Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

It rained all night, a fact I can state with some authority as due to the very hard bed in the attic I was awake at 11, 12, 2 and 4 before finally giving in and getting up at 6.30am. Whilst waiting for the rest of the house to stir, I wrote up the blog for yesterday sat in the apartment's common area, with a magnificent view of the lake from the French windows. I watched as the mist from the lake rose to form low cloud which completely obscured the mountains on the far shoreline, even their bright white snowcaps hidden. When the others were awake we went to breakfast, where the topic of conversation was centred around the rain and what it would have done to the steep muddy track we rode down to get to the hotel, and that we now had to negotiate in reverse. Breakfast itself was good, with cereal and cold milk to accompany the yoghurt and bread and jam. Once done, I put on the rest of my bike gear, including full waterproofs as it was still drizzling and headed up to my bike ready to join the queue facing the muddy hill. Gerald was first to go, riding with great confidence and disappearing from view, then a couple more braved it before my turn came. In the end it was pretty straightforward, just a matter of keeping the revs up and using the clutch to control the speed as I'd been taught at the off-road school in Wales. Just goes to show what good training can do, turning average road riders like me into riders capable of tackling whatever this trip throws at us (apart from deep sand, hidden in holes, of course!). We all got out safely, although Late Guy repeated his antics from the way in by dropping his bike on the road at the top, having got all the way out without trouble. He really does need to work on removing some of the weight from his bike and his slow-speed control!

Once back on the dirt road the conditions were good to start with, the road slick from the rain but not too slick that my knobbly tyres couldn't find grip. Initially the road was narrow and hugged the lakeside, with bushes and trees at the side forming a hedge and once again giving the illusion of riding down a country road in the UK on a wet Autumn day. When the road started to climb up into the hills I rode into dense cloud/fog, with visibility reduced to around 50 feet, constantly wiping my visor and straining to see into the murk. With the road being little more than a single lane and very narrow when it turned sharply to follow the contours of the hill, I was keen to get as early warning as possible about any oncoming traffic, as changing lines to get out of the way on such a slippery surface would not be easy. Some of the bends had surfaces that made just getting round them a challenge, being covered in either a layer of 2-3 inches of sand or in some cases rugged and occasionally loose rocks. The latter were particularly difficult for me, as the rocky surface jarred the handlebars sending shock-waves up my arms and across my back. I had no problem with the riding, though, my training and the experience gained on the trip giving me the confidence to place the bike where I wanted to, picking the easiest and least painful line through the various hazards. Through the fog I caught occasional glimpses of the lake and mountains below, and what must have, on a clear day, been some of the most beautiful vistas of the trip, the bright blue lake surrounded by broody black mountains with a frosted topping of fluorescent white snow. Yet more “sight-bites” to add to the memory bank, as stopping to take pictures was impossible due to the state of the road.

Eventually the road descended into the valley at the head of the lake, before crossing a bridge and working its way South. I stopped on the bridge for a rest, and was soon joined by a few others, including Tony, Phil and Gerald, who I'd passed earlier on when they stopped to re-group. Riding together in matching BMW helmets, rain gear and smiles they epitomised the camaraderie that has developed among the group...





The next stretch was easier and faster, the hard packed mud clearly marked with good tracks to follow and the fog easing. What little I can see of the landscape looks like the Lake District, the hills green and rocky, and it reminds me of walking there in the rain in the Autumn, another happy memory coming flooding back as I ride along... only to remember that this isn't the Lakes, this is Chilean Patagonia in the Spring, and I've ridden here on my bike... how cool!

Soon I start the descent from the hills towards the town of Chile Chico and round a bend to be confronted by the greenest lake I think I've ever seen. Quite, quite, remarkable. Unfortunately the camera fails to capture the brightness of the lake, the poor light confusing it, but take it from me it was the colour of jade...





By the time we get to Chile Chico my fuel light has been on for some time and as I ride through town I'm scanning for a petrol station, keen to use up some more of the Chilean Pesos I got from the ATM. No joy, and I arrive at the border exit with the light still on. Inside the portakabin I get my passport stamped with the exit stamp ( I have quite a few of those now!) and hand in the bike permit, then start the ride the 3-4 miles to the Argentine border. Whilst in no-man's land a dog appears barking and running along by the side as I negotiate a diversion over some rough ground, then disappears only to reappear on my left and trying to get under the front wheel. I shout loudly and honk the horn, and finally he gets the message and gives up (only to try the same trick with others as they cross the border). The Argentine border post is the most immaculate of the whole trip, a new building with heating (lovely!) and a low counter with computer terminals and hidden wiring. The customs people are also very efficient, keying in my details and stamping the passport quickly then directing me to the aduana point for my bike permit which is equally quickly filled in and printed off for me to sign. In total it probably took no more than 10 minutes to enter Argentina, a stark contrast to the border crossings in Central America...

It's only a short distance from the border to the town of Los Antiguous where we're staying, and I soon find a petrol station and fill up before finding the hotel. The group is split into 2 hotels for the first time, and ours is pretty basic with no Internet, but I have a room to myself for once, which at least allows me to spread my stuff out on the spare bed to dry. I take a hot shower and then set off to wander round town, joining Pertti and Aaron in a fast-food joint for some empenadas for lunch, before finding a bank with an ATM to replenish my stock of Argentine pesos. A short walk further through town and we find a café with wi-fi, so I eagerly enter and start trying to upload the blog and check my email. The connection is so poor that all I manage to do is upload the text, my email and attempts to upload pictures both failing repeatedly. At least with the blog posted folk back home will know I'm still ok, even if I'm unable to contact them directly. When we finally give up on the Internet we wander round the rest of this small town, walking up to a vantage point on the hill where there is a weird statue of an Indian-looking chap in a Jesus pose... odd...





With the sights of the town exhausted, I strolled back to the hotel and snoozed for an hour or so, before heading back out for some pre-dinner drinks in the café we'd been in earlier. Nothing hectic, just a couple of glasses of beer and then we ate, a fantastic steak with Roquefort cheese sauce and sautéed potatoes with rosemary and garlic. The steak was huge, but I managed to finish it off without a problem. Aaron was driniking mojitos again and insisting on buying rounds, so I had a couple, purely for medicinal purposes as by now my back was playing up again. Then we staggered back to the hotel around 11pm to try and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is a long day – around 240 miles of which around 200 are dirt on the infamous Ruta 40. News from the Patagonia tour that's a day ahead of us is not good – one guy has badly sprained his ankle and is in the van, another has trashed his F800GS in a hole on Ruta 40 and so is also in the van... looks like tomorrow could be a real challenge...