The Carretera Austral and nearly the end of the road.

The Good News


Always good to start with the good news I think - Ushuaia, what a disappointment. It my be the most southerly city in the world and the start point of overland and Antarctica journeys, but it has little else going for it. Over priced, rough around the edges and staffed by people who know you have no option by to pay up or get out – it could almost be London. So after two rain and sleet sodden days I was glad to head out of Dodge and start the real journey – To Alaska! There are going to be more miles than I first expected, the best estimate at present is that I have 24,000 miles to go, on top of the 4000 or so already completed, quiet amazing when you think the circumference of the planet is only 24,000 miles.

I had a few days rest in the town of Rio Grande, an opportunity to check the bike over and get some laundry done, there are some long days riding ahead and I want everything feeling right. The group is all going it separate ways from this point, most are heading towards Buenos Aires, while Axel and I are going to travel onwards together, as we are both hoping to be in Colombia for the end of February, when we know we can catch a boat over to Panama, an old sailing boat that takes 6 days to do the crossing and stops off at various islands in the Caribbean along the way. Right now in windy Patagonia and no doubt Europe that sounds like absolute heaven, but it’s a long way from here and there will be many bridges to cross before that will be a reality.

We left the island of Tierra del Fuego, which is divided in half by Chile and Argentina, crossing the Magellan Straits at its closest point to the mainland by the ferry service that was much shorter than the 3 hours on the way over. On the mainland we discovered an almost ghost town settlement , the remains of an old Estancia and its wool mills straddling the coast. To add to the eerie ambiance, there were the rusting hulks of two shipwrecks on the shore, it was the perfect Patagonian scene and a photographers dream. We set up camp in a nearby wood and waited for sunset to get the best light. If there is anything I will remember Patagonia for, its skies. Vast expanses , uninterrupted for more miles than you can calculate, with every conceivable cloud formation present at the same time. But tonight we were treated to a fantastic light show, the likes of I have never seen before, as the sky seemed to glow with effervescent light as the sun past towards the horizon. There was an almost magical glow to the sky, I hope that my photos do it at least some justice, it will certainly live with me for many years.

Once back across the border in to Argentina we hit the Ruta 3, which is the main artery back up to BA. Argentina has, I’m afraid to say, a lot of very dull and uninteresting landscape, flat desert like country, with nothing to keep you interested in your many hours in the saddle, except the omnipresent side wind that roars across the plans, brought down from the Andes hundreds of miles way by the rising air of the desert and always trying to blow you off the road. Passing through windblown town after windblown town, you have to wonder what brought people here in the first place, its dry, barren with ill tempered weather, what was the attraction, work, land, money, who knows, I was just pleased to be only passing through. We only took one detour, to the town of Pueto Santa Cruz, to photograph the penguin that live on the beach, there are friendly little fellows and allow you to get quite close before seeking safety in the water.

We entered Chile again at the town of Chile Chico on the banks of South Americas largest lake, Lago General Carrera and without doubt the most stunning lake I have ever seen. Not only is it huge, but its colour of iridescent turquoise and surrounded by snow capped mountains make it striking in beauty. The road around it was at dirt, but good riding, and even with this it still took us 2 days to ride only half way around it – finally we were on the Carretera Austral, Chile’s answer to all the great road trips of the world. 10 years in the building during the rein of the dictator Pinochet in an attempt to link the whole of Chile, in part he succeeded. The road is cut through tree covered and snow capped mountains, next to roaring rivers and isolated farmhouses. Until this road was built in the 1980`s the only form of transport was the horse and for many people that has remained the same today. Cattle being driven down the road by Gauchos is a common site, however the site of a few very large heffers getting extremely close to your bike is none to reassuring. We had one day of rain - which whilst not good for the scenery, came as a reminder of how quick the weather can change in this part of the world – on the way to the state capital of Coyhaique. I frontier town set on a plan surrounded by the towering mountains and a hotch potch of buildings and perhaps the best supermarket I have seen in months. After 7 days in the saddle the chance for a rest and to dry out the gear was welcome. A day here was enough and we headed back out on to the Carretera, just in time for the skies to open and get another drenching. We sort shelter in a small fishing town in a hovel of a guest house with a hype active Senora at its helm, who bombarded us with Spanish even when we repeatedly informed her that we only spoke the basics and who chased us around with a dust pan and brush in case we dropped any dirt on the floor!

The next day started bright and sunny, so we loaded the bikes and hit the road, all was good for the first 35 miles, then the rain started, gentle drizzle at first, but the clouds grow more dense and more menacing as the road climbed in to the mountains, finally realising there contents upon us as we rode through tight valleys bursting with waterfalls, crystal clear streams and lush plant life. I though we had done the worse of it as we rode over a beautiful mountain pass, flanked by glaciers on both side, then as we descended, rain fell and the wind blow a howler, branches and leaves whistled passed our heads and small rivers formed on the road, this was defiantly not what I had signed up for.

The road turned to mixture of slick mud, shale and rock and by Christ it was cold. The road trailed next to a Fjord with Salmon farms stretched along its length and at its end a small town that looked like an oasis in a desert and the thought of a roaring fire and a hot chocolate was in sight. That is if you can find anything open, never a certainty in this part of the world. Of course the towns most expensive hotel was open and at this point I didn’t care, I just wanted to get out of this appalling weather.

Safely inside we squeezed the water out of our riding gear and put our feet up in front of an open log fire, as for the hot chocolate, no chance, our host was a frumpy old German battle-axe of a women, who looked like she had been born with a lemon in her mouth and upset to see the demise of national socialism.

The following day brought only slightly better weather as we continued along the Carretera Austral, and enjoy the limited view of the scenery that the breaks in the clouds permitted. The road started to have a lot more large stones and this was causing problems for me with my mainly road tyres . We stayed at the town La Junta, just to get out of the rain, a dank little town of rotting wooden houses , with roads made of mud and big puddles, it was a shear delight to stay in!

By the next day we at last had some blue sky and rode through the last of the CA as we were due to turn off towards the Futaleufu valley and over in to Argentina the following day. Chilean Patagonia is without doubt one of the prettiest places on earth, but the one of the reasons for this is the is the huge amount of rain that it receives and unfortunately we caught it at one of those times you just couldn't escape it, but I would definitely like to come back at some stage , rent a house and go fishing in the pristine lakes and rivers that are everywhere.

We rode up the Futa valley , at last dry and followed the banks of one of South Americas most famous white water rivers, gushing dark azul blue through the valley and frothing white over the rocks and trees that litter its course. When spent the night at a friends house and enjoyed a great home cooked meal with a few bottles of Chilean red and being molested by his month old puppy ,Princessa.

Back in to Argentina we were back on paved roads, for what seemed an age, so we opened up the throttles and eat up some mileage, covering 500 miles, through the lake district, to the town of Junin de los Andes, arriving at 10.30pm and in need of a good nights sleep. The following day was the 24th, so I hooked up to the internet and did some important calls, obviously if I did not call you that speaks for its self! We had a slap up BBQ than night at our campsite by a river and went to bed early as we wanted to push on the following day.

What a way to spend Christmas Day, than riding your bike in perfect clear sunshine on totally empty roads? Well I can think of quite a few actually, but given the circumstances it was a pretty cool day. So Christmas night was spent at a dusty hole of a town called Chos Malal, I doubt it will ever win an prizes from a tourist board, I assure you I don't intend to spend my next Xmas night in such a place.

And the bad news

The 26th of December brought another big mileage day as we wanted to make it through to Mendoza, as this has the only BMW dealer until I reach central America and the old girl needs some TLC after all I have put her through. It was getting late in the day and we had another 2 hour to go, I didn`t even have time to break when I dog ran across the road and I hit it square on. The dog went straight to doggy heaven and the next thing I knew I was sliding along on my back watching my bike sliding on its right hand side before the tyres caught the road and it somersaulted in a great cloud of dust.

Fortunately I always wear body armour, which at times seems over kill, but now I know it is worth wearing, as after sliding down the road from around 50 or 60mph I only had a scratch on my elbow, nothing else, but even now I think myself lucky, it could have been so much worse, I used up one of my lives yesterday, my shirt was ripped to shreds, but all my safety gear did exactly what it is supposed to do and I quietly thanked myself for investing in good equipment. I still bounce quite well for an old man.

The bike however looked a mess , everything has a dent , scratch or tear on it, one pannier was hanging off, the handle bars had bent in to the fuel tank and the clutch master cylinder was ripped off. Put it this way, it will take more than a can of T-Cut to make her look new again. The Police came along and asked to see my passport and if I wanted to go to hospital, but as nothing was hanging off of me I thought better of going to rural Argy hospital.

A kindly local offered to take the bike on to our destination, so we sent about loading the very bent bike on to an ancient Dodge pick up.The whole thing caused an absolute stir with the local, for whom it was more likely the biggest event all year. Bike loaded we set off for Mendoza again, me in the pick-up and Axel following behind, by this time the adrenaline had worn off and the reality did kick in of how close you are to danger all the time riding a bike and the more miles you do the narrower the odds become, but that has always been the case and its one of the reasons I ride bikes, its a strange mixture of fun and fear and there are few things in life that give you the freedom of two wheels.

The journey was not straight forward as this is South America, the old Dodge was clearly getting on its last legs and half way in to town the thing just packed up, I had visions of being stranded yet again with a fucked bike and a broken down truck. However a bit of fiddling with the extremely dangerous looking electrics got us moving again and we limped in to town arriving at our hostel at midnight, from a start of 8 am, not the Boxing day I want next year either.

I have been stripping her down today to see what the actual damage is beyond the cosmetic and at the moment I am surprised at how well the bike has dealt with such abuse. I am having it picked up by the BMW dealer on Monday for a proper assessment, but with luck it will not be too painful and the journey will continue.

Happy 2009 and my it be better for us all, hasta luego.

Arriving in Ushuaia - the end of the world!

After just over 4000 miles I have eventually arrived in Ushuaia, the most southerly city in the world! The route here has been on the legendary Ruta 40, legendary because its nearly all dirt road, rough and through the wind swept plans of Argentinian patagonia and when I say wind swept you have to reconsider what you believe to be windy. Patagonia is famous for its constant winds that howl down off the Andes mountains, as I have been heading south, this means a constant strong cross wind, that at times is bordering on the violent. Most nights I have been camping out as they have great camping facilities hear in Argentina and in neighbouring Chile, which I have just spent a few days in. I have been graced with great weather, so it has been a pleasure to do so, the nights have become longer as I have progressed south and its now light until past 11pm.

The riding has been at times quite slow as I try to manhandle my 325kg beast over the rock strewn roads, but the toughest days riding was left to the last day on Ruta 40, when the wind really picked up to gale force. The weather down here is totally unpredictable and I woke to the sounds of my tent flapping loudly in the wind. I had camped that night at an Estancia, which are small farms where you can spend the night; get some food, shelter and a shower. It was built in a hollow, but even that couldn’t protect it from the elements today. I was riding with Axel and we both headed out with a certain trepidation that morning as it was a 300km ride to the next town of El Chalten, the home of the Fitzoy mountains, a range of spires standing 2500 meters proud of the surrounding land.

The wind pushed the bikes with such force that it was easy to end up on the wrong side of the road. Normally you can just steer against this, but with loose stones under your tyres this felt like riding on marbles. To make matters worse, 4x4 that and trucks make deep piles of stones that you have to ride between and if you get blown in to these, there is a very good chance of coming off, not something you want to do in the middle of now where, with no medical facilities or replacement parts for hundreds of miles.

180km took us 7 hours and we were both exhausted by the relentless wind, even when which made stopping difficult as there was a real chance of the bikes being blown off there stands. We arrived at the dust blown town of Tres Lagos where we could refuel with petrol and some extremely over priced food, but at this point I really didn’t care, I just wanted a feed and to get out of the wind. It felt like pure bliss just not to have your body battered by the elements and relax for a while. We felt so comfy in that dust fuel stop that we took an hour and a half just eating empanadas and drinking coffee, god it felt good.

We now had 120km to go on sealed tarmac, which felt like pure heaven, we open up the bikes and relaxed – but not for long. The wind was still strong, but much easier to handle on tar. As we rode along, the elements had a few more surprises to throw at us, as we saw the sky darken and the temperature dropped rapidly as we headed in to the mountains and towards the glaciers. First it rained and finally sleeting, this was such a vast contrast to the dry almost dessert landscape that we had ridden through for the rest of the day. We arrived in to town shivering and extremely keen to get in to a warm guesthouse. Options were limited, but any port in a storm. A hot shower and some good pizza is a great way to make you feel better and put the days efforts behind you, we where both broken from the day though, I would put the mental and physical efforts of today up there with an ride I have ever done. As we made our way back to the guesthouse it began to snow properly – Patagonia, all the seasons in one day.

After a days rest we hiked up to see the spires of Fitzroy, beautiful granite formations surrounded by eerie looking dry forest full of weather beaten trees that grow in the direction of the fierce wind, run though with crystal clear streams that are feed from the glaciers that are still shaping the surrounding mountains. Hiking is not a form of exercise that I enjoy, even though I love my exercise and you are surrounded by great nature, I just don’t enjoy the sensation or effort of it, so after 4 hours of upward effort I resolved to make this my last hike. After taking a shed load of photos, we started our hike down, which was made increasingly difficult, as I seemed to have a sharp pain in my left shin, which got steadily worse as I descended. It ended up taking me 5 hours to hobble down, with each step making my resolve to never hike again more ingrained. Naked and sore I easy the pain with some quality Argentinean whisky, a pleasure never to be missed, that is said with extreme sarcasum.

On the way out of town we meet up with Martin and Lauren, who ridden in a different direction to get some work done on their bike. There had hooked up with 3 Ozzies riding on Kawasaki 650`s. We had a catch up and all headed out of town towards El Calafate and the giant glacier of Perito Moreno, 6 bikes and 8 people, it was all becoming quite a road train. Perito Moreno is 30km long, 5km wide and 60 metres high, but what makes it exceptional in the world of ice is its constant advance – up to 2m per day , causing building-sized icebergs to calve from its face. This is not just a sight for the eyes, but also an experience for the ears as the ice cracks and groans in front of you, all shades of blue and white mixed together as the unstoppable force of nature is working in front of you, it is truly a beautiful sight to behold and makes you consummately aware of how insignificant we are and how short our lives are in the scheme of time as ice that is thousands of years old floats of in the lake.

Our road train then headed for Chile and the Parque National Torres del Paine, home to yet more beautiful granite towers of the Andes, these are the mountains that you will see in every ,magazine article on Patagonia, shaped like the teeth of a giant saw, there stand at 10,000 ft, while you stare up at them from 150ft, quite impressive.

No hiking for me as my leg had become worse from the previous efforts and had swollen badly, causing me to have to change gear with my heel as I could not flex my foot. Kate, out team physio diagnosed it as a inflamed muscle tendor connection and I was ordered to rest with my foot elevated, I had no problem with this , as the other hiked off, I relax with a book in the sun and feeling the energy from the surrounding wilderness. The Torres dominate the surrounding area and every where you ride you can seen then standing high above the land, snow capped in the sunshine and reflecting in the mirror like lakes.

Next stop was the port town of Puerto Natales and my first glimpse of the sea for quite a time. We treated out selves to some drinks in the town’s only boutique hotel, with great views over the sound and a glorious sunset, a contrast to our wind campsite. We made our way to Punta Arenas to catch the ferry across the Straits of Magellan to the island of Tierra del Fuego, to be told that the ferry was sold out for the next 4 days, we could however try to hang out at the dock and see it we could get a cancellation fro the evening crossing. Six bikes don’t take up too much room even with panniers and tents and bags, so we managed to squeeze on board for the 3 hour crossing of one of the roughest stretches of water in the world. Lady luck was shinning on us that evening and we sailed across smooth open water with out incident, arriving on the bleak island as the sun started to sink glowing orange and red. For such a harsh environment, the people live in extremely flimsy house, constructed of nothing more than corrugated tin and hardboard, with only single glazed windows and ill fitting doors that let in every draft, god knows what its like in winter when you have to survive constant gails and freezing temperatures, then get up in the morning to head out to sea, it makes you appreciate how easy we have back in England and other western nations.

The following day we crossed the island on dirt road that hugged the rugged coast line, air fresh with the smell of the sea, shingle beached with shanty style huts and fishing boats pulled up high to stop the sea pulling them back to the surf. It was surprisingly warm and we where blessed with a tail wind that made riding easy and enjoyable. We crossed the border to the Argentinean side of the island, where everything is at least 30% cheaper and spent the night in the industrial town of Rio Grande at a great hostel. The others camped in the gardens, but I needed a bed tonight, so crashed in a dorm, that I had to myself, its amazing how luxurious this scant room seemed, £8 well spent to have a mattress and a warm blanket and no tent flapping all night. The hostel had a huge kitchen and we did a communal spaghetti Bolognese, always an easy way to entertain the troops.

Leaving town we where hooted and cheered by locals as our train of bikes headed out towards Ushuaia, for some of us it is our final destination, for some mid way and for me and Axel, just the starting point, as we are both heading to North America. The Argentinean side of TDF is very different to the Chilean side, which is barren , flat and treeless, we were now surrounded by tree-covered mountain, more reminiscent of Canada than anything I had seen so far. We headed through the mountains on lovely paved roads all excited to be reaching a huge milestone – Ushuaia, the world’s most southerly city – and a mecca for overland travellers that drive and ride across the Americas.

At the entrance to town there is a large wooden sign informing you of such, which I am sure features in everyone journey photo album. We stopped for the obligatory photo shoot then headed in to this town that is the starting point for any one venturing over to the Antarctica on the many vessels that now ply these waters. Its might be the most southerly city in the world, however is has little else going for it, windswept and over priced is really a better description, however, it is cause for celebration and after finding our campsite – yes I am camping in the southern most city in the world, little option actually as all the hostels are full – we cracked open some ice cold beers and sat in the sun overlooking the Beagle Channel, where Charles Darwin first sail up over two hundred years previous.

I feel relieved to finally be here, but this is literal the start of my journey, from now on its all north and a long long way. I’m sitting currently in a warm café, as it has rained all night and the forecast is the same for tomorrow, not the best thing when in a tent or a motorbike or you desperately need to do some laundry and I do. We are planning a big feast tonight in out camp kitchen and some red wine to keep out the chill, while dreaming of sun soaked beached in distant lands.

As I finish writing this, it has just started to snow – bollocks!