On the bus trip up the winding one lane road to Machu Picchu I sat next to an American who was going there for his third time. He had been a Peace Corps volunteer in Peru in the early 70`s and said his first trip there was magical. The road was about the same as now although he rode in the back of a truck at that time instead of in a tourist bus. The group he was with in the 70´s was allowed to sleep overnight at the site and wander around there after dark. That must have been an experience of a lifetime! Machu Picchu is indeed a magical place. From the bus stop we walked up a winding foot path to get to the mountain top site. I rounded a corner and all of a sudden there it was - half hidden in the clouds on top of a steep mountain. I can`t imagine how the Incas were able to build such a place in such an inaccessible location. There were even ruins on a mountain top above the main site. Amazing! Llamas were wandering around as well as lots of tourists, but the site is so big that it did not seem crowded. I hiked a path that hugged the mountain side above the site. I was looking straight down from sheer cliffs along this path. Again, I had no idea how they were able to carve this path out of the side of a mountain. The combination of high altitude and location were "breath taking". You will just have to visit Machu Picchu yourself someday because there is no way that words can describe it. As I was leaving the sun came out and I was able to get one last photo in full sunlight. Then my camera batteries died. I think that was providential because the site really needs to be photographed while in the clouds I think.
Lots of young adults with backpacks were in the little town below the site. Many people hike into here on the Inca Trail which takes about 4 days.
   Talked to an Italian guy at the train station for quite awhile upon leaving Machu Picchu. His girlfriend is Peruvian and she was able to take the "locals only" train back to Cuzco - which costs a fraction of the price of the tourista`s train. I think I have about talked this guy into visiting Alaska. On the train I sat next to a young lawyer from Argentina named Agatha. We talked the whole time on the train trip which was amazing in itself since she knew very little English and I know hardly any Spanish. I´m sure the other passengers got a kick out of our pantomining as we tried to communicate with each other. She was amazed at my motorcycle journey but even more amazed at Sarah - in her allowing me go on the journey while she, Sarah, stayed home, ran the business with two kids still at home, and took care of all the details of life there. I had showed Agatha photos of our family. She was very impressed with Sarah doing all of that on her own with me gone. Called her a hero.... and I agree. (Thanks,Sarah!!!).
   The next morning I rode the length of the "Sacred Valley" on the bike while still feeling the glow of the visit to Machu Picchu the previous day. What an experience! Stopped at a moto repair shop along the side the road. The maestro (head mechanic) dropped what he was working on to fix the broken wire on my heated hand grips. I got to meet his whole family. His two kids, a toddler and a 7 yo (Hannah`s age) were playing around the shop. Then his wife came over and I showed her and the two assistant shop guys my photo album of Prince of Wales Island, Alaska. We ended up taking a group photo of the family, which included me and my bike. The maestro worked on my bike for almost an hour. He only charged me one soles (about 30 cents), but I made him take 6 soles ($2.00). He seemed really happy with that amount. And I still felt a bit guilty about it.
   On the road away from Machu Picchu I passed a guy riding toward the site in the opposite direction as me, with a bike loaded down like mine. I waved him over and that is how I met Biker Bob from AZ. I asked Bob if he had ridden thru Bolivia and he said no, but then said, "how about riding there together?¿" So I gave him my email address and we met on down the road two days later. First Bob showed me how to oil my chain with his 90W gear oil. It stopped my chain noise, something for which I was very thankful. Bob use to have KLR motorcycle like mine that he had ridden to Panama and Alaska. I continued on down the road dodging rocks that had fallen from the mountain side. I rode a long way that day along a beautiful open valley. Passed a lot of folks tending livestock. Got into the city of Juliaca, Peru after dark and hired a 3 wheeled motorcycle taxi to lead me to a hotel which I had picked at random out of my travel guide. Turned out the hotel was on the other side of town which meant that I was able to experience riding through a very busy downtown area after dark with buses, vans, and taxis all vying for position on the main boulevard while following the taxi. Another memorable experience, ie, trying to keep up with the taxi in all that traffic after dark. It was cold that night as well. Nice hotel but not enough blankets. Had dinner at the hotel restaurant and was the only person in the huge dining room. Paid with a 50 soles note. The waiter came looking for me later - it turned out this bill was counterfeit (like the 100 bill I had earlier). Be advised: Peru has a lot of fake currency floating around. I had been in Peru for 2 weeks by this date. The next morning when leaving the hotel, I asked a guy on a motorbike how to get out of the city and back onto the main road. Again, instead of telling me, he told me just to follow him out of town. What great people!!
   I rode on the high plateau (Altiplano) in the bright sunlight toward Puno, Peru that day. It was not too long until Lake Titicaca came into view. What a beautiful sight in the sunlight with huge cloud formations on the horizon above it. I rode straight into downtowun Puno as I was trying to get to the Bolivan Consulate before it closed at 2pm. I had heard rumors that Americans needed entry visas in advance of arriving at the Bolivian border. Again, I hired a taxi driver in the downtown area to take me to the consulado. The driver kind of looked at me funny when I gave him the address. It turned out that the consulate was just around the corner, a half a block away. Oh well. Crazy Americans. The consulate secretary said that it would be no problem to enter Boliva at the border as long as I had the visa fee ($100.00 U.S. - cash only). So I got a great hotel room right next to the consulate office. Puno was a nice town right on Lago Titicaca. I rode out to the lakeshore and took a tour of a floating museum ship docked just outside the city limits. The "Yavari" was built in the late 1860´s and it took 6 years for the ship to be packed over the Andes in 250 pieces to be reconstructed on the Lake. Amazing boat. Had dinner in a local restaurant that night. The place had a metal roof. Well, it started hailing while I was there and I was able to experience one of the loudest dining experiences of my life. When I left the place about an hour later, there was about 3 inches of ice pellets on the ground outside and the streets were flooded. Luckily I still on had my motorcycle boots.
   The next day I walked around town in the morning. Struck up a friendship with a shoeshine boy down on the main plaza. He introduced me to an elderly lady in a bowler hat with fringed shaw and full pleated skirit. She was a vendor of local handicrafts. I also suspect that she might have been the grandma of the shoe shiner. Anyway, I now have several souvenires of Peru which I purchased from grandma and which I have no room to pack on the bike. Walked back toward my hotel and passed Biker Bob on the street. We went to a cafe and studied our maps to try to plan how to get into Bolivia. I now had a traveling partner, which was an answer to prayer, as I really did not want to travel in Bolivia alone. We met again for dinner that night.
   The plan was to leave the next morning at 11am to head toward the border. Unfortunately, when I went to retrieve my bike from the locked parking area about 2 blocks from the hotel, nobody was there. I finally was able to get the bike out about half an hour later. We rode along the shore of Lake Titicaca for about an hour toward the Bolivian border. Stopped at a cafe in a town just before the border for a lunch of chicken/vegetable soup. Did I mention that Bob speaks Spanish?¿ What a blessing to not have to worry about trying to communicate. Then on to the border. This particular border crossing between Peru and Bolivia is on a little hill above the Lake out in the middle of nowhere. The sort of place like I had imagined South American borders to be, but had not seen so far. There were no trucks, no buses, and only a handful of private vehicles. We had absolutely no problem getting into Bolivia. We did have to have some copies made of some of our documents. It was interesting watching the young man get the ancient photocopier to work. He had to kick it and thump it just in the right place. Less than a half an hour from the border was the town of Copacabana, Bolivia - right on the Lake. We got rooms for about $10.00/night with a great view of the sunset over the Lake. Had a beer at a lakeside cafe and started talking to a couple from New Zealand. Turned out they were from the same town in NZ where our daughter, Katie, spent a year as a high school exchange student. I could even understand these Kiwis when they talked. They said they had worked hard to slow down their speech on this trip so that Americans could understand them. It was cold that night again. The elevation of the Lake is 3820 meters. We took a boat tour out to the Island of the Sun the next day. This is supposedly the birthplace of the Inca civilization. Lots of Inca ruins on the Island. It was a beautiful day. Easy to get sunburned at this elevation. That afternoon, I went up to the main plaza and discovered that a big celebration was in progress. It is carnival time here. There was a parade with groups of dancers in costume. I asked if I could take photos. One guy let me put on his carnival costume and then he took a picture of ME. Another lady was passing around capfuls of vodka to her dance group and gave me a capful as well. We met two Brits back in town on motorbikes and asked them about the road conditions in Bolivia. They told us that they had ridden part of the "Road of Death" north of La Paz. It sounded very interesting. We loaded up the next morning and headed in that direction. Bob and I rode on a high plateau via a good straight road to La Paz along side the lake. Had to cross a ferry which was an interesting experience. The floor of the boat was made of slick wet wooden planks. We had to back the bikes off the ferry when it docked, again very interesting maneuver. There has been so much rain here in Bolivia lately that the lake level has risen considerably. The ferry was higher than the off loading dock. Everybody should at some point in life try to back a two wheeled vehicle off a slick ferry when the dock is higher than the ferry. Just try it. A real exciting experience. We rode through the traffic of daytime La Paz asking directions on how to get to the "Road of Death". We received several different opinions on how to get to this road, but all the directions were in the same general direction....UP.
   Stay tuned next time for a description of our ride on the "Road of Death". Biker Bob is a great traveling companion and I want to thank you all for your prayers for our safety. Until next time, thanks for your time.

 

   We found the highway leading out of La Paz, Bolivia to the infamous "Road of Death" (R.O.D.) north of the city. We went up & up a road leading north out of the city. Much of the old right of way for the original R.O.D. was used for the updated paved version. Supposedly, this new paved portion is safer, but it still follows right along the edges of the moutains on a twisting roadbed through 4 tunnels. The newer road does have some guardrails at least. There could be a lot more, though. A LOT more. We did take off from the new paved section to ride a portion of the old R.O.D. We were able to ride through a lot of mud and over some creeks with waterfalls along side the road. We met a family of shale harvesters up on this backroad. They were mining flat shale rock. Riding the dirt and mud road was a lot more exciting than being on the new paved road - but not as safe. We had to terminate this ride when we came to a part of the road which was washed away by a river. The main road descended 3600 meters (almost 11,000 ft) in less than 70 miles. It was rainy and foggy on our ride down so we missed seeing a lot of the scenery. Again, this might have been a good thing. It probably would not have been a good thing to be sight seeing while descending on this very curvy road. We stopped to oil the chains and Biker Bob discovered that my two main rear suspension bolts were very loose. Would probably not have been a good thing either, losing the rear end of my motorcycle while on this road. (again, thanks for all your prayers!!) My bike does not run very well at this high altitude. It has a carburator instead of fuel injection for all you motorcycle buffs. Bob´s Beemer does better this high up as he does have fuel injection. We turned off the main road to take a detour to the little town of Coroico - in order to spend the night. There was a LOT of mud on the uphill road to the town. This was probably the most "technical" riding we did that day. We got to ride through a lot of mud. It reminded me of roads in Zaire. Anyway, maybe now I should consider entering the mud bog competition on POW Island, AK this summer on my KLR....?¿ Bob over ran one muddy creek and bumped into the rear of my bike. Glad I have the heavy metal panniers which took the force of the blow. Next time I will stop further away from the mud pit when I take the action photo.
   We got a room at an old hotel in Coroico over looking a huge panoramic vista of the old and new R.O.D.`s across the valley. What an awesome site (until the clouds moved in and obliterated the view). It started raining heavily soon after we got there. We took a taxi up to the city square that evening and had dinner at a German restaurant. Yes, I said a German restaurant - and in Bolivia. We talked to the German owner a long time. He had lived there for 10 years. He said we had arrived in the middle of the rainy season. The guy said that they had had record rain the past two years; that this year was on track to be even wetter than previously. Bolivia has made international news over the past few weeks because of the flooding in-country. Just our luck. I had sauerbratten and Bolivian red wine at the restaurant. Excellent!! We walked/slipped back to our hotel downhill in the dark, in the rain. There were frogs peeping. We were in a tropical rain forest. And it rained all night. We decided not to take the same muddy road we had ridden in on, so Bob asked around about the other road out of Coroico. He asked 4 different people about the condition of this alternate route and received 4 different opinions. So we decided to take it anyway. We figured it couldn´t be any worse than the road we had ridden in on, especially after all the rain the previous night. Fortunately, this road WAS better. (I bet you thought I was gonna say that we had made a big mistake). Of course this road was challenging in its own way. We descended for 10 miles on a one lane track that twisted and turned through thick vegetation on both sides of the road. We could not see further than about 20 to 30 yards ahead of us. Good thing for me that Bob is more adventurous because he took the lead..... which meant that when a taxi or van was coming from the opposite direction UP this same one lane road, these oncoming vehicles met Bob first. That slowed them down enough that I had time to swerve over and get past them. I think Bob lives on adrenaline. Sarah gave me specific instructions to return home after this trip although she did have me sign an updated will before I left Alaska.... Did I say the ride down off this mountain was fun?¿ I guess everybody has their own defination of "fun". But I am thankful that I purchased a dual purpose on-road/off-road bike for this journey. We headed back UP the new & improved/paved R.O.D. We were now riding up the same 3600 meters we had ridden down the previous day. The pass in the mountains must have been close to 15,000 ft. It was foggy again with rain and snow this time around. There was snow on the side of the road as well. Even with my heated hand grips on full blast, my hands were c-c-cold. It was nice to finally start the descent into La Paz, which was warm and dry. It still amazes me what the difference in temperature can be in such a short distance - all because of several thousand feet in a change in altitude. It amazes me, as well, in just how fast that altitude can change if you are riding on the "new and improved" Road of Death. In my opinion, I think they should keep the name.
   We rode down into the heart of La Paz. Not nearly as much traffic as there was on the previous day. This was a holiday weekend. Carnival. Mardi Gras. We stopped at a Bolivian restaurant in the city for some warm porkchop soup. It was warming in two ways: temperature-wise and in spice content. Saw what looked like a nice hotel across the plaza from the cafe. Bob went to check it out and we ended up staying there two days. A great place! One of the best hotels I´ve stayed in on the whole trip.
   I walked around downtown La Paz and witnessed several drive-by shootings. I was the victim of a few of them. Apparently a big thing for Bolivian kids during carnival is to shoot each other (and strangers) with water guns. I´m talking high volume, high pressure, sophisticated armament here. When I saw a 4 yo with a pump gun as tall as her which had an attached resavoire tank on her back, I knew this was serious business. When I was hit by water balloons thrown from above (from building tops), I knew that artillery was part of the battle plan. When I saw kids and adults wearing cheap plastic ponchos, I knew I was out of uniform. No use getting mad. You were gonna get wet one way or other. I think gringo tourists were especially marked for attack but I can´t prove that. I made the mistake of walking through a plaza that turned out to be a major battle zone. I saw indigenous ladies in their bowler hats and full skirts making money by pre-filling water balloons in bulk and selling them to the combatants. They were the ordinance officers, I guess. It all reminded me of my ROTC days in college. You had your leaders, your tactical maneuvers, your decoys, and your sneak attackers. Some bravado, and some kamakazi. When I saw grandmas refilling armament from water buckets, I knew I had to get out of there. So I went and had a beer in the safety of the bar at the Ritz Hotel. Literally. From there I could safely watch the battle rage through the pane glass window of the hotel bar. Lots of nice new buildings in downtown La Paz. What a country of contrasts!
   That night Bob and I took a taxi down to a recommended restaurant in the old part of town. It was also Super Bowl Sunday. It seemed a little weird listening to the National Anthem on a tv in a restaurant in La Paz, Bolivia. Bob is not much of a football fan so it took a little doing to get him to hurry up and finish so that I could get back to my room and watch the second half. I had to turn down the commentary because play-by-play in Spanish was a bit distracting for me. I was watching from the sink in the bathroom when Eli Manning threw that last touchdown. That particular play almost killed me. I tried running out of the bathroom to cheer and see the tv screen better. BIG mistake. The door sill for the bath room door was about 5 ft,10 inches. I am 5 ft, 11 inches (or at least I was). I about scalped myself. Blood was spurting everywhere. But I could not deal with the injury until I had seen the replay. I wonder what the maid thought when she saw that towel the next morning...?¿ The top of my head is still a little sore, but at least I got to see "the" play in La Paz, Bolivia.
   The next day Bob and I had lunch at another local/typical restaurant: pork, hominy and boiled potatoes. Kind of greasy but good. We walked a bit into town, then took a taxi to the old part of the city. It was hard to find this part of town as the city has really grown in the last few decades. We walked to the "witches market". Here you can buy llama fetuses, dead cats & birds, and various plants, etc to treat your particular illness. We entered one practionner's retail establishment and looked around. We were asking her questions and she seemed really cool to our inquiries. But when I told her I was an Americano Pharmaceutico, she really seemed to open up. She then allowed us to take photos, including a photo with her and I together. Professional courtesy, I would guess. Now I am wondering if I will be able to get my llama fetus through U.S. customs..... After visiting this market, we went to the Cocaine Museum. Bob then went back to the hotel in a taxi and I walked back on my own. I noticed live music playing a block away and went to investigate. Turned out that the Carnival parade was in progress. I asked the cops if I could take photos and they brought me right into the secure area alongside the parade route itself - in front of the main viewing stand. Great!! The La Paz parade is not like Rio, but I think I like this one better. A lot of the dancers were in traditional dress and were performing folk dances. The music was excellent. The musicians marched along in formation behind the dancers. A lot of the instruments were unknown to me but the music sounded good.
   That night Bob and I ordered pizza delivered to the room and raided the hotel mini bar for beer. Tough Life. (thanks again for working, Sarah!!) We left the next morning to get the heck out of town. The streets were strangely void of traffic. I guess people was either sleeping off their partying of the previous day or were recovering from the direct water balloon hits. In any event, it was nice riding through a major South American city in relatively quiet streets. It still took us awhile to find our way out of town. We had to turn around a few times. Folks seem to not want to disappoint you - even if they don´t know the answer to your requests for directions. So they will direct you anyway, whether they know the direction or not. It is one of the challenges of traveling down here. We finally found the way out of town and ended up on good straight roads on a high plateau ringed by mountains, ie, the Altiplano again. What a nice place to ride a motorcycle!!! We passed some more parades in a couple of small rural villages along our way. The music and dancing were still great. There were many more participants in the parades than there were spectators. Maybe that is the way it should be. The dancers were having a lot more fun.
   We entered the town of Oruro, Bolivia looking for a restaurant in the downtown area. None were open. This was Fat Tuesday, so the businesses were all closed for the holiday. We finally found a hole-in-the-wall place just out of town. Had a typical meal of beef, salad, tators, and, of course, hominy. It started to rain so we put on our rain gear and headed on down the road into the wide open spaces with a fierce cross wind accompaning us. We had a long way to go this day in southern Bolivia as it was a long way between towns. Went about 350 miles that day. The country looked a lot like MT or UT in the U.S. Lots of llamas on and off the road. We passed several groups of folks in villages dancing and partying. We also passed folks walking in the road still wearing their costumes. Some of these folks were stumbling down the road. We had to be careful to watch out for them and be sure that nobody walked in front of us. A lot of revelry was going on. Arrived in Potosi, Bolivia about sundown and found rooms downtown. This is an old, old mining town from the mid-1500´s. It looked medievil. Got a pizza at one of the only restaurants open on this holiday. I think just about all the tourists in town were in there. It took at least 2 hours to get our pizza but were able to talk to a Swedish couple about the road ahead while waiting. Headed out the next morning for the road to the Argentina border and discovered that there was NO GAS in the whole town. We went to about 6 gas stations. They had diesel but no gas. Decided to go to the turnoff and talked to a taxi driver. We convinced him to sell us some gas by siphoning it out of his tank with a portion of garden hose. We transfered the gas from the hose to the bikes in a 2 Liter coke bottle. This meant that the driver had to reestablish his siphen every 2 liters. We needed about 12 liters. The guy gave up after about 8 liters ( 4 x 2 L bottles). I wonder how much gas he swallowed. He made money off the transacton selling gas at a black market rate, but I honestly think he was more motivated in trying to help us than he was in making money. We talked another taxi driver in selling us 4 more liters to finish topping off our tanks.
   Then we hit the road again. The road was paved for about 25 miles, then it turned to dirt, dust, and mud. We stopped at a little store in a mud hut along the way and got crackers and water for lunch. I showed the lady my photo album of our family and I think she asked Biker Bob in Spanish if he was my dad, although he would neither confirm or deny that. (By the way, I found out that he is 69. I would never have guessed that). It was HOT. I peeled off some layers of clothing and we hit the dust again. After another 35 miles of dirt, the road suddenly turned into beautiful pavement in the middle of nowhere. What a great road winding through mountainous desert country with cacti. Just as suddenly the pavement ended and we rode for 55 more miles on a rough dirt road to Tupiza. We caught the tail end of a thunderstorm coming into that town. I was blown around for about 3 miles by cross winds. Of course Bob was about that many miles ahead of me. My being on a high ridge with thunder and lightening all around was an interesting experience, especially while riding on a winding mountain dirt road in the middle of nowhere in southern Bolivia. Tupiza is supposedly where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ended their days after their time in the American Southwest. And it looked like a wild west town. Spent the night there and rode 51 miles on dirt and mud roads to the Argentina border the next moring. That was over 150 miles on dirt roads in the last 24 hours. And sometimes the term "road" was a loose interpretation of what we were actually riding on. Trail, path, creek bed, mudhole, dustbowl.... take your pick. But it was fun!!! I am so thankful that it did not rain, though. A brazilian pilot got stuck on this road in the rain and almost did not make it through. He advised us to go via Chile instead. Glad we didn´t but we were very fortunate with the weather.
   Crossing the border into Argentina was interesting. It seems like border crossings are always interesting, though. We understood that passing into Argentina would be a very easy crossing. Not necessarily so. We had no problems exiting the Bolivian immigration and customs. It was the Argentinian side that gave us "pause". We spent about a half hour in line in order to get up to the window for our entry visas. Then we spent almost that long waiting to get our entry stamps while at the window. It made me wonder what they had on Bob in their date base. After that, we had to obtain permission (a form) allowing us to temporarily import our bikes on our ride through the country. We waited in line about half an hour. With just one guy in front of us, the customs office closed for a two hour lunch. Oh well. Both Bob and I decided this was to teach us patience, a virtue that neither of us has in over abundance. To save our place in line, we took turns leaving to get something to eat. We did finally get the paperwork done, and headed into the border town on the Argentina side. It reminded me of towns in western Oklahoma - wide empty wind blown streets. We were stopped at the edge of town by military guys. They mainly wanted to ask about the motorcycles. We then rode out on the open plains of northern Argentina. Miles and miles of high plains and llamas. You could see for miles. Finally the road went up into some dry mountains and down into a beautiful river valley with nice communities. Most of the folks appear to be of european extraction here, a big difference from the previous countries I have visited so far in South America. We spent the night in Jujuy, Argentina. Walking around, I thought there were an abnormally high percentage of tourists in this town. Then I realized that they lived here. Folks have new cars and nice clothes. Obviously, the standard of living here is much higher than in the other countries. This town reminds me of towns I had visited in Europe. Lots of shops and lots of folks shopping. I found it interesting that folks were eating in restaurants and out shopping well after 9pm at night. Then I tried to go shopping myself early this afternoon. Nothing was open. The signs on the doors said: "Open 9am to 1pm and then 5pm to 10pm". Everything is closed in the afternoon!! That must be when the all catch up on their sleep. Must be a country of night owls.  Sorry this is so long, but I wanted to catch you up on where we have been while I could. Heading south in Argentina. Only about 5000 kms to the end of the road.

 

   We have been a long 4 days riding south along the west side of Argentina. Big Sky type country with not many towns. But I think this scenery might be more varied than if we had ridden south along the Atacama desert in northern Chile. Spent the night in Jujuy, Argentina. When I heard the name of this town pronounced, it did not sound anything like it was spelled. A test: You try saying it, then ask somebody who speaks Spanish to say it for you. I saw part of the movie, "Spanglish" on Chilean tv last night. I really felt for the mom who was in the U.S. and did not know English. The movie here was in English with Spanish subtitles. When the mom and daughter spoke in Spanish, the subtitles were still in Spanish. So I finally turned it off. Had a great cup of coffee in Argentina finally, at Jujuy in an Argentinan version of a Starbucks franchise. It was nice to just sit there and sip good coffee and watch the world go by. An oasis in a busy Argentine çity. (every wonder why they put little tails on some of their "c"´s down here?¿ again, go ask a spanish speaker) (maybe we should put tails on some of our consonants....maybe it is a male consonant...i don´t know) we tried to eat at a steak house but were told that they didn´t even open for business until 9:30 PM. when do these people sleep?¿ we opted for cheese and chicken empaladas in a little mom & pop cafe and they were GREAT!
   The next morning was motorcycle maintenance day. At a gas station outside of town, we changed the oil on our bikes, cleaned the Bolivia dust off of our air filters, tightened up any loose bolts, tightened and oiled the chains, and put air in the tires. Bob went around front to fill up with gas as I was finishing up my bike. While there by myself a nice new pickup drove up with two gypsy ladies in it. The grandma was bound and determined to read my palm. I kept jerking my grease covered hand away from her while trying to tell her I didn´t know what the heck she was saying. Finally, I convinced her that Bob would be a better client for her skills since he knew Spanish. So he ended up paying for a palm reading when he came back. I think the lady told Bob that my future did not look good since I did not pay for my palm reading.
   We rode 330 miles that day on good roads with bad drivers. Did not pass many communities. There aren´t many towns in that part of Argentina, just lots and lots of semi-arid brush land. We could always see the Andes looming on our right (to the west) as we headed south. Stopped for lunch at a modern looking restaurant and there was a clean restroom WITH toilet paper, hand soap AND paper towels!!! Unprecedented. We had returned to civilization. Again, many of the locals were of European extraction. The landscape was a bit monotonous so this was a good time to be ticking off the miles. Just missed a huge thunderstorm out on the Pampa. We could see it coming for miles, then the road which we were on turned off to the left right before we got to the clouds. Amazing! We passed several tobacco fields at one point with miles and miles of sugar cane. The temps became very HOT. Got a room in Concepcion, Argentina just off the town square. This town was like an oasis in this hot, rough environment. Tried again to get a steak dinner and went to a recommended restaurant. Found out this place did not open until 10pm. What is with these people?¿ But when you think about it, it sort of makes sense. Close down in the heat of the afternoon for 4 hours, then open up after it cools off. Damn night owls. We opted for a steak sandwhich at an outdoor cafe on the town square where we could watch everyone go by. It was a Saturday night afterall. We saw entire families ride by on one Honda 90 moped. Saw lots of 60´s era Ford Falcons drive by as well. A ´65 Falcon was my first automobile. Brought back lots of memories. I had to go look at the backseat of one of these cars for old times sake. Just like I remembered it. These must have been the taxis of choice in Argentina at some point in time. They were all over the place.
   The next day was another long day of riding through high plains. We starting passing olive groves and vast sections of scrub stunted trees. Stopped for a buffet lunch at a truck stop restaurant and I recognized most of the food dishes. It was good. Especially the smashed potatoes. We rode into an area of sandy desert with high rock bluffs. Looked a lot like sections of Utah that I had passed 4 months ago. We were now passing several communities noted on the map, but none of these had gas stations. They weren´t even big enough towns to have a store of any kind. I finally ran out of gas and had to switch to my reserve tank. I went 42 miles on my reserve until we reached a town with a petrol station. I must have been riding on fumes as I had never gotten more than 34 miles off my reserve in the past (the other two times that I had totally run out of gas on this trip). Got to the gas stations and there was a long line of folks waiting for gas who were pulling dirt track racers on trailers. We were indeed now back in civilization!! Everyone knows that dirt track racing is an indicator of a developed civilization. Biker Bob and I were stars while waiting in the que to get gas. All these motor heads wanted to know all about our bikes. We got a cabaña for the night nearby. You could hear the roar of souped up engines all through the night.
   Another day of riding mile after mile. We got an early start on the day and it was great riding out on the semi-desert in the early morning light. We hit a spot of road that was in rolling hills. It was like riding on a roller coaster. I passed Bob doing 80 mph. Like being on a carnival ride. It became progressively warmer as the day went on. Hot! Stopped at a cafe at a road junction for lunch. The steak sandwhiches are great in Argentina. Less than $3.00 and more than I could eat. Bob took off before I was ready to go, and I did not see which way he had turned. Finally reconnected after a while, but it was a strange feeling being in the middle of Argentina at a road junction and not know which way to turn. I got my own map after that. We started riding through vinyards. Miles of miles of grape vines. Beautiful area on the way into Mendoza, Argentina. Again, we got a room at a hotel right downtown. This is a beautiful city with many tree lined streets. Lots of shops, all bustling with activity. Lots of sidewalk cafes. It definitely reminded me of towns in Europe. We parked the bikes for the night in a garage and took a taxi to a Honda shop we had seen on the way into town. Bought tires for both of our bikes and made arrangements to have work done on my bike there at the shop in the morning. Then dinner at 10pm. We were getting the hang of the local customs.
   The next morning we took the bikes down to the shop. I left my bike to have a new chain and sprockets installed and walked back to the hotel. Was told my bike would not be ready til 6pm (very early in the work day - by Argentine standards) Bob went to a tire place and had his new tires put on. We met an Australian couple traveling "two up" on a big BMW GS motorcycle. They had been traveling for 8 months. We traded info about the roads ahead as they were going north where we had been and we were going south where they had been. I asked the gal, Emily, if she had learned anything about interpersonal relations after riding for 8 months on the back of a motorcycle while mainly camping along the way. She just rolled her eyes. The Aussie couple gave me a contact in Buenos Aires for shipping my bike back to the U.S. which I hope will be a good resource.
   The big news is that Bob and I have decided to go our separate ways after riding across Bolivia and half way across Argentina together. We have different time lines. It has been great while it lasted. I would not have tackled the Bolivian roads by myself and really appreciated Bob´s mechanical and language abilities. But it was probably time to go our separate ways. Who knows, we may meet up again further on down the road.
   Went back to the Honda shop at 6pm and of course my bike was not ready. It was still early in the work day afterall. So took the wheel & tire down the street a couple of blocks while it was off the bike and had my new rear tire installed. A Pirrelli made in Brazil. The Honda mechanic discovered that I had absolutely no front brake pads left.... it was metal on metal. Fortunately he had some in stock that fit my Kawasaki, a fact for which I was extremely grateful. The maestro wanted to know why I had not heard the brakes squealing. Bob gave me a hard time about listening to my MP3 player and not being able to hear anything else. Well, now I had a new rear tire, new brake pads front and rear, new sprockets, and a new chain. Now both myself and my bike were ready to hit the road again. Bob and I had an excellent steak bottle of Argentina Maldec wine for dinner that night - of course it was after 10pm.
   Took off the next morning by myself. It seemed a little strange to be on my own again, especially when it came to asking directions after spending a couple of weeks depending on Bob to communicate. Had to hone my pantomining skills once again. But I made my way out of town and on the highway toward Chile. Rode on a spectacular winding road through the Andes Mountains. The road was along a river through the high bare mountains. Stopped at an Argentina tourist town for lunch and "talked" to a young man and his dad about my trip. Showed them my photos of POW Island in Alaska. They were especially impressed with the photos of salmon and halibut. Rode through several tunnels, the longest was about 3 miles in length and spanned the border between Argentina and Chile - at the top of the pass. The border crossing was interesting. There was no town on either side of the border up on a high windy mountain pass. There were little kiosks, sort of like wide phone booths that you passed by to complete the paperwork. You just stayed with your vehicle. It took about 2 and a half hours to complete the formalities on both sides of the border. The wind was buffeting me the whole time. I had to stay on the bike to keep it from blowing over. The Chilean side had drug sniffing dogs at the customs check point, a first for me on this trip. I was able to smuggle into Chile my two contraband Argentinan bananas. Some dogs those were as these bananas were over ripe after a day in my tank bag. Excellent roads in Chile but road construction everywhere. Chile does not seem to have as much "character" so far as the other countries I´ve visited, but I have ridden mostly in the more developed parts of the country. I rode completely across Chile from the Andes to the ocean in one afternoon. Of course, it is not a very wide country. Got to the ocean about 7 pm last evening and still had plenty of sunlight left in the day. Rode along the coast highway past high vacation condos which reminded me of the resort towns in Mexico. Found a very nice hotel right on the beach and was able to once again watch the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean.... only this time with a glass of good Chilean red wine in my hand. I am now headed south down the main highway through Chili. I hope to get into more rural areas soon. Too much traffic this close to Santiago.

bill

 

   When first in Chile I was getting negative vibes. I think it was because I was tired and just not paying attention like I should have been doing. It was me, not the Chileans. Chile is definitely a first world country (whatever that means). Bolivia is third world and Prince of Wales Island is probably second world... but that is how I like it. Maybe it is due to the fact that Chile was so much like the U.S. (as in the "Lower 48") that it took me a while to get use to it - after being in places like Nicaragua and Ecuador. Anyway, I have enyoyed the great roads and the predictability here in Chile. At the same time, I have missed the more challenging roads and the unpredictablity of other places if that makes any sense. But this was all due to change as you will see later on in this post.
   I followed a 4-lane highway in Chile that dead-ended into their primary port at San Antonio. I got the distinct impression that I was not suppose to be there in this sensitive, highly policed area with tanks at the gate and military looking at me suspiciously. Needless to say, I got the heck out of there. I then took a wrong turn on a secondary road but finally found my way to the right road with the help of some friendly wine grape growers. It was good to get off the interstate. I then had a hard time figuring out the ATM machines in Chile. Two bankers helped me out with that - and the good vibes started returning for me in Chile. Nice folks, even though they drive big new SUV´s and mini-vans (a big change from, say, Peru). I got on the main North/South 4 lane highway (Ruta Number 5) and headed south. Great road with rest stops and quick trip-type stores. I thought I was back in Washington State except for the toll booths about every 30 miles. The toll cost was from 25 cents to one dollar at each toll. Rode through wine country. Miles upon miles of vinyards. I stopped for the night in a town called Talca, which is in the middle of the main wine growing area. Was able to find an English language classic novel at a bookstore there and I think the store owner was very glad to unload that book. Must have been there awhile. Had a great dinner at a little cafe on main street patronized by the locals. Good vibes were rolling again!
   The next day at a toll booth the guy behind me in line yelled at me wanting to know if the fishing was any good in Alaska (he´d seen my plate). I responded with, "Has a cat got climbing gear?¿". He had a southern accent (U.S. southern, not Chilean southern). Turns out the guy was from Nashville originally and had been living in Chile for 2 years... married to a lady from there. He was on his way to go salmon fishing in southern Chile and gave me a couple of his favorite lures.
   I turned off the Chilean interstate onto a secondary highway toward a town called Pucon. This place is situated on a lake and the setting supposedly reminds people of Switzerland. I never did make it there though because I ran out of gas on the way. I did find a nice hotel at another town called Villarrica just up the lake. Both of these towns are major tourist destinations for the Chileans. February is during their summer here. Lots of local tourists in town. I tried to go to Pucon the next day after I got gas but it was bumper to bumper traffic. Reminded me of Branson, Missouri. So I exited off the main highway onto the equivalent of a county road, I guess you could say. I promptly got lost again. Went 12 miles down a seriously challenging rock and gravel road. But the scenery was awsome! Don´t know exactly where I was but I did meet another car that was lost as well. I have noticed that the drivers in Chile are more conscientious in their driving habits then, say, drivers from most other South American countries. They seem to notice when the yellow line is in their lane. They seem to understand why that yellow line is there. They would never make it driving in Columbia I bet.
   As I go further south, I am noticing the temperatures getting cooler in the evenings and the daylight remaining longer. Southern Chile definitely has a logging industry. In fact, tree farming seems to be big business here. I spent the night at a border town called Entre Lagos (Between the Lakes), Chile and visited an antique car museum there. There must have been around 40 Studebakers in there. No kidding. I did not know that anybody collected Studebakers. Was an interesting display with the Muzak system playing Rock & Roll music from the 50´s. I enjoyed it but it still seemed kind of weird out in the boonies of rural Chile. I did my usual drive through the town and found a hostel overlooking the lake. I noticed that the prices are going up for lodging and food the farther south I travel. The room was 40 bucks. I far cry from the $5.00/night I was paying in Ecuador and Bolivia.

   Talked to an older couple from Germany at breakfast the next morning. They were going the opposite direction as me as they had just spend 4 weeks in Patagonia. They suggested that I take a book with me for the upcoming border crossing because it had taken them three and a half hours to get through the border. They were very interested in Alaska. It took me about an hour to get to the border which was in the middle of a forest far from any towns. It only took me about 15 minutes to complete the paperwork for both the Chile and the Argentina immigration and customs. And that included the 5 miles or so between border posts. A Chilean guy behind me in line even translated for me at one point. Beautiful road winding through the mountains. I have to say that the area looked a LOT like Alaska. This was my second time to be in Argentina.
While getting gas near the next border town, I met "Chris" a young man from Chile who was riding a Honda African Twin, a dual purpose bike similiar to mine. I asked him how to get to the road out of town and he said, "Just follow me". So I did for about two hours. When he finally stopped several miles up the road, I discovered that we were both headed for the famous "Camino Austral" road.
   He had ridden on it before and said it was one of the best motorcycle riding roads in the world. I was expecting a dirt path through the forest, but he said the road was in good condition. That put my mind at ease because I had heard that this particular road could be challenging, to say the least. Chris and I parted company a little ways on down the road, but I was really greatful to have run into him. I was now looking forward to experiencing the Camino Austral whereas before I was stressing over it. Spent that night at a great hotel in Esquel, Argentina (the next border town for my return BACK into Chile). Had dinner with two young men from Iowa who were trying to hit all the fly fishing spots in that area of Argentina. Of course, they wanted to know about the fishing in Alaska. I gave them my email address and told them I would do some research on that for them if they would agree to divulge some of their favorite spots here in Patagonia to my sources.
   Back at another border crossing the next morning, only this time is was from Argentina back into Chile for the second time around. Crossed at the Futaleufa, Chile location. This was an interesting crossing. I went about 20 miles down a gravel road in the middle of what seemed like nowhere. The reason it seemed like that was because it was miles from ANYWHERE. The Argentina immigration office was a little white claboard house by the side of the road. It actually looked like an abandoned building. But there was a bar gate across the road so I entered the place and was finished with the formalities within 5 minutes. I am starting to enjoy border crossings now with the nightmare of the Guatemalan crossing a distant memory. The building on the Chile side was again about 10 miles down the road only in a bit more modern building. Met a fly fishing guide from Montana at this crossing. I am starting to believe that there is good fishing in Patagonia. I rode along the Futaleufa River for several miles at the start of the Camino Austral. Supposedly this is one of the most challenging white water rivers in the world. I could hear the water roaring even above the sound of my MP3 player. It scared me just looking at it and imagining people actually trying to float on top of that raging water.
   The Camino (or Carretera) Austral road was just phenomenal. Lots of washboards, potholes, mud holes and dirt tracks along this gravel road but the scenery was awsome. It looked a lot like Alaska... what can I say. But there was more scenery packed into less distance and it was ALL along this road. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road. I met a couple from Australia on a big BMW, a couple from Brazil on a Yamaha dual bike, and a couple of older German guys (well, about my age) on bikes similiar to mine. I saw more "adventure motorcycle riders" while on this road than I had seen in just about all the rest of So America. I rode 200 miles on gravel roads the first day on the Austral out of a total of 300 miles ridden for the entire day. I saw huge lakes, raging rivers, snow capped mountains, and dense forests... but not many other people. This route is probably what the Alaska Highway was like back in the 60´s before it was all paved. If you plan on traveling this road as it is, you might want to make plans to do it soon as there are signs that more of the route will be paved sometime in the future.
   Got to the town of Puerto Aisén, Chile about sundown (which is way late at night at this lattitude). I asked a taxi driver where a hotel was located and he led me to one. Would not take any money for this service. I was definitely in a rural area again. The landlady let me put my bike in her fenced yard. This is all starting to get routine for me now. The next day I rode about 40 miles on pavement then it turned to washboard gravel again. Needless to say, it was a great road. The gravel turned to smooth dirt after awhile. Rode 105 miles off-pavement on this day. Great Ride! Great Scenery! Great Country!! Stopped at a town called Coihaique about half way down the Austral. It seemed a little strange to be able to enjoy a latté and use somebody´s portable laptop to check emails out here in the middle of nowhere. "Nowhere" has a different meaning in this day and age, I am coming to understand. Stopped at a little gas station at a wide place in the road beside a huge lake. The place reminded me of a station you would see on the Al-Can Highway. Anyway, a guy from Chile also getting gas suggested that I check out a side road there. It already seemed like I was already on the ultimate side road. I wondered what a "side road to a side road" would be like....?¿ The guy also suggested that I get a room at the little roadhouse inn because once I started down the road he had suggested I would not want to turn around for awhile. And then it would be time to stop for the night. So I did as he suggested and got a room and then went down the road. It was great. It wound along another lake and up into the mountains. It was a good road. The main thing that concerned me was that I was the only one on the road. No houses and no traffic. Great road though!! And I was glad I took his advice. While trying to order dinner that night at the "roadhouse", I met a Chilean lady named Elizabeth from Santiago and her son, Franco, who was living in Spain. Eliz translated my order to the waitress for me. We talked at dinner and they invited me to join them on a boat excursion the next morning out to some islands on this huge lake, Lago General Carretera. This is the second largest lake in So America they told me. I had already been on a boat tour on the largest lake on the continent (Lago Titicaca) so readily agreed. We three rented a boat and captain for the morning and went to see some caves carved into the marble of the islands by the action of the waves on this huge lake. These caves were beautiful. The captain even took the boat inside some of the caves. They were multicolored and huge. To think, if I had not taken the Chilean guy´s advice to explore the side road, I would not have spent the night in the roadhouse and would not have met Elizabeth and Franco. And I would have missed seeing the marble caves. Now I have an invite to stay with them if I am ever in Santiago or Madrid in the future.
The next day was more gravel roads and beautiful scenery on the Austral. I am hesitant to say this, but this area might be even more beautiful than Alaska (if that is possible). Went 100 miles on gravel. Must have seen lakes in just about every hue possible: green, turquiose, several shades of blue.... Then it was time to cross back over into Argentina again at a crossing called Chile Chico (sounds like a Mexican restaurant, doesn´t it?¿). The landscape changed abruptly as well. I was introduced to the winds of Patagonia. I was back on the Pampas of Argentina. The next day of riding was a day of pure HELL.
   I spent the night at Perito Moreno, Argentina which is where I started south on Ruta (Route) 40. You need to Google Ruta 40 to see what it has to say about it. I should have done that. Maybe I would have turned around and headed home at that point.... Ruta 40 is a gravel road. And the cross winds in this area of Argentina are legendary. The two do not mix while riding on a two-wheeled vehicle. I rode over 400 miles on this road yesterday and 296 of those miles were on gravel. I survived this experience and don´t know for sure just how I did it. The wind literally blew me from one side of the road to the other at times. And there was usually from 4 to 6 inches of loose gravel on the roadbed to deal with. The combination of deep loose gravel and fierce cross winds created conditions that were the most dangerous that I have ever experienced in my 42 years of riding motorcycles. The "Biker Bob Theory for Negotiating Potholes" did not work in this instance. His idea is to go as fast as you can to skim over the potholes. It I had done that, I would have been upside down in the bar ditch in just a few seconds. I am having a hard time typing this message right now because my throttle hand is cramping from being in the closed/clinched postion for so long. But I thank God that I made it. I bought myself a "Ruta 40" bumper sticker to prove it. Now I am heading for the nearest paved highway on my way out of this town (El Calafate, Argentina). The winds will still be around on the way south to Ushuaia and to the end of the road, but hopefully I can stay away from the gravel. As a biker friend recently told me, "I hate gravel". I hate cross-winds and gravel. Til next time, thanks for your time....

 

   When last I wrote to you about this journey I was still riding South toward the southern tip of this continent. Toward the proverbial (and actual) "end of the road" if you will. About as far away from Alaska as you can get on the road system which adjoins these two continents. Well, I MADE IT!! I rode into Ushuaia, Argentina.... this town that bills itself on its sign into town as "The Southernmost Town in the World". After riding South basically for 4 and a half months, and after logging over 17,000 miles on my Kawasaki KLR 650 motorcycle, here I am at the end of the road. I can´t get any farther south on the bike than this. I guess I could swim further south. Ushuaia is the "jumping off point" for trips to Anarctica. (Only about $4000.) I thought about it..... but it is time to turn around. If you have seen one penguin... It will seem strange to begin heading in a northerly direction after having ridden South for so long now.
   I was still out on the Pampas of Southern Argentina at El Calafate (sounds like a stomach medicine) when I last wrote. I spent two nights in that place to rest up after my ordeal of riding into there from the gravel and cross-winds of Ruta 40. My throttle hand is still not back to normal, by the way. It still wants to clinch in the ¨closed¨ position. I rode down a secondary road out to the Perito Moreno Glacier about 50 miles from that town. It was a great drive out there along the shores of Lago Argentina. Lots of tour buses parked in the viewing lot when I got to the face of this huge glacier. Many folks wanted to know if I had actually ridden a motorcycle all the way there from Alaska. One Italian guy thought for sure I had the bike shipped down to Santiago or Buenos Aires or something. Watched the glacier for awhile. Heard a lot of cracking and grumbling but no major calving events while I was there. What a strange term when talking about a glacier...."calving". Sounds like a vetrinarian needs to be present..... The sight of the glacier in the sunlight and the ride out to it was well worth the time to get there.
   I left El Calafate early the next morning and rode all day on the bleak windy Pampas of Argentina. At least I was able to ride this time on pavement in the wind. Must have put 300 miles on the bike this day with about half of that distance riding with a cross wind. Not a lot of changes in the landscape for the entire day except for an occassional wild vecuña (related to the llama) or sometimes a flock of big flightless birds running by. They looked to me like emus. I crossed again from Argentina to Chile. My passport pages are almost filled up now - mostly with border stamps from Argentina to Chile and vice versa. I am still learning the lesson of patience as I was able to get into a long immigration line behind a bus of tourists that had just unloaded ahead of me. Folks cutting into line ahead of me did not seem to matter like it use to. I wasn´t in any hurry to get back out onto the Pampas. No big deal to get the exit stamp, but you have to have it to enter Chile. No towns within miles of either border stations. Must be an interesting life working as a customs agent out in the middle of nowhere. Soon after the border crossing I starting riding along side the ocean at a place on the map called the "Estrecho De Magallanes". Can you figure out where I was?¿ I rode along this "Estrecho" to a port town called Punta Arenas. Beautiful old port town which was a mix of both the old and the new. There were some cruise ships in harbor with bus loads of tourists unloading and walking out in the streets taking photos. It reminded me a bit of Ketchikan, Alaska on the Inside Passage. I decided to take a day of R & R in this town as my ferry for Isla Grande de Tierra Del Fuego did not depart until mid afternoon of the next day. I walked around the dowtown area and played my harmonica on the old town square. I guess I should have put my hat out on the sidewalk. Get some of that tourist money. I stocked up on traveling snacks at the super mercado. Bought a bottle of Chilean red wine (it was a little bottle) to smuggle back into Argentina to celebrate my upcoming arrival at Ushuaia. Then headed for the ferry terminal about an hour early of the scheduled departure time. The folks at the hotel said I only needed to be there about 30 minutes ahead of time. Boy were they wrong! When I got to the ferry terminial, it looked like a war zone. Folks were standing in a big cluster trying to get tickets for the ferry. No line that I could determine. Just a big cluster. Vehicles were everywhere and in not necessarily in any order. It was less than one hour from departure time and folks were getting anxious - both the passengers and the ferry staff. And the boat did not look that big. It was a one car deck/open configuration, with two levels of enclosed passenger seating at the stern. It appeared that I had ridden into a free-for-all, with the most aggressive passengers getting their tickets first. And somebody had told me that Argentina was a "civilized" country. Not when it comes to obtaining tickets for a limited seating, once a day ferry. Somehow I was able to get my ticket. Then I was told to ride to the head what appeared to be the "line" of vehicles (I use that term loosely). This experieince has made me more keenly appreciate the professionalism of the folks who run the ferries in Alaska. I was told to put the bike in sideways next to a diesel boat engine on a pallet up front. Not an easy thing to do with a 500 (plus) pound motorbike when you are by yourself. So I solicited help by going into my pantomining act. It is amazing what you can get done when you have 4 or 5 guys helping you do it. It is also amazing what you end up doing when you can´t speak each others language. Oh well. We got the bike into the tight space after a while. Maybe not as efficiently as it could have been done, but it got done. The ferry ride was two and a half hours on the ride over to the Island of Tierra Del Fuego. You need to look that place name up to see what it means, what it translates to. When the ferry docked at about 6pm, I was amazed to see all the baggage appear for all the foot passengers. It reminded me of TapTap buses back in Haiti. We unloaded onto a small port town of Porvenir on the far Wst side of the Island. I needed to ride across to the East side of the Island and then South to Ushuaia and on to the end of the road. So at about 7pm, I took off on a gravel road along side the ocean to ride what would ultimately be over 100 miles of gravel roads in twilight. What an amazing experience!! Twilight is a long period of time at this lattitude, just like in the summers up in Alaska.

   These two countries (Chile and Argentina) share Tierra Del Fuego, so I had one more border crossing to get through before I got to the next town. The sun was just going down and the moon was just coming up in the other direction out on the Pamapas, No problems with customs. I did hit pavement soon afterwards which was good because I had run out of daylight. I rode the last 60 miles after dark to the town of Rio Grande, Argentina without passing so much as a farmhouse. Like riding out on the prairie in the western U.S. At least the wind had died down by this time. I could see the halo of the lights for the city on the horizon long before I actually ever saw the lights themselves. Got to town well after 10pm. Found a room at the second hotel I went to - right on the town square - and had an ice cream cone for supper. That was the only eating place I could find open by that time of day.
   The next morning I had my "quiet time" in the hotel´s breakfast room but had to leave soon after because of the noise. Most all cafes and restaurants have a TV going in their dining rooms. This one was going full volume in what appeared to be Argentina´s version of "Good Morning America". Maybe it was "Buenas Dias Americana Sur". Anyway, I went back to my room with a cup of coffee. When it came time to pack up, I discovered that my billfold was missing. Which meant that my credit card and ATM card were gone. Which meant that I was toast - as I do not carry travelers checks. To say I freaked out would be an understatement. I thought someobody must have somehow come into the room during the night and taken my wallet. Went down to the front desk to initiate a police report and the desk clerk asked what my room number was. He then handed me my wallet. Seemed that I had left it down in the breakfast room that morning. Whew!! "All´s well that ends well." Over reacting again. Lots of lessons to learn still it seems. The breakfast room ladies turned my billfold into the clerk that morning.
   Rode South from Rio Grande on the the Pampas for about 50 miles toward Ushuaia. Ushuaia has been my ultimate destination for many months now..... and I still don´t know how to pronounce it correctly. I do know that you don´t say it like it looks. And it looks weird. Other North American bikers I have heard pronounce it do not say it correctly. It is just one of those mysteries, I guess. Anyway, I rode about 50 miles toward the end of the road and the landscape started to change dramatically. After riding on Pamapas for days and days, you notice little things like mountains, surface water (like lakes and streams), and curves in the road. It was beautiful. A whole different ecosystem at the end of South America. It was like the mountains decided to pop up out of the ground after being in hiding for miles and miles. The temperatures became cooler as well. I rode the next and last 70 ( plus) miles of road through this new envirnoment. It was a great way to end this ride to the end of the earth. Ushuaia was a surprisingly modern port city. I don´t know what I was expecting but I guess "modern" was not it. Again, the sign at the edge of town said, "Welcome to Ushuaia, The Southernmost Town in the WORLD". IN THE WORLD!! A beautiful place set in the mountains along the ocean with forests all around. I am still wondering WHICH ocean Ushuaia sits on. Pacific or Atlantic?¿ I rode into the Parc Nacional de Tierra Del Fuego outside of town. It was about 20 miles of gravel road through a beautiful forested area with lots of streams, birds, and wildlife. At the end of the park road was a sign that said, "End of Ruta 30. 3064 kms to Buenos Aires and 17,800 km´s to Alaska". That was a very interesting sign for me. I still had to ride to Buenos Aires to get home. So I´m still looking at about 1800 miles of more riding to get there. (and B. Aires is only about half way up the length of this country. Argentina is a LONG ole´ country). But my speedometer tells me that it took over 17,000 miles to get here to the very end of the road from Prince of Wales Island, Alaska.... not 17,800 kms. Of course, I did not take the direct route.
   The ride has been a very positive experience for me so far. I have been in 15 countries to date. I´ve been in Chile 4 different times and made my fifth entry into Argentina last night. Their border stamps from these two countries alone have filled up two full pages of my passport. I have met a LOT of great people and I have seen a LOT of beautiful places. AND I have appreciated your coming along with me on this journey by reading my travel blog postings and responding to me via email. bsaltland@hotmail.com
   But wait, the journey is not over yet. Yesterday, I had to BACKTRACK about 150 miles - as you can´t just ride down to a town located at the end of the road without backtracking. It seems strange riding North. I was able to experience a different set of gravel roads riding across De Grande Isla De Tierra Del Fuego. I met an Argentinan couple at my last Chile border crossing. They were riding double on a Honda 250 motorbike. They asked me how I was going to ride to the smaller ferry which crossed off the Island at the Estrecho De Magallanes, a shorter crossing at a different point from the the bigger ferry I´d come over to the Island on. I showed them on the map the way I had planned to go. They said (I think) that they had come that way and the road was terrible. They knew a better way to get to the ferry. So I followed them for two hours on gravel roads across the Island of Tierra Del Fuego. What a great ride! And I did not even have to worry about where I was going. I could just RIDE and enjoy it. If we got lost, it would be THEIR fault, not mine.... and who cares, really, if we got lost. It was a GREAT day to ride a motorcycle in Patagonia on gravel roads at the end of the earth. We made it to the ferry just as it was finishing loading up for the crossing. One great thing about ferries and motorbikes is that there is always room to put a bike onto a ferry. We made the crossing in about 45 minutes. Not far from the ferry landing was my LAST border crossing out of Chile and back into Argentina. No more aduana (customs) and migracion (immigration) lines until I leave Buenos Aires on an airplane in about a week.
Now what am i gonna do with all this Chilean money that I have left over......?¿ I should be in Buenos Aires in about a week. I will be riding up Ruta 3 on the West (Atlantic) side of the country. This will be a new ocean for me on this trip.