4-18-10 Ushuaia, Argentina

Arnold escorted us out of town with his Hummer before pulling over and saying goodbye at a fork in the road.  We didn't want to dismount the bikes as we were sure they'd blow over in the wind.  We rode another hour along the coast where the winds were brutal. At times, however, we’d ride with the wind which let Mark hit 86 mph, a new speed record for him. Once at Punta Delgada we caught a 20 minute ferry across to Tierra del Fuego. While aboard we enjoyed some hot dogs in the small lounge area with a few truck drivers who had their rigs aboard as well and we all watched Guns n Roses music videos on a small TV.


We made it to the little village of Cerro Sombrero whose name is a bit of an anomaly as it was pretty flat ground in all directions and I saw no sombreros. We stayed at a little hospedaje run by a friendly old lady who cooked us dinner. She asked us if we’d like dessert and presented us each with an orange and a knife with a big smile. Not sure if oranges are hard to come by down here or not but she seemed quite proud to provide us with them. We pocketed the oranges for a snack the next day. In the morning, breakfast consisted of the usual Chilean fare. She told us that it was 600 kilometers from Cerro Sombrero to Ushuaia which seemed way off, in reality it was about 450 we found out.

The road turned to dirt just outside of town and varied in condition widely. Some places had deep ruts over a foot deep, others were almost like asphalt. On one straight, windy stretch we passed a long semi that had blown over which isn’t uncommon down here we heard.

Half of the island of Tierra del Fuego is owned by Chile, the other by Argentina so we had to do our usual border crossing work in the middle of the island. Upon walking into the customs office Mark pointed to a huge poster and started laughing. On the poster was a giant orange, several feet in diameter with an ‘X’ running through it and some instructions forbidding the import of fruits and vegetables. We didn’t worry about it as we’d crossed into Argentina 3 or 4 times and we know they don’t search luggage and find our oranges. Chile, however, does.

We fueled up in Rio Gallegos, the last town before Ushuaia, some 250 clicks off. As soon as we left town it started getting cold. Not much wind, just a damp cold. The sun started its long process of setting which provided for a good sunset over various lakes and mountain ranges. We didn’t stop for pictures as we were excited to make it to the bottom.

The last thirty miles were the longest of the trip thus far. It ended up getting uncomfortably cold but we pressed on as there was no place to stop. I had 6 layers on, a wool t shirt, a synthetic long sleeve shirt, my heated jacket, my alpaca sweater, my motorcycle jacket and a rain jacket on top of that all. My hands were the coldest even though I had my heated grips on high. I squeezed the grips hard which transferred more heat to my palms though the backs of my hands were still cold. ( I later found out that I had blisters on both palms from the heated grips, but I couldn’t feel it at the time).

There was a bit of an unforeseen obstacle just outside of Ushuaia- Garibaldi Pass, which cut through a mountain range a few thousand feet above sea level. As we approached the mountains we could see a distinct elevation running the length of the mountains where the frost and snow started. I’d occasionally think back to Central America and how hot it was up there but didn’t have time to reminisce much as the road started getting a little icy. We could have taken the road at an exciting 60mph had it been dry but were forced to putt around at 10mph as we didn’t want to go down.

We reached Ushuaia after dark and did a few laps around the town before finding our little hostel. We were exhausted. The hostel was owned by some large Rasta feller who welcomed us with big hugs and saying 'Welcome to the island'. We staggered across the street to a little restaurant and sat down.

“Well, we made it.” Mark smiled without saying anything. No grandiose toasts, no eloquent quotes that we’d been thinking up for the last 17,000 miles, just a nod in agreement.

We spent the next day lounging around the city, taking a few pictures and trying to comprehend our place in the world. The world is not a small place, I’ve come to find out, and I haven’t even seen that much of it.

Getting to Ushuaia was the only real quantitative goal of this trip. Yes, I’m glad to make it down here but it means nothing more than checking a box, really. The best memories and accomplishments happened on the way down.  It does feel good to reach the bottom, though. I’m thrilled that the bike has held up as well as it has which was one of the things that could easily have gone wrong. Should the bike explode, get stolen or slide off a cliff I won’t be all that disappointed as I have finished what I came to do. At the same time I’m excited for the next segment of this adventure, heading north via a different route.