Ron and Marty had parked just off Ruta 40, and stood looking out over Lake Cardiel, an unusual feature in this flat dry land. All of a sudden with a roar and a wave of dust, and we were joined by a motorcycle tour. Four male riders of a certain (ie my) age, and a white pickup driven by a woman, who was somehow overseeing the Tour. They had subcontracted with Motoaventura (who had rented me my bike in Osorno) to provide them with BMW motorcycles and the follow vehicle. We greeted each other. They discovered we didn't speak German. We discovered they weren't much interested in speaking English, so we went back to talking to the group leader, Angela, who was fluent in both languages. The riders turned out to be Swiss and rich. Their ... read more

When I looked over the different sections of the route, as designed by the Ride Adventure company, I noticed that today's run, at 120 km, was by far the shortest. I wondered why. Now I know. While the scenery was spectacular, as always, today’s trip was all about the road. It wound along the southern shore of this, the second largest lake in South America, a winding slash carved out of hills that drop straight down to the lake. Sometimes swooping down to water level, sometimes climbing high to the plateau, the ride provided all the conceivable challenges a gravel road can offer – except for one. It was dry. If it had been wet, I would still be out there. Have you ever noticed that little orange @ indicator light that sometimes goes on when ... read more

It rained last night in Coyhaique, which laid a cover of white across the tops of the mountains. A new look. It was sunny when I left. The temperature dropped from 10 degrees centigrade down to 1.5 degrees as we climbed up over the pass. I was warm. The gravel road was soft but wide and safe. We went up into the clouds and rain, then dropped down into a valley with sunlight and a rainbow. Spectacular. The mountains often form part of a national park or reserve. The valley bottoms filled with a lake or a river, or the wide flat privately owned land used for pasture and grazing (cattle, sheep and even some vicuña -- or one of those llama type animals). Otherwise, tourism is the biggest industry, with the small towns advertising lodges ... read more

The river runs from the Chile-Argentina border down to the Pacific. Blue and clear, it had become a raging torrent when my road joined and followed it Southwest through the mountains. What was unexpected was to find a large group of rafters and kayakers going down it. That looked really scary. I followed them down to where they took out. The organizers and some of the clients were Americans. They didn't seem to have lost anyone. The road out of Trevelin into Chile to Futaleufú was deep gravel. After a brief 10 km pavement respite, it was gravel again until I reached the Chilean equivalent of Argentina's Ruta 40. It is called the Carretera Austral, Ruta 7, and runs North South through this broken up part of Chile. It was paved when I turned onto it ... read more

I am traveling by myself. But I am not alone. Today it took a team of 3 mechanics working most of the morning to get my designated bike (just back from a trip) ready to roll again. I hung out and asked awkward questions, often causing more work. The yard was full of bikes and bikers from Argentina, Chile, Brasil and Costa Rica, messing with gear and talking biker travel talk. All male. Most had grey hair like me. I drove 80 km to the border and had to wait in line for half an hour with 30 other cars, making friends with people I kept meeting again through the day. They would wave and honk when they passed me stopped by the side of the road taking pictures. I then found out I had lost ... read more