Back to Argentina

Riding Solo, The shadow is a reminder every evening that my riding buddy is no longer there.

Beautiful falls on ruta 215 to the Chile, Argentina Border

Increadible snow capped mountain that was in the shape of an old volcano.

Jagged peak that caught my eye after crossing into Argentina only 30km before Bariloche.

Lago Futillo back in Chile

(The internet is intermittent and jumbled this whole blog so read at your own risk of confusion because you can't fix it without re-writing it!!!!!!!!!! Read the bold first and then the normal text.)


Feb 14

Since Julie has left I have found myself spending most of the day putting miles behind me. I guess the rationale is that I just look, and keep motoring where as before I'd stop and make sure Julie saw the sight as well.

After dropping Julie off at the airport I decided to head straight south that night toward Santa Cruz. Unfortunately a hemmaroid was bothering me and I knew of good accomidations and a near by pharmacy that could take care of me. One of the places that I stayed at along the way had an infestation of scabies and they showed themselfs in their characteristic little red bumps. It must have been pretty funny listening to me ask for both hemmaroid cream and cream to take care of my skin parasites as well as purchasing deodorant all at the same time. There were approximately 15 women and men looking over my shoulder and trying to help explain to the pharmasist what I was asking for every time I declined the antibiotic medication.

The next morning Feb 15 I took off out of Santa Cruz and headed south for 800km. The highway was straight and boring and I knew that I only wanted to ride one day of it, so I tried to cover as much ground as possible to just before the border crossing back to Argentina. I saw a highway sign posting, swimming, fishing, tenting etc. However, the recreation area was more that 50km off the highway. Everyone that I spoke to said that the south of Chile was the most beautiful place in the world and I was anxious to see it. Honestly the highway was flat, straight and boring, however, I'm sure that I'll be wishing for it again some day when I reach mountains and never ending switchbacks.

I finally arrived in Bariloche only to find that it was bumper to bumper cars looking for the same cheap hotel that I was. I pulled into someones driveway that had a sign out front that advertized rooms. The person spoke to me from behind bars at a side window and told me that a man would deal with me in a minute. I waited while they shut the door on me. Finally a guy came to the door and just said .."50 pesos"...the price was right but when I enquired if I could park my Moto in the gated parking area he got all stressed out and insulted stating that the parking spot was for "his" car. I explained that my motorcycle was worth more than his crappy Lada and he simply closed the door. I was pissed off and went to look for another place. I happed upon a hotel that was twice the price at $40 bucks a night ....alas my bike is parked on the street still after the guy said that I could park the bike at his Amigo's house later.....

Hopefully my bike will be there in the morning.

Tomorrow I head down ruta 40 again.

(Some people just should harness their kids and bring duct tape to close their pie hole's. There is a super noisy kid jumping around with a plastic slinky trying to out do the very loud television which is out competeing the refridgerator mean while its parents are drinking beer out of wine glasses!?.)

Anyhow, I made a promise to stop now and eat at 5pm every day since I rode 13 hours yesterday without food or water. I remember going to work on the rigs for my very first day thinking that they provided food and water like most other camp jobs. Working like a dog all day with nothing to eat or drink nearly wore me out and I remember and how it killed me for 3 weeks. I wasn't about to repeat the lesson learned, so, today I stopped in a great little town that was based around fly fishing and skiing in the Parque Nacionale Lago Puelo. I inquired about fly fishing and unfortunately it was $350 US for a day which didn't include license, rod. or flies.......I wanted to do it so bad but that kind of cash is a week of gas, food and lodging....but I'll never go fishing in the Patagonia ever again!!! I hopped on the bike with my desire of fishing left in the town behind me.

I have been feeling anxious since I've been by myself and when I crossed the border today I asked the official if I was done, since he didn't give me any import papers for my bike. He replied that it was "good" and said "bye".... I took off and rode 22 km down the road trying to remember if the border agent gave me papers the first time that I crossed into Argentina from Bolivia. I got all freaked out and returned to the border and waited in a huge line only to see "my" guy head out back for a smoke as soon as I was finally near the front. I ducked the tape and followed him to his smoking area. From working with tradesmen I knew how important smoking is ( more important than work) so I approached slowly and spoke softly ...like I was talking to a grizzley bear. I refreshed his memory about who I was and he reassured me that everything was OK and that the passport stamps were sufficient enough.

Assured I headed for Bariloche. The road to the town was beautiful and much like the west coast of BC. with Lakes, Mountains and tall trees lining the road way in. Finally, open spaces appeared and the beautiful treeless mountainous planes replaced the forested mountains of Chile.

Bariloche is situated on a huge--------lake ( now see normal text)