Due to falling upon a good deal to go out on a sail boat to a few of the islands within the bay we decided to do just that.
Like every other day, dealing with the weather as we approached the South, it was back into the down jackets and see what was on offer.....
I wont go to far into as I"ll let Cath fill all that in.
Then the next day it was back to the mighty twin to get us back over the Summit in between the sleet showers in town. In full gear ( in other words, all the clothes we have in our bag) I must say it felt good to be back on the road, I mean we've had a full day off so what else do we do......

Since Cath is on the back what else can she do but take photos....(all though she has just mentioned that she might even be able to read a book) This was taken once out of the mountains but due to some of the strongest winds I've ever had the misfortune to experience, I pulled the pin on the day only 200 k's into it...... better to arrive in one piece than on time, right.

Just for the photo...

a mad rush through the forest but I'll let Caths "Its different from the behind" fill you in on that...



Then it had to be followed but the compulsory scotch...

Caths words.....
Oh, i failed to mention that we went through two border crossings today. The bottom tip of the country is shared by Chile and Argentina, and as a consequence, passports have to be duly stamped, fruit handed over to the large lady with the gloves and Chilean money bought.As you know all ready, we didnt do that one.
Out of the hotel after greeting some bikers riding v-stroms and a bmw who had been travelling from Brazil,and looked very slick on their new bikes...they even had pump action visa cleaner, it was off for the last leg of the journey southwards.
Fill the empty tank with fuel, the hotel and the gas station here take Argentine pesos, less than five minutes of tarmac and its 100kms of dirt road. Offroading with trucks took us to the border crossing back into Argentina and back onto tar seal .As the road started to climb into the mountains, we were greeted with plummeting temperatures,strong winds and freezing sleet. All ready wearing just about everything in the wardrobe, there was nothing for it but to hunker down behind my hero driver and sit it out.
Dropping into Ushuaia was a relief if only because the weather cleared and a milky sun hung limply out to dry(no rainbow for our pot of gold tho).
Just because we had reached our goal town, did not mean we were privileged enough to find a great place to stay, there were no t.v crew welcoming us in with 5 star accommodation or a champagne reception, so it was into a one star upstairs hotel in the main street and the bike didnt even get an inside courtyard as a reward! It was going to have to sit in the gutter and maintain its own dignity.
We didnt unload the bike, but went out to the sign in the National Park. We couldnt go this far and not do the photo on the same day, how would it feel, if someone nicked the bike overnight, knowing our form of luck this is not so random......Going into the Park, we got behind about 6 large coaches and any amount of cars. There was a cruise ship in port, and wouldnt you know it, they were all going out to the sign for a photo too!
This called for some fun, off road riding, and dodging the traffic on the narrow, dirt road became a blast, i felt like Dick Dastardly from the Wacky Races, making a race of getting to the sign before the crowds arrived, any which way.
The last coach was overtaken in the carpark, and as Mark squeezed the bike through the wood posts, i felt that the whole journey was represented in that last mad dash, and that it was very fitting.

Once there, well, you got the picture.....

Almost there....

After arriving at a place that we had to stay at, due to running out of gas, then having to pay an incredibly overpriced accommodation, we continued to head south..... in not bad weather
A couple hours later started to climb over a pass, with a notable drop in temp and increasing winds.....which I didn't think was possible.
Then on the other side of the pass we met with this...
and this. Dam thought we had got away with it but not so. Still about 50k's out from Ushuaia it got incredibly cold but just had to grin and bear it
Then finally arrived at the entrance it was indeed a welcome sign to see....

just a few others

lets move on faster....

Ok so we've now baled out of the Andies 'cause it was howling a gale and we had had enough. So out to the coast we head. Once there it was a good decision, and found a great camp to hang for the night. Penguins were cruising just off the shore and giving us free entertainment in our free and quiet campsite. Light an over due fire just to complete the night....
Then we got to see our first sign of one of the reasons I considered this journey... to see the most Southern City in the world... and to fit in as much as possible in between ...
"it's different from behind"
Comodoro Rivadavai sounds very Meditterranean,and thats where the connection ends. We arrive in the township on a Sunday afternoon, after travelling through flat land blighted by machines extracting oil, relentlessly nodding on the landscape.
The search for decent accommodation at a reasonable price was exhausted yet again, and the guide books comments of homely rooms and lovely corridors translated into pre-historic,Alfred Hitchcock style rooms with overtones of seedy desperateness....except that the proprietors didnt see it that way, along with Lonely Planet 2008, and wanted to charge us our only remaining arms and legs.
Seriously depleted of options, we headed back onto the open road heading South, only to find, just over the brow of the hill and outside of the City, a small, upmarket suburb which sported a municipal campsite!
What a jewel of a find.
The campsite was just one block from the Atlantic Ocean and after after an Argentinian Style Pizza, made by an Italian Chef, who should have known better, we retired to the restfull sounds of the sea(the boy racers, no,seriously, had gone to bed).
The luxury of a walk along the ocean front was not wasted on me, and i left Mark to pack up the bike while i sucked in the salty breeze. The sea is my leveller, and by the time i was picked up, i felt re-juvenated and ready for the next adventure...
Puerto San Julian was one of those places that surprises. Mark was ready for a hotel, and me, well, being next to the ocean and who usually loathes campsites, wanted just that.
We decided to take the scenic 8km trip round the coast ,(my desire to find penghuinos)before heading to a hostel. But instead, we found an idyllic spot, sheltered, on a tidal inlet that turned out to be a brilliant camp.
Loaded up with a couple of beers and a tuna pasta one pot meal we made camp.
Twilight came upon us and hey, look, over there, isnt that penguins?
The penguins came onto the rocks ,dived into the ocean, swam with the incoming tide to fish, hauled their portly bodies back onto land and repeated the exercise.....we were mesmerised. Tuna meal in hand(priorities), i squelched through the mud flats to get a better look and was thoroughly entertained. I love penguins.
The night just kept getting better, and after the pingus we lit a fire, watched some nocturnal animals scavenge the rocks after the weekend tourists and went to bed with the tent rustling in the ocean breeze, magic.

"
Ok so now it's getting real and in a way it become harder due to knowing it was just down the road, but first an unexpected ferry ride
and dam it was cold.....
Once again it's words from.... "it's different from Behind".....
The morning air was filled with squabbling birds, im loving it. Before tea was even poured i was up to enjoy the dawn chorus
and what a racket. Getting up at the crack of daylight brings such rewards and the long eared hares,so sensitive to every rustle but not accustomed to aliens so early in the morning gave us the pleasure of their company.
It was with reluctance, and after a walk along the beach, stalking the hawks between the hunt,that i got onto the back of the bike and headed to Tierra Del Fuego.
The journey seemed endless, flatlands, winds and uninspiring visuals. Limas and ostriches were the only form of wildlife, bar the odd silver -fox and so it was doubly depressing when the sign for Tierra del Fuego that we passed over 50kms back was the turn off that we should have taken.
The dulcet tones of Nora Jones, to soothe the atmosphere, couldnt mask the fact that we had little fuel and too many ks to cover it.
Some divine intervention, or as luck would have it, i had enough chilean pesos in coins in my pocket to get 4 litres of fuel from a petrol station, that quite honestly, shouldnt have been there! If it wasnt for the substance of the fuel, it could have been quite unreal. We had enough fuel to get us to the unexpected ferry trip, and by the sniff of the proverbial oily rag, into Sombrero.
This 'small city'(described as such by a truck driver with pretty good English) sported one hotel, you can guess the rates, and one petrol station. By this time, choices were short on the ground, it was, u guessed it,cold and late and we accepted the double room with private facilities, for the same price as the twin room shared with the builders, after an exchange of facial expressions.
The restaurant provided no menu, but promptly put down a set meal of soup, beef and mashed spud, and a sweet mousssey style dessert....just pay the man.

As I had said the terrain just got better and well worth the effort
But like all things had to dive back into the cities to get to the next stop off. By now we had come to grips with just how expensive it was to try and find accommodation so have ended up camping alot
So once in the area that we need to be in it was just a case of finding a camp site.
And sometimes we got lucky......
But since it's become so dam cold all we need to do was find a good pub to hide in and try and catch up with mail/blogs etc before the 3rd beer kicked in and put an end to it all....I'm sure you can all relate and understand...

Caths view.... "it's different from behind"....

We rolled into Esquel, too late to do anything other than find a place to stay for the night.
Dutifully,we did the rounds of crap motels and hostels and chancing our luck that expensive cabineras might reduce their price, in vain.
The campsite on the main road, apparently run by adolescent children, who had buried their parents under the shower block ,was the order of the night. A hastily, but professionaly pitched tent, left us no choice but to spend the rest of the evening at the local,very' authentic ' Irish Pub(the only bar in town).Where we could stay warm, listen to the same easy listening loop tape of mushed rock songs, and drink a couple of pints of cloudy local beer.
Catching up on blogs, facebook and making the odd computer phone call, entertained us all night, and we happily went back to scary movie campsite,blissful and replete.

The lakes....or in our case..... not!!

Ok so as soon as the terrain changed we knew we where into some great riding. Made a detour and headed in land and away from the never ending westerly winds. Stayed in a town that was much like a Queenstown in the slightly earlier days in some ways but well ahead in others.
The lakes are quite amazing and did indeed remind us of home both in Wanaka and Queenstown.

The the road become a little rough earlier than expected but continued on anyway due to the rather cool area that we had entered...
But it did get tighter and rougher ....... then it occurred to me that I had turned off earlier than I should, but hey when on a roll....
and infact proved to be quite the adventure and well worth it. So what to do when this happens, stop and put a brew on then move on and go from there...
Caths being doing a daily diary (sort of) and here s a snippet from it..... Its different from behind!

From the campsite of 'the howling dog' we continued Southwards towards Bariloche, a destination tourist town on one of the lakes,but a sizeable ride fuel wise, and one we went backwards and forwards on at the fork in the road.
I had read in the 'loose, and sometimes inaccurate guide book' that a town called St Martin de Los Andes was the one not to miss, and all though it was off the main road, we could loop round the scenic lakes and re-join the main highway to Bariloche, only costing us 120kms. It was only 63kms to this town from the fork, whereas Bariloche approx 163kms.....a look at the fuel guage and the increasing wind gusts ,swung the decision.
We arrived in a little place not unlike Queenstown N.Z., found an o.k motel just on the outskirts and took ourselves out for a tikky tour of the town. No surprises there, a pleasant evening spent and back to the room for a well earned kip. The noisy neighbours went out, and we were left to have a peaceful night.
None of the hotels, motels or hostels have tea making facilities and it always cracks me up when Mark sets up the camp stove (mind the net curtains), and makes a brew, just a giggle, but i'm such a snail without one. Its in every ones best interests that this ritual is played out.
A beautiful day, and its off to follow the route around the Lakes. Ascending , winding trails slowly turned into dirt track with the odd, Patagonian chocolate box chalet cabins.
The scenary is spectacular, with pristine, rushing rivers, young from snowmelt and trout fishermen literally up to their thighsin it. The only thing missing was the lakes.... We had managed to take a wrong turn, but this time it was in our favour. The views and the ride was nothing short of delicious, and because we are spoiled at home with our lake environment,we didnt feel that we missed out at all.Yep, this was a great mistake.

Not much of a story

ok we're sitting in a pub in a no name place trying to catch up on our blog. The bar lady is looking at us side ways, and since we are only camping in about 8 degree as u can qather, trying to stall going to the tent. However time to move on....

just some photos of the lead up to the start of the Patagonia lakes which proved to be an adventure in them selves.
But for now I'll finish with just few photos and try and catch up later......

on the road...again

Not much to add really,more of the same now that we are on the famous Route 40 we're up for it all.
that includes all the live stock, there are photos of goats somewhere as well.
Then come around the corner and got hit by sand, being 2 up made for a brief moment, but luckily it held together,and finished with a good result

And so to the end of yet another day in another god knows where camp site, cause we can't afford the $$ to stay in a roofed accommodation....(man it was dismal, with howling camp dog too,cath)
Caths been writing a dailyish diary .....its different from behind......

The next night landed us in another campsite ( unfortunately, the name of it is lost along with the page we ripped out of the book), but it was between San Rafael and San Martin de Los Andes.
The road to this place was a mixed bag of curves and undulating terrain, which was a pleasure to ride until the wind picked up and hit us in one continuous gust, getting more arctic with every km. The town with no name came as a welcome retreat, and thinking we might find a cheapish hotel or hostel for the night, knocked on the door of every inn, like latter day Mary and Josephs. Unlike the fable, we could find room but not at THAT price! And, so it came about we ended up in what has become affectionately known as the 'howling dog'campsite.
By the time we rode in it was becoming dusk, and we were pretty chilled,not relaxed you understand,
I watched Mark pitch the tent in the high wind, under the very tall poplar tree next to the busy gravel road and beside the camp dog's bed, with reservations.
My raised eyebrow, was too subtle, and by the time we had cooked and fed the grateful dog our burnt eggs,freezing cold and looking every inch like a bad tempered womble, wrapped in thermal layers and bike jacked still, i went to bed rattled.
The trucks trundled past, the wind did not blow the tree on top of us,much to Marks smug satisfaction(russian roulette, springs to mind here,'you see, i knew the tree wouldnt fall and kill us' after the event. But beyond all that, and not being nearly warm enough in the tent with the emotional/physical chasm between us, the cute,scrounging camp dog,also moonlights with his alter ego as shortlegged,howling wolf. His party act(being a short dog with syndrome)was to jump onto the concrete bbq tables,start with some rapid fire staccato barks and end in one long howl.
Thats it, it was off to the night watchman who watched amused as i stomped up to him dressed to the nines in thermals and biker boots,smiled at me when he caught the meaning of the word d.o.g, and thought i was suggesting it was a lovely pooch.
Hmmph,the cut throat action finally got it through to him,that the pooch's life was on theline

Call the police....?

Ok so where to begin.
As you read the night did not go well.... then as we began to pack up, the young lad from the park came over to ask for $ of which he was meet with a bollocking from us both. He then went back to the office. 5 minutes later a full lit up patrol car rolled up and out jumped 2 vest wearing, fully armed police , followed by another on a motorcycle...... then the owner decided to come and see us. What a head spin..... anyway after smiling to the police, telling the owner he was a tosser we paid our bill with a finger to boot....
then lets start the day......
I finally switched off the tyre, this has been amazing piece of rubber, it's done 18000k's of which 3 were 2 up. Still had rubber but good to get a refresh. Also decided to splash out and buy a new tube at $55 but I'm sure will be a good thing

looks kind of sad on the side walk but also doing an oil change will put a smile on any machines face. so with that we hit the road feeling very good.... doing all this and getting another 300k's under our belt
However like all good Gabitesisms..... 80k's later
My new tube that had been sitting on the shelf for ? time had perished to a point that it dissolved within the tyre. It's just so far out that it was not worth going back for the time and $ lost.I had saved the old tube so back on the road 1 hour later and very pissed off...
but hey the scenery made it all good....right?
Caths been doing a dailyish diary ,so here is some of it....its different from behind...

What is it about campsites?Without fail, experiences happen, and boy, they are not the best of happens! The run in with the manager and his assistant, really left us unsettled, after such a promising and optimistic feel for the Country. And so we decided in our finite wisdom, to go for breakfast.
In my worst Spanish direct from the 'book' i ordered bacon and eggs, small compensation for a beer and crisps dinner, and an altercation with the authorities. Going with the law of below averages, we ,of course, got no such thing, and ended up with a fried egg and fried bread.Yum, scoff it down and use the loo. Mark is off to find an inner tube and an oil change, taking all the money with him, apart from the Chilean money i am going to have trouble changing, in my purse.
Back from the loo (it was a time travellors exp) and in that space, the waitress had realised that she had under charged me and could i possibly pay the difference,obviously, two greasy eggs and a slice of greasy fried bread was a costly undertaking, but with no Argentinian dosh and Mark away on a very important mission, I was left to explain about banks and the need to rob one.
Waving me off with overly expectant hopes that i was an honest travellor, the waitress took me at my word of returning shortly and resumed rather quickly, a complete lack of interest. Bueno.Off i go to change money.....3 banks later and not a happening experience,so decided to quickly get lost in the 'picturesque,tree-lined streets' of Mendoza.
Got my cash(not changed, that required other Professional bank robbers) paid the waitress ,who would rather be elsewhere than dealing with my large. inconvenient bank note, and tied back in with Mark, amazingly, who had achieved half of his mission...
On the road, with new tube and new tyre fitted, no worries in sight, doing the right thing, keeping everything sweet as.... flat tyre!! Middle of nowhere, sun blazing down, cars and trucks pounding the tarmac...bugger!
The cup is half full, when the old inner tube, is still lurking around and the tools used to take off the tyre just work.
The new innner tube is fucked.
It always was, we just didnt know it.
Lesson to be learned, dont buy an inner tube, no matter how hearty, that hasnt been wrapped, but unknown to us, hung on a wall for a decade to perish along the seam.
A $50 dollar lesson , could cost more .if we decided to turn around and go back to the shop to replace the tube ,and god forbid, experience more campsite frolics, so onwards, gratefully, it was,into San Rafael,with our old inner tube,that Mark, uncharacteristacally, had kept! Hurrah.


The Lady who owned the Cabinieras, was very friendly and welcoming, $50 pesos for a cabin, amazing....learning curve no2 get hosts to write down the amounts, it could save a third of the price!
Here, we are in the heart of Argentinian wine country, so decide to buy a bottle of sparkles, that was just awful, and the accommodating lady, who very articulately manages to skip the $110 part of the deal gives us our sheets and bids us goodnight......