Chile

El Chalten to El Calafate: Perito Moreno Glacier

February 14, 2016

The ride from El Chalten to El Calafate is all paved, and relatively short at around 130 miles. The Perito Moreno glacier is another 50 miles west of El Calafate, so add another 100 miles round trip to the glacier and back to the hotel in El Calafate. Still a fairly easy day.

There are two parts to the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares: the Northern part of the park includes El Chalten and Mt. Fitzroy, as well as the Glaciar Viedma on Lago Viedma. This glacier is over a mile wide at the point where it enters the lake.

The Southern part of Los Glaciares includes the Perito Moreno Glacier, on Lago Argentina. This glacier is three miles wide and stands 240 feet tall where it enters the lake, and is 19 miles long overall. Both of these glaciers are part of the Southern Patagonia Ice Field, the third largest supply of fresh water in the world. Perito Moreno is one of only three Patgonian glaciers that is actually “stable” or growing and not receding.

Perito Moreno Glacier

 

 

 

 

Every 10 minutes or so you hear a loud “crack” and then a canon-like sound. The canon is the chunk of calved ice hitting the water. It’s hard to get a handle on the size of these things: some of the chunks I watched break off and hit the water were larger than an 18-wheeler.

 

 

This area is one of Argentina’s premier tourist destinations, and it’s high season here. This is killing my budget, but thankfully I spent a number of nights in the tent up til now. Most places are fully booked, but I was able to find a hotel in El Calafate for $70 a night. There is also a huge music festival going on in town this week and next, and there’s no need to buy a ticket because my room is close enough to the stage that it might as well be on it.

I stumbled on Daniel and Josephine again yesterday as I was returning from the glacier, and we ended up meeting for dinner last night. As Daniel said, we are approaching the “bottleneck” of adventure tourists headed for Ushuaia at the peak season, so I’m sure I’ll run across them as well as others as I continue south.

Today is a “down day” as I do a little maintenance and shop for a new phone (not sure I’ll buy one but will look anyway; they aren’t cheap here. But then I don’t really need a phone anyway…it’s the apps I miss. Perhaps I can substitute my iPad for a while….Hmmm. Will have to explore that idea.

The tires look like they might make it to Punta Arenas after all, so will continue to keep an eye on them (especially the front, which is wearing very oddly), and cautiously do the last 350 miles to the bottom of the world.

On to Puerto Natales tomorrow.

Punta Arenas! Phew….Made it! Then…Oops.

February 18, 2016

Arriving in Puerto Natales in the rain, snow and wind, I made a difficult decision to skip a highlight of this area: Torres del Paine National Park. It’s supposed to be beautiful. And I’m sure it is. When it’s dry, or warm enough to enjoy. Unfortunately, with the very strong winds, rain, and snow (and COLD), it wasn’t my time. Puerto Natales was completely booked full. I finally found a small backpackers’ hostel with one available bed in a 9×9 foot room with seven other people. I was numb, and my fingers were beginning to feel like frostbite, even with the winter gloves and the heated grips, so I took it.

The next morning the sun was out but the wind was already blowing hard and it was still in the upper 30s as I headed towards Punta Arenas. My front tire was to the point that I was stopping every ten to fifteen miles to inspect it, looking for any signs that the tire was beginning to fail. The two side-by-side knobs in the center had worn smooth with the carcass of the tire.

I stopped about halfway to Punta Arenas in Tehuelche for a cup of coffee to warm up. Very nice lady in a cafe and I was her only customer. About thirty minutes later a bus pulls up, full of Greek tourists. As usual, they were curious about the crazy Texan on the small motorcycle.

We talked briefly, wished each other “Buen Viaje” and we all took off for Punta Arenas.

I eventually made it, with my tire still intact. Once again, the town was fully booked, but I found a campground just north of the airport. I am completely baffled as to why this campground was totally vacant. Yes, there was some trash there, but not terrible, and not everywhere. I chose a spot away from the trash, with decent wind protection, and set up camp.

Easy to figure out which direction the wind blows here: look at the trees. Then park the motorcycle facing directly into the wind so it hopefully stays upright, and set up the tent so the doors are not facing the wind. And use ALL of the tent stakes.

 

Notice that the picnic tables only have benches on the upwind side. Nobody wants their food blown into them while eating.

 

All of the shelters face the same direction, for obvious reason.

In the morning, I climbed out of my tent and looked around. I was still the only person in the campground. Odd. But enjoyable. Definitely no complaints from this hermit.

I headed into town to get new tires. Unfortunately, a bit of searching the day before revealed that tire choices were much more limited than I had hoped here. The Yamaha dealer had nothing but true MX tires; not road worthy. The Honda dealer had one Pirelli MT90 front and no rears. The main guy in town, Alejandro Lagos, is fairly well known in the adventure touring world, and I went there first. He also had no Pirellis; he mainly deals in Heidenau tires for the big BMWs. But he had a couple of Heidenau tires that would fit my bike: a K60 rear (good) and a K76 front (not as good…more of a street tire than off-road). At this point, I couldn’t be too picky. I needed to get to Buenos Aires, and the last of the gravel was between here and Ushuaia (I think). So I agreed to those tires.

My bike went onto the lift and into the air…

Bike up on the lift, rear tire done, front tire being changed. Photo taken just before disaster struck.

I was sitting on a bench just to the right of where this photo was taken. Suddenly I heard a loud crash. When I looked toward the bike, my mind had trouble processing what I saw. My bike was completely upside down, wheels in the air, license plate upside down. Adrenaline kicked in and I ran over to help (in hindsight I wish I had taken the time to pull the camera out of my pocket and take a photo). The bike was still strapped to the lift, and the lift was on its’ side next to the bike. It eventually took three of us to lift the bike enough to get the pannier out from under the lift so we could lower the lift and then lift the bike back up onto the worklift. My GPS was gone; it had made first contact with the concrete, along with the mirrors, the right side of which also exploded on impact. Brake fluid was leaking onto other components from the front master cylinder (that happens when a normally highest-point vent becomes the lowest location on a master cylinder). The right handguard was bent, the exhaust shield was dented, my Garmin gps dock was in two pieces. Things were basically a mess. But of course, it could have been worse, and I kept telling Alejandro that: he could have been under it when it fell. It could have been a $20,000 BMW covered in brittle plastic. Nothing broken was preventing me from continuing my trip. He was very apologetic and clearly felt terrible. I suppose I should have been more upset, but a lot of things have changed since I began this trip. It’s just a bike. It’s mechanical. It can all be fixed. And of course, I’m about as low-maintenance as they come. He definitely got lucky in many ways.

I pulled out the new Garmin Montana that I have been carrying since January, and installed it. Alejandro looked for a replacement mirror, but had nothing with reverse threads (a Yamaha thing). He offered to order a new mirror for me from Santiago, but that would take days and I wouldn’t be here. I still had a left mirror. I could still ride.

I did eventually get a discount on my tire change…probably not as much as I should have considering the expense of the gps dock, but what’s done is done.

After my morning excitement, I decided it was a good day for a day off. I rode out to my lodging for the night…a beautiful place in the woods north of town run by an incredibly nice couple and his mother (of course they are nice…they are Chilean).

Tomorrow I hope to do some sightseeing and relax a bit more before my last two days of venturing south.

Tips for Navigating Central and South America

February 18, 2016

About a year and a half ago, I rode my Super Tenere from Texas to Canada and back. Along the way, I met up with my friend Tom and we rode together for a while, going our separate ways in Montana and meeting up again on the way back down in Utah. On that trip, I had a GPS failure, and an aftermarket electronic item I had installed on the bike also failed. We joked at the time that the ideal setup would be “paper maps and an air-cooled 650” for simplicity. Little did I realize then that I would be taking an air-cooled 250 on this journey. And while I carry a few paper maps with me, I still rely on my GPS for a lot of my navigation.

For those following along that might be considering a similar trip, I thought I’d offer some insights into navigation that I’ve gained over the last several months, as well as some other small things I learned along the way.

GPS and Nav

First, if you are truly hard-core, old-school and savor the journey via paper maps, more power to you. It’s still probably the best and most satisfying way to go. On the other hand, if you’ve come to rely on turn-by-turn GPS instructions, you’re probably going to be frustrated and surprised in Central and South America. Somewhere in between is a good solution, and I’ve come to rely on a combination of technology to get me where I want to go rather than where Garmin thinks I should go.

If you use a Garmin GPS device, you may or may not have noticed that there is a lack of maps available for some parts of the world, including down here. Much of that gap has been filled by Open Source Street Maps (OSM). For free. Type a little information into a website, and within a short time, you have a custom file you can download and install on your GPS. This is certainly better than nothing, and works relatively well, but also has a number of failings. For example, it doesn’t even recognize cities the size of El Calafate or El Chalten in the list of cities. It also won’t always route you in the best manner, regardless of whether you have “avoid dirt roads” or “avoid tolls” or whatever switched on or off. Therefore, a little extra work is required.

In addition to the OSM maps installed on my Garmin, I use a combination of Google Maps and an app called Maps.me. Google Maps allows me to look at the bigger picture, zoom in or out and determine whether the road is paved or dirt, and gather wayoints along my route to force the GPS to take the route I want. In addition, maps.me has more detail, better off-road routing capabilities, and lists many more campgrounds and other facilities than the Garmin and OSM maps. It’s possible to download the maps from maps.me one country at a time so you don’t need wifi to use them.

I also use an app/website called iOverlander.com to find campsites and hotels that have secure bike parking.

ATMs

For the most part, ATMs are plentiful and work well throughout Mexico, Central and South America, and are the easiest way to get money these days. Certain banks and credit card companies are better than others about not charging international transaction fees. I will leave that research up to you. I had no problem getting money from ATMs all the way until Chile and Argentina. These two countries dealt me two different problems, one (Chile) easy and one (Argentina) I still haven’t figured out.

In Chile, nearly all ATMs, regardless of which bank you are at, are operated under the Redbank name. Just like in the US, you insert your card and enter your PIN, and then are given a variety of choices, including “Balance Inquiry”, “Deposit”, “Withdrawal from Checking”, “Withdrawal from Savings”, “Withdrawal from Credit Card”, etc (in Spanish of course). If you’re like me, you already have this routine down: insert card, enter PIN, select “Withdrawal from Checking”, select or enter amount, take cash, take card, take receipt, go. However, if you do this in Chile, you will inevitably get a “Transaction Denied” response and no money.

Here’s the tip: At the Menu Selection screen, typically in the lower left corner, is a selection that says “Extranjero”. Which means “Foreigner”. You have to select this first, then it will take you to a new screen and you can select from where and how much.

Argentina is a totally different situation. Nearly every time I approached an Argentine ATM, the first time I inserted my card and selected a withdrawal amount of 1000 pesos (about USD$70), I got a message that said I had exceeded my daily limit. Each time after that if I selected a lesser amount (preset selections on the screen include 700, 500, 400, 300 pesos), I got a message that said I had “entered an invalid amount. Try again”. Of course, I hadn’t entered an amount; I had simply selected one of the choices presented to me. But I never did get any money. And I wasn’t alone. I watched tourists from the U.S., Germany, and Australia achieve the same result and leave frustrated and without cash in several cities.

Adding to this is the fact that there are no money-changers or Casa de Cambio places at any of the Chile-Argentina border crossings where I crossed, and no towns nearby. Which makes it even more important that you have Argentine pesos  before crossing the border. As one follower mentioned previously, it is possible to exchange money at some stores, even at some gas stations. Example: in Gobernador Gregores, the bank refused to change my Chilean pesos for Argentine pesos, and sent me to the supermarket. The supermarket told me I could buy groceries with Chilean pesos but they would not exchange them outright. Eventually, the service station was the only place in town that would exchange them, and then at a horrible rate.

Camp Stoves

I carry a gas canister (iso-butane-propane) cook stove with me. In researching this trip, I read a lot of information on the internet that said not to use this type of stove, because gas canisters were not available in South America. Which is absolutely untrue. I saw canisters for sale in Cartagena, Quito, Lima, Mendoza, El Calafate, Punta Arenas and many other places, typically under the Doite brand name. Nearly every large city or tourist-based small town had an outdoor or camping store that sold Doite canisters. I must admit I didn’t buy one or use one, as I began my trip with two canisters from REI in the U.S. and these have lasted me this far. If you are traveling two-up or camp/cook more than I did, you may need more fuel. But it is readily available with just a little planning. It remains to be seen if I can find canisters in Africa, but I will find out next month in Cape Town.

Parque Pingüino Rey

February 20, 2016

I left Punta Arenas on the 1pm ferry to Porvenir and Tierra del Fuego. While waiting on the ferry, the weather constantly danced between light drizzle and sunshine. The wind was ever-present of course, but not terrible, at probably 20 to 25 mph. 

Mauricio and Mama at Casa La Escondida. This was a superb place to stay just slightly outside of Punta Arenas, and a big part of the reason was the hospitality, although the accommodation and food was excellent as well.

 

While waiting in line at the ferry dock, I met this couple from israel traveling Patagonia in a rented Wicked camper van (same type van as the Austrian couple I met earlier). They’re just getting started on their camping journey, and I’m pretty sure I’ll see them again in Ushuaia.

The ferry ride is about two hours. As soon as I rode off the ferry and into Porvenir it began raining, sleeting, and the winds suddenly increased to about 50 mph. I set off out of town only to find that the pavement immediately stopped. It was mostly gravel, but in a few places there was no gravel, and it turned to slick, snotty mud. I slipped and slid and managed not to crash somehow but my tires balled up with mud so bad that the bike wouldn’t steer at all. Eventually the rain let up, the wind increased even more, and the mud came off my tires in the gravel and rock road.

I stopped at a place on the side of the road with some big trees thinking it would offer some wind break, but the trees were too far apart. As I stood there, I dropped one of my gloves. The wind caught it and it took off faster than I could run with my bad ankle. After about a hundred yards I managed to catch it just before it blew under the fence and out to sea. My physical therapy for the day complete, I remounted and continued toward the Penguin Park.

My GPS coordinates were for a place I found on iOverlander that just said “grassy spot” and was about a mile past the penguin park. I was hoping there would be a hill or dune or something to hide behind with my tent. When I got to the penguin park there was a guy on a loaded motorcycle there so I pulled up next to him, noticing the German license plate. Ernest was on a beautiful late ’80s BMW R100GS, and had just finished the tour of the penguins. He said the park ranger told him he could sleep in a small “house” up the road and I was welcome to join him. The park was closing soon, and I had planned to visit the King penguins in the morning, so I followed Ernest up the road.

When we got there, it was a tiny building about 7 feet wide by 10 feet long in the middle of the grassy field I was planning to camp in. Inside the building was a metal bunk bed frame (no mattresses), a table, and a stove made out of a cut-down 55 gallon drum. 

We started a fire in the stove, put the air mattresses and sleeping bags on the bunks, and Ernest cooked dinner. It was actually pretty comfortable. Just before dark another couple showed up: a German brother and sister hitchhiking/backpacking to Ushuaia from Punta Arenas. They set up their tent on the less windy side of the building and slept there. 

Nothing for many, many miles to block the wind. Except this great little hut with a stove, table and beds in it. It’s actually for the sheep herders here, but they let others use it when they aren’t. And the employees at the Penguin Park show their appreciation by keeping it clean. If you could see the bikes better, you’d see that Ernest’s BMW is spotless, while mine is covered in mud. He left Porvenir before the rains.

Ernest cooking dinner in the nice, warm hut. Cut-down 55 gallon drum wood-burning stove in the bottom right corner of photo.

The wind finally dropped to probably 30 mph or so this morning. The King Penguin Park doesn’t officially open until 11am, but when I rode up around 9:30, the ranger was very friendly and invited me in early. I spent about an hour walking around watching the penguins. The size and color of these guys is amazing. I wished I had binoculars. In the photos, if you look closely, you can see several young penguins, who aren’t old enough to have the orange markings yet.

After visiting the penguins it was another 30 miles or so of gravel road to the border crossing into the Argentine side of Tierra del Fuego. 

The ghost town of Onaisin. This looked like the school or community center.

 

The entire remains of the town were fairly intact but fenced off. The town was established by English sheep herders in the 1890s, but apparently didn’t last. It sits on the shore of Bahia Inutil (Useless Bay).

 

You see a number of abandoned wrecked cars sitting where they met their demise on the side of the road. This one says “Better Cycling” on the side of it.

As I finished up my paperwork and was just leaving the border crossing, Ian rode up. He’s been to Ushuaia and is on his way to Buenos Aires to ship home. 

It was good to see Ian again. He’s headed to Buenos Aires and home. I hope to see him again in a few months.

The pavement begins with Argentina Ruta 3 at the border crossing, and it’s a smooth, beautiful road all the way to my hosteria tonight in Tolhuin. I’m only sixty miles from Ushuaia, but this hotel on the shore of Lago Fagnano was just too nice and relaxing not to stop at for a night. 

South of Rio Grande on the Atlantic coast: When the tide goes out here, it REALLY goes out. Like about a quarter of a mile.

 

My hotel for the night, overlooking the lake.