The Motorcycle Diaries: The Crash

It was during the late afternoon hours of a beautiful day in Los Alceres National Park (close to Esquel). I had finished a 6 hour breathtaking hike departing from a deep blue mountain lake, through dense forests, crossing the tree line until the mountain peak offering panoramic views of the entire region and its lakes, forests and mountains. After returning to my tent I decided to take a short motorcycle drive (about 5km) to visit two waterfalls close by. The first one was spectacular displaying thundering masses of water crashing 30 meters deep onto rocks. Unfortunately, the second waterfall I would never see!

Driving along the curvy gravel road I suddenly turned around a corner and saw a narrow bridge (one lane only) and the road in front of the bridge narrowing decidedly. On the other side of the bridge approached a pick-up truck. I quickly realized that the two of us were not going to fit side by side on the narrow road and decided to break. Maybe I pulled the breaks too hard (which is easy to do on slippery gravel) or my wheels where not straight when I applied the breaks, but before I knew it the motorcycle had slipped away from under me and I was on the ground. Just instances later I recall how the truck (although trying the stop) hit the motorcycle (poor Morena!). Not to diffuse the tension of the story, but no one was hurt in the incidence. Luckily we both had been driving very slowly. The only material damage suffered (besides the shock of all participants) was by Morenita, which was no match against the truck 10 times her weight. The truck barely had a scratch (the blinker had broken) but the poor motorcycle looked severely banged up (looking awkwardly bent out of shape and pieces of plastic all over the place).

Jose and Christina (the passengers of the truck) got out and helped me put Morena back on her feet. We then exchanged stories and the necessary formalities (names, contact information, insurance etc). About 30 minutes after having been notified the police showed up; fortunately with a truck large enough to transport Morena back to the station.

Although this story had a scary start, it winds up having a happy ending. Jose and Christina turn out to be two charming individuals and we got along very well. Jose offered to advice me on the motorcycle while Christina fed me cookies. The two invited me to ride along with them to the police station and on the road we exchanged travel stories. They were as relieved as I was that nobody was hurt in the incidence.

At the police station the officers were very helpful, unloading the motorcycle, getting me to a telephone so I could call Sergio to ask him for advice and offering us Mate (Argentina’s national drink). I am not sure if this was the first police report the officer had filed but the paperwork took at least 3 hours (although we only filled out one form each). But the delay was OK because I was in good company. Moreover, it was an interesting cultural experience to get to know the workings of a Latin American police department (without being held captive or accused of a crime).

After the bureaucracy was finally finished it was already night time and we were free to go. I am not sure if it was because of their helpful personalities or because they felt guilty, but Jose and Christina refused to let me return to my tent alone in the dark. They drove me back to my campsite, helped me pack up my things and gave me a lift to nearby Esquel where they helped me find another campsite. They then proceeded to invite me to dinner and we were starting to get along better and better. The next morning, as promised, they returned and together we drove all over town trying to find a mechanic that was able and had time to fix Morena on short notice, locate a transport service that was able to ship her from the national park 50 km away to the mechanic as well as make phone calls to the clueless insurance company reporting the accident and soliciting their help (which proved to be a waste of time). Several hours later, the tasks completed we said good-bye.

I then boarded Juan-Carlos´ truck, who was a restaurant / bar owner and had agreed to ship Morena back to town for a reasonable price. The trip with him was similarly entertaining. He was very interested in my motorcycle trip while I asked him questions about life in Esquel. By the time we returned, we had gotten to be friends and he invited me for a glass of wine. One glass turned into two, then three and finally I decided to stay for lunch. By the time I left the bar I had met all the local and heard many of their stories about life and work in a small Argentinean mountain town. It was the kind of bar where no tourist would typically set foot into and the same locals shared their daily beers. What a unique experience to share drinks with a “real” Argentinean gaucho.

After a good serving of food and wine, the next stop was the mechanic who made my mood even better. He told me that Morena had not suffered nay serious damage, only bent metal, cut wires and broken plastic all of which could be fixed quickly and cheaply. (Most importantly no spare parts were needed, which are next to impossible to buy in small towns and ordering and sending them from Buenos Aires would have taken forever). The mechanic was a motorcyclist himself and was very excited about the type of trip I was taking. He promised to go to work on the bike right away and finish as soon as possible.

I had barely made it back to the campground when Jose and Christina stopped by again asking how everything was going and if they cold help further. It seemed I was in good hands.

After an (involuntary) delay of two days I was back on the road again and Morena was running as smoothly as ever (although the outside was looking increasingly bruised: one side scarred by fie, the other held together with duck tape).

But more importantly this experience taught me that every misfortune brings with it an opportunity (to learn, to meet people, to receive a new perspective). Despite unfortunate circumstances I felt that all of Esquel had conspired to put me and Morenita back on the road as fast as possible. Continuing my trip and departing the gates of Esquel I had the distinct feeling of leaving behind new friends who had come out of nowhere to help a stranded traveler back on his feet with no selfish motive, out of genuine human friendliness. Those experiences are precisely the ones that make me love traveling and whose memory I will cherish forever.