1/30/2011 - Ushuaia, Argentina: El Fin Del Mundo

As you can probably tell from the title. I made it to the so dubbed "end of the world".  It was far from an easy road to get here, but that´s probably most of the fun. Anyhow a ton of stuff has happened, since I last updated this thing. So I´ll go into recap mode and lay it out.

I got to Futaleufú (yeah, don´t worry I can´t pronounce it either) on a cold rainy afternoon. I was only there to go white water rafting, so I hit up all the tour companies to find a ride. Two boring days later I have one booked. Lots of things just seem to work a lot slower here in South America. Anyhow, I meet some really fun other Americans and we stay the night at the beautiful lodge right on the river. It´s a stunning river, a gorgeous blue turquoise in the deep water and crystal clear in the shallows. It´s the first time in my life where I just drank right from the river. Awesome, because rafting does make you thirsty. After a quick safety lowdown from our old river rat guide, Josh, we´re on to the first rapids. Its fucking great, hitting waves and just trying to stay in the damn boat. We hit a few class III´s and are ready for the class IV´s and V´s. These are gnarly waves, that if you don´t hit just right everyone is coming out of the boat. Josh yells at us "adelante, adelante!" (Forward, forward) Then we dive in, the waves are crashing on us as we´re gaining speed. Massive six foot waves crash over the boat as we´re barreling and dropping down. I´m so excited that I don´t want a break I just want to keep going and keep tackling these waves. What a fucking blast. Then during the quiet parts of the river, it´s some of the greatest scenery I´ve ever seen. I´m super happy I stuck around that little quiet city without even a ATM to do it.

All geared up. Complete with styling pink helmet

The mighty Futaleufú

The guides looking for the best route through this class V rapid.

After the rafting I head out on the Carretera Austral in Chile. It´s Chile´s Route 66 and during the summer it´s packed with mountain bikers, hitchhikers, and motorcyclists. It´s by far the most beautiful road I´ve ever driven on. It´s what I would imagine Alaska to look like, except without all the scary bears. I´m excited to spend a few days on the road camping and seeing the sights. I was not disappointed. The driving was on a pretty well maintained dirt road, and the lakes, rivers, and mountains were all just stunning. I´d drive for twenty minutes, then I´d have to stop and take a quick photo because it was just too damn cool to pass up. The best night camping was in the Quelat National Park. I found a little dirt path to a gorgeous river that was surrounded by snow capped mountains and even a glacier. I got there early, so I had plenty of time to relax, read, catch some fish, and make some kick ass dinner. If you´re in the right mind set camping alone is awesome. Not minding the solitude, I was in heaven for a night. It´s funny camping by yourself, because sometimes the littlest things freak you out. I usually camp as far off the road as possible, but sometimes somebody could find me if you just stumbled down some little path. The funniest example was one morning when I woke up, I heard a loud purring sound outside my tent. I thought fuck, do they even have cougars or pumas here? I figured yes, so I tried to wait it out, but after fifteen minutes of this sound it was time to get up and do something. So I get dressed, and open up my knife and mentally prepare myself for a cougar-knife fight. As I´m about ready to get out of the tent, I hear the loud purring and I see the shadow of a pretty big bird hit my tent. It was a fucking humming bird or something. What a douche bag. I got all worked up for some stupid bird. I have to say that when camping alone you´re somewhat vulnerable to other people and things. But for the most part, I´ve only had great experiences. It´s only when you let your mind wander, that you can work yourself up and imagine a harmless humming bird is a ferocious man eating cougar.

The legendary road

Dinner!

Worlds best campsite

Lago General Carrera

Some random stop along the way

Sunset on this trout filled river

Mountains in Quelat National Park

A view from above of Cohaique, Chile

I took about four of five days on the Carratera to get back into Argentina. I crossed near the second largest lake in South America, Lago General Carrera. It was such an awesome ride, too bad the road was absurdly dangerous. I´d be flying straight, then some blind curve would come out of nowhere. I ate shit pretty good once. It wouldn´t have been so bad, but I just happened to land in the one thorn bush around. I was pissed because I ripped up my riding jeans and got pricked up pretty good. I think the pictures are pretty hilarious, and they probably explain it better.

Notice the track in the middle from one idiot motorcyclist going way too fast

Boom. Comeupins. Right into a damn thorn bush

Once I got into Argentina (I think I´ve crossed back and forth like six times already, goodbye spare passport pages), I was ready to buckle down and head south. I could feel how close I was to my goal, so I just started booking it. I met some good bikers along the way, and it was probably the funniest when we all happened to cross paths for the last time. I was cruising along on this slightly muddy highway. Then all of a sudden, I hit the worlds slipperiest mud. I instantly flip a one eighty, and smash up my panniers (again). So as I´m cursing the weak ass bars that hold them on, and start processing how I´m going to fix them temporarily so I can make it to the next town. I see the two Austrian guys I met last night. They hit the mud and instantly hit the floor. Then while they´assessing their damage, another American and German both eat shit. I was pretty angry at the time, but looking back, it was fucking hilarious. It´s like some asshole put ball bearings on the road and was just waiting for a bunch of bikers to come by and have a good laugh. Oh well, a bit later I was able to strap my bike back together thanks to the new tie down the Austrian guys gave me. Then I pretty much had to walk my bike for then next five miles, but I made it out of there. Only to run out of gas down the road. (Sometimes it just never ends.) Luckily, while I´m opening my gas tank to look inside, (as if more gas would magically appear) I´m saved by some other biker with some spare gas. I felt pretty awesome when I arrived in Calafate. It was a long fucking day of riding.

Mud!

All these ups and down have really made me feel a lot like a pregnant teenager. I´ve been all emotional with my mechanical problems and I´ve somehow developed a strange addiction to cookies. My bike was in serious need of parts, and when this idiot mechanic couldn´t fix my bike. I was in a pretty low valley. I wanted to punch this dick who said "we can´t win" and just gave up. Leaving me to put my back together alone. I made some calls home which definitely cheered me up, but the next day I had some tough choices to make. Play it safe, and take the easy / boring road and wait while my parts (new chain and rear sprocket) are bring shipped. Or risk it and head straight for Ushuaia in hopes I´ll make it there and they have my parts. Of course I risk it and head onto the desolate, windy road south. I was miraculously rewarded for my (probably dumb) move though. As I´m just passing through this city of maybe five thousand, I see a Yamaha dealership. I almost passed it up because I´ve been looking for these stupid parts for over a month in countless cities and shops. I turn around convincing myself that I´d really regret not looking, just in case they do have my parts. I walk in and within minutes I have my parts in hand. I was so fucking excited! You wouldn´t believe the joy some ridiculous fucking sprocket could give me. So I head off all cocky and confident, because there´s nothing stopping me now. The very next day my old chain and sprocket wear out for good. I loudly grind to stop near a gas station, and am ready to get to work. It seems only fitting that I have to work on my bike for four fucking hours on my last days ride. Eventually with the help of a few local industrial shops, I´m on my way. With my new parts installed I´m ready to hit the road. I was so fucking happy because getting stuck in Cerro Sombrero, a small town in the absolute middle of nowhere, was now out of the picture. Next stop: Ushuaia!

Oh so fitting on my last day to Ushuaia

I was warned way back in Panama that the last three days drive to Ushuaia wasn´t going to be barrel of monkeys. It wasn´t as bad as I was told though. Yes, there was what seemed like gale force winds and long empty stretches, but really it wasn´t so bad. It was a bit dull fighting the wind, but when I started rising and getting into the forest, I started getting pumped up. A short giddy ride and exactly six months later I pulled into the golden sun drenched city on the ocean at sunset. Fuck yeah! What a fucking trip, I´ve gone through so damn much to get here. There´s been so much that´s happened that I can say it´s the best decision I´ve ever made. (Well, second best. First was not getting married.) I´ve gone over mountains, across deserts, through so called dangerous countries, driven through all kinds of shitty weather, made and lost friends, ran over a dog and hit plenty of birds, fixed my bike more times then I´ll ever care to remember, all to persevere and keep trucking on no matter what the road threw at me. It´s definitely one my biggest accomplishments. I can truly say it has been the trip of a life time. Now what?