Trip duration: 19 days
Trip miles to date: 3,040
Miles since last update: 1,023
I've recently arrived in Peurto Natalès having successfully visited Ushuaia and the end-of-the-world!!! Having hoped to make Ushuaia in a single leap from Rio Gallegos, I had to overnight in Rio Grande (150 miles short) as 2 border crossings and a delayed ferry crossing (across the Straights of Magellan) slowed progress.
The borders were remarkably trouble-free and I'm thankful for getting the correct documentation (Carnet de Passage for the bike) prior to travelling. It's also a bonus that many bikers come through these borders on route to Ushuaia so the officials know what they're looking at – although I'm still impressed with the flamboyance and enthusiasm you can put into stamping a document 6 or 12 times.
Any thoughts of reaching Ushuaia that night were dashed at the ferry crossing at Pta. Delgardo, which connects mainland Chile with Terra del Fuego. Even by Pategonian standards, it was pretty bloody windy that day and the ferry ramp on the other side was closed. I joined a long-line of traffic and had to park the bike behind other vehicles to prevent it from being blown over!
With little information forthcoming, many vehicles turned around and headed south (I guess) to Punta Arenas and the longer ferry crossing. The other frustration was that trucks and coaches automatically drove to the head of the queue, taking priority over the proletariat like me. Of course everybody else could take shelter in their cars / vans / 4×4's etc – but for me it was a couple of hours sitting on the tarmac in the lee of the wind.
Eventually, 3 hours after arriving,
I got to board a ferry. Naturally I was pulled aside and
loaded last, squeezed on between a rental car and the now raised
loading ramp. I didn't share the loaders confidence in
the position of the bike so I decided to stay on the bike for the
incredibly bumpy 20 minutes it took to cross – if I hadn't
the bike would have fallen against the car for sure.
The blast down to San Sebastian (2nd border) was fun as it was dirt road all the way and I was able to catch, and pass all the traffic from both the ferry I was on, and the previous ferry that was full of vehicles that had driven past me in the queue (very satisfying!!!)
After over-nighting in Rio Grande I struck out for Ushuaia the next day. Pleasingly the terrain changed from the flat open pampas to forested mountains. The last 20 miles changed from dirt track to beautiful tarmac, which wouldn't have been out of place along the Route Napoleon outside Nice.
Eventually I rounded a corner and there it was – USHUAIA!!! It amuses me that after 2,000 miles this marks the start of my stated trip to Alaska.
From the gentle slope down into the town, I could see several ships in port ahead. Little did I appreciate what this really meant. Upon parking on the high street in search of a hotel list I was immediately approached by several Brit tourists – drawn by the Union Jack on my crash helmet. This was pleasant enough but it highlights the type of town Ushuaia is, a transit lounge for wealthy western tourists on route to a short trip around Antarctica. Ushuaia was quite unlike any other town in Argentina, full of tacky souvenir shops, Irish theme pubs and expensive hotels.
After spending a night at the (very welcoming) Hostel Albergue I decided to get out of town, choosing to camp in the remarkably picturesque Nation Park of Terra del Fuego, which coincidentally also contains the official end of the road.
I dutifully posed for the obligatory photo next to the wooden
marker (see below)
before setting up camp (first time
on the trip). The park is stunning and the following day I set
off early to climb the highest peak there (yeah, a bit foolhardy
I know). The trails were easy to follow but the climb was a
tricky one, rising through incredibly dense forest, sat points
resembling something out of Hansel & Gretal, into peat bog
and eventually a tall slope of loose scree.
The summit view was worth the toil (photo above) showing all around the Beagle Channel and off into Chile and Cape Horn itself.
Next day I set off north, aiming to stop in Punta Arenas. Another border, another ferry across the Magellan Straights, and once more I'm in Chile. At the ferry ramp at Porvenir I was entertained by 10 Czech engineers on route to James Ross Island to build the Czech Republic's first research station in Antarctica. Amusingly they were more impressed at my trip than their own forthcoming endeavour, but having just read about the fateful trip of Shackleton's expedition to that area, I'm in awe of anybody who elects to spend a lengthy stay there. One of them had contacts with the Czech version of Motorcycle News (magazine) and took my details and a photo for the journal.
So now I'm in Peurto Natales and about to embark on a 6 day trek around the Torres del Paine national park. This was a must do excursion for me before the trip and from what I can see of the Andes rising from the horizon, I wont be disappointed.
I'm 3,000 miles and 20 days into this trip and getting used to the change of lifestyle. What I have noticed is the western-world (and specifically US) 'culture-creep'. Every hotel I check into has 60 channels of TV with predominately US content spilling out and it inevitably impacts the local environment.
I wonder what this trip would find if it were repeated 50 years from now.
If you want to know more about Greg's travels, visit his website at: http://www.unbeatentrack.com/
Grado can be reached by the no 21
bus from Trieste. There is also a boat service during the Summer.
The Slovenian border is just a few
kilometres from Trieste. The Lipica Stud and
Riding School is under a half hour drive from Trieste. It was
originally founded in 1580 by Archduke Charles for breeding royal
horses for the Austrian court. Now you can tour the stud farm (6
Euros) or have a riding lesson, starting at 16 euros.
The
We are
sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing
strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of travel
reminiscences.
Buckingham
Palace has served as the official London residence of Britain’s Kings
and Queens since 1837. Built by George VI on the site of the King’s
House, Pimlico, the shell of which was preserved by Nash, the
architect. Marble Arch once stood in front, but it was later removed to
the western end of Oxford Street where the famous Tyburn Gallows once
stood. When Queen Victoria moved here in 1837, just 10 years after the
works had been carried out, it was barely habitable. There are 600
rooms in the Palace, of which under twenty can be visited, as well as
the Queen’s Picture gallery and the Mews.