Month: February 2018

25 February, 2018 – El Calafate to Perito Moreno Glacier and backvia motorcycle, 152 km / 95 miles – 0-minute read

I hadn’t planned on posting today, it being Sunday… but we drove to see this today:

24 February, 2018 – Rio Gallegos to El Calafate via motorcycle, 305 km / 190 miles – 3-minute read

Well, the day wasn’t quite as expected. But perhaps it should have been – expected, that is. I should have expected the wind.

In Ushuaia we saw a t-shirt with a road sign of a palm tree blowing sideways, like in a gale force wind. We laughed, thinking that most of our windy days were behind us. I expected the wind to abate as we headed to the mountains. But under the sign was a town name: El Calafate. In the mountains. Where we were headed today.

And it was windy, windier than we’ve experienced since north of Cordoba. Windy enough that I rode the side of the bike, keeping it at a crazy angle on the road to keep straight.

But, at the end, it was also beautiful. We came across a ridge to see a green, glacier-fed lake spread before the snowy peaks – we’ve arrived in the Patagonia mountains. And tomorrow, I hope, we’ll be seeing a glacier, too.

Coffee and steak and the prospect of an easy day and a glacier — these make for a good morning. Today we plan to drive just to Calafate, where I expect to get in by 3 p.m., and then drive on to Perito Moreno glacier. Today is going to be a good day. It already is.

23 February, 2018 – Ushuaia to Rio Gallegos via motorcycle, 580 km / 360 miles, plus two border crossings and a ferry ride – 1-minute read

I’m pushing myself to extra caution this morning, reminding myself to go slowly, double check every move. I’m elated – and I know now would be the easiest time for a careless accident. After perceiving victory is the time to avoid a true defeat. Sun tzu? I don’t know where it came from. But I’ll use it today.

That was this morning; I’m happy to say that today was without accident. We traveled all the way back to Rio Gallegos, where were greeted and embraced by Victor, the apartment renter cum friend. It was like coming home.

Today was amazing; I felt light, with the weight of my 2.5 year journey at rest. Today was just a ride. If something happens and we have to haul the bike, it’s okay; leave it, heartbreaking, but okay, too. I can let this demon – the panamerican -rest.

I have some big decisions coming up over the next few months, but for today, I’m glad to be taking a break from traveling. We were lucky enough to book a Piratour penguin watching trip, the only one in Ushuaia that allows you to walk on the island with the birds. Well worth spending an extra day in town, and the $160 each for the afternoon – where else could I walk within a few feet of a thousand laughing penguins?

And tomorrow we plan to ride all the way back to Rio Gallegos, 8 hours of riding, two border crossings and a ferry ride. But if we can make it, then the day after we’ll get to visit the Perito Moreno glacier outside of El Calafate; the journey continues. And so I must sleep now.

We made it. We made it. We made it. Somehow I don’t feel the reality of it. We had to go back to the sign twice; the first time we forgot to get a picture of us together. The second time at the “end of the road” sign felt more real, yet… the trip isn’t over yet. But now we’ll be heading north.

In the morning we road through the last of the Tierra del Fuego road, up into the mountains with excitement building. At the signposts entering Ushuaia we stopped for a victory moment, then realized we still weren’t quite through.

Later, in the park, we visited the last post office, a tiny shop run by an aging old man who was carefully sweeping the floors when I entered. Out of the wind, the small stove warmed the wooden building, which jutted out over the bay. A placard inside with the distance to Alaska and a motorcycle silhouette seemed to perfect, and is now one of the few souvenirs of our PanAmerican Highway journey.

On the way back we stopped at a lake, looking out and eating a small picnic, our celebration. The past three years have been focused on this trip, and now, except for a small ride back up to Santiago for us to fly out, the trip is done.

Three years; in a way, almost six years have been focused on this, ever since my friend planted the seed of this crazy adventure. I’m grateful, and a little apprehensive. What’s next?

And then, suddenly, we arrived.

20 February, 2018 – Rio Gallegos to Rio Grande via motorcycle, 376 km / 234 miles, two border crossings and a ferry ride – 3-minute read

I can’t believe we’re in Tierra del Fuego. Some part of me felt like I’d never finish this crazy trip, like maybe it wasn’t worth it, or that something would come up to prevent it. Of course, I’m not in Ushuaia yet.

We made good time today, considering we crossed two borders, the Strait of Magellan (via Ferry), and about 30 miles of unpaved road. Our time was definitely helped by the fact that we didn’t stop for lunch, due solely to the fact that there was nowhere to stop for lunch.

At the first border we met a Brazilian woman traveling solo on a Yamaha Tenere, a bike just a little smaller than mine. Impressive. She and we met up a few other places throughout the day: at a fuel station, the ferry, and, through chance, at the diner where we had dinner. We could communicate little in the overlap of our Spanish, but it’s great to talk to someone on the same leg of a pilgrimage.

The newly-washed air filter is functioning beautifully, and I was back up to 13 miles per liter on today’s second tank of gas. (Miles per liter is an economy measurement specific to those traveling with American analog bikes in foreign countries, I suspect.) And I had some company installing the filter this morning; the owner of last night’s “apart-hotel” came out to chat.

Victor is a deeply genuine man, older, living in Rio Grande. The wifi password to our internet last night was his granddaughter’s name and birthday, and his eyes gleamed brightly as he told me. This morning, saying goodbye, was tearing, somehow, the way it is when you find someone who really cares about you, just because you’re human. He told us unequivocally to call him if we had any trouble here, and he would drive his pickup out to find us.

And that’s it for today. I’m in a comfortable hotel room this evening, looking forward to a short 160 miles tomorrow to arrive at Ushuaia, southernmost city in the world.

19 February, 2018 – Puerto San Julian to Rio Gallegos via motorcycle, 360 km / 224 miles – 3-minute read

I’d wondered if we would have a perfect day between the insufferable heat of Buenos Aires’ summer and the bitterness of Ushuaia’s perpetual cold. Yesterday morning was it – that beautiful balance of heat and cold with no rain. Amazing blue sky littered with woolen clouds, desert air around us and the many guanacos. In the afternoon, it rained. Today, we wore our rain gear, braced against both rain and cold; tomorrow we’ll be adding our insulated vests, too. Transitions are quick heading on longitudes.

After finishing up my work Saturday evening, I’ve begun to settle into this section of travel as a mini vacation, not feeling the pressure of client expectations, and allowing myself to drift into daydreams as the miles go by.

In Puerto San Julian is a replica of the Nao Victoria, Magellan’s ship, and the first to travel all the way around the world. I’ve read about the ship since I was a child with single-digit birthdays; my sister’s and I would pretend we followed the same explorations while “sailing” cardboard boxes around the living room.

The boat was small – about 65 feet long – and boarding it, walking around, picturing the 40+ person crew going about their dailly business, was amazing. I forget that most of what I know of old sailing ships comes from later voyages, British sailing culture from the early 1800s, more than 200 years after the Victoria‘s voyage took place. Seeing what the men on board went through, pre-steering wheel, and in such tight quarters, really makes me feel like all my trips are essentially like riding around on cotton candy.

Even besides the amazing replica tour, yesterday was spectacular. As we rode along the seaside, we came across a beach packed with Patagonian sea lions all laid out on top of one another, with the occasional bark of scratching males and the young swimming playfully through the coastal waters. A bit further along was a pond off to the right, where wild pink flamingos stood lazily, and occasionally flew low over the water flashing their brighter shades. And near our hotel was a water lowland filled with gulls, sandpipers and terns. Beautiful.

Today was less filled with wildlife, though we did come across many, many, many guanacos. They seem less smart today, not moving as large trucks went by, and occasionally even springing across, panicked, before them. I’ll definitely be watching for them.

The road was desolate today, and when the gas station we stopped at late this morning only took cash, I decided to wait for the next, because, hey, I’d only used 80 miles off the new tank. That wasn’t my best decision of the day, and when I switched to reserve at 185 miles, knowing we still had 40 to go, my nerves definitely began to fray.  We didn’t see another gas station – or anything else – till our destination town. I don’t know how many more kilometers we would have had on the tank, but I was immensely relieved to see a YPF when we arrived in Rio Gallegos.

I finally pulled the air filter off for cleaning this evening, which was surprisingly easy, and shockingly dirty, with flakes oily black dirt coming off the surface like scales. Before I began this trip I really should have learned about the basic maintenance required for the bike to run well; but then again, I do most things this way, leaping and trying to find a landing place while in the air, and so far my life has been more interesting for it.

Tomorrow and the day after will be wrapping up our southern trip. With a ferry and two border crossings, tomorrow will be intense and long, but I’m hoping for an easy day on Wednesday with a mid-day arrival into Ushuaia. I’ve bought a large bottle of Patagonia Kulnes ale in anticipation of a celebration there.

So…rest from writing, and: 18 February, 2018 – Comodoro Rivadavia to Puerto San Julian via motorcycle, 432 km / 268 miles – 0-minute read