Tuesday Dec. 25, 2007
I'd finished all my 'chores' once more (Buzz cleaned and checked over, bills paid, money transferred and bank accounts reconciled, laundry cleaned, batteries charged, memory cards emptied, GPS tracks downloaded and converted, photos categorized, website updated, maps reviewed and route determined, computer backed-up, toiletries and food stocks replenished). Everything was ready for the next stage of my journey. A part of the world I'd heard many stories about, and I realized now that after all this time, I was actually there, and that I'd even become slightly nervous about. It was a ride through long distances, emptiness and fierce winds that define the legendary Patagonia. And somehow, even though I'd ridden to Viedma for the Horizons Unlimited meeting hoping to coordinate my ride with one of ten or so others also going down, I was still going alone. It was like trying to rope the wind. Everyone had their own plans, and even though we were all going to the same place on motos, we all had a different itinerary. So I would ride it alone after all.
I hopped on Buzz and went over to the cafe where I'd become a regular for the WIFI, checked my E-mail and went back to Buzz only to find that nothing happened when I turned the key! This was new. And it certainly wasn't the reassurance I needed to start this part of my trip. Even though I've always done my own electrical work on the bike, some components (especially electronics) are the one part that scare me the most and I was afraid it was one of these items causing this problem.
I checked over all the usual stuff, but still nothing. I didn't want to be standing there in the street tearing Buzz apart, so I gave Oscar Knect (the very friendly organizer of the recent HU meeting) a call, and he agreed to meet me there in a couple of hours. When he showed up he reviewed all the same things I had and although he didn't have a shop where I could work on Buzz, he knew of one. But just as we were discussing how to get Buzz there, I saw a truck go by with an empty flat-deck trailer. Oscar whistles, the truck stops, the trailer deck tilts down and I'm told to push Buzz on - it's one of Oscar's friends! "No need for straps" he says, so I just sit on it while he parades me slowly through town, along the riverfront (in front of everyone) to a little moto repair shop. I let the owner of the shop take a look for about 30 minutes hoping he knew more about electrical systems than I did, but he didn't and couldn't find anything so I started to think the worst. Then I tried something I'd learned while solving my headlight problem a few weeks back; I looked for positive power for the ignition switch at the fuseblock, and there wasn't any. So I ran a jumper wire from the battery to the fuseblock and bingo, everything worked. This would work as a temporary fix, but it would be inconvenient (and dangerous) to remove the seat and connect / disconnect a hot wire from the battery everytime I needed to stop or start Buzz. I reviewed the wiring diagram on my laptop and decided there was only one connector that I couldn't get to without tearing the whole bike apart. The problem must be there. But I didn't have time to fix that here if I was going to make it to Ushuaia for Christmas. So I ran one wire from the positive terminal of the battery out and under the side panel and another from the fuseblock which were joined at a toggle switch I taped to the underside of the subframe to conceal it from view (turning the switch on without the key in the ignition allowed all of Buzz's electricals would work, but thankfully, not start). I planned to repair the connector properly and get rid of the switch when I got to Ushuaia and had more time.
With my temporary switch installed, I headed southbound down Ruta 3 along the Atlantic where I rode through temperatures as high as 40 C (104 F) degrees. I saw large birds called Nandu's with their babies running across the highway, and it was windy (always a cross or head wind) and the landscape was boringly flat, but it was good asphalt and I made good time.
I'd heard that Gaiman was a Welsh settlement, and having Welsh grandparents, I thought it would be an interesting stop so I camped there for a night. While asking for directions, Rachel - the owner of the local gas station and originally from Wales - came out, and in the most grandmotherly-like way asked me a few of the normal questions (where are you from / going?) followed by a few not so typical (Do you need anything? Anything at all? Food, water, cookies, money??????). She was a lovely lady, and I'm only sorry now that I didn't take her up on her offer for the money!
The real tourist attraction here is the tea houses which serve an authentic Welsh tea in the afternoons for around $5 US which includes unlimited tea and homemade sweets.
A bit further down the jagged and rocky Atlantic coastline I took a small gravel road detour to visit Punta Tombo - the largest penguin colony outside Antarctica. Here it's possible to walk amongst hundreds of nesting Magellanic penguins. Wish I could have shipped a couple of these home for Christmas.
The wind changed direction slightly and I rode through headwinds for what seemed like forever. And although it's less physically tiring than a sidewind, my fuel economy drops and passing oncoming trucks is very violent - like slamming through a big, penetrable wall of jello at 200 kmph (124 mph). Drivers were constantly flashing their lights to make sure I wasn't using my hi-beams, but they love motos down here and they were always waving or giving me a thumbs-up, as if they recognized the effort required to ride through these winds and distances to get to Ushuaia.
Besides seeing an armadillo and a fox, I also passed maybe 15 motorcyclists on bikes I didn't recognize. The next day I would learn they were riding Benellis when I saw their picture on the cover of the local newspaper: 'From Europe on moto for peace'.
I was starting to see allot of motos.
As I pulled into Comodoro Rivadavia late that evening (the days were starting to get noticeably longer) and stopped for a bite to eat, my temporary switch overheated and melted its plastic casing along with the insulation on the wires, allowing them to contact the subframe. This caused smoke to billow out from beneath the seat. I remember frantically removing the seat to disconnected the wires and thinking "of all the things I was prepared to fix, I never expected Buzz to burn down in front of my eyes". Luckily I got to it in time though and nothing was damaged. There was nowhere open to buy another switch, so I connected a wire straight from the battery to the fuseblock and then didn't shut the bike off until I stopped for the night to camp behind a small police station on the highway south of town. The next morning I installed a new, heavy-duty switch and thicker wire in the street in front of the hardware store.
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A police roadblock asked me for my insurance document and, seeing as I didn't have insurance (something I've heard of, but not common among riders), I handed them my drivers license and moto registration - which they accepted. That night in a hotel in San Julian I met two Australian guys riding a Chinese 200cc moto they bought new in Ecuador! They were wearing the only set of clothes (and long underwear) they had under a thin rainsuit and one guy even had rollerblade kneepads on. They took turns driving, and their max speed was only 80 kmph (50 mph), but they got 100 mpg and they've had the motor rebuilt in an afternoon for $40 US. Just proof that where there's a will there's a way!
The next day I got caught in a huge rainstorm that even forced large trucks to stop for an hour or so until it passed.
A short distance after crossing into Chile and while waiting for the ferry to take me across the Straight of Magellan and onto the island of Tierra del Fuego (land of fire), I read some of the many moto and adventure company stickers that cover almost every window and door at every stop (including border crossings) down here. It seems that Brazilians are the biggest fans of decals.
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I first noticed that my chain had stretched unevenly way back in San Rafael, but I was trying to make it last until Ushuaia so I could change the chain, sprockets, tires (taking the wheels off just once) and solve the ignition switch problem all at the same time. Unfortunately, my chain had other plans and just couldn't quite make it to Ushuaia. Shortly after pulling off the ferry it started to make bad slapping noises. When I stopped and had a look I saw that it had stretched considerably in one section and there was a gap near one of the rollers. I was on the side of a gravel road in light rain with nightfall coming, so I decided not to change it there, but it was obviously dangerous so I slowed down to 60 kmph (37 mph) for the next 31 kms (19 mi) and limped into the little, one hotel village of Cerro Sombrero in this southern spur of Chile with my fingers crossed.
And even though my chain didn't pick the best time to go on me, I couldn't complain. At 46,919 km (29,154 mi), this was the most mileage I'd ever gotten out of a chain in my life, and I'd not exactly been easy on it. Why did it last this long?
1) I use a heavier 530 size chain and sprockets instead of the standard 525
2) I use a very high-strength chain (EK530MVXZ)
3) I flip the front sprocket over when it's worn out (between 7-10,000 kms (4,350-6,213 mi)) and use the other side for the same distance then install another new one
4) I use a Pro-oiler automatic chain oiler (which I'm very happy with) www.pro-oiler.com
5) I clean the chain with WD40 or oil on a rag and never pressure wash it
The next day I was back riding again on the wet, gravel roads to the Argentine border that defines this tiny island of Argentinian land at the end of the world, and where Argentinean asphalt lead me to Rio Grande for the night.
I anticipation of higher prices in Ushuaia, I changed my oil and tires while I was there. I was glad to have gotten 11,931 km (7,412 mi) out of the Metzler Sahara 3 rear tire that I installed in Arequipa, Peru and bought in Colombia for $60 US.
The next day I rode with a 64 year old US American named Erik that I met at the hostal. Amazingly, Erik had ridden from Oregon to Rio Grande on his new BMW F650 via the Panamerican highway in 38 days and was only interested in visiting Ushuaia and getting home as soon as possible - he was trying to keep a promise to his son.
As we neared Ushuaia the landscape changed from the flat Patagonia I'd become accustomed to and it was now full of beautiful trees, rivers and snow-capped mountains.
Rolling into Ushuaia was a special time for me as I remembered some of the places and things I'd seen on the long trip down there, and what I had changed in my life to make this happen. It was a nice city in a beautiful setting on a bay next to the ocean. Or should I say 2 oceans? Ushuaia is the southern-most city in the world where the Pacific and Atlantic oceans converge.
Behind my hostal on Christmas eve I had time to open up Buzz and fix the ignition switch problem. Even though the original Suzuki connector I suspected to be the culprit was a high-quality part with waterproof seals, it had somehow become fused together by some sort of short that was hot enough to change the color of a heavy-guage wire from red on one side to a burnt black on the other. I simply cut the hardened, burnt wire and soldered a thick jumper wire around the connector and all was good again.
Later that night I went out to the campground on the edge of town and joined 15 or so motorcyclists from all over the world in a lovely Christmas dinner.
Christmas day was spent visiting with friends and riders at the hostal and campground. That evening Erik, David (from Vilcabamba, and Uyuni) and I took a ride through the gorgeous Tierra del Fuego national park to the sign marking the end of the road in Lapataia. And because it's so far south, on a clear night it doesn't get dark until close to midnight.
The sign at the end of the road there said Alaska was only 17,848 km (11,090 mi). I had ridden 52,358 km (32,534 mi) in 457 days from Edmonton to get there.
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