and get it out of the wind in a little sheep shed.

The nice thing about Patagonia is people will actually help you. So we waived down a passing truck, got a ride into Cerro Sombrero, and the local hotel operator arranged for a guy with a truck to help us fetch the broken bike and haul it more than 200 miles to Punta Arenas. This trip would take two days and involve a ferry crossing across the Straights of Magellan.

We tested things in the sheepshed and originally thought it was the fuel pump on Monday. And a mechanic reinforced the diagnosis on Thursday. So we had been broken down for 3 full days by time we could even start to order parts. Let me say up front that the BMW dealer in Santiago was not helpful at all. If I have the chance to avoid doing business with Williams and Balfour again I will relish it. They charged $1000 for a $300 part that should not have broken in the first place, then failed to ship it. Their excuse was that they needed the original credit card. It was necessary in the end to have a friend in Santiago go to their office, pay them cash and arrange shipping. By the time it was all said and done the part arrived 4 days late on Tuesday afternoon. The only saving feature of this episode is that the part was in Chile.

By now our mechanic was out of town. So I installed the new pump and prayed that it was the real problem. It was. We had just enough battery left to crank the engine and get it to turn over. Elated is the only way to describe the feeling when the engine thumped back to life.

So the last four days of the trip took two weeks. The winds of Patagonia are now behind me. I haven't seen a Guanaco ( South American Camel) for 6 days now. The climate and landscape changed about 800 miles ago, and the end of the earth is now behind me.

We are going to ship the bikes tomorrow. They have lost that new look, but today we did bring them to the car wash to remove the protective layer of grime, sand, and dust that has held them together for the past four months. I also discovered some cracks in places there should not be cracks. And I have started the list of repairs that will be needed when we get back to Omaha.

So that's the trip, unless I get hit by a bus on the way to the port tomorrow to crate the machines.

Fritz

Tierra Del Fuego

It is 14955 miles from Buchanan’s BP at 82nd and Dodge in Omaha to the Yakush Hostel in downtown Ushuaia Argentina at the tip of South America, plus a few air miles between Panama City and Bogotá. Ushuaia is the end of the road, in all respects. In theory one can get across the Beagle Channel to Puerto William Chile to go further south. That’s the theory. But there is no ferry to take vehicles.

We crossed from Punta Arenas Chile on the mainland by ferry to the island of Tierra del Fuego. It is a two hour trip across the Straights of Magellan at this point. The island is cut in half and shared by Chile and Argentina. So you can’t get to Argentina without going through Chile. We started out crossing the island at Porvenir Chile.

All of the roads on the Chilean side are what is termed “ripio”. This is not Iowa gravel. It is rocks embedded in packed soil with a cobble stone effect. In other places it is just packed dirt that turns to a mud rut. Still other places are piles of loose gravel on top of hard stone. I think they call it ripio for what it does to tires. It shaves the rubber right off. Anyway, we crossed over 120 miles of dirt and gravel to get to Argentina. The northern part of the island is identical to the Nebraska sand hills. The bottom 100 miles is forest and mountains. And it is cold. Both Chile and Argentina include their Antarctic territory in Tierra Del Fuego. It is also summer here, but you could fool me. It was 30 degrees F when we arrive in Ushuaia on Thursday the 27 of February. So I guess it makes sense to include this place with Antarctica when it is only 750 miles away.

We spent some time just enjoying the fact that we had made the journey. In some ways we were relieved, but a little depressed too. It is kind of like the last day of summer camp. But the national park at the end of the trail is worth it. On Friday We got the mandatory photos and headed for the Hostel. The next day we took a boat trip out into the Beagle Channel. Cold again, but worth it.

When we woke up on Sunday guess what? Yeah- it was cold. Real cold. In fact, it was spitting snow when we pulled out of Ushuaia and headed to the sunny north on March 1. Well it was the sunny north for about 10 minutes. The rest of the day it was cold!! I could have ridden across the sand hills in December and had the same experience, except for unforgettable mountains, and the Atlantic Ocean. Details, details.

Tonight as I write this blog we are at San Sebastian on the Chilean side of the island. There is a small Inn here. We are the only guests. Marty bought a bottle of wine and is sharing it with the owner and the cook as I write. The lights come on at 8 pm, because that is when they start the generator. Before that we sat around the wood stove and gas lights. The wind is howling just as it has for the last week. And it is hard to leave this cold place.

Tomorrow is another 100 plus miles of dirt in the unrelenting wind. It pushes motorcycles around on the road as it they were riding on ball bearings. From time to time we get stuck in a rut. We have learned that when one is in a rut, stay in the rut. When one tries to jump out of a rut in the wind, the result is a sliding twisting motorcycle. So the riding is the same as going down a single track trail, except trucks come barreling down on us on occasion.

Anyway – we made it to the end of the continent, the end of the island, and the end of the road. I am tired and cold, but not ready to come home. I will warm up on my way to Buenos Aires and give another report.

PS After I wrote this we broke down an hour North of San Sebastian on a desolate stretch of dirt. That post will follow when we get Marty’s bike repaired – someday.

Fritz

Magnificent National Parks

Both Argentina and Chile have done a great job when it comes to preserving their outstanding landscapes in national parks. We visited the two most spectaculat ones, Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentina, and Torres del Paine in Chile.

Perito Moreno Glacier is nice because it is located near the town of El Calafate. El Calefate is the equivalent of Jackson Hole. It is loaded with shops, restuarants and hotels. And it is windy. It is so windy that we had to take care parking the bikes so that they would not be blown over.

Our visit to the glacier was terrific because we were able to see large chunks of it calving. And we were able to capture on event in photos.

After 2 days in Calafate we headed down the dirt again and crossed the border at Cerro Castillo. This border crossing was about as out of the way as posible. When we arrived at the Argentine side to check out we had to wait 10 minutes. We had to wait not because of traffic or the crush of visitors. We had to wait because the border guards were playing the customs agents it a ping pong death match. Yeah – you got it. The entire staff at the border were playing high stakes ping pong. And we dared not disturb them lest our papers be rejected. It looked to me like the border police won the match.

Another 2 hours down the dirt track lies the magnificent Torres del Paine national park. This is the premier national park in Chile, and is the most spectaculat in all of South America. It is not at all like a US national park. One cannot just drive up there. Although we were able to drive our motorcycles into the park as far as the base hostel, most access is by foot. This is not Mount Rushmore. If you think you can just drive up, pay the park fee, pull into the parking lot, and take a short walk to the outlook for photos—forget it.

Thousands of people trek the park every year on trips of 3 to 7 days. It is a full day climb to the torres for which the park is named. The park is not handicap or elderly accessable. And if you have a heart condition, this is not the place for you. Marty and I climbed to the torres. My legs hurt for 2 days after the feat. But it was worth it, even thought I may never walk again. There are 3 or 4 treks taking about 5 days. The place is loaded with backpackers of every age from around the world, with a large number of Europeans. Marty and I stood out as “Real ‘Mericans” because we clammered up the mountain in our blue jeans and biker stuff. In fact we fashioned a back pack out of a tank bag with BMW tie downs for shoulder staps. Next time I have got to get some real climbing boots and at least one piece of clothing with “Marmot” on it. Marty makes a good mule for hauling things up a mountain.

Both parks are on the backpacker trail for good reason. They are worth it.

Fritz