Ushuaia to Esquel, Argentina
Tierra Del Fuego and the Patagonian Plains

So, here we go! After almost 3 months off the bike seats and we’re “On The Road Again”! We’re anxious to get going, this is the beginning of the long road home, through the Americas. Come along with us as we struggle with ice, snow, rain and the ever-present “Vientos”, the Tierra del Fuego and Patagonian winds. Meet people who live in desolate places and love it. Meet Gauchos who make little money and live a lonely life. See extraordinary works of Mother Nature, mountains, lakes, glaciers and the brown expanse of Patagonia’s Plains. Catch a glimpse of Chile as we cut the corner in Tierra del Fuego. Have you ever seen Guanaco, Nando or Pichy? Ever seen cordero asado on the fire? Well, come on along, you may enjoy the read better than we enjoyed the ride.

WorldRiders2 are “On The Road, Again!”

August 28, 2004
Go For IT!
Ush to Los Cotorras
25 Kilometers

Waking up before the sun is no problem, here. We lay and thought about our decision and waited for at least a hint of sun. At first it was just pink clouds, then a little blue sky. We often think of my Mother at times like this, she always said, “Pink sky at night Sailor’s delight. Pink sky in the morning, Sailor take warning”! Sorry Mom but we’ve got to go, storm or no. (Well, in deference to Mom, the Weather Report on the Internet said that we’d have a clear but cold day.)

Packing was a slow and arduous process. It’s been 3 months since we packed these bags and loaded up. Cat paid the bill while I pushed us out. At 10:45 AM we put our new boots on the pedals and pushed off, down toward town.

The streets are fairly clear, here. We rode to the path along the Harbor, stopped and set for a picture then on, into town. Seeking the landmark sign, we found one that points out the distance, 3040 Kilometers, to Buenos Aires. A guy from across the street agreed to take a picture of us. He shot then handed the camera back and ran, he’s a Tour Bus Driver and his bus is waiting.

Onward, to the obelisk and the “Fin del Mundo” sign. We set the bikes and took a couple of self-photos then a group, Italians, came along. We gestured and Andrea, T, Simona and Andrea, O, volunteered to be our official Ushuaia Photographers. We got a couple of good stills then they took some video for LandRider and some for our web site. Of course they wanted to have a picture with us and we needed a picture with them so we enlisted the help of 2 young guys from France, Nicolas, Mirailles. Then we wanted one of them, memorial of the moment. A real UN meeting at the “End of the World”.

End of World

Ush and Ice

It was after 1:00 PM by the time we rode, then pushed up the hill and out of Ushuaia. The weather was cool but sunny. The up continued most of the way to the Esso Station. We could still see West Ush below as we pulled in looking for food. They had pre-prepared plastic wrapped sandwiches and Gatorade. We watched some Olympic events with Spanish commentary. The workers there were curious but distant.

Goodbye Ush

Onward, more up and cool to cold. Snow and ice lined the road and at times encroached upon it. Still on the up, we came upon the first of several Ski areas. A nice looking Hotel sitting high above the road. Our map tells us that there are 5 more ahead, we want to go further so began looking for a place closer to the road.

No Rooms in the Inns

The next place, Valle de los Huskies is down an icy dirt road, out of sight of the highway. . The sign had a bed but we decided it best to investigate first. Cat waited while I rode down and explored. The end of the roadway was completely covered with slush. The pathway to the buildings was snow covered. A guy there gathering wood sort of led me in. Another tried to speak English. He got the point across that they have no rooms for sleeping. He told me in Spanglish and sign language that there is a place just a Kilometer further along. I struggled back up, Cat had begun to freeze. We pedaled on.

Mush

The next place, Tierra Mayor, was a Hotel. There were a couple of dog sled setting off down below. We had to push up a muddy, then snow covered driveway. Cat went in this time, I stood the watch. The only thing to watch was a bus driver, snoring loudly, sleeping and waiting for the Dog Sled Passengers below.

Cat came back disappointed, only the Restaurant is open, the Hotel portion is closed for repairs. So, onward and upward as the shadows of the hills to the North began to take the sun and it’s little bit of heat away from us.

We’re getting close to the end of our possibilities, Las Cotorras is the first followed by Refugio Haruwen. Cotorras is down off the road but the driveway is solid ice and snow. A 4WD came slipping and sliding up and stopped near us. The couple inside told us that Cotorras has rooms that cost 90 Pesos. The place looks a little seedy so we asked about Haruwen, the Ski Resort. They said, “Yes, it is 2 Kilometers and rooms cost $ 225, US Dollars, and up. They drove on, we began the decent of the face of Cotorras.

The place is pretty casual. The Restaurant is large and a round fireplace sits near the center. Yes, they do have a room. We didn’t even look we just took. The girl, Maria, led us out back, up a slippery slope then down an icy trail. The building was warm and that bid well for us. We pushed the bikes inside, she told us it was safe to leave the bikes in the hallway. We thought we might be the only guests and it would be okay then a couple of guys showed up. We did leave them in the hall while we showered and thawed. I did a rough measurement and decided that we could jamb them into the room. We struggled but squeezed then through the door then crawled over them and headed for dinner.

Cross-country skiers and Dog Sled tourists were sipping drinks. They drank then drifted off, on their way back home? So the place was ours. We sat next to the fireplace for warmth and ordered wine and dinner. The waitress fired up an old stove and filled the oven with bread rolls. We sipped our wine, ate some of the tasty bread and waited for the dinner hour, 8:30 PM.

We were hungry and anxious to get to bed. The lamb they are famous for won’t be ready for another half hour to 45 minutes. Trucha (Trout) is available now, we took the hook. Well, I had Trout, Cat chose raviolis. We sat and watched the logs burn until our eyes were at half-mast. As we left a group of guys, skiers, came in looking for food and booze.

Our room is simple but warm. No TV so it was lights out at 9:30.

Sunday, August 29, 2004
Lo Cotorras to Petrel
35 Kilometers

Our waitress last night told us that they don’t serve breakfast until 9:30 AM. We want to get an earlier start so she agreed to tell the staff we would be in at 8:30. The sun here just begins to peak over the mountains at 8:00. We hustled to get packed then walked the frozen pathway in the freezing morning air to the Restaurant. There were only a couple of old guys there, cleaning. They did have a good fire going so we sat and waited.

At 9:30 the breakfast crew came in. They hustled upstairs where we were told that breakfast would be served. We climbed the stairs only to find all the chairs on top of the tables. It was freezing cold up there, too. Maria told us to go back down and she would serve us by the fireplace. What a nice girl. She brought the Continental Breakfast, toast and coffee. They had no juice or fruit. I decided that we were being treated like the Prisoners of Ushuaia. They would be put on rations of bread and water when they rebelled. Coffee’s just barely more than water, it has no food value. We loaded up on bread, jam and the brown, warm water.

We were treated to a unique sight, the cooking of their famous Asado lamb. They have a huge wood fire set up under part of the restaurant and a dozen lambs strung out around it. The smell was already spreading throughout the grounds, enough to drive us crazy even though we’d just finished our bread and water. The smell of them cooking will definitely be a big draw to tired and hungry cross-country skiers this afternoon.

Maria told us that she and her partner, Sergio, are planning a cross-country bicycle trip next year. We urged them to hold onto their dream. We posed with them for a picture then began the struggle of getting the bikes, one at a time, up the solid ice driveway. We had dwelled on our coffee, hoping for a thaw. It was 11:00 AM by the time we had both bikes on the roadway.

Back to Slippin’ and ‘a’ Slidin’

The Highway looks dry but is, in fact, solid black ice. We couldn’t ride, we could barely push on the slippery surface. It was Slippin’ and a slidin’, just as we’d done in Finland 18 months ago. We walked in the crunchy snow along the edge of the road, wondering about our decision to go in these conditions. The wind was now howling, too. Conditions went from bad to worse. There was no riding, we pushed and pushed for more than 3 hours.

Treachrous

Slippin' and Slidin'

At 15 kilometers we pushed into a Cross Country Ski area, Haruwne. It was crowded with participants in a biathlon, skiing and shooting event. We leaned the bikes where we could see them from inside and ordered lunch. The place was packed with skiers eating lamb, drinking and smoking. We had sandwiches and pasta, fuel food. They have no rooms here and it’s at least another 15 kilometers to a Hosteria.

The weather took a turn for the better, the sun popped through and began to melt the slick driveway. One guy there who spoke some English informed us that the road ahead was about he same as we’d just come except that it pitches up and over a mountain. The best we could figure was that he said it is a 6-kilometer climb.

Back outside, we pushed through the slush to the cheers of the Biathlon participants. To our surprise, just around the corner we encountered the first dry road we’ve seen in these past 2 days. We celebrated with a spurt of speed but were soon plunged back into pushing mode as the road took a winding turn, up. Most of the 6 kilometers would be pushing. The road was dry at first then as we gained altitude it again slipped back to icy. This is Garibaldi Pass, the sign at the summit says 450 meters. (1,500 feet)

Winding Up

MudRiders2

It was a 4 hour ordeal, getting up then, just when we thought we had it made, the road went from slippery snow and ice to wet gummy mud. The view of Lake Escondido is spectacular. We admired then a guy from a car that pulled up volunteered to take our picture. Well, it is all down hill but sort of treacherous for us in the slippery mud. We were ready to celebrate arrival at the base of the hill, along the lakeshore when it dawned on us that Hosteria Pestal is 5 Km back, along the lake.

The road to the Hosteria is really muddy. We had to push almost as much as we rode. It’s a beautiful location but the current conditions including the setting sun and growing cold, detract. Finally, we pushed up to the front door and walked into a dark and cold Restaurant.

Ernesto, is Hotel Clerk, waiter, chief cook and bottle washer. He told us that we would be the only guests tonight then took us to a cold room. The heat in the radiator was just starting to flow. He assured us that it and hot water for showers would be there, soon.

The sun was slipping down beyond the lake. It was 7:30 PM and almost dark when the generator kicked on we had lights. We did get hot water and the heater did put off enough to take the chill out of the air.

There was a fellow in the office when we came out fro dinner. He waved to us then disappeared. Ernesto was joined by Gisela who spoke enough English to guide us through the menu. The sun’s final rays slipped into the lake, we had a nice bottle of wine and huddled next to a radiator. Dinner was excellent, Lomo con Champignon, Fillet Mignon with mushrooms and steamed potatoes.

One of the features that Tourist from near and far must appreciate is that there’s no TV. This Lodge is a Fisherman and Trekker’s delight. For us it meant, early to bed.

August 30, 2004
Petrel to Tolhuin
56 Kilometers

Pulling back the drape at 7:00 AM brought a flood of sunlight into our room. The window is like a huge painting. The lake extends out and is surrounded by snow-capped mountains. A picture that no artist err could paint, as the words of the old song go.

Ernesto made real cappuccino for us. We ordered an omelet to go with the coffee and toast. Fresh tasting juice, capped off a wonderful breakfast. Edardo, introduced himself. He’s Gisela’s husband, they own Hosteria Pestal and have for 18 years. They also own the YPF Service Station in Tolhuin. Last night we told Gisela how tough the muddy road is between here and the Ruta 3. She had volunteered to drive us out in a Camionetta. (Pickup Truck) It turned out to be their truck and Edardo that she’s volunteered.

We packed and pushed outside then loaded, lifted up onto the pickup. I rode in the back with the bikes. It was cold, I had to duck down and put my gloves in front of my face to keep my nose from freezing.

At the Highway Edardo helped get the bikes off then wished us well. We think he was saying that they would probably see us in Tolhuin? We shook hands then he turned and drove back toward Petrel. Alone again, we stood in the silence then mounted courage and the bikes and headed down the long lonesome, muddy highway.

MudRiders2

MudRiders2

Once out of the shadow of the mountains we enjoyed a mild, sunny morning. The road is dirt, mostly mud. We picked our way along looking for the dry spots. The few cars that passed slowed to lessen the shower of mud and rocks. We stopped, sat on a log in the gathering breeze. I had a bit of an upset stomach so ate just a cereal bar. Cat had the sandwich that Ernesto had packaged up for us. She shivered, wolfed it down and we went back to our task.

The road follows the shore of Lago Escondida then cuts across barren countryside to the shore of huge Lago Fagnano. About half the ride is on its shore and Tolhuin lies at its eastern end.

Not right on the lakeshore, we had to push up a long hill, into town. The boy working at Edardo’s YPF told us that the only Hotel was on the lake, about 7 kilometers away. Hoping he was wrong we explored other possibilities in our limited Spanish. Then he said, “Motel, ACA”, (here) and pointed down the muddy street. We pushed then rode through the bumps and mud but found nothing. A woman pushing a baby carriage pointed back the direction we’d just come then off to the right. Had we missed the place? We rode back then turned and still saw no sign of a Motel.

Pablo to the Rescue!

Up a little muddy hill, we stopped at a grocery store. As we leaned the bikes a Camionetta pulled up and Pablo, from Tolhuin Tourist jumped out. Someone had alerted him that a couple of struggling Gringos were roaming around lost. He had a map of Tolhuin and got the point across that the Motel was pretty basic but he could help us find a Cabana. (Cabin) He circled his office on the map, suggested that we get supplies then come see him. The little store was pretty well stocked, even a fair selection of wine.

Pablo actually works with the Regional Government and Tourism is only one of his responsibilities. Neither he nor the other 2 staff members speak any English. We struggled to understand and slowly got the point that Cabanas are privately owned and he can only suggest some for us to call. Then the bad news, they have no phone here at his office. He gave us a list and suggested that we go to the Panaderia and use the Pay Phone there. Finally we convinced Pablo that we would have a tough time communicating and he whipped a Cell Phone out of his pocket. He suggested 2 possibilities, we took the first. He called, the guy told him it was available.

Knowing that we would be lost, Pablo volunteered to drive me to the place to take a look. I suggested Cat go and I stay to watch the bikes. He seemed reluctant to take just Cat and told us to put the bikes against the fence where his co-workers could keep an eye on them. Anxious to help, he grabbed my bike by the seat. The ensuing sound and look on his face let us know that, as Don Law the inventor of Cheeko Seats had warned, it had pulled apart. Pablo was horrified, I assured him that it was fixable.

The town of Tolhuin is tiny. The mains street full of barking dogs is bumpy and dusty. We past the famous Panaderia then down and around the corner. The Cabana is a very cute little cabin poised on the hill overlooking the lake and snow capped mountains beyond. A knock on the owners door, he talked with Pablo then gave us the tour. The house was warm and there was a fire in the stove. It was love at first sight for us, night was falling and we had a home.

Pablo drove us back, we pushed off and rode to our new residence. The only disappointment was that the TV didn’t work. Cat brought the gas fireplace up to its full potential and we made good use of the little shower. Though we hated to go back out into the cold night air, it was a better option than unpacking and cooking.

Bundled up, we walked back down the dog-filled street to the Panaderia La Union. It’s the heart of Tolhuin and known far and wide. All buses pull in to allow passengers pastries and hot water for Mate. We had a quick look around then backtracked to a Pizzeria. Another language problem then a fellow seated nearby, Roberto, began to exercise his long dormant English skills. He got us through the ordering of 2 pizzas then we got acquainted with him and his friend, Ramon.

Roberto is Consul General for Chile in the Rio Grande Office. He is from Santiago but has spent his career years in places all over Chile and the world. He was anxious to expand his use of English so we had a long and enjoyable conversation. His friend Ramon is Argentinean and speaks no English. Roberto would talk with us then translate for him. The food was great, the fellowship fantastic.

Back to La Union, we stood in line with bus passengers and bought pastries for breakfast. The place reminds us of a small Wall Drugs, the strange place in Wall South Dakota that is famous worldwide. It is full of memorabilia and pictures of famous folks who’ve stopped here.

The bedroom is upstairs in our little modified A-Frame cottage. We turned the fire down a notch hoping not to over heat the stove and climbed up and climbed into bed. The end of another wonderful, adventuresome day!

August 31, 2004
Tolhuin to Rio Grande
10 Ks on Bike, Then a Truck Ride

Our cottage had really cooled during the night. I cranked the gas back up to full flame and we snuggled. We had both had to make trips down the cold stairway to the Bano (Bathroom) during the night. We’d both pulled our long underwear and sox on after the second trip.

We dressed in front of the fire then huddled close to it as we drank our Nescafe and ate the Panaderia pastries with a cup of yogurt and bananas. Bikes and bellies loaded, we rode the gauntlet, through the dog-filled street to the Panaderia. We wanted a picture, inside if they would let us bring the bikes in. The Manager, Luis, spoke great English. When we explained our voyage and web site he invited us to push in. The crowd was curious, Luis explained our story as we prepared to pose. A guy watching, Sergio from Ushuaia who also spoke English, volunteered to take the picture. Luis also had him take one with their camera and told us to look for it on their website, www.Panaderia-LaUnion.com.ar. Funny it’s usually us promising to put up a picture. Luis also said that we’d take a place of honor on their wall, too.

Pushing out, we heard lots of well wishes. Back then to Pablo’s office, we hoped to get info on places to stay in Rio Grande. No such luck, he was out and the staff didn’t know or couldn’t understand? So, off we go.

Beyond Repair?

The first couple of kilometers are dirt and rock but dry. Then pavement, smooth easy riding pavement. As we pedaled along on ups and downs in cold wind I began to feel gears slipping. I thought it was the front derailleur and struggled on. At 10 Ks out I pulled up and found that the rear cluster of gears was loose? How could that be? That shouldn’t even be possible, it’s designed to tighten each time you pedal?

Just as we got the bags off and it upside down Pablo pulled up. He’s headed to Rio Grande and was concerned for us, even offered us a ride in his pickup. I was so sure that I could fix the problem that we sent him on. AS he disappeared over the hill I pulled the wheel and was greeted by a shower of bearing. Somehow the entire cluster had come apart. We retrieved as many bearing as we could se but I was sure some were lost in the dust. This was a problem beyond my ability and toolset.

The cold wind was taking a toll, too. We decided to get a ride back to Tolhuin to find a fix. There was a complete lull in traffic. The first passing vehicle was a truck pulling a trailer and it was loaded with steel reinforcing bar and concrete blocks. I stood, waving my arms frantically. He slammed on the brakes and went sailing past. I ran after him, he finally got the rig stopped a quarter kilometer down the road and agreed to help.

He took three back and forth moves to get turned around then pulled back to us. Luis jumped out, and the three of us hoisted the loaded bikes over the side rails and laid them on the concrete blocks. The truck jerks and rumbles along, it’s definitely overloaded. Martinez took us down a side street and asked a friend where we could find a bicycle mechanic. He drove on through the tiny, muddy streets then pulled over and spoke with Martinez. We started to unload the bags along the street, Martinez wanted us to go on bikes because he couldn’t turn around. Worried that we were on a wild goose chase, we told him that we didn’t like the idea. He agreed, we reloaded and he took us to the YPF Station.

Martinez

We had a sandwich and soft drink while the attendant there looked at the cluster. He, Claudio, said that it could be fixed but he didn’t have the parts. A Fire Truck pulled in and one of the guys, Gustavo looked at the gears. He indicated that he could fix it and left. When he reappeared with his girl friend, Gisela they had 3 bags of bike parts and tools. He went to work and installed a used gear cluster. It didn’t fit very well and the chain slipped as I tried to pedal. It might have worked and gotten us to Rio Grande or, it might not, we’ll never know.

It was too late to start cycling, we were faced with the dilemma of another night here in Tolhuin or a ride into Rio Grande. Edardo and Gisela pulled in and we had a nice but halting conversation. I got the point across that we had decided to go on if we could get a ride. They set about finding a driver that could take us. I took a picture of Edardo’s 1928 Model A. It’s his fun project.

We talked about making sure that we could find a room in Rio Grande. Cat had found a place in our Lonely Planet Guide, Posada de los Sauces. Edardo and Gisela looked at the other possibilities and said it is the best. Then, without being asked he pulled out his cell phone, called and reserved a room for us.

Jose pulled his big truck up behind the station. Edardo talked with him then he drove around and stopped at the bikes. Another wonderful guy, another offer of assistance. It took the 3 of us to muscle the bikes up onto Jose’s load of lumber. Then, more heartfelt goodbyes and we were on our way to Rio Grande.

Jose

Jose is a second-generation truck driver. He said that he started driving, sitting on his Fathers lap when he was 5 years old. He hauls sheep to Ushuaia and lumber back. It takes 2 days to drive down and 2 back. He’ll sleep in the truck in tonight across from the toasty Hotel where we’ll be staying. Getting the bikes down was tough but between the 3 of us we did it. We invited him to join us for dinner but he says that he doesn’t eat until 10:00 PM. I pressed 25 Pesos into his hand, he objected but accepted.

Posada de los Sauses is a very nice place. We put the bikes in a hallway in the back and locked them. The price is more than we like to pay but, beggars can’t be choosers as we used to say. They do have BBC so we’re able to watch the Republican Convention as our own Governor of California, Arnold, called out to Terminate Terrorism. We also saw the Bush twins, who introduced Mom, Laura and heard her speech. She is the best of the Bush clan in my book! Said it before, I’ll say it again, she would probably make a better President than George. But then, I’m partial to moderation.

Dinner was great.

September 1, 2004
obert, Ramon and Bike Repairs in Rio Grande
WOW. 1-Year Ago Today We Left Europe and Crossed into AFRICA!

We awoke to Breaking News on BBC. Chechan rebels have taken students and parents hostage on the first day of school in Beslam, southern Russia. The number of hostages is between 300 and 1000, nobody knows for sure. Terrible but this issue has been festering for years. I was in the Soviet Union when 22 people, mostly Chechan students, were killed while sitting in a peaceful demonstration. There were a lot of stories of gunfire and violence but when the dust settled they found that it was WWI Mustard Gas, US Issued that had done them in. They want their own country. The problem is more than just self-rule, Religion plays a big part, too. The Chechens are Muslims.

They served the same great bread for breakfast that we enjoyed last night. Fruit cocktail, juice and coffee round out the included meal. Dario, the guy that checked us in and speaks good English, introduced us to Jose. He’s the owner of Sauces, they all call him Nani. He speaks no Spanish but is interested in our journey and helping us find a bicycle shop. Gustavo in Tolhuin had written down the name of a place. Nani and Dario agreed that it’s the place to go for bicicletta needs and offered to lead us there.

We dressed fro the cold and rode like the wind behind Nani’s car. The shop is well equipped but the guy there didn’t understand or want to take responsibility. He made a phone call and soon another guy cycled up and took over. He’s the owner. They took a look at the broken part and he pointed out to the threads inside the gear cluster. The guys at Bowman’s in Cape Town had cross-threaded when they put it back together and it has stripped out. There’s no way to fix it. I worried that we’d have to have a part shipped but, to my amazement, they pulled out a perfectly matching new cluster.

So, we left the bikes and rode back to the Hotel. I worked feverously finishing the journal pictures while Cat opened bags and reorganized us, again. At 11:30 we decided to find an Internet Shop. As we walked we talked about Roberto, our friend The Consulate General. Cat pulled out his card and lo, we were right in front of his office. We walked in only to find that he was out. We wrote a note telling him where we were staying and as we turned to leave he came in.

Typical of South American hospitality, he insisted that we have a cup of coffee and talk. I accepted out of courtesy even though I rarely drink coffee after breakfast. He got into the idea of helping us map out our route across Tierra del Fuego in Chile. He called places got information, marked our map, even made a sort of reservation at one of the places. He also called the Policia and found the location of a couple of Estancias (Ranches) that take in guests and marked those on the map. I got excited and spilled my coffee on his desk. He had half his staff working on our project. We all grabbed towels and contained the flow before it hit his paperwork.

I got a photo of Roberto at his desk then he made another call. When finished he said, “This was my friend that you know, Ramon. He wishes us to join with him for lunch. It turns out that his friend we met in Tolhuin owns a Pasteria, a bakery that serves lunch. So, we followed him, took a tour of the house he’s refurbishing on the front of the Consulate property then into his 4WD and off to Ramón’s.

Ramon’s place is a party hall, he does baking and catering as well as daily lunches for clientele established over 25 years in the same spot. He came from Buenos Aires, left the position as head Chef of The American Club to venture into this vast frontier seeking his fortune. It’s a family business, he and wife Mary along with one of his daughters, run the place. They do have hired help, too. Ramon confessed his age, 70 years. He and Mary have traveled fairly extensively due I part to their other 2 children. Their son lives in Yemen and their other daughter in Cape Town, South Africa. The son moved there with an Electronics firm, the daughter married a Pilot from South Africa.

The waiter served us a wonderful Hearts of Palm and Prosciutto Ham salad then the menu of the day, Pasta with Meat Loaf, quite delicious. Ramon showed us photos of him at work at The American Club and of big parties they’ve catered here. They do most of the wedding receptions here. What a great guy, 70 years young and still full of energy and involvement with family and community. Of course he refused to accept payment for our lunch. Even scoffed at my attempt. We invited he and Mary to come visit us, any time after we get back home.

Back at the Consulate, we hugged Roberto, promised to see him in Santiago or California and walked on up the street looking for the Internet Shop. What a wonderful guy he is. His wife lives in Santiago but comes down often. She holds court over his three sons and one Grandson. A nice man, a nice family.

We found the Correa (Post Office) but were disappointed to find that our package must be approved by the Aduana (Customs) and they closed at noon. Another disappointment, the Internet would let us read but we couldn’t write or respond to e-mails.

Maria at the Tourist Office offset some of the disappointment, she spoke very good English. Her Sister lives in San Francisco and she’s visited several times. She was able to find that the Hosteria in San Sebastian is fully booked for tomorrow night. She reserved a room for day after tomorrow and will continue to check with them as well as try to find a nearby Estancia that will take us in.

Dinner in, again. Good, again. Pumpkin Ravioli, mmmmm!

VP, Dick Cheney spoke at the GOP Convention tonight. We watched as he chewed at Candidate Kerry’s record and the delegates gleefully held up sandals with the word flip on one side and flop on the other. Referring to Kerry’s voting record. Tough business, this business of politics.

September 2, 2004
More Rest and Repairs in Rio Grande

Fearing arriving in a small out of the way place without a place to stay, we decided to hang for another day here in Rio. We’ll get my bike to a welder that Nani has recommended and have the broken front repaired. We’d tried in Africa but couldn’t find anyone who would weld the alloy. Besides that, we can use a day of rest. We’re both fatigued and both have backaches. The bags need a good going over, too and, we’ll get some of the weight off by mailing the package.

It’s a beautiful bright sunny day. After breakfast I went back to work on the journal and Cat went Interneting. She lost track of time but did make it back by 11:00 AM. We rushed off to the Post Office. There was a huge line but not many in the little Aduana Office. The lady was nice and we were fortunate that another customer spoke English. We filled out all the forms and got her signature just as the clock struck high noon. Then it was a half hour wait in line for the regular Poste window. Expensive but then, these keepsakes and pictures on CDs are priceless to us. Oh yes, we sent the pictures off to Wally the Web Master, too.

We lunched around the corner at a tiny local place. I had the special, Cat had a sandwich. The sandwich was so-so but the special was a wonderful mix of Chicken and Lamb. Large enough that I could share some of the succulent meat with her. The best part, all of it including a soft drink came to less than 12 Pesos. (Less than $4.00 US)

Back to our computer for me and the Internet Shop for Cat. She’s found a new place with fast machines that work for us. She also shopped for essentials and got more Pesos for the road. Back at the Tourist Office, to confirm tomorrow. Maria called and was disturbed to find that one of the guests had to stay an extra day so no rooms in the Inn, tomorrow.

At returned at 5:00 PM, just as I was setting off to follow Nani to the welders place. Nani wasted little time driving and I pressed to keep up. Fredy the welder is installing a screen to catch flying rocks on the front of Nani’s new Subaru. Nani is another great find for us. He had really taken our stay here to heart. What would we do without wonderful people like him that we’ve met along the way? The people are really what this voyage is all about.

Nani left me there. I watched Fredy do his magic with the Arc Welder. He put the broken rack back together and it looks as strong as when it was new. He laughed and joked about being Fredy Kruger, you know the Bad Guy in the Horror Movies. His wife and son came in and he introduced us. I got a wonderful shot of him in full swing, as he hit the welder. It looks like a piece of art. Hope it looks as good on the big screen as it does on the camera.

It was a cold ride in gathering gloom, back to Sauces. By the way, we have learned that Sauces has nothing to do with cooking. The trees that line the driveway are called Sauces. It has been a cool but bright and sunny day. We’re hoping for the same tomorrow.

The good news for the day, 26 hostages in Beslam were released and they are negotiating. George Bush was the centerpiece of the Convention tonight. He did a very good job of acceptance. He has been working on his public speaking. v September 3, 2004

Stuck in Rio Grande

Bad News, Hundreds of Hostages killed and Wounded

We awoke to the news that something had exploded inside the school in Russia. Kids and parents were running for their lives through the blown out wall of the gym. Then we looked outside and saw menacing looking black clouds then rain and hail. We ate our toast and watched the sky. It didn’t look like it would let up. Finally we stood outside in the cold and decided that it was not a riding day. Stuck in Rio again!

More bad news, when we told Dario that we would stay again tonight he rolled his eyes then said, “We are completely booked tonight”. Geez, when it rains, it pours. Well there are other Hotels in town and our problem seems small when compared to the Hostage Crisis going on in Beslam. He logged into Underground Weather. They have Rio at 2 degrees (36 F) but don’t show rain and it is definitely coming down out there. They do show a warming trend starting tomorrow. Dario suggests that we sit tight and see if reservations start to confirm.

I decided to take advantage of the situation and finalize the Brazil to Ushuaia pages of the Journal. At 11:00 AM Dario still had no rooms so he called a place down the street and reserved one for us. We hate to have to move but as we always say, “What is, is”! He again told us to sit tight until 2:00 and see how it goes here.

Cat watched movie after movie while I put the finishing touches on the journal pages. At 2:00 Dario told me that there was no change so we’d have to make the move. As a last resort I asked again, “You have no rooms at all here”? He thought for a minute then said, “Only the Suite”. They have a large suite with a whirlpool tub. It rents for about 50 Pesos more. I quickly did the math, went to the room and talked with Cat and we told Dario that we’d take the suite rather than move to the lesser place down the street. It will save us hours of moving and getting in during the on going storm.

Then, I suggested that we’d pay the difference if we could stay in our comfortable little room. They could give the big room at the regular price to a valued guest. He said that he’d talk with Nani. Cat says she got the worst of the deal, watching movies all day, most of which made her cry. I finalized the journal at 4:00 PM. We called for a Taxi and Dario told us that we could stay in the room.

It is really raining and cold out. We ran from the taxi to the Internet Shop, pumped the finished story through to Web Master Wally and cleaned up the few new messages. We walked across to the Super Market for bananas and wine then hailed another Taxi. It’s only 5 blocks but neither of us wanted to walk in the cold blowing rain.

Dinner in, another great meal. I met 3 guys from Canada earlier. They came in for dinner and were seated as we were leaving. We stood and talked for a bit. They’re from Winnipeg, working here on a pipeline job. Funny, they work for a French Company and the parts they use are made in Louisiana, USA. They were hired because the parts ore metric and the guy and the US don’t do metric.

September 4, 2004
Rio Grande to San Sebastian
80 Kilometers

BBC was all about the Hostage Crisis. More than 300 have died in a botched rescue they think. However, the Russians say that the Hostage takers started it when they exploded a bomb in the gymnasium. They also say that it is more than just Chechens, there are some Arabs involved, too. All speculation except that some of them have escaped. Seems impossible since the area is thick with Russian Soldiers?

Ask and thou shalt receive. Our friendly waiter eagerly agreed to whip up a ham and cheese omelet for us and it was a beauty. Big enough to split and still fill up, when combined with our toast and coffee. Also, rather than trying to rush around getting food we had them make a sandwich. Another huge delivery, four sandwiches in foil and a soft drink, all for only 11 Pesos. (Less than $4 US.) What great guys.

It’s foggy, damp and still. We set off with well wished from Peter, one of the Canadians who watched us load up. Darn, why didn’t we get a picture of him or them? There’s little traffic on the road but for safety sake we rode the bike path to the City Limits. The misty morning fog seemed stuck to the ground and though we could hear the surf it was completely obscured.

Play Misty

The road is flat the surface concrete. Occasionally we got a glimpse of roaring, shore break surf. We take an inland jog, the corner is an abrupt 90degrees. The cliff straight ahead is covered with shrines, memorials to those who missed and crashed. Cat called it “Dead Man’s Curve”. Beyond the curve and climb the sun began to fight it’s way through the clouds. It was sort of off and on the rest of the day. Never cold but not warm, either. Despite sun Cat’s feet were frozen, all day.

Interesting, the road flares wide for about 1-½ kilometers. We knew right away that it was a landing strip constructed during the Malvinas War. (The Brits called it the Falkland Islands War.) Sneaky, to think that they could fool surveillance planes? Awe those Brits probably thought the bulge of asphalt was for parking?

Honkers

Landing Strip

The vastness is almost overwhelming. We past sheep, a few cattle and lots of birds. There are hundreds of large black and white geese. I tried to get pictures but they either won’t fly of fly before I have the camera out. Another shy animal here is the Guanaco. Tan in color with white spots, some have black markings on their heads. They must be in the Llama family. The size of a large deer but built like a camel with long neck and spindly looking legs. They see us coming and stand still and tall. We try to get close but they let out a scream, kind of between the whinny of a horse and the squeal of a pig. That alerts the herd and they’re off, they easily jump over the roadside fences.

Long Lonesome Hightway

Guanaco

Mpeg x041 Play Misty

Stampede

Besides the frozen toes Cat began to experience aching legs. We decided that her seat was set too low. I raised it and slowly her pain subsided. The road went from asphalt to dirt then mud as we approached San Sebastian. We’d been told to ask for Mr. Achilles, he walked out into the damp and cold to greet us. We noted that the Hosteria is called ACA and a sign on the building reads, Automovile Club Argentina. The place is an Automobile Club Motel.

Mr. A didn’t want the muddy bikes inside but finally gave in and allowed parking in the hallway. We pulled clothing and computer bags off and lashed the rest together with the bike locks. Cat noticed a price list for the rooms. 38 Pesos is a pretty good deal and it includes breakfast. We decided to dig out our Automobile Club Card and see if it would work. Voila, Mr. A looked it over carefully and tough it’s expired, he accepted and did the discount deal to 28 Pesos. (About $10 US)

The room is okay, we did track in some mud. A hot shower, a little Argentinean TV, English language with Spanish subtitles and it was time for dinner. They only project 1 TV Channels but receive dozens? I asked, he stopped chopping carrots and chicken and changed it to BBC. Wow, life on the Frontier. We were completely caught up on the news by dinnertime when he switched it to a Soccer Game.

There were a dozen guys drinking beers, smoking and talking in the dining room. The TV was blaring Spanish above the din. They were watching one of the perpetual Soccer Games. Mr. A has a set menu and tonight is chicken. It was quite good, like a stewed chicken with potatoes. The Ball Game was boring, for us so we went to bed at 9:00 PM.

Sunday, September 5, 2004
San Sebastian, Argentina to San Sebastian, Chile
16 Kilometers

Heard someone rattling around at 6:30 AM so I pulled my pants on and checked the bikes. All okay but the football crowd was up and at it early. Sippin’ their coffee and suckin’ on their cigs. I went back and snuggled. It’s still dark out there. v We got up and going at 8:00 and took a few bags out as we headed to breakfast. Mr. A cheerfully tuned in BBC for us. We’re the only customers at this time of the morning. Eggs are included in the included breakfast. When Cat paid the bill Mr. A’s assistant charged full board. Cat flashed our AAA Card told her in sign language that Mr. A had approved us. The adjusted bill, including dinner and a bottle of pretty good wine only came to 72 Pesos. (Less than $25 US)

We pushed out through the gooey mud then rode the 300 meters to the Argentinean Border. A simple process but it took almost an hour. During the visits to the Immigration and Customs we met the young guy who was pushing a broom around on the dusty floor. He got questions out and understood that we are from California and going home. He was excited when he saw the map of our adventure on Cat’s jacket.

It was almost 11:00 by the time we rolled into “No Man’s Land”. The wind was by now howling, in our faces of course. The road is all loose rock or mud. The 11 kilometers was a 3 hours struggle. The road is awash with what they call “White Gold” down here, sheep. They were clinging to the hillsides, even trailing across in front of us. There are cattle, too and a few horses.

Twins?

Nice Wind

As if to add insult to injury a road grader came toward us churning up the wet dirt and leaving a layer of rocks on top. We got out of his way as he returned then got off and pushed. It was now impossible to ride so we pushed the last 2 Ks into the Border Office.

The Chilean guys were mostly business. They had us line up behind a couple of truck drivers and wait our turn then studied our passports intently. After thumbing through every page the Migration Officer stamped our little paper and page K of the passport. Then, we had to visit the Aduana. He looked us over carefully then asked something in Spanish. We answered that we didn’t understand in English. Then he said, “Car”? We know that he knew we were cycling. When we replied, “No car, solamente bicicletta”. He stamped the paper and waived us on.

The Hosteria is white with red signs, Fast Food and Lodging. Big puddles of muddy water stood between the entrance and us. The best thing about getting there was that it was warm inside. It was 2:30 and we were starving, Milton the Chef and Server suggested Lamb Soup. Wonderful surprise, it was a soup base with a large piece of lamb shoulder in the midst of vegetables. That combined with the great bread and we were in heaven.

Milton had us circle around the building to one in the back. He took a short cut and met us there. He used hand signs to tell us that we should lean the bikes against a fence outside then bring them in to the hallway later. We understood, other guest if there were to be any, would have to almost crawl over them.

The room was cold. Milton told us that the calentador, a radiator heater, would come on soon. Also, he would start the water heater now so it should be warm in 30 minutes. After the struggle of carrying bags was completed Cat wrapped herself in a blanket and sat next to the hallway heater. The shower doesn’t have great pressure but it did get hot. The room is still cold enough that steam came off my body when I stepped from behind the plastic curtain. After her shower Cat got into bed, fully clothed. We spent the waning hours of sunlight looking at pictures in magazines and trying to figure out what the stories were about. Power is generated. Milton indicated that they’d fire it up at 5:00. It was 5:45 before we heard the roar and our lights flickered up.

The radiators clunked and clattered then began getting cold. Cat decided to ask Milton what had happened. She got to the warmth of the Restaurant, he was busy with several people getting food to go. She did the sign language ask, he indicated that it would come back, soon.

We continued leafing though magazines and waiting for the heat. The radiators did start warming but they were a long way from heating the place. A couple of glassed of wine either warmed us or dulled our minds to the cold? At 7:00 PM we braved the cold and wind in a dash to the Restaurant. We’d ordered our food and requested service at 7:30.

Ernesto, the owner introduced himself and served us another glass of good Chilean wine. We sat, sipped and listened to his stories. Well, we tried to listen and understand. He is at least 2nd generation Rancher. He and his Brother own Estancia San Sebastian, a 3,000-hectare sheep ranch. They have more than 6,000 sheep. He has traveled and had an interesting life from this lonely base. He flew to Florida, bought a Piper Aircraft and flew it back. They have pictures of the plane, even an old propeller hangs above the door. Lots of pictures of sheep sheerings and barbeques past. He told us that his son owns the Hosteria across the Straights of Magellan. We asked him to tell them we’re coming that way.

At 7:30 we began to wonder about food. When we asked his answer didn’t make sense then Cat noticed a clock behind the bar with hands indicating 6:30 PM. We asked about the time and Ernesto got the point across that Chile is one hour earlier than Argentinean time. That was good for a laugh but, our stomachs were still on Argentine time. Ernesto spoke with Milton then told us that they’d prepare the food, right away.

Ernesto settled into a chair behind the bar and watched Soccer. Milton rushed the food and we were soon munching on Lamb for me, Pizza for the Cat. Good food and commentary by Ernesto. Ca gave up and headed for the room at 8:30. The big game, Chile vs. Colombia would come on at 9:00. I stayed and watched a parade of locals coming in for food to go. Then guys, all guys, started drifting in near 9:00.

I had another glass of wine and watched the international wagering and story telling that goes on with all sports fans. Everyone knows everyone. They’re ranch hands I assumed. Then Rodrigo, the Janitor at the Border came in for food to go. He'll watch the game at home? Nice young guy.

I changed the hands on my watch and headed back to the room at 9:30 PM.

September 6, 2004
San Sebastian to Cullen (Estancia San Jeronimo)
60 Kilometers

It’s easy to get up early when a time change is involved. The wind has died down. We got to the Restaurant door in time to say goodbye to Ernesto. He’s going to Rio Grande this morning for supplies. Breakfast was quite good and Milton even through in a nice omelet.

The road is rough, rock and gravel. Little hills increase the difficulty factor. As the morning wore on the wind picked up and it was cold. We stopped and donned our raincoats and mittens for warmth.

At 1:30 PM, Chilean time we stopped and sat roadside and ate some of the left over sandwich from 2 days ago. A Gaucho on a fat white horse happened by. We thought we were close but he estimated we still had 20 Kms to go.

The sun struggled through the overcast and warmed things psychologically. We had to push a couple of times, which did have a positive affect on Cat’s cold feet. This place feels terribly isolated except that there are quite a few trucks plying the road hauling things in and out. The wind was whipping it up pretty good now. We had to stop every time a truck passed because of the dust and flying rocks. Cat would keep her eyes closed avoiding dust on her contact lenses. She wouldn’t uncover until I gave her the all clear.

I was pedaling hard and getting nowhere. Cat asked if I felt okay? I realized it wasn’t my legs getting puny, I’d had a flat tire. Rather than try to change it in the wind and dust I pumped and rode on. It lasted for a couple of kilometers then I pumped again. Finally, we came upon an Estancia near the road. The long driveway was loose gravel, we had to push the last 100 meters. The place looked deserted? We called out and a guy emerged from the barn. We asked in sign language if we could sleep here and he said, “No”. Perplexed, we continued our sign language questions. He got a point across that there is another place further along that would take us in.

Onward, Cat lead the way, my tire was getting pretty low on air. We could see a big house with several others, smaller, clustered around it. The driveway is almost 1 kilometer. I pedaled against the slowly flattening tire, we crossed a wooden cattle guard then pushed up to the house. It, too, seemed vacant then Cat spotted some guys working on a fence in the distance. We pushed on to the first little house and there were signs of life. Cat went to the door then came back and said, “I think we can stay, I think she was saying that her husband would come in at 5:00 PM and he would decide.

She had invited Cat inside but she came back and we pushed the bike to the fence of her house. We both went into the warmth and wonderful smelling home. She, Nelly, was baking bread. Suddenly she said, “Nieve”, and pointed out the window. Geez, it was snowing and blowing. The flakes were thick in the air and sticking on the ground. We worried and wondered what we’d do, how long we could stay here if it continued?

Nelly set about rolling the dough she’d been kneading into flat pieces. Then she dropped them, one at a time, into a pot of boiling oil. Pan Frit she called them, fried bread. We tried one, delicious.

About that same time the 3 workers came in the back door, stomping the mud off their feet. They slipped on slippers and came into the combination kitchen/living/dining room and looked us over. Nelly introduced her husband Armando then told him we wanted to stay. Armando nodded approval, we sighed with relief, the ground was almost white outside. Emilio introduced himself and Ruben. We, the 6 of us, took seats at the table, snacked on Fry Bread and tried to communicate.

Armando had us take the bikes into the barn. There I took off the rear wheel and discovered that as I’d suspected, the tube had pulled apart at the seam. The same thing we’d experienced in Africa. I replaced it and Armando got it up to 60 pounds with his Pump. It was cold so we hurried, finished but left the bags stacked against the wall and went back in by the fire. As we worked it began to snow. Cold, small flakes at first that whirled round in the wind. Then, as we went back inside it began to thicken and stick on the ground. We’re hoping that this isn’t an omen, a sign of more bad weather for us? Stepping back inside the little house, the steamy atmosphere felt like a sauna.

The other 2 guys are workers, friends of Nelly and Armando. Ruben, the elder by a year at 29, is quiet. He glances nervously at us from the side of his eyes. Emilio is outgoing. He tries to talk using slower sentences and a louder voice but to no avail, we can’t understand. He brought a Beaver, a stuffed Beaver, into the room and they all took Mate from inside it. They sat, warming up, telling stories and sipping. We were curious about the Beaver. Emilio took the dipper, a piece of cow horn, out to show is how they dig in and load their cups. I tried to pose him getting Mate out but he instead stuck the horn in the zipper on the belly of the Beaver. I shot a picture as they all roared with laughter. The effect he achieved was obvious.

Nelly showed us a room with twin beds, no lights or heat. The shower is at the end of the hallway in the only bathroom. Cat showered first. I worried that she’d use all the hot leaving none for the boys or me. It is a good shower and the water heater recaptured quickly.

I asked about electricity and Armando pointed and indicated generator then added that they only use it when El Patron is here. Then as dusk closed in he stood and lit two gas lamps above the table. A gas line hanging down from the ceiling feeds them. The cook stove and only heat in this end of the house looks like an old coal or wood burner but its gas, too.

White and Black, Black and White

Nelly prepared lamb for dinner while the boys sat and sipped more Mate after they had showered. Emilio was trying hard to speak some English. We got our Dictionary out, he thumbed through looking for words he knew. Like us with Spanish, even when you find the corresponding words you miss pronounce them. He got stuck on “White and Black”. We did Negro y Blanco but he insisted on saying “White and Black”.

Armando turned a radio on and they clustered around it listening to local news. Nelly cut, de-boned and pounded pieces of lamb.

Armando is Estancia Manager. He and Nelly have been here for 5 years. The owner, El Patron, lives in Punta Arenas and visits several times a year. There are 7 more guys out there in the dark somewhere on this huge property tonight guarding flocks of over 40,000 head of sheep.

Nelly and Armando have been married for 36 years. They have a daughter and grandson who also live in Punta Arenas. They worked on another Estancia for 15 years before moving here. This is an isolated life but the house is cozy and they don’t go hungry.

Armando put Chilean music on the tape player during dinner. The food was as wonderful as the company. What a joy these simple people are to be around. At 8:00 PM Emilio said, “White and Black”. Armando turned on a small battery operated TV and they watched a pretty risqué evening soap opera. The set was black and white. Emilio kept saying, “White and Black” as the plots of love and betrayal unfolded on the tiny screen. Cat and I drank a bottle of wine we had on board. The others had coffee with dinner. Nelly only drank tea. She tried to tell us that she wants to lose weight. Emilio said, “Gordo”, and the boys laughed but she didn’t.

More Mate from the belly of the beaver for them. Cat and I drifted off to our dark, cold room. There were some sheets on a shelf. Nelly approved their use, we installed them under the thick wool blankets. The covers are heavy and warm, the air in the room is frosty.

September 7, 2004
San Jeronimo to Cerro Sombrero
38 Kilometers cycled 22 in Truck

We awoke to a bright crisp sunny morning and the good news, no snow on the ground. Oh, it was cold both in the room and outside. Ice had formed, almost ¼ inch thick on the window glass, inside the room. We heard people rattling around, I got up and found only Ernesto, sitting by the range oven sipping hot Mate. He looked up, chuckled and said, “White and Black”. The others soon drifted in and sat for breakfast. More of Nelly’s famous Fry Bread served with jelly and coffee. Again Emilio said “White and Black” and again we laughed as I stirred the white dried milk into my black Nescafe.

At 7:30 AM Emilio put his coveralls on and went out to start the truck. It sputtered and choked but finally threw aside the cold and came to life. He let it warm up for a while then Armando and Ruben joined him. They took turns pumping each of the six tires on the old dually flatbed, then jumped in the truck and pulled away. We told Nelly that we wanted to tell them goodbye. She pointed and we watched as they pulled down the long drive and stopped at the first little house. She told us that they would be working there.

Nelly began preparing what we thought was going to be lunch. She got a big pot, crumbled dried bread and added chunks of potato and onion. The best we could get was that she was making Gallina, chicken stew? We packed and were almost ready to go at 9:00 AM when she lifted the heavy pot and went out the door. Curious, Cat followed then came running back for the camera. “She’s feeding the pot to the chickens” she shouted as she ran past. You’ll see a picture of the chickens but Cat was too late to get one of Nelly serving them.

We got the bags out to the barn, loaded then pushed out. Nelly came out and we hugged and talked of seeing each other again. Another parting with yesterday’s strangers, today’s family.

They have a windbreak fence between the house and barn. The wind howled as we left its cover. The 3 boys stopped working as we cycled up. The each took a turn shaking our hands, hugging then giving the one cheek kiss. We turned up the hill and into the wind. They turned back to their task.

 It was a howling monster wind driving against our left temples. Nelly had told us that we’d find a Service Station at Cullen, about 5 kilometers from the Estancia. An uphill struggle added to the effect of the banshee in our right ears. At the top and off to the windward side lies Cullen. (Kooyen) Rather than cycle into the wind I waved and a guy stopped. He couldn’t speak English but understood our question and his answer was universal, “No”. We couldn’t believe it then began to think that perhaps she had meant that this is a Gas Town. There are lots of natural gas lines running across the top of the ground. The guy again assured us that there was no store or station.

So, onward we go without food for lunch. The rough dirt and rock road flails up and downward. The ever-present sheep, a few Guanaco and we are the only signs of animal life on this part of the planet. It’s desolate beyond belief. There is a road off to the left but it’s unmarked. Again, we stopped a car and asked direction to Cerro Sombrero. The guys worked on the question then an answer, “Go this way”, as they pointed onward down the road.

The road ahead was better than that off to the side. All the truck traffic was moving that direction, too. We pulled up in a slightly sheltered spot and ate the stale sandwiches we’ve had on board for 4 days. Onward then in just a couple of Ks we saw a sign pointing toward Punta Catalina. We’d missed the turn and were taking the longer route. Cat was a little despondent. It was there that the road turned to the left, right into the wind. It was brutal, it was soon unrideable. We were ground down to a crawl then driven off the side of the rocky road. Now we were walking, pushing and struggling. Finally we stopped, leaned the bikes against a signpost and hunkered down.

It was time to find help, there’s no way that we can continue at this pace and get in before dark. From the moment we finally decided to flag down a passing truck, all traffic seemed to have dried up. Finally a truck, an oilrig tender by the looks of it, came over the hill and pulled up as I waved. They got the message but refused. They didn’t have much room either in the cab or on the back of the truck. I didn’t like putting the bikes onto the oily back bed anyway. They drove on.

A pickup truck, the perfect vehicle, came over the hill toward us. I stood on the road and waved. They slowed then pulled left and swerved around me without slowing. They focused straight ahead as though they were avoiding eye contact with homeless people. Well, we are homeless and may well look it.

Another pickup, this one a bit junky but doable. The driver, a small guy, nervously looked toward Cat as I asked, almost begged. I felt that he was afraid so I played the wife card. “Mi Esposa es malo” I said as I indicated my stomach. I thought that if he knew that Cat was a woman and, having stomach pains, he’d give in. Even more nervous, he put the car in gear and shook his head negatively. Then I begged, “Por Favor, Por Favor”. My pleas went unheard, he revved up and pulled away. This is the first time we have been passed over and now, 3 times in a row.

We decided that we’d better push or it would be dark before we get in. We’d just started when a huge flatbed truck rumbled over the hill. I threw my bike down and waved vigorously. He jammed on the brakes and pulled up in a cloud of dust. He listened then shook his head affirmatively. We hustled to get the bikes around as he jumped up on the empty bed. I lifted the back wheel, Cat did her part on the front and Juan Jose grabbed the crossbar and pulled them up, one at a time. We were soon in the huge cab and rumbling toward Cerro Sombrero. Cat sat on his mattress rolled up behind the seats. Funny but up this high and moving so easily there doesn’t seem to be a wind. Juan Jose is a man of few words.

He dropped us at the crossroad and pointed to Cerro Sombrero 5 kilometers off to the left. We offered to buy him coffee or food but he declined. We quickly off loaded the bikes and Juan Jose roared away, in a cloud of dust.

There is a Restaurant and small store here on the highway but no Motel. So, off into the wind again. South and west directly into a screaming wind. We rode a bit but pushed most of the way down the rough rocky road. The first building we came to was a Hosteria. Marbelle, our hostess, had a room with heat and hot water. We were out of the storm. We lashed the bikes under the stairwell and carried our clothing and computer up the stairs.

Marbelle doesn’t serve lunch or dinner. She told us that there is a place up the hill, a store and restaurant. I was about to give in on the idea of food when she offered to make eggs and toast. We took the deal, she whipped up scrambled eggs and we sat at a table in the dining room. Believe it or not, she even tuned in CNN so we filled up on food and news.

A warm shower always cures a lot of ills. We squared our things away then decided to walk. The town is strange. It’s a company town and ENAP, Empresa Nacional de Petroleo, Chile’s National Petroleum, is the company. An Architect from Tennessee designed the entire town in the late 1950’s. The USA influence is obvious, the place looks like tract homes surrounding a school, store and restaurant. A red/brown colored A-frame Church adds to the bazaar time warped look. A “Back to the Future” feeling would hang in the air if the air would slow down for a minute or two.

The wind is still strong but now at least walkable. There is an Internet connection at the Grocery Store. Surprise, it’s pretty fast and functions well for us. We read and sent messages. Weather Underground tells us that the wind at Rio Gallegos blew 80 KsPH strong (50 MPH) today. No wonder we struggled so!

The Restaurant is called Club Social. The wine they offered looked less than so-so, so I went back to the Market and got a nice bottle. Food was really great and the two girls there were more than friendly even though none of us really know completely what was being said.

Back at Hosteria, we sat in and talked with Hamant, Trevor and John, 3 guys from England. They are here with an Engineering firm on contract with ENAP. They have plenty of wind and dust stories. Hamant is going home to London in 2 days and he seems pretty happy about that.

September 8, 2004
Big Wind in Cerro Sombrero

The winds returned with a vengeance and awoke us during the dark night. Trees and flags bending to the wild wind greeted us as we pulled ourselves from under the heavy covers and into the cold. Breakfast, the Brits were leaving as we came down. Marbelle introduced us to her Sister Gloria and told us that she was going to Puntas Arenas. These sisters own the Hosteria, their parents opened it and they’ve been working it for over 25 years. Dirt, even small rocks were flying past the front door as she exited.

We ate breakfast, watched CNN and decided that there’s no reason for us to go out into this storm. Gloria told us we could stay I the same room. I sat up the computer and began working on our journal. Cat curled up in the corner near the heat with maps and books, adjusting our plans. The TV only receives 2 channels at a time. Gloria tuned it to Sony and Cat watched her favorite comedies. We asked about a Lavanderia and she volunteered to wash our dirty clothing. What a wonderful family.

Wind Snow and Hail

The weather was more than harsh. The wind began to fill with rain then snow that suddenly turned to hail. Christian, Gloria’s husband told us that he works at their nearby Panaderia. We asked if they could make us sandwiches. He was happy, even delivered them to us. So it was lunch in and more CNN.

Big Blow

Hail? Yes!

As the day neared it’s end the clouds began to break up and the wind slowed. Cat jogged to the Market and cleared more messages from friends. The e-mails and journal can be big time consumers but they’re a true joy for us in times and far away places like this.

Stars shoe brightly through the clear cold night air as we walked to dinner. Another evening at the Club Social. Another nice wine from the market, Steak, Eggs and Fries. Greasy and oh so good.

Back at Hosteria Base Camp, the Brits were at the table again. We talked, traded stories and jokes until after 10:00 PM. They think we’ll have a few days of good weather, we hope they’re right.

September 9, 2004
Cerro Sombrero to Rio Gallegos
6 Kilometers on Bike/166 on Ferrari Transporte

The sun was up and so was the wind, as we got up. We decided to make a dash for it. We needed our clothing that Gloria had taken to wash. I went down and asked Marbelle who was now back on duty. There was a little trauma but we finally found them, in a neat stack. She told me that the Ferry crossing was terrible, big waves, as high as 5 meters. (More than 10 feet) CNN and breakfast then we packed up, paid up and headed out.

The wind was a lot heavier than it appeared from the windows. Within just a few hundred meters we were struggling, again. Riding some, pushing a lot, it took an hour to get back to the highway. Then as we turned the corner we were hit with the cold blast that was now blowing at least 50 KmPH. (30 MPH)

So, our choices became, go back or get a ride. We pushed up the road to the little market. A truck and pickup pulled in as we approached. Inside, we surveyed the group and worried. They looked like gangsters, long shaggy hair and unshaven. The one seated across from us worked through the language difficulties and told us that we could ride with them but the boats weren’t going because of the wind.

It’s only 44 Kilometers to the Straits of Magellan and the boat off of Tierra del Fuego. The boat he mentions is the Ferry. Bad weather has forced them to discontinue service. The guy thinks it will be an hour or so delay. We sat and watched them smoke and joke around. One spoke a little English and confirmed that the other two were brothers. They are all here driving a caravan of trucks from Ushuaia to Bolivia. It was almost as cold inside the store as out in the wind. We had some wind, every time the door opened and occasional blasts through the broken window.

A stream of a dozen trucks came from the direction of the Straits, the guys jumped up and said, “Vamos”. We hustled the bikes to the pickup and Leonardo, one of the brothers helped lift them onboard. The other, Claudio, the one who was paying for things and looking like the boss drove the pickup. The others followed in huge flat bed trucks with signs on the side, “Ferrari Transporte”.

Claudio and Leonardo are Ferrari brothers but their other brother is “El Jefe”, the boss. They have 10 trucks total. They are from Buenos Aires but spend a lot of time on the road hauling petroleum and heavy machinery. We reached the Straits and had to fall in a long line of trucks. They have closed the Ferry service again. We sat in the pickup, the guys all crammed into one of the truck cabs.

We thought about taking a room at the little Hostel near the Ferry Ramp. Cat had to go so she braved the cold wind and walked there. Back soon with sandwiches and a decision that we’d be better off to cross with these guys. So we ate and waited.

Suddenly, after waiting for 2 hours, the trucks all started their engines. Claudio came back to us, the engine purred and the heater hummed. It was a long process, creeping forward then waiting. There are two Ferries. The largest can take 15 trucks. We made the second because they allow pickups to slip in between the big guys.

Hamant came up and knocked on the window. He and John were on board, getting him to the airport. We went inside the cabin and chatted while Cat’s teeth chattered. It’s a 30-minute, rough seas boat ride. Funny, a sense of nostalgia sort of surrounded us, maybe knowing that we may never see each other again? Or, knowing that Hamant would soon be home and we’ll still be fighting the wind?

Back on the mainland, Claudio spoke with the others on their CB Radio. They were still in line, waiting. Claudio told us he’d rather be driving one of the big rigs. He gunned the engine and headed inland. The Hosteria owned by Ernesto from San Sebastian’s son was closed. Claudio sat patiently while we considered our options. We asked in jerky Spanglish if there were other places on the road. He didn’t think so but called the others again and they confirmed, “No”. Claudio sat in front of the locked gate, engine idling, and waited. We figured that we were out of options. I asked if we could go on to Rio with him. He looked over and emphatically said, “Si”. Not just “Si” but that long drawn out “SEEEE” with a lift at the end. So it was on to Rio via the pickup.

 Escape From Tierra del Fuego

 Bye Bye Tierra del Fuego

It’s another 10 Ks or so to the Argentinean Border Crossing. We pulled up, Claudio left the engine running and after digging out his vehicle registration, led us into Immigration. It’s a pretty stark place but they do have toilets and a little stand selling food and trinkets. The line to the Immigration Officer passes I front of the counter. One of the guys there began reading the back of our jackets and said, “Pat & Cat”. We tried to talk as we waited but it was difficult. I gave him and his buddy one of our cards. He got it, “Todo el Mundo en Bicicletta” and the news spread down the line. We were an attraction, they all stared.

The Immigration guy looked at us, entered our Passport numbers in his computer then opened the Passports to stamp them. Another stir, more stares, he exclaimed out loud that there were no pages left to stamp. He thumbed through and called out several of the countries names that we’ve visited. The trinket seller leaned across the counter and repeated, “Russia”, as a question. We said yes and that too caused a little stir.

Hotel Costa Rio is adjacent to a Casino. Claudio had mentioned it but we didn’t connect the two until he pulled up across the street. He waited, I dashed across and, yes, they had a room. Back at the truck I started to unload but Claudio pointed and indicated that he’s pull up in front. He roared off down the block with Cat on board. I went over and the desk clerk told me that we’d have to park the bikes in the garage. He opened the door and as Claudio came down the street he motioned for him to turn in. I motioned for him to pull up and he did. The guy thought he was staying, too. We dropped the bikes, Claudio was in a hurry. I tried to find a pen to get his e-mail address. I offered him food or drinks, he said “Mas tardes”. (Later) He said something about coming back or staying here too? He’d give us his e-mail address then.

Hugs for both of us then Claudio was off in a cloud of Rio Gallegos dust.

I struggled with the getting the bikes into the garage with the help of the Bellman. The garage is only a courtyard, open to the sky and I didn’t feel it was secure. Finally the Bellman went in and asked about taking them to the room. They didn’t like it but after lots of asking, gave in. We took them up the elevator, 1 at a time. He wanted them in the little kitchenette and worried about scratching the walls. We were careful about that and I warned him 3 or 4 times about not picking the bike up by the seat. I knew exactly what had happened when I heard the ripping sound. He apologized and hustled back down stairs. It may have been a good thing, it eased the tension about parking the bikes.

I went back down to collect Cat and our loose bags. She was talking with 3 guys, all from the US. Two are pilots, Carl and Bob are with NOA, the weather and oceanographic research firm. Well it’s Government but in an independent way? They fly P3s and are here preparing for flights over Antarctica this summer to measure Global Warming. The other, Randy, is a Defense Department Attaché with the US Embassy in Buenos Aires.

Another Case of Small, Small World

Carl told Cat that he had been riding bicycle on the Promenade in Ventura just a week ago. His brother lives there and he was flying out of Point Mugu. His brother, Paul, owns an Environmental Impact company doing work for developers. We started talking about people he probably knows when Carl mentioned his Uncle John. We know John, he was a Charter Member as we are, of The Tower Club, a Health and Dining Club. He had been Chairman of the Board of Directors but died recently. A friend had e-mailed us of his demise.

John and Carl, his brother, Carl’s Father, were born on Irvine Ranch. That means little to many of you but it’s most of the land that makes up what we know as Orange County, today. They both had careers in agriculture. John became President then Chairman of the Board of Sunkist, one of the worlds largest Citrus Co-ops. Carl’s Dad went with Sunkist to Florida. Carl is a Florida boy with California roots.

We were tired so, all things stowed, we went down to the Cafeteria. We’ve lost that hour we gained in Chile. It’s 10:00 PM here. A bowl of soup with bread then we hit the bed.

Our room is actually a mini suite with kitchen, living room and bedroom. The only disappointment, no CNN or any other English language news on TV.

September 10, 2004
A Day in Rio

Slept in until 9:00, the included and nice little buffet breakfast at 10:00. A short walk to the Tourist Office and a disappointing attempt at getting info. None of the staff speaks any English and they have no maps, just a few Xerox copies. Worse yet, they have very little knowledge of the area to the north between here and El Calafate.

They did mark the essential on a City map like Market, Bike Shop and Shoe Repair. We hit the Internet and worked through messages. Surprise, Todd the guy that does the does the Video Infomercials for LandRider Bicycles is coming to meet us and do a segment in South America. That’s kind of exciting, we have been sending them the little clips we take and they’ve used some but this will be sound and professionally done. I sent back to him and promised to send the stuff we have, the Elephant piece in Kysna, South Africa and our start from Ushuaia.

We walked to the shoe repair place. One of my bike shoes is coming apart at the toe. The guy wanted to make a major repair, sew etc. I asked him to just glue, he didn’t like it and thought it wouldn’t hold but I insisted. We had a great lunch at Pizza Express, no pizza but wonderful chicken and vegetable tarta. The price was unbelievable, only 12 Pesos. (About $4.00)

Almost as a last resort we stopped at a Travel company, South Roads Tours, to see if they might know what the road ahead will be. The young guy, Mariano, spoke no English. We were about to give up when Alejandro blew through the door and filled the room with a heavy accented English. He’s a character but he did know the route and he did help us with ideas for places to stop. He even took our map and marked spots for camping and where we should find Estancias, Hosterias and small Hotels.

Back at Hotel Costa Rio, I remembered that we couldn’t mail the tape to Todd. The Aduana closes at noon and they don’t work tomorrow, Saturday. Cat went back to the Internet, I worked on the tape, making sure it was the right one. I have an idea, I will ask Carl to take it back and mail it for us. He’s a very giving guy. When we told him of our loss at DHL he offered to see if the battery from his computer would work and wanted to give us his Memory Stick. We declined so I figured this favor would be easy. I called for Carl but the desk put me through to Randy. Carl’s out but he told me to bring the tape down. I ran it so he’d know that it wasn’t something subversive. He said that he’d make sure it got to Carl or into the mailed.

I plugged away on the journal pages most of the afternoon. Carl came knocking when he got back in. I told him about the tape and he was happy to help. He came in sat on the uncomfortable couch and we talked. He really is a thoughtful and interesting guy. He’s worried about the decision whether to fly out of Ushuaia or Rio Gallegos. I told him of our fears as the plane skimmed over the mountaintops on approach. He agreed when I told him that it felt like they were picking up draft from the hillsides. What an amazing world. Small enough that we can meet a guy who was just in Ventura. Small enough that he’ll be back in Maryland day after tomorrow. Yet, large enough that when you do it on a bicycle it’ll take almost a year.

Cat picked up toothpaste, food and my glued shoe. We dined at a place Carl had recommended. They had eaten steak, we ordered lamb and pork. Something happened during translation, none of the food was very good. The best of today, it was sunny. Windy but sunny.

We took a quick tour of the Casino then ducked back into Hotel Costa Rio. I drug the TV into the bedroom and we found a movie in English with subtitles.

September 11, 2004
Another Day of Rest and Readying in Rio
3 Years Have Passed, Al Queda and Osama Reek Havoc, Yet!

Woke up to gray skies and memories of 9/11. The Spanish news stations were full of the same footage, planes crashing into the WTC, over and over. It’s windy and cool outside and the streets are empty. We sat at the window and watched the few people scurrying about with heads down, plowing into the wind.

Rio is a town built upon functional values. Nothing very pretty but everything looks substantial. We walked the city street down to the riverfront. A sea wall, tidal flat and brown silty water. We did take a few pictures of the park across the street.

Butch Cassidy and The Sun Dance Kid?

Back to the journal for me and Internet for the Cat. She looked up something we’d read about and remembered from the movie. Two wild-west, US bank robbing characters of the early 20th Century, Butch and Sun Dance had retired to a life of seclusion and bought a Ranch near Rio. (About 1908 or so, we think.) They got bored, threw a shooting contest that Butches Girl Friend won, then went into Rio and held up the Bank. That didn’t set well with the locals. They had to leave the Ranch they’d bought and head out on the run. A guy we talked with who seemed to know said that they’d made it to Bolivia but were caught and shot, there.

Lunch in our flat, ham and cheese Empanadas. Cat then re-worked the bags and dug out our goggles. We’ve carried them since Reno, Nevada and never used them. They steamed up back them, we hope that the cold will take that problem away and they’ll keep the dust out of our eyes.

Dinner at the white tablecloth and linen napkin spot next to last night’s not so good place. Salmon and Veggies. Great.

Appropriately, we watched the dubbed version of the movie, 911.

Sunday, September 12, 2004
Rio Gallegos to Guer Aike
36 Kilometers

Up early and ready to ride. A change in the weather and a change in latitude and attitude. Breakfast, loaded up then out the door at 10:00 AM. A 1 Km backtrack then turn to the west and voila, wind in the face. Not overwhelming but slowing. They say “Los Vientos de Patagonia”, the Winds of Patagonia. The good news, it was at least 50 degrees, warm enough to work up a sweat.

The 33 Kilometers to Guer Aike took more than 3 ½ hours. First stop, a Comedor, kind of a rough little café. We had a bowl of good soup then asked about a place to stay. The Gaucho looking waiter/owner indicated “Camping only” and pointed down the road. We could see an old looking green building across the field, he didn’t know whether it was open. He called out and a woman came out of the kitchen. They conferred and she confirmed that it was closed. Another ask, The Estancia Guer Aike? “Si esta abierto”, it’s open. They both pointed out the window and said, “3 Kilometers”.