Day 61 Teirra del Fuego to Rio Gallegos, Argentina

We were back on the road the next morning and ready to get off the island, soon to overcome the same obstacles we encountered on the way in. Accompanied by the heavy winds, cold temperatures and a blanket of rain, we rode out of Argentina, into Chile, crossed the Straight of Magellan, and back into Argentina. We took the opportunity to warm up inside the ferry during the 20 minute ride across the straight. The trip began to take on a different feel, it was now a matter of the machines holding up for the final stretch. Everything on the bike had been put through the gauntlet. The rear sprocket teeth were so thin and hooked they looked like cheap, bent steak knifes. The tires were down past the wear marks, the brakes were beginning to fade, air filters clogged with soot, dust, and sand, and the spark plugs were crusted black with carbon. But like the troopers that the KTMs were, they kept us on the move.

Day 60 The road north

The new goal was to ride north to Buenos Aires where we would ship the bikes and ourselves home. That afternoon trying to leave the island, we crossed the border out of Argentina when Mikey's KTM developed a death rattle and the low oil pressure light came on. Generally speaking, when these two things happen you've just blown up your motor. We began to brain storm on our options for this worst case scenario. To add to the complication, we were not quite in Chile, but out of Argentina. Given the seriousness of the situation, we made the decision to cross the border back into Argentina and get to a hotel on the other side where we could work on the bike. After 3 hours under the knife, we had determined that the problem had come from excessive clutch wear. The clutch material had clogged the oil filter and blocked oil flow to the engine. The death rattle was only the timing chain, as it is tensioned by oil pressure. We threw in some fresh car oil, left the filter out, and called it good. All it had to do was hold up for another 2000 miles.

Day 59 Rio Grande to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego

Wearing every layer of clothing I had brought, we set out for Ushuaia, the most southern city in the world. I was expecting more of the same barren and desolate terrain, but the bleak landscape soon gave way to snow capped mountains covered in brilliant red and orange trees. Tierra del Fuego translates to Land of Fire and now I knew why. I'm not sure if it is only like this in the fall, but it was magnificent. We reached Ushuaia in the early afternoon. Even though we had made it to the island the day before, it was here that the true finish line had been crossed. Despite any number of things could have happened to cut the trip short, we were fortunate enough to have made it to the bottom of the world. We had traveled 13,000 miles and through 13 different countries to make it here and it was a great moment indeed.

Day 58 El Calafate to Rio Grande, Tierra del Fuego

We rode through the cold morning across the open plains of Argentina with one goal in mind, to reach the "Fin del Mundo" aka the end of the world. While stepping foot on the island of Teirra del Fuego would have technically met out goal, we had come too far to not keep riding south until we ran out of road. This is easier said than done, besides 300 miles of partially paved roads, the island is split by both Argentina and Chile. In order to get to the bottom you must cross into Chile, catch a ferry across the Straight of Magellan, and then cross another border back into Argentina. As the ferry landed on to the island, there was nothing but gravel roads, heavy winds, and rain to greet us, but we had made it. The weather turned for the worse and daylight began to slip away, so we had to keep moving. It wasn't too much father that we realized that this island was not a very forgiving place and that reaching the bottom was going to be too far in these conditions. We made it to the city of Rio Grande and called it a day.

Day 57 A glacier and a nightclub

Looking over the map of Patagonia, we realized that El Calafate is within striking distance of the Perito Moreno Glacier. So we ceased heading south for a day to check it out. Your first reaction is of absolute awe, just the sheer volume of ice is almost incomprehensible. As you stand before this immense wall, you can hear it creaking and moving. If you stick around long enough, a ice cube the size of a small house breaks off into the water. The sound of it cracking is like a thunder clap, hollow, crisp, and echoing. It is one of the few glaciers in the world that despite global warming, is in fact advancing.
To add to an already amazing day, I scored a gig that night playing at a nightclub in town. By 1:00 am people started flooding in and I went on at 2:00 am to a packed house. For the next hour I proceeded to put their sound system through its paces... maybe even provoking the glacier to shed a few more ice cubes.

Day 56 Rio Mayo to El Calafate, Argentina

Immediately the roads turned to gravel and the terrain morphed into an area not quite desert, but not yet plains either. Off in the distance, snow covered mountains paralleled our path south. We rode all day and into the dark. As soon as the sun fell over the jagged backdrop of the mountains, the temperature dropped dramatically with it. The last 60 mile stretch into town left us completely frozen. It was clear that it was the beginning of a whole different climate.

Day 55 Bariloche to Rio Mayo, Argentina

A twisty morning ride through the mountains and around lakes soon gave way to the open roads as we moved farther inland. It was our first day of covering some mileage in Argentina and by the end of the day we made but only a small dent in the distance of this gigantic country. After a spectacular sunset we stopped in the only town that was around over a hundred miles. Making the choice of the only hotel, an easy one.

Day 54 San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina

With both bikes due for a oil change, we made the short ride over to Bariloche and by noon we were scouring the auto shops of this small city trying to find motorcycle specific, full synthetic oil. This has proven to be challenging in the past, but eventually we found some semi-synth oil that would have to do. I decided after the last experience with the KTM dealership in Lima to not let anymore hacks work on our bikes, so I talked one of the guys from the store into allowing us to change our oil in their garage. Later, we checked into a hotel/hostel that was on the 10th floor of a apartment building. It was kind of a weird place, as you open a door to what looked like an apartment, but you enter a huge lounge with a balcony and maze of rooms. However, the views over the lake were incredible as you can see below.

Day 53 Chillan, Chile to a small town in Argentina

Not much farther south of Concepcion, the signs of damage all but disappeared and remainder of the trip down Chile went smooth. The farther we got the landscape changed from endless grape fields to deep forest and eventually the lake region of southern Chile. Almost as if it was a reverse version of a trip north from California to Oregon. We were on the move so I don't have many photos from that day. After covering many miles, we crossed the border into Argentina in the dark. Finally, cold, tired, and hungry, we stopped in a little ski town just over the border for the night.

Day 52 Los Vilos to Chillan, Chile

We hit the road that Easter morning unsure of what the riding into the earthquake disaster area would bring. We knew very little about the whole event because we had been on the road since it had happened. As we approached Santiago there were still no obvious signs of mass destruction, but Santiago is also a fairly modern city. One of the more developed in all of South America. We stopped on the outskirts and life seemed to be going about as usual. However, a little farther south we began to see the havoc this quake had caused. We saw bridge after bridge that had collapsed, long sections of roads that had sunk deep into the earth, and a good part of what we could ride on was riddled with cracks big enough to get your front tire caught in. Whole buildings were reduced to ruble and countless more damaged in some way or another. 60 miles outside of Concepcion, where the force of this quake had moved the whole city by 10 feet, many of the houses still standing had piles of debris out front waiting to be cleared. We stopped for the day in the city of Chillan, which had clearly been devastated. The first couple of places we tried to get a room were closed. The hotel we stayed in had cracks in every wall in the room and up and down the hallways. I remember a couple of minor earthquakes in San Francisco, it's an eerie feeling that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Not to mention, a instant reminder of what little control you have over things in this world. I can only imagine what it was like to live through this one.

A man in Los Vilos, Chile

That morning we sat down at our hotel for breakfast and ended up spending some time talking with a really interesting guy named Joaquin. After much discussion of our trip, the earthquakes, the US, and Obama, he told us his tale of being a young man in Chile during its years of dictatorship. At the age of 22, he and a few others were handing out fliers at their university, protesting the government's use of torture, when he was shot and arrested. The officer was aiming for his "kibbles and bits" (and told him so after), but missed and hit his leg. He then spent the next 8 months in prison where he too was tortured. While in prison he organized hunger strikes and all kinds of general disruptions, until they had enough of him and exiled him to France for 8 years. It wasn't until the early 80's that Chile began to reconcile their senseless killing and torturing of many of their citizens. Eventually, Joaquin was issued a official apology from the government and was granted a very small pension for his enduring of these tragedies. Even though he was allowed to return to Chile sometime in the late 80's, he couldn't bring himself to do so until about 6 years ago. Joaquin's experience is one that would leave most people bitter and twisted beyond recognition. Yet, this man was one of the kindest people I have met and had uniquely positive outlook on life. When on the road, you meet all kinds of people who leave a lasting impression on you. Joaquin's good nature and positivity were almost infectious and he was by far the most interesting individual I have met on this trip.

Photo of Mikey and Joaquin...all smiles.

Day 51 Chanaral to Los Vilos, Chile

If not for the ocean providing some sense of escape, I would have to wonder if we ever going to out-run the immense reach of this desert. Soon enough the signs of life, both plant and human, were starting to come back along the road. It was strange to be rolling down the highway with gas stations, stores, vacation resorts, and places to eat littered along the way. We didn't stop much that day, as we got into the rhythm of the fast pace riding and perhaps because there was something less appealing about this influx of modern society. Regardless, Chile is a amazingly beautiful country with plenty of sleepy little coastal towns where we always seem to find good places to stay.

Day 50 San Pedro de Atacama to Chanaral, Chile

The Atacama desert is the driest place in the world. In some parts, it hasn't rained in over 200 years. And with hundreds of miles of it still to go, we decided to stick to main roads to make up some time from our 3 day off-road desert excursion. Almost immediately as you cross the border into Chile, their are roads again... nice ones too. Chile is a highly developed country, which is a night and day difference from Bolivia. It was a similar situation when we crossed from Honduras into Costa Rica. The roads went from crumbling resemblances of pavement with dead horses laying in the middle to freshly paved, painted lines, and clearly marked routs. You can tell how well a country is developed right away by their infrastructure. We threw down a 450 mile day with the Atacama on our left and the ocean on the right.

Day 49 Nowhere Bolivia to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

We woke up in a freezing adobe shack and I was still unable to eat, but at least I didn't feel like death warmed over. This would be our third day running around the desert. I think I said something before like "good thing about a trip like this is that you just keep heading south". Well... that only applies up until you run out of gas stations. Armed with 2 liters of extra gas in coke bottles, we set out with just enough to make it to Chilean border. We could not afford to make one wrong turn. We had a total of 5 maps, none of which seemed to agree with each other and the GPS stopped showing roads some time back. In the end, it was another remarkable day. We might as well have been on a different planet, never have I seen anything like this before. Mile after mile of no plant life, no animals, no people. The roads, which were really just old tire tracks at this point, turned into deep sand for long stretches. We made it to the border crossing with the bikes running on fumes. As you can see from the last photo, no one was crossing here. There is the road less traveled and the road not traveled, I'm fairly certain this was the latter.