Friday Jan. 18, 2008
When I awoke that first morning of 2008 in El Chalten I remembered that Viedma was on the northern edge of the Patagonia - and that's where I wanted to be. I wanted out of this incessant wind that howled day and night, through the ratty buildings and blew dirt in my face whenever I went outside. After Buzz blew over the day before, I'd studied my maps and knew the only thing that awaits me in over 1,000 km (621 mi) to the north was more beautiful lakes, rivers, mountains......... and towns in the middle of nowhere, and rough Ruta 40 gravel, and more wind. No thanks!
My first gas stop was at Tres Lagos 120 km (75 mi) east of El Chalten, but they didn't have any. I asked a few people in the little town if they'd sell me some, but no way, and the next stop east (with NOTHING in between) was 240 km (149 mi) at Piedra Buena.
Now there's two things I've learned on this trip: 1) Never pass-up an opportunity to buy something you need, you may never find it again, and 2) It's impossible to estimate fuel range when riding in strong winds, up high mountain ranges, or when using strange fuel.
I never expect to get more than between 300-350 kms (186-217 mi) out of Buzz, although I'm sure I could most days, but the wind was behind me for a change and I still had 4 L (1 gal) of gas reserve in my jerry-can. So I decided to go for it and just kept my speed down to conserve even more. I ended up using only 16.25 L (4.29 gal).
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Surprisingly, my tailwind stayed with me as I turned north up Ruta 3 along the Atlantic , and since I rode against it on the way south, I now felt a little retribution. I decided to continue traveling as far as I could that day while the wind was tolerable. Unfortunately, the winds of good direction weren't with me too long and they soon became my arch enemy, the crosswind. But I knew I could make good time on this road because there wasn't much traffic today and I also knew that the wind would probably NEVER stop blowing down here anyway - so I kept on riding. By evening I felt the wind start to subside and before I knew it I had ridden through a beautifully calm night and I was in Viedma for breakfast; 22 hours and 1,755 km (1,091 mi) after leaving El Chalten. Whoo-hoo!!! I was out of the Patagonia.
Next on the itinerary northbound was the small city of Azul where I finally met the legendary Jorge (George), or as everyone in the moto-world knows him: Pollo (chicken) and his wife Monica at their little moto-mecca called La Posta del Viajero en Moto (stopover for the traveler on moto). It's not clean or modern or spacious, and you'll probably want to camp rather than sleep in the bunk in the kitchen, but they don't charge a cent (although donations are accepted), you are given a big hug and kiss when you walk in the door and told "mi casa es tu casa" (my house is your house), stay as long as you like, asados are on Fridays.
Pollo's friend Conejo (rabbit) who owns a little fruit and vegetable and beer store nearby visits often and is uncontrollably proud of his tango abilities. He spontaneously gives tango lessons to anyone within 10 m (33 ft) of him, regardless of where he is. While I was there my good friends Nick and Lesley returned for their second visit and we all enjoyed a good (but short) visit over one of Pollo's delicious asados.
Stories of travelers from all over the world cover every surface and you'll soon have a lump in your throat just standing in this very special place reading some of them. Why? It's hard to tell those of you who have never done a trip like this, but after traveling through so many places and for so long, this is one place where you really feel at home. Somewhere where you can let your guard down and truly relax for a change because you will feel the love from Pollo and Monica the minute you meet them. They will offer you everything they have and expect nothing in return.
Several friends and travelers I knew had stayed there in the past and for the first time in my trip I felt like part of history too. So I also carved my initials in the tree. It was hard to leave.
Slightly north of Azul I continued onward to one of the most beautiful big cities I've ever seen; Buenos Aires, where I would see oodles of beautiful old buildings and the home of the passionate Tango dance. I learned that the colorful and curly paintings on some buildings was traditional and done with a feather, but only here in BA.
According to contacts in Brazil (my next country), the Brazilian made Pirelli and Metzler tires I liked were more expensive than they were here (which was more expensive than they were in Colombia), go figure, but they were still considerably cheaper than imported tires from Europe. So I decided to buy another set while I was here.
Down at the Puerto Madero harbour one night I saw a beautifully restored sailing ship that was now used for naval training. There were also several interesting pivoting, draw or lift-type bridges that allowed tall ships to pass, however the uniquely designed pivoting bridge named 'Puente de la Mujer' (Bridge of the Woman) which was supposed to represent the dragged-legs of a female Tango dancer leaning against her partner was the most beautiful.
Late one evening while walking down the sidewalk with my friends Juan and Carina we noticed a small crowd gathered outside a theater. It was showing a play called 'No Somos Santas' (We're Not Saints) and people were waiting for the famous lead actress Nazarena Velez to appear. Our timing was good and she came out while we were there so my friend yelled in Spanish "Hey Nazarena, here's a Canadian" to which she responded quite......."favorably".
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