Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Despite having a lumpy cushion instead of a pillow and a bed that has obviously seen more action than I'd care to think about I slept well, and when I woke at 6am as usual I simply had a pee and went back to bed and slept for another hour. With no windows in the room, when the bathroom door was shut it was like the black hole of Calcutta, so much so that even when I'd got up and showered and left the room, Jim continued to sleep... With an hour to kill before breakfast started and almost 3 before departure, I wrote up the blog ready for when I had an Internet connection, and took my time packing the bike. Then I had a very leisurely breakfast and chatted to some of the guys, the conversation inevitably turning to going home – something I think we're all beginning to look forward to, some more than others. There have been comments made that it seems daft to ride up to Buenos Aires when we could have (in theory) shipped the bikes from Ushuaia and flown home, but I think that misses the point somewhat... this is a motorcycle expedition and starts and finishes in big cities convenient for the top-to-bottom section of the ride. There's also a lot to see between here and BA, including, hopefully, some penguins...

When the group was finally ready Kevin led us off in convoy to the ferry, so that we could all say goodbye to Finn when he took the left turn to Punto Arenas whilst we went right to the North. Gerald had a puncture but Jeff soon fixed it and he joined us in the queue for the ferry in plenty of time to board. Unlike our first crossing, the upper decks from where we'd watched the dolphins was cordoned off, so we initially just stood on the open deck chatting. When the ferry got into the middle of the Straits, the swell was terrific, causing it to rock from side to side noticeably. The lorries were swaying on their suspension and we were initially concerned that the bikes would rock off their side-stands. Chris was so concerned about Late Guy's bike that he spent the entire crossing pushing against it!





When we disembarked we only had a short ride to the T-junction where we'd lose Finn, and so with handshakes all round we bid him farewell. When he first joined our group I questioned whether he could get a real sense of what our trip has been about by spending such a short time with us, but I think he has. For a start he's spent a lot of time getting to hear our stories as well as riding with us to experience what the riding days are like. Then he's joined us for dinner and drinks, sharing our “down-time” too. And he got to ride with us to Ushuaia, and whilst I don't think he came close to experiencing the emotions we did, he certainly witnessed it, as his photos show. I still stand by my opinion that it's impossible to get a full understanding of what this trip is like without doing it, but I do think he's got sufficient insight to write a decent article or two... if you can get a copy of the Irish Sunday World, then read his Bike Torque column and judge for yourself (you can find the latest article online at the Sunday World website.

Having waved him off we set off once more, the group quickly fragmenting along the usual lines as the faster riders sped off into the distance whilst the slower ones were still getting themselves ready to depart. The ride to the destination town of Rio Gallegos was short – just a further 50 or so miles, and so we arrived early and then had most of the afternoon to while away. I did the usual things, glad of a decent Internet connection so I could chat to Tracy and post the blog, then went for a wander round town to get some painkillers and water for the long ride tomorrow. The town was a complete contrast to most places we've stayed at, being very run-down and with litter blowing across the dirty streets. The hotel was decidedly out of place but I never did discover what would warrant a decent hotel in a shit-hole town like this. The only other interesting place I found was the “British Club” a restaurant/club on the main street, more of which later...

Back at the hotel we had yet another of our regular meetings, this time to run through the final few days as we head towards Buenos Aires and the requirements for photocopies of our bike permits and every page of our passports (whether used or not). When the meeting concluded Julia mentioned that if anyone was looking for a good restaurant then the British Club just around the corner was worth a try, and it had “beef curry” on the menu. As it didn't open until 8.30pm (it was now 6.15pm) I went to my room for a snooze before joining the group to go and sample the club's delights. First disappointment was the menu, which included “Lomo al Curry” sausages, but no beef curry (lomo is beef). Second disappointment was that they had run out of langoustines so the “hot stir-fried prawns” were also off... I ordered the sausage anyway and that's when I had my third disappointment as there was only one “lomo al curry” one and 2 chicken ones... the fourth disappointment was the sausages themselves, which were poor and didn't taste of curry... I won't list all my other disappointments, but suffice to say my main course of thai-style mixed seafood wasn't thai-style and the seafood element wasn't that good... dessert, a chocolate mousse with brandy tasted more like Angel Delight and hadn't the slightest hint of alcohol. Good job I'd chosen the wine, which was an excellent 3 bottles of Latitdue 33 Malbec between 4 of us at our end of the table.

But the poor meal was more than made up for when we heard that there was someone in the bar that wanted to chat to us. It was an old gent, Colin Jameson (71) who was the grandson of the chap who started the settlement of British (mostly Scottish) families in the area in 1870. His story was fascinating, as he recounted how his grandfather, who had been a sailor shipping prisoners to Australia had landed at Rio Gallegos when it was just a river (no port) and decided it would be a great place to settle. He returned to the UK and got together between 30 and 40 families and then brought them to Argentina aboard his ship. However, he miscalculated and landed some 100 Km north, running deep into the river mouth on the high tide before getting stuck on the mudbanks when the tide retreated. The families went ashore, but realising it wasn't Rio Gallegos said they wanted to leave, but his grandfather then waded out to the ship and put two holes in it with an axe... stranded the families settled and created huge farms many of which are still worked by their descendants today. Colin then went on to explain that the British Club had been founded in 1911 as a social club for all the British immigrants in the area and currently has around 180 members. We listened intently as he told us about how he dealt with any tension that might have arisen in 1982 during the Falklands conflict, when he signed a letter stating that no member of the club would interfere – and then got the governor of the province to sign stating that no action would be taken against the club's members. This neat move meant that the club could carry on as normal and it didn't so much as get a window broken. Time was getting on and we'd drunk our whiskies so we made to leave, and then Colin produced an old dusty visitor's book and asked Kevin to sign... alongside all the dignitaries, politicians, celebrities and other worthy folk dating back to 1951 (this being the 2nd volume, the 1st dates back to the club's founding in 1911). When Kevin had scrawled in the book, we said our goodbyes and went back to the hotel for the inevitable nightcap. A couple of very large whiskies to help me sleep (not that I need help!) and then off to bed... at 2am with a 6.30am get-up and an 8am departure ahead of a 470+mile riding day... very sensible!