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.
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| All geared up. Complete with styling pink helmet |
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| The mighty Futaleufú |
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| 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.
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| The legendary road |
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| Dinner! |
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| Worlds best campsite |
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| Lago General Carrera |
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| Some random stop along the way |
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| Sunset on this trout filled river |
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| Mountains in Quelat National Park |
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| 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.
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| Notice the track in the middle from one idiot motorcyclist going way too fast |
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| 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.
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| 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!
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| 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?
