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Published: December 16th 2006
Moon river, wider than a mile....
Just right for giving a kleptomaniac dog a corrective bath...Nick:
Well, since our last entry it has been 10 days of good times, not so good times, ridiculous roads and spectacular views, but we are finally back, basking in the hospitaility of Eric and Emily in BA!! We have done over 1000 miles (1600km) since our last post and a lot has happened. Why so long in posting? Well, mainly because we were either busy or out of internet reach. After our last post we set off on the Ruta 237 toward Neuquen. This distance we covered in a day which took us along twisty roads where we had ridden 2 months previously. We had discussed our lack of camping the days previously and realised, quite logically really, that if we set ourselves a town as a destination for a days rise, inevitably we would probably end up in a hosteleria, as we dislike camping in towns. So we made a conscious effort to ride on past Neuquen (which we felt was a good idea as the drivers we all lunatics and the town seemed a bit soulless) and finally turned the now Ruta 22 onto the Ruta 6. We drove South over the Rio Negro and found a
campsite on the river's edge. Temperatures were now stratospheric (ironic when you think that the stratosphere is well below freezing...). Not good in a ToreGex two piece suit and half a cow of biker boot. So we pitched up under the shade of trees, by the cool clear river in a quiet campsite, albeit with somewhat lacking facilities. We slept well that night, despite the fact that one of the dogs, (that we had thought was a pleasant little chap) was found rummaging and shredding one of our bags for some bread. Nice to see the owners were feeding him... After chasing him off with a healthy mix of arm-waving and foreign expletives, we spent a nice night. Next morning of course, it would appear a dog called Karma had visited us as I found, or rather didn't find, our flip-flop sandles. These were later located at various coners of the campsite. That day we trekked in the heat
at least 500 metres to find a quite spot to spend our Sunday on the banks of the river. Unfortunately, this meant that we disturbed a herd of cows on one of the islands, as we barged passed with all our
stuff. This included a bull of gargantuan proportions, who ran out of the brush did a hand-brake turn and stood facing us, about a kilometer wide by my reckoning. We swallowed what pride we had not strewn on the floor and pelted through the bush away from the black behemoth. (Did I mention that he was quite big....We see too many cows back in Europe to really remember how big a bull is... a mountain on legs). We relaxed in the shade and bathed in the clear water with the sounds of families chatting, birds chirpping and pick-ups doing dough-nuts in the mud.... a true country idyll. That evening we rejoined our tent and slept, lulled by the sounds of 3 asados all within 20 meters of the tent...great. To top it all off, the next day I awoke to the site of the mongrel trying to make off with our expandable cannister full of water. Plastic and water make a nice substitute for meat, it would seem. All this meant that our cannister now had teeth holes and was only usleable as a shower. No good. So this got binned after giving the camp owner a talking to on
the subject. As one might have expected him to be somewhat apologetic, he surprised us by being completely unmoved. We left the site, my boot trying in vain to reach the dog before we rode out onto the open road. The road was far busier than what we been used to in the previous weeks. When we finally arrived at Bahia Blanca, our destination, after a record 360 miles, we forewent the ritual of searching for a hotel and went striaght for the best one in town. AR$104 Got us a room with TV, breakfast, a view of the street and a complimentary squadron of specially starved mosquitoes. These mosquitoes seemed to mostly reside under the toilet seat which, I can tell you, made for one scintillating surprise after another.
On the way to Bariloche, we had arranged to meet some fellow travellers from a web-site that is a cornucopia of information for the over-land biker. This was near Viedma, sister town of Carmen de Patagones, where we had stayed after our first foray down South at the end of our first week. This meant that we had had the choice of either riding like loons to the North and
try and see new places or take a sedate route East and visit friends we may not see again for a while. We opted for option 2, and so from Bahia Blanca we head South to Pedro Luro and the farm of Marahue, home of the family of Emily.
This of course meant one thing. Facing the road that had shattered my illusions and confidence about riding off-road all those weeks previously when I had taken my first shaky miles and then a shakier spill in the sand. Time to put them demons asleep, Mr Marsh. It was more general anaesthetic than sleep as we blasted to the farm's door in about an hour with no problems: a full hour less than my previous best. But, the road is treacherous, my prescious. Yes, yes, it find a way to deceive us, precious. Yes it does....
Being back at Marahue it was instantly clear we had made by far the best decision on where to go from Bariloche. It was as peacful as we had remembered it.. This place with its open skies, and green fields dappled with a few trees, a lot of cows and loads of birds (including Nandu,
related to ostriches!) is definitely food for the soul, at least certainly our souls. As before we were welcomed with open arms and made to feel so at home. We helped a little on the farm; I chased cows round a field with a Quad bike, but mostly we relaxed and read books in the shade, or played with the dog. At night we were treated to great home cooking and spectacular thunder storms, the likes of which I had not yet seen lighting up the sky. Those of you that are still awake, reading this will no doubt have remembered the minor fact that rain and earth make mud. This fact did not escape "The Road" as I now call it. Indeed, "The Road" took full atvantage of the 50mm of water to fall the night before (and only 2 nights since the 40mm preceding it). This meant that our departure that day was delayed for as long as possible in order to make the road dry in the summer swelter. As we left it seemed ok, with only a few patches requiring loads of care as opposed to just a lot of it. But, "The Road" had its
way in the end and we slipped on mud. However, this time, possibly due to the experience I now have gained and that it is not the first time, the whole experience was actually quite amusing.
So "Road" you can stick that up you one-way gyrotary and smoke it!!
We rejoined Ruta 3 and headed South to Viedma. There we found the bike meet of about 20-25 travelling bikers including Javier and Sandra from Dakar Motos at a beach resort on the Atlantic, famous for its thousnds of nesting and screeching parakeets. Cute but incredibly noisy. But so cute!!! Amongst the group were some real characters. A charming German couple (Frank and Petra) on almost the same bike as us, a French fellow (Hubert) off on a 10 year bike tour in his BMW side car outfit and a Canadian retired couple going from BA to Ushuaia and then back to Canada on a spanking new full dress Harley: gravel roads and all!! Their enthusiasm and optimism was just like that of the Dutch cyclists in Chile: quality!!
During the week end we went out to Viedma for another bike meet on the Saturday and then onto our
I'm still here, Road
See you on the road, eh.... Road!! first authentic asado at an estancia in the sticks. 20km of gravel said the organiser: more like 43km of sand and gravel. Somehow, we got there upright: namely due to the primitive yet powerfull force known as Male Pride ("I will not be the first to bin my bike!!!"). We left Viedma on Monday morning on a mission and we arrived at Azul, at La Posta Del Viajero en Moto after nuking our record , reaching 470 miles in the day. Strange that the site of our first night after leaving BA was to be our last night before BA. It was fantastic to see Jorge again and he was a much fun and as welcoming as last time. We also met up with Charlie, a fellow biker who had been the first to offer wise words and advice when I was planning the trip and was choosing a bike. He also put us in touch with his charming wife, Sonia, when we were in Mendoza and she too was there. With them, Jorge and some friends we had yet another Asado. The next afternoon we rejoined Capital Federal by entering the throng of Buenos Aires for the second time
in our lives, and slowly and not very surely we reached Eric and Emily's flat where warm smiles and cold beer awaited: a perfect end to our great bike's hard work. The next days we relaxed a little and ran around a lot. We arranged for the bike to be shipped home from the warehouse where we left it this afternoon, we shopped a little, drank more cold beer, and ate cold ice cream (not at the same time), listened to thunder storms and booked our second bus journey of this trip to the falls of Iguazu on the Brasilian border.
Kristina:
Tuesday, 12 December 2006
The circle is closing, at an inevitable speed. We are back in Azul, in La Posta, the place where we stayed at the very first night of our South American adventure. Last night was the very last one, sleeping next to the heat-radiating bike after 700km on Ruta 3 and hugging the handkerchief-size blue pillows we've rested our heads on for the last 10 weeks... I would be lying if I would say everything is OK. It's not. I found it difficult to mingle with people and try small-talk with strangers this weekend,
I much preferred the solitude of the Patagonian plains and spending time with just the person I'm closest to. Sonia asked me yesterday what was the best part of the trip. I had been thinking about that already and had came to a conclusion that for me, this journey has been a place to clear my head, to finish the thoughts that I had never had time to finish and to face the ones I had been avoiding... Long hours on the back of the bike, wrestling with the wind and staring to nothingness can be very therapeutic 😊
It might sound as if I'm unhappy - it is by no means so! Sad, yes. This has been the best two and half months I have spent in my life. Buenos Aires will be a shock, I know that, but our trip would not be complete without the abrupt return to "civilisation". And there's so much to see and do, still. Tango lessons, more lomo meals with friends, trying to survive in the BA traffic, Iguazu falls, Christmas in +40C heat accompanied with native moscitoes.
Enough of all that insightful stuff. You might wonder what in earth have we
been up to since the last entry???
Well, from Bariloche we headed towards east, over some (freezing!!) mountains into the (boiling!) valleys. There we were greeted by the once so boring naked landscape and dead-straight roads. This time, though, I enjoyed the views a lot. I loved being back in the desolate pampas, even though it was way too hot for me, and after catching myself falling asleep on the bike and I had to ask Nick to stop the bike in every 45min or so to take a quick cat-nap under the thorny road-side bushes. After negotiating through the traffic-light-infested Neuquen that was full of extremely rude drivers, we landed in a river-side camping near General Roca. It turned out to also be the "baywatch" hangout for the locals, shared with some wild cows, bulls and horses. Eager to make the most of the clear blue skies and refreshing Rio Negro we decided to spend the weekend at the campsite. Looking for a quiet spot to spread our ponchos on we were challenged by an alpha-male bull, the size of a tractor... No harm done, we backed out and landed on a tiny "peninsula" on the riverside. We
Hubert reflects on his first two years on the road
whilst the rest of us face the last 2 or 5 km to the asado knew from previous experience that the Argentines are in many ways different to us, especially with regard to personal space, and so we were soon surrounded by large families preparing their Sunday asados... It's their land, after all, and therefore we have no right to complain about their shoulder-to-shoulder mentality. To summarise: the cleptomanianc dog excluded, it was a nice weekend at the local riviera.
On Monday we put our heads down and rushed through the heat to Bahia Blanca. It's a sea-port town and unfortunately it shows from far, as you cannot miss the dark pollution cloud hovering over the city, not mentioning the flaming gas towers and ripped plastic bags, stuck on the surrounding pampa bushes. The city as such has a big-town feeling to it and so we decided to splash out on a downtown hotel. It was nice to stand on the hotel room balcony and watch the life go by.
The following morning, exhausted by what seemed an all-night-long fight with an army of mosquitoes, we dragged ourselves to the bike and set off to Marahue. Lovely Marahue!!! It was encouraging to see that the road seemed much more manageable this time, we
We made it!... do we really have to go back?
Leonard navigates his Harley over 43 km of sand and holes to the asado had experienced far worse in Carretera Austral. John, Emily's father, gave us a quick appraisal of the past 9 weeks: Diego (Emily's brother) and Karin had had a nice wedding day; the calves we had seen being born in September were turning into nice young cows; Rocky, Misty and Whitey (house cats) were sleeping where we had left them and Tana (dog) had had a modern haircut to relieve her from the summer heat. The next few days were heavenly: waking up to the sounds of the farm, reading our books, numerous attempts to help
(read: distract) John and Diego with the cows, playing with the cats and the dog 😊 The first evening we were surrounded by the most amazing electric storm - the skies in Argentina are huge, and they were all near black, lightening flashing from every direction. It resulted with a major powercut and so that evening we enjoyed our dinner at candle light.
I find Emily's family very inspiring and easy to be with, but reluctantly, we had to say goodbyes to Marahue... On Friday, we were expected at a travellers' bike meet in Viedma, ~200km south of Marahue.
El Condor is a
seaside resort ~35km of Viedma and also a home to the largest parakeet colony in Argentina. We joined our fellow travellers on Friday evening, pitched up the tent and took a good look around. There they were, GSs and Africa Twins, a Yamaha and even a British military truck, all carrying big metal panniers, covered with stickers from countries they had visited. Suddenly we were no different at all. Just by crossing that camping site gate we had entered an English-speaking world full of people who had been on the road for 3 months, 6 months, a year or 5 years, writing blogs or updating their websites of their journeys. They had seen the same places we had visited and were planning to continue to the parts of world that we will not see this time, due to lack of time.... I found it interesting and devastating at the same time. We spent the weekend figuring out who is who, discussing the technicalities of the bikes, sharing our stories. Sunday's highlight was a trip to an "around-the-corner" estancia for an asado that turned out to be 70km from our campsite, ~30km of asphalt and the rest down a sand-track, a
3hr journey through wheat fields and pampa!
That was hard work... All the other bikes seemed to cruise on the sand with ease, we on the other hand were holding our breath for the entire journey, not daring to drop the bike in front of 20+ other motos... And we made it! My rider is very skilled and I am extremely proud of him! As other bikers later confessed, the road had been hard work to most of them and the easiness of the ride was only illusioned by the sturdy apprearance of their bikes 😉
We parted from the other travellers on Monday morning and I was relieved to see that we were nearly only ones to head north and not south. On the way to Azul we passed 3 other overseas bikes, all heading towards Ushuaia. I am glad that we decided to travel out of season as this made our trip a bit more unique and exotic.
It was nice to see Jorge and Monica again, in Azul. Their home has a very special, welcoming atmosphere. Charley and Sonia joined us for dinner later that evening in La Posta and soon we were all sitting
Nick models the latest fashion
A Hercule Poirot "Dust" Moustache around a large table, enjoying a chicken asado (the local slaughter houses were on strike and therefore we could not by the usual bife de lomo, chorrito and sausages...) It was a lovely meal in a lovely company!
Friday, 15 December 2006
We are in Buenos Aires and so far it has not been a shock at all! Eric welcomed us with some cold beer served in freezer-cold glasses - a fantastic reception after riding many hours in +35C heat! We have been opening the boxes we have sent to Emily to "store" from various destinations in Argentina and we already feel like we are re-living the trip.
On the other hand, it does not feel like we've been away at all. Weird, uh?... I'm sure it will all sink in when we step on the home grounds in the UK...
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Sandra
non-member comment
Fantastic!
Dear both, I haven't been very active commenting your journey, but I was very happy seeing you both have fun and being so happy together. I enjoyed reading and pictures, pictures, pictures .They are so heartfelt, full of twists and turns, each and every telling you a story. Taking the opportunity I’d like you to wish a nice X-mas and the happy New Year. X-mas time is peaceful even in civilization. You will have some time for adaptation, Kris:) Wishing you all the best and big hug, Yours Sa