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!