Mon 3/03/08

   Well, here I am riding on the seemingly endless road, Ruta 3, toward Buenos Aires. This road goes through miles and miles of some of the most desolate geography that I have ever seen. Straight flat pavement through the sparse vegetation that makes up what now appears to be most of the country of Argentina. But riding this road has been interesting. It has definitely NOT been boring. There has been one element that has demanded my attention from the time I headed North on Ruta 3 from Ushuaia..... that has been the WIND.
   I feel like I have developed such a personal relationship with this element of nature that I have given her a name. I say, "her", because she seems to exhibit personality traits that I would call almost human. I call her "Vado" after seeing that word on some warning signs I passed while riding the Camino Austral in Chile. I could not find Vado in my mini pocket Spanish/English dictionary but this Argentina wind just seems like a "Vado" for some reason. And "Viento" seemed to be too formal a name after all we have been through together in the past 4 or 5 days. Or after all she has put me through.
   Vado is very moody. I think she is still angry that she was not able to dump me over in the gravel back on Ruta 40 when I was heading South. She can´t seem to be able to make up her mind which direction she wants to blow. This phenomena is what demands my full attention - especially while trying to keep my balance on two wheels on a narrow strip of pavement. Often I am angry at Vado myself because she can act like a real (pain) at times. Of course I am talking about when she decides to blow at me from the side.... her cross winds, if you will. And "Cross" seems an apt description because, as I say, she can seem very angry. I often have the feeling that the wind does not just blow out here on the lonely Pampas, it SUCKS at times as well. Because of the fact that I never know which way it will be coming at me.
   Vado seems to always want to have my undivided attention. It is just as well that I am thinking about her so much because there is a lack of inspiration from the countryside. The bleak scenery does not provide much for the senses. She started out blowing as a constant crosswind gusting from right to left (or from East to West) as I headed North. The word "gust" is an interesting word. This is one way that Vado kept my attention. It was not enough for her to just blow (or suck) in a constant velocity across the road in a steady stream. Oh no, she had to have rest periods between gusts to aggrevate me, to keep me focused on her. If she blew steadily, say, in a right-to-left crosswind for awhile, I would come to depend on the expectation of that constant resistance and then lean the bike to the right accordingly. But, oh no, that would not do for Vado. Way too easy. She always had to liven things up after a bit with lulls in her ferocity. She could be a mean (presence) at times. Spiteful. Angry. Maybe if I had let her dump me over on Ruta 40, she would have eased up on me some on Ruta 3. I doubt it though. She is not that kind of wind.
   She could have her good moods though. I will give her that. I would suddenly realize that I was not having to lean the bike at all. That I was just flying down the road with absolutely no resistance from either side or from the front, ie coming from a frontal head wind. I would be experiecing one of Vado´s good moods - otherwise known as a tail wind. I would know it was a tailwind because my helmet would not be digging itself into by neck. Then just about the time I would get comfortable with that free flowing sensation of being pushed along effortlessly by a strong tail wind, that would be about the time that old Vado would want to reassert her position as the dominant element out on the Pampas. She would seem to just know that I was enjoying myself. That would be the time for a crosswind from the opposite direction. After miles and miles of leaning into the gusts coming from right-to-left, she would now throw gusts at me from the completely opposite direction. And at a time just when I was getting comfortable. She seemed to know. She needed to show me who was boss.
   I feel I need to explain some of the dynamics of riding a somewhat heavily loaded vehicle balanced on just two wheels in strong gusting winds. A constant wind, as I said, would be no problem really. Compensating for a steay blow is just a matter of leaning your weight against the oncoming or incoming resistance. If it is constant that is. But these gusts demand your full attention just to keep the bike upright and going in the same direction as the road. And then there are the varibles...oncoming traffic, traffic passing you going in the same direction, the physics of the landscape and the road, etc, etc, etc. You have to deal with all of these varibles at completely unexpected times while listening to Vado (complain) and moan. Again, if she wasn´t so moody, it would be alright. Not easy, but manageable. Vado wants to see you squirm and sweat and be afraid. She wants you to know that SHE is in charge. You do what she says, when she says it. Everything else takes on secondary importance. Now getting back to a description of the variables warrants some additional explanation.

   Oncoming traffic. No big deal ordinarily, but in the wind.....?¿ Things change quickly with the turbulance of a car passing you in the opposite direction while Vado is in one of her crosswind moods. A car seems to create a vacuum when it passes. The cross wind stops for that split second of the car´s passing. You had better be ready for it when this change occurs because you will be leaning into a wind that will not be there - just for that split second. Now consider what will happen when that passing vehicle is a double-trailered semi. Or a high profile double decker long distance bus. You will be leaning into the crosswind from one direction and will need to anticipate when the truck or bus gets to you because in VERY short order you will be blown back in the exact opposite direction. Vado doesn´t care. She seems to say, "That is your problem." She will keep blowing (or not) and you will just have to deal with whatever the road throws at you along the way. Who has time to look at the scenery anyway. Vado is blowing you one way and the bus is blowing you the other way. And it goes on and on and on. Perhaps you can begin to see why riding on Ruta 3 in western Argentina can be a real challenge especially while riding with Vado. And she will not let you rest. If you think you can just pull over for a rest stop, think again. There is no shelter, no trees, no buildings, no overpasses. If you stop to rest, Vado will just blow the bike over on its side. She is that strong. No, better to just keep going.
   Other variables. Guard rail barriers and bridge barriers. With these changes on the road Vado creates unique wind turbulance, sort of like wind tunnels, that completely changes the direction and velocity of her moods. The first time this happens to you it is like a shock. "Vado, how could you be so cruel especially when I was not expecting it". You never know how these roadside features will change her personality. Forget about trying to figure it out. It can´t be done. And just when you think you have the prevailing wind and the roadside feature anticipated, along comes a double-trailored semi over the hill to mess up your calculations. If you lean too far to the right, you will be into the loose gravel of the shoulder. If you lean too far to the left, you will drift into the oncoming traffic. If you "go with the flow" you will never know just where the hell you will end up. Vado is in charge. Just get use to it. Don´t get mad and you don´t ever think about getting even. Be ready to be tense and scared until Vado is through with having her way with you. You will be exhausted both physically and mentally by the end of the day. But you will have traveled the distance with Vado.
   But Vado can change. I have seen it happen. Why just yesterday I realized that I had been riding for almost an hour with no wind whatsoever. No leaning either way, no headwind trying to blow my helmet off my head, just a gentle tender nudging of a tailwind helping me along. Then just about the time I realized how easy I was riding along, Vado decided to teach me a lesson. It was time for a barrage of fierce crosswind gusts from right to left. These are the most dangerous kinds of winds because they can blow you into oncoming traffic. And the oncoming trucks can change the wind to the opposite direction in an instant. OK, Vado, I now remember - you are always there. You are in charge and there is nothing I can do about it. But did you have to bring along Remy, your friend the rain....?¿

Thu 3/06/08

   It took me 6 days to get here to Buenos Aires from the southern tip of Argentina. And as I said before, this distance is just half the length of this huge country. Most of the terrain I rode through was the bleak pampas. It was hot and dry, with a dull brown color to the little vegetation that did exist. And it was HOT! I rode for about 250 miles the first day and ended up at Peurto San Juleán on the Atlantic coast. The ocean did make this coastal town a little cooler than the surrounding area inland - but it was still hot, with a hot wind blowing down the wide streets of the town. I met up again with the Argentinan couple on the Honda 250 that I had ridden with on the Isla Tierra Del Fuego. Small world even in this big country. They were taking a break at the city park by the ocean. "Arthura" started talking to me again a mile a minute like a long lost brother; and, again, I did not know what the heck he was saying. Didn´t seem to matter to him since he didn´t stop talking long enough for me to respond (even if I could). This couple was heading back home to B. Aires after visiting Ushuaia.
   I headed out into a stiff headwind the next morning. I rode right by the first gas station I passed as I still had over 100 miles of fuel range left in the tank. Big Mistake!! The next station 80 miles up the road was closed, and it was still 50 miles to the next station after that. I ran completely out of gas again, to include my reserve tank, about 2 miles before coming to the next gas station. Long distances between gas stations out here. Luckily, I had a reserve reserve in the form of a small bottle of gas in one of my panniers. I just made it to the pump even with that. Stayed the next night in another coastal town, Comodoro Rivadavia. Sounds like an Italian admiral or something. The landscape had finally started to change a bit as I came toward this town. At last here were some trees, even thought they were stunted. I could not find an internet cafe with a working system in this town though. And it was a good size town too. Got a great Argentina steak there (actually it was two steaks) at a Parrilla restaurant next to the hotel. Might have been the best steak I have ever eaten.
   The road turned inland again away from the coast so Vado (the wind) and the pampas landscape returned. Hot wind and desolate landscape. Miles and miles of both. Got a room in a town by the name of Trelew. As I rode into town, I noticed signs at the gas stations saying they had no gas. Oh boy. Nothing like the thought of being stranded out on the pampas for days while riding my last week on the road. I was dehydrated Big Time so ordered a beer at a sidewalk cafe next to the hotel. The waitress brought me one-liter bottle, which surprised me because that size bottle is usually shared by two people at a sitting. But I drank the whole thing... while watching the teenagers of the town posturing to try to gain each others attention on the main street. Interesting in each other but not really talking to the opposite sex. Kind of like a Middle School dance out on the sidewalk. Girls in one covey and boys in the other.

   The next morning I could still not find any gas for sale in town. Went back to the hotel and the staff called around and found one station that still had some gas. I rode over there quickly and was met with a line of cars and motos at least two blocks long. Shades of the long gas lines of the early 70´s in the U.S. I made the decision to wait around til noon to see if any gas would be delivered to town. If not, I would ride on to the next town 30 miles down the road and hope they did not have the same problem. While waiting I decided to get my bike cleaned at a detail shop and have some of the dust from the gravel roads in Patagonia washed off. A young man took his steam cleaner to it & made it shine, then absolutely refused to take any money for the service. That act of kindness immediately turned the tone of my day around. It was time for an oil change as well, so I pulled into a lube place and another young man, the propriator of the business, allowed me to change my oil and filter in his shop. I made a bit of a mess while doing it but it didn´t seem to phase him. No worries!! (I think he said in Español). And this guy refused to take any money for the use of his shop and the disposal of my used oil. So what if I run out of gas in the middle of nowhere again on the Pampas. These two young men had made me day. I tightened and oiled my drive chain at the lube shop. I was all ready to ride into Buenos Aires: new/clean oil and new filter, adjusted and oiled chain, and a clean bike!!! I did have to put my gas tank onto reserve before I got to the next town though.... but the station there did have gas!! So I was all set to get on down the road. Because I now had gasoline as well. Something that I had often taken for granted.
   The next town I stopped out was called Tres Arroyos. I was definitely out of the Pampas area now. I started riding through farming land with full size trees, homesteads and farms, and the occassionaly community. I was getting close to the Capitol Federale, Buenos Aires, which meant that I was getting closer to going home! Things started happening that seemed to be telling me that it was time to end this trip. My faithful MP3 player lost its memory the day before I ended the ride. Pieces had been falling off of it during most of the trip but I was always able to patch it back together again along the way. Maybe it finally got fed up with the 220 volt Argentina electric current that I was feeding the battery charger. Other things were quitting on me as well. My can of shaving cream (which had lasted the whole 4 month plus trip) went empty today; I am on the last page in my daily journal (no more pages to write on); my ink pen ran out of ink this morning; and the tube of toothpaste that Sarah gave me in Costa Rica is just about gone... as well as my deodorant which I broke down and purchased while in Peru. It is time to come home.
   On my last day on the road, it drizzled on me off and on the whole day. It made me realize that I have had almost perfect riding weather throughout most of the journey. I was getting tired so I quit for the day a bit earlier than usual. The rain started really pouring down just as I was unloading my bike at the hotel. It rained hard all that night, my last night on the road. And wouldn´t you know it, but it quit raining just about the time I had finished packing up to take off the next morning. I did see "pampas grass" the next morning on the ride toward B. Aires. It was all over the place. But I never did see one clump of it out on the real pampas. I had been riding on Ruta 3 since I left Ushuaia at the southern tip of this country (and also the southern tip of the WORLD). About 40 miles from Buenos Aires the autopista, or interstate, started up and it appeared that all the other traffic that had been on Ruta 3 turned off onto this super highway. I guess that should have told me something. All the buses, cars as well as the cattle and grain trucks that I had been riding with for days - they all turned off Ruta 3 where the autopista started. But I had been riding this same highway for 3000 kilometers. So I stayed with it to the bitter end. Soon I realized why everyone else had turned off this route though. It looked like Ruta 3 had been abandoned by the highway department. I rode through an industrial area and was often in the mud, then into the slums on the outskirts of the city. An interesting ride in the twilight. The traffic started to increase but was made up of mostly decrepit buses and old taxis. I kept seeing road signs indicating I was still headed toward the Capital Federale, ie Buenos Aires, so I kept going. I finally started getting into some nicer business areas and then finally into some nice residential inner city neighborhoods. I like this city but it is huge. After dark, I flagged down a taxi and asked the driver if he knew of any hotels nearby. He indicated that he would be right back, then went to his cab and radioed somebody. Soon he was back and told me to follow him in his cab. He led me to a really nice older hotel and would not take any money for this service. Another lesson learned. I was obviously a tourist and this guy went way out of his way to help me out.
   I have been enjoying my stay in this city. I found a great café where I can people watch in the morning. I noticed a local custom of folks greeting each other with a kiss on the cheek. Cab drivers greet each other this way, burly truck drivers, etc. I even saw the assist manager at the local McDonalds greeting his morning staff at the door with a buss on the cheek as they arrived for work. What an interesting custom. Something to think about.....
   I rode my bike out to the aeropeurto yesterday and put it on a pallet to ship it back to the U.S., to Calif to be exact. Had to remove the battery, mirrors, and windshield, empty the gas tank and let air out of the tires. But it is all ready to come back home. There was a bike on a pallet right next to mine in the warehouse, a 1918 Harley Davidson. It was interesting to think that this particular bike had started out in the U.S., somehow made it over to Argentina, and now it is being sent back to the U.S. It had been restored to mint condition. The world is really getting smaller.
I bought a small suitcase today in a luggage shop and was talking to the propriator, an older lady (about my age), who knew some English. I commented on the kissing-on-the-cheek custom and she suggested I should try it some time. So I did. We kissed each other with a loud smack, just like I had seen (and heard) the truck drivers do it out on Ruta 40. When it came time to pay for my valise, the luggage lady had reduced the price of it by 20 pesos. Should I feel used....?¿ Nah, when in Rome.......
   I fly out this evening for the U.S.A. at 11pm. I will do a redeye to Dulles/Wash then on to Seattle and from there to Ketchikan, Alaska. I have had a quite an adventure, I know I have - almost 5 months and 19,215 miles. I have greatly appreciated your coming along with me via these posts. Thank you for writing to me. I am looking forward to seeing you in person if God Wills.