Thursday Nov. 22, 2007
While working on my last update in San Rafael I was lucky enough to meet some very nice people. One of them was Javier Cano who worked at his father's marble and granite countertop shop. They were both motorcyclists and Javier had even ridden alone through the US not long ago, so we had plenty to talk about. But Javier didn't sit still for long and before I knew it I was camping at a friends place near a lake created by a dam on the Atuel river in Valle Grande about 50 kms (31 mi) out of town. It was not only a welcomed change from my month-long pit-stop in San Rafael, but also my first experience of a true Argentine custom; the asado. That's where a whole lot of beef is cooked slowly over wood coals (no flames), resulting in one of the most delicious meats I've ever tasted.
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My luck continued when I realized that Juan Carlos Renteria, the owner of a BMW GS1200 parked at the small local store and restaurant was also the owner of the businesses. He plied me a cold beer to hear about my trip and his son Diego offered me a free rafting trip down the river the next day that I couldn't refuse. It was quickly becoming clear to me that the curiosity and hospitality of the average Argentinian was something I hadn't experienced since Colombia.
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After my nice weekend break at Valle Grande I returned to San Rafael one last time to finish my update when George Staudohar, a retired US American, approached me at my office (an irresistible ice cream shop with WIFI Internet) and started talking motos. It didn't take long to realize that George also had several travel tales and that our short visit over an ice cream cone wasn't going to be enough. It took another lunch and wonderful home-made traditional American steak and potatoes dinner visit with his family to fully satisfy George's curiosity.
From there it was north to the beautiful city of Mendoza for a night where I had planned to meet fellow motorider Jeff Harth who'd invited me to visit if I was ever in the area. Jeff is from the states and has relocated to this beautiful little part of the world to lead a more relaxed lifestyle. With his 'motorcycle riding classes and screenplay writing jobs to pay for beer' attitude it seems to me that he's off to a good start.
The next day while riding towards the border I passed Cerro Aconcagua, Argentina, which at 6,959 m (22,833 ft) is the highest mountain in South America. I crossed the beautiful snow-capped Andes at 3,200 m (10,499 ft) into Chile. However, things were very different at this border. I saw a sign half-way through a long tunnel that passed completely through a huge mountain saying welcome to Chile, but there were several kilometers between the actual border crossing offices, leaving me wondering what country I was actually in while I was between them.
And just to make things interesting, the Chilean border officials were on strike and had closed their side of the border, with only rumors as to when it might open again. I waited for about 3-hours and even considered the chilly option of camping right there for the night rather than ride the 4-hours back to Mendoza, but at 5 pm it opened. I almost felt guilty passing several kilometers of transport trucks lined up along the twisty mountain highway in the twilight zone between borders. At first I felt lucky to be one of the first through, but was quickly brought back to reality to see the nervous Chilean officials thoroughly searching every vehicle. They had me open every bag on the bike and wait while a drug-sniffing dog checked things out. I felt a little better when I saw them empty entire cars and busses and search every bag they had too. Perhaps this was not the norm and they were only trying to slow the flow of traffic to emphasis the importance of their positions and their strike, but I had a hard time feeling compassionate for their plea while they confiscated some of my road food including raisins, pepperoni and unsalted peanuts.
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Because of my late border crossing I was not able to get to Santiago before dark and so decided to camp in a small town in the beautiful countryside about an hour north of the city. The next morning I followed some bad GPS coordinates I'd been given into this huge, modern city that made me feel as if I were in the US. I spent 4-hours searching for the Suzuki dealership I'd ordered a couple of parts from. When I finally got to little Grunwald Suzuki I was simply expecting to pickup my parts and keep rolling right out of this expensive city. Once again I was pleasantly surprised by the incredible friendliness I received from my moto-brothers and before I knew it I'd worked on Buzz for 5-hours right there in their shop.
A friendly young Christian Bruna who was working his last day as sales manager seemed to have allot of clout and insisted I stay and use their shop to install my parts. He also insisted that I stay at his apartment with him where he would prepare a special dinner. It seems he was also a chef and the next day he was heading south for 4-months to his other job; a chef in a high-end fly fishing resort. The next day he gave me the keys to his apartment and insisted I stay as long as I like with his friend Pablo - who also seemed to have moved in. So, thanks to Christian, I'd managed to shake my first impressions of Chile from the border, and after a couple days of sightseeing this beautiful city, I felt eager to see more of his country.
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