GONE WITH THE WIND
03 Jan. 2014
San Carlos de Bariloche – Parque Nacional Los Alerces
Odometer km 69493 – 69766
While I’m packing my bags, Matias is installing the parts Jo brought in her luggage because they hadn’t arrived in time for my departure from Rio: Protectors for headlight and radiator and a new tail light. Julia tucks a sandwich on home-made bread into my tank bag, then my wonderful hosts send me on my way.
Matias, getting the bike ready
It is still windy and chilly, but definitely warmer than the last few days. I’m enjoying the smooth ride South on Route 40 towards El Bolson, with changing scenery of lakes, pine forests and wide valleys set against the background of the mountains, tops still powdered with a layer of fresh snow from the recent chill.
On the way to El Bolson
At the gas station in El Bolson I chat with the driver of a 1947 Ford truck. Heavily loaded with wood, this gasoline-powered dinosaur is still taken to work every day! Not sure if I’d want to foot the gas bill, though…
Born in 1947, still going strong! (El Bolson)
Upon Matias’ recommendation I take a brief detour to tiny Lake Puelo National Park. I rest for a while at the stony shore of the lake to take in the mountain panorama and watch the coming and going of white passenger boats picking up visitors from the park’s little harbor for a scenic cruise around the lake.
Lake Puelo belongs entirely to Argentina, but its waters flow to the Pacific ocean and Chile begins right where the river leaves the lake. This is probably the reason why there is a little container with a customs office at the harbor. The friendly, white-bearded man at the door is looking more like Santa Claus than like a customs officer. He answers my initial question about the topography of the lake in Spanish, but as soon as he finds out about my nationality he switches to impeccable German. Son of German immigrants, he and his family continue to speak German at home .
Lake Puelo
I return to Route 40. In Hoyo del Epuyen, signs and billboards invite to visit a winery. Indeed I spot a few vineyards and a bodega on a hill across the valley to the right. Wow, that’s quite far south! I’m curious, but resist the temptation to stop for a tasting.
A few kilometers further I leave Route 40 and turn right towards Cholila. This small mountain town’s claim to fame lives on in the name of a local restaurant: Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid were once hiding here for a while.
Towards Cholila
Towards Cholila
Cholila
A gravel road leads Southwest from Cholila into Parque Nacional de los Alerces, named after the mighty Alerce or Lahuan trees (Fitzroya cupressoides) found the area. These giants grow only about one millimeter a year. Some of them are almost 60 meters high and over 2500 years old!
I pay my fee at the park entrance and receive a sheet with instructions how to protect myself against hantavirus infections. This mouse-borne virus can cause fatal infections in humans, but is not a relevant threat under usual circumstances. However, the periodic abundance of colihue seeds in Patagonia (Reminder: The bamboo-like plant that blossoms only once after 25-40 years) results in periods of extreme growth of the local mouse population, significantly increasing the risk of infection.
Going at a slow pace I’m passing a string of pristine turquoise lakes before I stop for the night at a camp site on the shores of Lake Futalaufquen. Bahia Rosales is also equipped with cabanas, a store and a little restaurant. For 21 dollars I get a cute little log cabin with two bunk beds all for myself.
Parque Nacional Los Alerces
My little log cabin – Bahia Rosales, Parque Nacional Los Alerces
Dinner at the restaurant is surprisingly sophisticated and delicious, thanks to Rocio, the 25-year-old female chef who is single-handedly running the place. Her selection of Argentine wines is noteworthy as well. The exquisite 2004 Norton Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve I have with my lamb casserole is just too good to waste. I end up emptying the whole bottle… Good night!
Jan 04, 2014
Parque Nacional de los Alerces – Rio Mayo
Odometer km 69766 – 70305
The morning birds wake me up early. Stepping out of my little hut, I stand a few minutes watching two rabbits hobble around on the grass a few meters away. The air is mild, promising pleasant temperatures for the day. I sit down at the bench outside the hut to write for a while before I get back on my bike.
The gravel road follows Lake Futalaufquen to the park exit. From there to Trevelin I get the luxury of a few km of asphalt before taking on the next 130 km of gravel. The high mountains recede and the space is opening for ever vaster, flatter, drier prairies, scarcely populated by a few sheep here and there. Once I pass a lonely pond dotted with a few pink flamingos.
Lake Futalaufquen
Lake Futalaufquen
Trevelin to El Corcovado
Trevelin to El Corcovado
El Corcovado to Tecka
El Corcovado to Tecka
Flamingos – El Corcovado to Tecka
El Corcovado to Tecka
In Tecka I return to the asphalt of Route 40. At the local gas station’s cafeteria I meet the owners of the heavily packed Yamaha XT 660 with a British license plate that is parked outside. Silviu and Crina traveled from Romania to South America two months ago with all their motorcycle gear in the luggage. In Foz do Iguacu, Brazil they bought the bike from its British owner. The documents are still British and in the previous owner’s name, but with a notarized sales contract the two have been able to take the bike across the border to Argentina.
We are headed in the same direction and decide to ride together for the rest of the day. On the Route 40 we’re progressing quickly to Gobernador Costa.
Tecka to Gobernador Costa
Tecka to Gobernador Costa
Per our maps this is the last town with a gas station on the remaining 300+ km to Perito Moreno, so we join the long line of cars waiting to fill up. It’s almost our turn when the attendants suddenly wave their hands and begin to send customers away. The station is out of gas, the next delivery is expected some time tomorrow. Great!
The locals I speak with say that there is a gas station in Rio Mayo, 230 km away. I’ll be fine until then, but it might get tight for the Yamaha. Good I have another 5 liters tucked away in my canister…
54 km before Rio Mayo, Route 40 makes a right turn from the main highway, which continues towards Sarmiento as Route 20. The road is narrower now, per our maps the pavement is supposed to continue until Rio Mayo. But alas, after 20 km we arrive at a work zone. From here to Rio Mayo the road is being re-vamped entirely and for that period all traffic is deviated to a temporary road consisting of a more than ankle-deep layer of loose, coarse stones. To make things worse we can’t see much, heading straight into the sun hanging low above the horizon at this late hour. On occasion, dust from oncoming vehicles is cutting visibility to virtually zero. A freaking nightmare! On the worst stretches I slow down to about 15 kph, with my feet always ready to support whenever the front or rear wheel of my heavy cow is breaking out too far sideways. Silviu doesn’t have this option, his feet are too far away from the ground. He speeds ahead, his bike wildly swerving left and right. I don’t want to be him right now and it must be even worse for Crina, on the passenger seat without any control over her fate. Later on they tell me that they almost crashed twice, but fortunately they make it through and wait for me at the entrance of Rio Mayo. Exhausted, we take an overpriced, rickety room for three in one of the few hotels in the godforsaken town of Rio Mayo. There’s good news, however: The gas station does exist and it actually does have gas to sell 🙂
Jan 05, 2014
Rio Mayo – Gobernador Gregores
Odometer km 70305 – 70791
After breakfast, Silviu and Crina load their bike, which takes quite some time. They have a lot of luggage and the fastening of panniers they bought in Paraguay didn’t last long, so they have to use cargo fastening belts instead. We are not looking forward to the additional 120 km of unpaved road ahead of us.
Loading the Yamaha – Rio Mayo
End of agony…
…Asphalt ahead! Silviu and Crina at the border of Santa Cruz province
The road is not quite as bad as yesterday and after about 50 km we get a nice surprise: At the border of Santa Cruz province we hit brand-new asphalt. This is more than welcome because the wind has been picking up all morning and is now blowing hard from the West, forcing us to slow down and lean to the right to compensate the wind’s pressure. Much easier to do on a paved road!
Approaching Perito Moreno
Several hundred kilometers of the direct route from Perito Moreno to El Calafate are unpaved and have the reputation of being extremely difficult for motorcycles. Because of the wind Silviu decides to take a huge detour to the coast and to reach El Calafate from the South – the only way to get there all the way on paved roads. I continue on the direct route.
The wind is getting worse and worse. Fortunately, paving of the road to Gobernador Gregores, on the map still marked as under construction, is completed for most of the way. Guanacos and emus are showing up on the roadside more and more frequently. Once I have to swerve to save an armadillo crossing the road right in front of me.
Perito Moreno to Gob. Gregores
Guanaco crossing!
Perito Moreno to Gob. Gregores
Baby yandus
40 kilometers before town the notorious sign: “End of pavement”. Am I again supposed to struggle along on a loose layer coarse stones? Maybe not! The first coat of asphalt is already on the new road ad nobody is working here on a Sunday! I cross over to the pavement and have a smooth ride for the rest of the way without being bothered by anyone 🙂
In Gobernador Gregores I choose to stay at Hosteria Municipal. The large building from the 70s or 80s is not very stylish, but the rooms are very decent and afforable. The friendly receptionist lets me park the bike inside their conference center. Over dinner at the restaurant I meet two couples from Germany. Frank and Ina, Lutz and Carmen from Saxonia are exploring Patagonia in a rental car from Chile. They invite me to sit with them and we end up sharing a few bottles of wine.
Jan 06, 2014
Gobernador Gregores – Rio Gallegos
Odometer km 70791 – 71374
In the morning I’m awakened by the wind howling around the house. Over breakfast I’m pondering if I should I stick to the plan or bail to the coast like Silviu did yesterday. Half-heartedly I decide to give the direct route a try. I’m leaving town still on asphalt, mercilessly shaken by mean wind gusts. After about 30 km I realize that I have probably missed the turn onto the gravel road to Tres Lagos. I stop to take a look at the map, but the wind starts ripping it apart before I even get to the the part I need to see. There’s nowhere to hide, so I just get back on the bike and keep going.
A few solitary, monument-like rock formations are disrupting the monotony of the flat, desert-like terrain. When I stop to take pictures, I have to secure the bike and myself against being toppled by the wind. I can’t hold the camera still without resting my hands or elbows on the bike, a guard rail or something else firm.
Gobernador Gregores to Piedra Buena
There are no road signs, no human settlements or landmarks that would tell me where I’m headed, but the position of the sun in the impeccably blue sky has me conclude that I must be on the road towards Piedra Buena on the Atlantic coast. 120 km later, I finally get confirmation from signs at the intersection with Route 288.
On a few stretches of the road I have the wind in my back and catch myself going 140 or 150 kph without even noticing. I open my visor, hold my hand up in the air and slow down. Somewhere between 80 and 90 kph I don’t feel any air movement anymore, so this seems to be the speed of the wind. No wonder I’m struggling when it’s blowing from the side! (In the evening I checked the day’s online weather forecast, indeed it had predicted wind speeds over 80 kph for Southern Patagonia).
Piedra Buena to Rio Gallegos
In Piedra Buena I turn South on Route 3 to Rio Gallegos. Beaten and worn out by the wind, I arrive there around 8 PM. After being turned away at several fully booked hotels, I settle for the first available room I find and pass out on the bed without even thinking of dinner.
SOUTHBOUND! 
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