The End of the World

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?

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