The Motorcycle Diaries: Esquel and National Park “Los Alceres”

After 2 days of gravel roads on Highway 40 I was exhausted and ready for relaxation. Once again destiny led me to the perfect place. Passing by the charming town of Esquel (with its 35000 inhabitants, it was the biggest one I had seen in over a week), then continuing onwards to National Park “Los Alceres” located in the Andes mountains bordering Chile on the west. Similar to El Chaltén, Los Alceres is beautifully located amidst snow covered mountains, green forests and crystal clear lakes. I found an amazingly beautiful campground on the shores of a lake, which with a water temperature of 16C degrees made for a refreshing bath. There I rested for a few days, doing some beautiful hikes above the tree line offering breathtaking views of the entire region, visiting several thundering waterfalls or simply resting in the shade enjoying the scenic surroundings. At night the temperature declined rapidly but a cozy crackling camp fire kept me warm while the over-head the skies offered an impressive display of millions of shining stars.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Highway 40

“La Ruta 40” as this highway is passionately called by Argentineans has reached almost mystic dimensions as the last frontier of wilderness, isolation and pure nature. La Ruta 40 is the highway that stretches from the very south to the north of the country along the spine of the Andes, mostly on gravel roads. The Lonely Planet travel guide rewards it with the title of “Best Journey in Argentina” and many Argentineans are fond of telling you stories from their trip along “La 40.”

After the spectacular visits to Calafate and El Chaltén it was my turn to travel along Highway 40 as I headed further north along the Andes Mountains. “Tres Lagos” is my last stop to fuel up. The “town consists of little more than a gas station and is literally in the middle of nowhere. I had purchase spare gasoline canisters because the next gas station was 350km away and 600km away from the next city with nothing in between, just one long dirt road, La Ruta 40, sometimes in better condition, sometimes in worse.

Thanks to my prior attempts to maneuver on gravel the beginnings are not nearly as difficult as they otherwise would have been but driving a motorcycle on gravel is tough nevertheless. The faster you go the more stability the bike gets because each patch of stones is passed more quickly, the ride also becomes smoother. Driving slowly will leave you swerving back and forth, slipping and sliding (quite possibly falling) all over the place. Of course the problem with higher speeds is that the outcome of a crash is exponentially more severe than at a lower velocity so you have to balance the two – not an easy task.

By far the easiest way to find stability on gravel is to stay on the tracks left by prior vehicles. The difficulty is that the tracks frequently end without warning or the terrain changes suddenly to dirt or even worse sand (and is extremely difficult to drive on as it offers almost no traction).

Moreover the tracks were frequently very narrow (20-30cm wide). This may sound like plenty of width for a 10cm wide tire going straight, but then add curves and the gusty Patagonian winds and the task becomes very difficult. As if the wind was not enough, I was blessed with rain on top of it the second day making he road more slippery yet. In other words, the experience of driving on gravel is completely different form asphalt, where the surface is consistent and reliable, you can relax and look around and enjoy the ride. On gravel you have to maintain 100% attention at all times scanning both the distance as well as the space in front of the tire (one time simply looking down to my speedometer and back up I found myself sliding in the pile of gravel on the side of the wheel tracks). At the end of the day I would put up my tent, fortify it against the Patagonian winds, slip into my sleeping bag and fall asleep immediately (like a rock).

After 600km had passed I was glad to feel asphalt under my tires again (and to approach a town consisting of more than a gas station). In retrospect it was a challenging, rewarding and intense experience & and definitely and adventure (and I am glad to report to have mastered it without crashing or falling)! For all of you adventurers that have a desire to explore and conquer this last frontier of Argentina you have to hurry because Highway 40 is in the process of being paved and once completed will change its character forever as the influx of mass tourism will destroy the isolation and loneliness this journey offers today.

The Motorcycle Diaries: El Chaltén

Rarely have I seen a mountain range as spectacular as El Chaltén. Turing west form Highway 40 onto the road leading to the town of El Chaltén is an impressive sight as the monumental Mount Fitz Roy and its surrounding peaks are visible from 100 km away. With every passing minute the view gets better as the road leads straight towards the mountains. The days I spent in El Chaltén were blessed with good weather and amazing views of the mountains. Almost like a finder, Fitz Roy (elevation 3400m) and together with its neighboring peaks forms a shape somewhat similar to a hand sticking straight up. It is for good reason that El Chaltén is turning into the mountaineering capital of Argentina and the town and tourism are booming (the tourist office counted 40000 visitors last year, up from only1000 ten years ago!). The region offers everything imaginable from a casual hike in the mountains to some of the most challenging climbs in the world. Needless to say, I did not spend much time in town or on the campground but hiked and climbed through this beautiful scenery almost every waking hour: though forests, over rocks, by mountain rives (crossing one via a 20m rope tied over a small canyon), sitting and enjoying the view from the many scenic overlooks, walking by awesome glaciers or just resting by a lake. El Chaltén is truly a pearl of the Andes and one I hope to see again one day.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Reunion with Rafael

I turn around the corner onto the main road (more or less the only one) in tiny El Chaltén on my way to the local Gomería I (I had a suspicion that my rear tire was losing air) and parked in front of the internet café I see Morena’s sister, another Kawasaki Tengai with Mexico stickers on its side. There was no doubt about it, it had to have been Rafael’s bike. I pulled over and entered and in front of the computer was Rafael. What a surprise! I had not seen nor heard about his location since leaving on the bus for Ushuaia and thought for sure by now he had to have reached Bariloche if not Mendoza (both cities further in the north).

It turns out that his bike had a problem (it would not start) and the fix proved more difficult than expected. Sergio had to send a spare part form Buenos Aires and it took the better part of a week until the bike as running again. Meanwhile Rafael had decided to make the trip to Ushuaia after all, by plane (we actually happened to be in Ushuaia at the same time, I just did not know about it). Continuing the trip on the motorcycle, I had actually reached Calafate and El Chaltén before him until he caught up with me.

We exchanged stories and experiences over a beer and I noticed how nice it feels to speak to a familiar friend. Unfortunately the reunion was short-lived because Rafael was going to leave the next morning while I wanted to stay a bit longer to take advantage of the spectacular scenery of El Chaltén. Hopefully our paths will cross again soon.

The Motorcycle Diaries: El Calafate & Glacier Moreno

After returning from Fireland I found my girlfriend Morena in best conditions and spirits. My friend Juan at the hotel Santa Cruz in Rio Gallegos had taken good care of her. After some restful and contemplative days in the Fireland mountains I decided to name my motorcycle: “Morena” not only because it conveys well the theme of my Latin American travels as morena represents the tanned skin color of America’s indigenous population but more so because after burning on the first day of travel my Kawasaki’s “skin” looks very tanned indeed, and this experience has created a strong bond between us, hence “Morena.” Plus, since we are spending so much time together, it makes traveling a lot more personable.

I set off, for the first time on a motorcycle alone, towards the Andes northwest and El Calafate in particular. Hopefully not an omen for further travel, the 3 hour ride was by far the most windy and coldest I have done so far and only the beautiful scenery kept my spirits high. The town of Calafate is quite touristy but still has a quaint atmosphere but what makes the trip worth while is the breathtaking Moreno glacier. With its huge size of 257 square km and cliffs that drop off 60m into Lake Argentina, Moreno Glacier is the largest fresh water reservoir in Argentina and the most spectacular glacier I have ever seen. It is not only its size that makes it awesome, but its heavy activity (movement of 2 meters per day make for spectacular displays of tons of ice crashing into the lake), its mysterious shining ice and the picturesque setting surrounded by mountains, forests, and lakes.

It is truly magical to stand in front of this glacier watching its activity, observing the crackling and breaking of ice sometimes making eerie sounds as if treading on an ice covered pond with a thin layer that is about the break, sometimes collapsing in massive blocks causing thundering noise and huge waves as the lake swallows the ice.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Ushuaia, Argentina

View all photos from the first part of the Motorcycle Diaries (Buenos Aires to Ushuaia, Argentina): http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AcNmzVq5YsWLFLA

Ushuaia and its surrounding are beautiful. The city is picturesquely located on the ocean and wrapped into glacier covered mountains and green forests. Although indigenous people had lived here for thousands of years, modern settlements in Fireland and Ushuaia in particular are very recent. The island was first used as a secluded and safe location for a prison colony during the last 1800s (copying the British idea of their prison island Australia). Gradually a town started to grow during the 20th century and growth has only boomed during recent centuries fueled by tourism. It is interesting to take note that the environmental conditions here are so harsh that modern human settlements on Fireland have little more than 100 years of history. Walking through the streets of Ushuaia and speaking with its inhabitants it is hard to find a person that was actually bon here (the majority of the population has moved here from other regions or comes for seasonal work).

The weather in Fireland is extremely unpredictable and variable. Each day featured sun, cloudy skies, rain and hail (often within the same hour). Since most hours were dry I was assured by the locals that I was lucky and the weather was very good for the region. The temperature rarely made it over 10C degrees (50 F), not particularly warm considering it is the hottest month of summer. Trying to return to the mainland resulted in a weather induced delay of several hours. Due to strong winds and rough seas the ferry could not cross the narrow 3.5 km Magellan straight and left us stuck on its shore for 5 hours.

For me the most notable and interesting aspect of visiting Ushuaia is its breathtaking nature and the wide array of outdoor activities offered: hiking, trekking, bicycling, camping, kayaking, sailing, diving, whale watching, skiing, and husky sledding to name a few. I spent several days exploring (hiking and bicycling) the wild and untouched beauty of Fireland, hiking through mountains, forests and glaciers, crossing rivers of melting snow and passing thundering waterfalls. The Fireland National Park just outside of Ushuaia is particularly spectacular with is mix of saltwater bays and fresh water lakes, dense forests and sponge-like covered ground. A highlight of the visit was the ascend form the ocean to Cerro Guanaco (970m elevation) rewarding me with an unbelievable 360 degree panoramic view of ocean (where Atlantic and Pacific meet), islands, lakes, mountains and the city of Ushuaia.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Rock Stars

I never would have imagined the attention I was about to I receive and the impression I would make entering a town or gas station on the motorcycle filled with gear and luggage. I barely have time to take off my helmet before a curious by-passer approaches me with some questions about my trip, my destination or my bike. Sometimes there are crowds of people gathered around me and I cannot help but feel like a rock star at a press conference. I am not exaggerating: frequently people ask me to take a picture with me or if they can sit on the bike for a snapshot (OK, so far I have not been asked for an autograph). The most common questions (and surprisingly almost always the same ones) are: where are you from, where did you start the trip, where are you going next, where is your final destination, how long have you been on the road and how much longer will you be traveling and most importantly how fast does the motorcycle drive.

I had no idea that what I am doing would be perceived as all that unusual. I have seen many motorcyclists in Europe or the United States and it seems that none of them ever received any special attention. One possible explanation is that the Argentineans have a special connection to motorcycles or that not many people embark on an adventure to conquer Patagonia by motorcycle. Neither am I used to ever getting a lot of attention nor did I expect a reaction nearly as strong by the Argentineans, but I will not complain. It is charming to have so many people interested in your travels and your experiences, have people wave at your from the cars, honking as they pass you, children waving from the back window or curious questioners wishing me good luck as I leave the gas station.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Separate Paths

Rafael was quite frustrated by the custom’s experience and our inability to proceed to Ushuaia on our motorcycles and was in a hurry to reach the Andes, so he decided to skip the visit to Ushuaia and head north to the land of glaciers and mountains. I, however, had driven 3000km and wanted to complete the journey to the southern-most city of the earth, Ushuaia (for full disclosure: there is actually a small Chilean fisher village, Puerto Williams, a bit further south but since Ushuaia lives off tourism and most of them only come to say they have been to the most southern city on the planet, it is critical for Ushuaia to uphold the myth. It is not the first time in history that the “truth” has been twisted for economic benefit). Since the motorcycle had to stay in Argentina, I decided to leave it behind in Rio Gallegos and proceed by bus. In other words, after one week on the road together Rafael and I would part ways and I would continue my travels alone, once again.

After a restful day wandering the streets of Rio Gallegos fining a safe place for my girlfriend (or so I hope), fixing some things (left by fire damage) and enjoying the extremely friendly Argentineans, I was on my way to Ushuaia, at last.

The road south to Ushuaia looked exactly like the one to the north for the past 2000 km. The 600 km journey to the south of the world would take 13 hours (4 of which were spent crossing the Argentinean – Chilean border twice. Crossing a border, representing a bureaucratic hurdle, also shines a lot of light on the relationships between the two countries. After crossing a border with open eyes, the observer subsequently is often able to speak quite intelligently about the international relations between the two countries. Although I have not studied the subject, I suspect that the relationship between Argentina and Chile is as frosty as the icebergs floating in the sea off Fireland. I have rarely crossed a border with so much (unnecessary) paperwork, hassle and bureaucracy.

Shortly after entering Chile we reached the end of the South American mainland! A ferry was already waiting to help us bridge the 3.5 km wide (its narrowest point) Magellan straight form the mainland to the island archipelago of Fireland. Again my memories of reading about Magellan resurfaced and I pictured how 400 years ago his boats after desperately searching for a passage west finally sailed through this small opening hoping that this time their labors would be rewarded (which they were) in search of the Pacific Ocean.

The journey continued on the other side of the canal on gravel roads at 50 km/h. Since not many Chileans make this journey, the Chilean government seems uninterested in making life easier for Argentineans and has chosen not to pave the main road through the island. The vegetation, however, suddenly changes drastically. Mountains lakes and forests become visible; things not seen for thousands of miles. I later learned from a biologist that Patagonia’s precipitation is extremely sensitive to mountains blocking it. In other words, most precipitation along the Atlantic coast is blocked by the Andes in the west leaving behind dry fields and desert like landscapes. The rain clouds can pass freely over Fireland creating green forests. After 13 hours on buses and standing in immigration lines, the journey finally came to completion: In Ushuaia at last, the southernmost city in the world!

The Motorcycle Diaries: Day 5: No Passage

Rafael awoke me to a beautiful sunrise (as one travels further south the sunrise occurs earlier during the summer. 5:30am this morning. Although I am a night person by nature I started to appreciate the benefits and beauty of the early morning hours). Following the same pattern as all week, we quickly packed our things and continued the race south, to Ushuaia, Argentina, only today would be more extreme: Highway, a quick stop at the gas station barely long enough to use the bath room or have a quick snack, then back on the road heading south. Gas stations in this region were becoming dangerously scare so we decided (given the fuel consumption of our bikes) we better stop at every gas station (about every 150km), just in case. By now the vegetation had become practically non-existent featuring a few yellow stains of grass here and there. Surprisingly there were more sheep visible (later I learned that this species of sheep actually likes this yellow grass and lives quite well in these conditions). The roads were getting a bit windier, at times following the coast line, at times cutting through the continent with every day traveling south the wind was blowing stronger and the temperature dropped. I even felt that the color and glow of the sunlight was changing (the locals, however, kept telling me that this has been an unusually warm and tranquil summer, so I should feel lucky).

After 10 hours on the road and 800km we finally reached our destination for the day: Rio Gallegos, the last city on the mainland before crossing into Chile. Rafael still had energy left and wanted to proceed to cross the border some 70km further south. The Argentinean exit procedures were easy until we entered the custom’s office where we were told that the motorcycles had to stay in Argentina. No problem, we thought, our friend Fernando had prepared the necessary papers with a local attorney and notary allowing us to exit the country with our bikes. We showed the official all our documents but they were unimpressed telling us that they were invalid and that foreigners cannot leave the country with an Argentinean motorcycle (the only exception being a rental contract and special rental customs form which of course we did not have since the bikes were purchased not rented). All our attempts to “fix” the problem were unsuccessful and even the chief of customs had no sympathy for us. We were left no option but had to return. This was one of the few instances in my time traveling in Latin America were “no” really meant “no” with no way around it. The day was getting late and we returned to Rio Gallegos for the night.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Day 4: Gusty Winds & Camping in Paradise

After a good night’s sleep, deeper and more restful than I have had in a long time, I woke up energized and ready for a new day. Rafael and I gathered our things and were on our way.

Argentina is incredibly large and with every passing hour on the motorcycle crossing its vastness I was more in awe. For all of you who thought the west of USA is a vast and expansive place (being from the small country of Germany I certainly am one of them), Argentina is a whole dimension bigger. South of Buenos Aires the land was green and fertile. Traveling south, very gradually (almost unnoticeably so) the earth became drier, had less vegetation and appeared more desert like. I am now almost 2000km south of Buenos Aires and the scenery reminds me of the Nevada desert.

A few years ago I read a biography on the explorer Magellan featuring vivid reports of the harsh condition and desolate vegetation of the Argentinean coastline as he traveled south. I can now relate to his desperation as he sailed south looking for passage to the South Sea a.k.a. Pacific Ocean: the weather constantly turning colder, windier and more hostile. It is with good reason his crew tried to revolt against him).

One of my special encounters today was with the wind. The wind has been blowing since we left Argentina’s capital but has been getting increasingly stronger and gustier. I recall writing about the wind during my first day, which was nothing compared to the wind in southern Patagonia. Today one strong wind gust almost blew me off the road and taught me that on a motorcycle one has to be 100% alert 100% of the time.

The other “special” experience of the day was a taste of what it is like to travel alone because Rafael and I lost each other. I had driven slightly ahead of him and stopped at a round-about to wait for him, in vain. After 15 minutes he still had not appeared so I decided to continue on. I met him several hours later on the highway. As it turns out he had taken a different turn to a nearby gas station. Without implying judgment (neither good nor bad) it is striking how different it feels traveling along versus with a friend.

As the flora got more scarce, the wildlife was becoming more interesting. Yesterday I saw herds of wild sheep and animals that looked like llamas. Today I saw many herds of wild ostriches, a laguna with pink flamencos and was frequently watched by hawks or vultures overhead.

The bikes were running well and I felt increasingly comfortable. I do not know if it is just our bikes or if this is normal but they seem somewhat high maintenance: almost every day we have to add a liter of oil (no, there is no leak) and the new tires are about half way worn down after only 200km.

The road that was practically straight for 2000km is now turning more windy, through some valleys, hills and along the ocean (from Puerto Madryn past Comodora Rivadavia – the town that smells like fish and looks quite charming). 50km south of Comodora Rivadavia we approached a beach too beautiful to pass up: Fine sandy beach, dark blue water and enclosed by sandstone cliffs. We decided to stop, of course I had to take a swim in the ice cold water and since the sun was approaching the horizon we decided to set up camp on one of the cliffs overlooking the bay: one of the most picturesque campsites imaginable. I am starting to appreciate the benefits of traveling with a motorcycle - a place like this would be virtually inaccessible to the ordinary backpacker. I watched the sunset sitting on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean “and think to myself: what a wonderful world.” Distance traveled: 550km.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Day 3: Penguins, Gravel Roads and Endurance

Today was by far the most challenging day – mentally as well as physically! No, today nothing broke, no fires and no accidents either. The day began just before sun rise when my dreams had reached their sweetest point. Rafael woke me up as the sun was peaking over the horizon and told me to hurry because it was time to go. With the beautiful backdrop of the sun rise we packed up our tents (each day goes faster) and were on our way. Before I knew it the first tank was empty, we quickly refilled and wee on our way again (gas station stops are quite frequent – every 250 to 300km with a 20 liter tank and a liter of oil daily for dessert, which is very poor fuel efficiency but you have to forgive my bike: she is 15 years old and going through puberty. You have to know that my bike drinks gasoline and oil like it was happy hour). Before it was noon we had reached our destination for the day: the famous Valdez peninsula (the wildlife highlight on the Argentinean Atlantic coast and home to whales, dolphins, penguins, sea lions among many other species I had never heard of or seen). We finally found a few minutes for a quick breakfast and were on our way to discover the beauty of this park among the over 300km of trails. The only problem was that all trails were on gravel roads and I had never ridden on gravel before. This was not a dirt road with a bit of gravel on top but rather a thick layer of gravel that the tires would dig into. My tires started to slip and skid from left to right and despite very low speed (which probably saved me from crashing) it was next to impossible to control the bike with confidence. Rafael did not seem to have any problems and was out of sight before I know it. The first view point was 70km away so it would be a long drive. I accelerated up to 30 km/h then began to slide, tried to avoid falling balancing the bike against the loose gravel. Finally the bike came to a stand with me still on it. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried again, this time I managed a bit longer. But a few minutes later I was in the ditch and had to use all my strength to push the bike back out. The struggle continued until after about one hour I seemed to have found the right balance and was abler to go for longer periods of time without skidding and struggling to avoid falling. The only relief of this fight against the road was the sporadic wild animals that made an appearance (probably to laugh at me). After one hour and a half I finally reached Punta Delgada and was rewarded by a spectacular view of the ocean, cliffs and sea lions resting on the beach: what a sight! The break was short, however, because 10 minutes later Rafael blew the horn for departure: back on the gravel road for another 40km adventure. I was feeling increasingly confident and was actually able to relax a bit and enjoy the view.

The next two view points were even more spectacular: a cold rough wind from the sea and the land looked almost like desert without much vegetation. The two formed a sharp contrast and made for an amazing setting for a school of sea lions and penguins playing on the beach, dancing and singing with each other or simply resting. The sun was starting to descend and we had to rush to exit the park before nightfall (I definitely did not want to be caught on these gravel roads at night). We fueled up one more time and left the gas station to a beautiful sun set and embarked on the final stretch of the day, a 100km ride to the next town and a promise of a warm bed and hot shower. The wind was blowing freezing cold and the last sun rays were soon extinguished. I had never ridden a motorcycle at night (another first time) and was exhausted after an eventful day. The kilometers stretched slowly as the cold wind helped me keep my focus. Finally we reached Puerto Madryn and met two friendly guys at the gas station that offered to guide us to a hotel. After 15 hours of travel and 700km of distance I finally parked my bike and was rewarded by a meal at the hotel restaurant (the first real one of the day), a hot shower (washing away all the dust, coldness and tension) and a warm bed (which I embraced like a baby his mother). Distance traveled: 700km.

The Motorcycle Diaries: Day 2: Latin Inventions

Today provided more evidence that our luck had turned favorably and that things should be smoother going forward (somewhat). After escaping the highway and having breakfast in nature overlooking the surrounding mountains from a little forest we continued on our way south. The 2nd day offered a completely different motorcycle experience from the 1st: I felt much more confident and comfortable steering, shifting and controlling the bike was easier and even the wind did not bother me any more. The endless fields continued as we made our way further south entering into the infamous region of Patagonia.

Mid-afternoon we stopped to fuel up and Rafael joked with me that my luggage looked like it was about to fall off. I was sure I had tied it very thoroughly (despite the prior day’s fire). But he was right; the luggage did look somewhat questionable. After shaking and testing it, I realized in astonishment that the luggage holder was very loose and only held by two remaining screws (which were half undone as well). In other words, a few more hours (or minutes?) and I would have picked up my things all over the highway. Unfortunately we did not have the right tools and neither did the gas station so I decided to ask at a neighboring tire store. They did not have the right materials either but the creative Jose was extremely helpful and invented both tool and solution and after an hour of trial and error the luggage holder was tight again (at leas temporarily). The best part was he did not want a penny for his work (but after insisting he did accept a tip). Long live Latin American helpfulness!

The night fell on us much quicker than expected and we pitched out tents on a field by the road (in between Viedna and San Antonio del Oeste) making use of the last rays of daylight. The fading sun gave rise to an unbelievable and unforgettable starry night: the Milky Way as bright as I remember seeing it, shooting stars left and right and constellations of the southern skies I had never seen before. Distance traveled: 450km.