El Chalten, Argentina

Monday Dec. 31, 2007

On a cool and wet Boxing day Erik & I left Ushuaia, but the rain soon let up. We stopped to see if the rider of a small moto with its rear wheel off on the side of the highway needed any help. He was alright and said his son had ridden to Rio Grande on his 650 to get the part he needed. Half an hour later when we pulled into a gas station in Rio Grande and saw a guy on an BMW F650 having a bite to eat. Erik told him we knew his dad. The guy (an Argentinean living in Punta Arenas named Anibal) was very friendly and insisted we ride with him and stay at his house that night, but there wasn't much time to talk because there was only one ferry per day from Porvenir to Punta Arenas. We agreed we needed to ride quickly, but we should be able to make it.

By the time we'd gotten through the line ups at the border back into Chile, our time had gotten even tighter. Anibal now took the lead on the wet gravel roads that he knew well, and with his agile and very lightly packed 650 soon left Erik and I behind. I was riding fast, as fast as I felt possible given the circumstances anyway. It wasn't worth crashing just to catch a ferry. But the closer I got to Porvenir, the faster the clock seemed to go. When I finally arrived at the ferry terminal, about 10 minutes late, Erik was the only one there. Based on our experiences, this was the only ferry in all of South America that departed on time, and Anibal was on board. We couldn't blame him though. Why would he wait for strangers and be another day late getting home when he could sleep in his own bed?

We rode back up the highway into the little town and stopped at an empty old restaurant for a beer while trying to find a place to stay for the night. Then this guy named Vladimir walks in and starts talking to us in broken English. It seems his friend Anibal called him from the ferry and asked him to come find us. We couldn't believe it!

Vladimir helped us find a nice little hotel (with a discount) told us he'd be back to pick us up in his nice, new Dodge 3/4 ton, 4 door pickup truck in a couple of hours. Later he shows up, we climb in and he drives down the street 2 blocks and around the corner and stops at a very nice looking restaurant and says "is this alright?". We laugh at why we even bothered with the truck at all. We enjoyed a great visit with Vladimir and both appreciated beyond words getting to know a little about him. He's an accomplished rider who use to race motocross, but unfortunately suffered some extremely serious accidents that have permanently injured him. But he still has a Yamaha WR250F which he rides in cross-country rallies.

Being so close to the ocean, we all enjoyed a lovely fish dinner. But just as we were arguing with him about why he didn't need to pay for us, I became quickly ill and had to walk back to the hotel. I took a grapefruit seed extract pill (natural antibiotic) and a glass of water and went straight to bed. The next morning I felt better, but Erik told me Vladimir insisted on buying us dinner and that he wouldn't be catching the ferry to his home in Punta Arenas with us today because he was quite ill now too. We went by his parent's place on the way out of town to thank him and wish him well.

When we rode off the ferry in Punta Arenas, Anibal was there waiting and took us straight to his galvanized metal-clad house (typically painted, but tradional for that area). Inside we found a beautifully renovated house with all the latest conveniences, including state-of-the-art entertainment and computer systems.

Punta Arenas is in one of several duty-free zones in Chile where people can import and sell items easily and cheaply. There are certain rules of course, but it seems that the government provides these areas in economically challenged parts of the country to encourage growth. It also turns out that Anibal is thinking about starting a Patagonian moto-touring company and would like to get a few more motos - just exactly what Erik was looking for. He sells Anibal his new F650 with hard bags and only 20,921 km (13,000 mi) on the spot for a song because he estimates it will be too expensive and difficult to ship back to Oregon. The next day he booked his flight home, we gave Anibal a few bucks and asked him to buy Vladimir a new pair of motocross gloves and I said goodbye to my friends and continued my slightly longer trip home.

By the way: When we finally had a chance to talk about how we met, Anibal asked us how we knew his father who lives in Buenos Aires and is a rather quiet person who doesn't get out much. We tell him about the guy on the side of the highway and all have a good laugh.

After a night in Puerto Natales I drove through the much talked about Torres del Paine national park. Unfortunately, the weather was bad and I wasn't able to see much of anything. I told myself that I probably didn't miss anything anyway (to feel better). On my way out of Chile I was hit on the top of the helmet by a small bird.

Through strong winds (the strongest winds I've ever felt) and foul looking weather I continued to ride until I crossed back into Argentina once more. I could see for miles into the Patagonia to the east, but I continued north along the legendary Ruta 40 of gravel to El Calafate.

A short ride the next morning found me standing at the edge of the incredible Perito Moreno glacier. Being so close to one of the earth's most active and beautiful glaciers was amazing! It had a beautiful blueish-white color and the water in the lake it fed was bright turquoise (feel free to correct me if I've used the wrong color to describe this) from all the minerals scraped off the mountains by the ice. The sound of it cracking and moving was like distant dynamite explosions or gunshots, and it was truly stunning when a large piece actually calved and slid of into the water where it bobbed slowly up and down. The best experience of all was when a large piece fell away and slapped the water creating a huge clap that could be felt in my chest.

I'd been told that the small town of El Chalten at the foot of the towering Mt. Fitz Roy mountain was beautiful, so that's where I decided to spend new year's eve. I was not disappointed by its beauty, and fortunately, the skies cleared just enough for me to get a glimpse of the mountain one day. But I felt the town itself was a run-down, poorly-stocked, over-priced, we've-got-you-trapped-and-you-can't-do-anything-about-it attitude type of place.

Seeing Buzz blown over while parked in front of the hostal first thing in the morning on new year's eve was proof of the winds I'd been riding through, and my new year's resolution was made. Thankfully, I was able to ring in the new year with a few good people in my hostal.