After arriving in the fated Ushuaia, we now had to start the hotel search. Jed, Deanna, Tom, Jules and ourselves had a tentative plan to meet up at a particular hostel. Upon arrival we found it to be closed but there was a note from Jed and Dee letting us know where they were. We headed over to the Albergue which was nice and toasty inside. We were able to get a cubby-hole sized room with bunkbed so we took it. We unpacked and headed out to get a well deserved dinner.

While crusing the strip we ran in to Jed and Dee whom had just eaten but decided to join us for a beer while we ate dinner. We shared stories of what we'd done since seeing them last. They had gone to see the Moreno Glacier in El Calafate, one of the only glaciers in the world that is still growing. We eventually returned to the Albergue to continue our conversation late into the night. So we were here! And a nice cozy night to warm me up after the cold ride.

The next morning we slept 'til about 9:30 and eventually got up for some breakfast. The hostel (Albergue los Caminantes) makes its own fresh bread and between Jeff, Jed, Deanna and I, we ate a whole loaf. Yum! We headed off in separate ways and agreed to meet up that night for an Argentinian steak dinner - which we had all talked about during our hike in Torres del Paine. We set out in search of stickers, a gym and a phone office so that we could get e-mail. On our way to the main street, we spied two R80GS BMW's parked in front of a hostel. We knocked on the door to see if the riders were in. We were greeted by a very nice lady that said they weren't there but that we could leave a note. Noticing how nice the place was, we inquired about the price. $8 each she said. Wow, $4 less per person than what we were paying. Jeff was determined that we would have to change hostels the following day.

Just as we entered the main street, we spied two gringos with motorcycle pants on. These must be the riders. We introduced ourselves to Richard and Matthew from England. We found out that they had ridden all over Africa and crossed over to South America. We chatted about riding for a while and agreed to meet up later for the steak dinner.

We walked up and down the surprisingly quaint main street of Ushuaia and Jeff happily picked out a bunch of stickers. We got to the phone office about 1:00 where we were told that there was a promotion on rates to Buenos Aires (where we needed to call) from 2:00 to 5:00. Normally the rate is a heart-stopping $1.10/minute, promotion 47 cents. Wow, now that's expensive. Since we had some time to kill, we decided that it would be a good time to try real Argentinian mate (an herbal tea). I spied a choclatier that was also a coffee and tea shop so we pulled on in. Within short order Jeff had his first mate in front of him. Mate is actually the name of the cup that you drink it in - it can be made of wood, pumpkin or other such materials. Rough cut Yerba mate (the tea) is put inside with a long metal straw (bombilla) with an enclosed end (which actually has small holes in it). Then, a thermos of water is set on the table. Basically you pour a little hot water in, sip a little and keep adding water. Seeing as they only had one 'real' mate cup, I went for the weaker variety (comes in bags like regular tea). So there we were. Ready, set, go, sip, cough, make face and try it again. Ee-uu. Yuk. This stuff tastes terrible. I proceeded with the sacrilege of dumping a heaping pile of sugar into mine in hopes of choking out the nasty flavor. Jeff seemed to get over the terrible flavor and appeared to enjoy it. By this time, all the shop employees were having a great time watching our reactions. Finally we finished our teas and it was time to go get e-mail. This was to be the beginning of a new addiction for Jeff (second only to Coca Cola)

After forking out $5 for e-mail (less than 10 minutes), we decided to walk along the water front in search of some kind of "end of the world" sign. It was really cold that day and it started to rain a little. We heard there was a gym too so we were looking for that. We got down to the gym and it was closed for the weekend. As we turned around to head back, we spied the local tourist bus with a live Minnie and Mickey on board. Jeff had this look in his eye like he wanted to go on the tour. "Let's ask how much", he said. Why not? The driver said they were just about to leave on a 45 minute tour for $5 each including a snack of a juice box, cookies and a tour guide. We climbed on board. We spent the next 45 minutes getting a history lesson on Ushuaia in Spanish while all the 5 year olds ran around the bus. For some crazy reason it was just kinda fun as we waved to all the "southern most little kids of the world". We must have been tired. Anyway, we thanked our tour guide and headed back to the hostel to meet up for dinner. Along the way we were window shopping and noticed an outdoors store. We wound up buying some more long johns and some gaiters to cover our boots. After bleeding a little more money, I headed to meet the group and Jeff went to get the other riders.

Back at the ranch Jed, Deanna, Tom and Jules had already purchased a few bottles of Quilmes, the local beer. We sat around chatting for a couple of hours and then finally went out for our steak dinner. Jed and Dee had scoped out the all you can eat prices earlier in the day and we decided we would try the mid-price. We sat down and looked at what was included in all-you-can-eat. Now that's strange! I don't know what these things are! I asked the waiter. It looked like the plate consisted of various body parts from the local zoo; heart, intestines, blood sausage, other asundry innards and a little bit of ribs. Yikes, not for me. Jeff and I split a steak and everybody else got steak too, except for Deanna who was gonna brave it. She was served up a heaping, steaming pile of strange meats. We spent the evening ooing and awing over what each thing was and then cautiously tried it all. It was far more interesting than the Argentinian steak but most of it didn't taste very good. At one point Dee offered us a piece of something and asked us to guess what it was. It tasted awful and we had no clue what it was. She finally said that she was pretty sure it was cow's brain. Ok I didn't have to know that! After dinner, we headed back to the hostel and Jed, Deanna and the two of us stayed up late talking as they were leaving early the next morning. We hope to catch up with them in Bolivia!

We slept in late again the next morning and after eating breakfast, we debated on how to tell the really nice hostel keepers that we were going to move to a cheaper hostel. We both felt really guilty because I had spent some time talking with them and Jeff had really bonded with their dog. Plus, I was gonna miss the home made bread. (I wasn't gonna miss the freezing, tiny little room we had, nor the bunkbeds with skinny mattresses). So I made Jeff tell them. He told them that we were going to the hotel of the friends that would be coming in to town to meet us (half true as Kevin and Julia might be arriving that day or next). He said they didn't seem put out at all and asked if we needed help getting our stuff out. Big guilt now. So we packed up, signed the guest book and got ready to leave. They must have read what I had written in the guest book about the fantastic bread as they came out with a loaf of bread for us. Extreme guilt. We took some photos of them and rode two blocks down the road to our new digs.

We unpacked and checked in at the Albergue House Casa de Familia (Brig. Gen. JM de Rosas #250, tel: 02901). This hostel is a bargain by Ushuia standards. Heated rooms with bunkbeds. Hot showers. Unlimited use of a really nice kitchen, cable, internet access and all for $8 each. So Jeff set out to working on the bikes while I started doing some typing. About 2:00 I decided to head out for some groceries. I walked down the main drag and down the street I could see that there was a BMW parked in the street. Kevin and Julia? I wondered. As I got closer I noticed the Kevin and Julia fake Texas license plates on their boxes. Alright! The bike was in front of a restaurant so I walked in to find them. "Howdy", I exclaimed. Two surprised heads whipped around and we all exchanged hugs and proceeded to talk rapidly about all that had transpired since we last saw them in Santiago, Chile. After an hour, I decided I better get to the grocery and told them about our hostel. They were planning to camp but after about a week straight of camping, the offer was too good. We agreed to meet up later.

Speaking of K&J camping... they had just told me that the previous day when they were on their way to Ushuaia and it was approaching darkness and the weather was looking lousy, they decided to throw up the tent and cruise on in the next day. Now, Richard and Matthew (the English guys) had said almost exactly the same thing - they had pitched a tent roadside as it was approaching darkness and starting to rain on their way in. Hmmm... wonder why none of them felt a need to lecture their riding partners about the spirtual gains to be had by arriving in Ushuaia in the foulest of conditions, or whatever that flim-flam was?

Seeing as it was Sunday, it took me about 5k of walking to find an open grocery. It was 4:00 by the time I returned to the hostel with food. Jeff and I made dinner and watched tv while K&J did e-mail. Around 6:00 I went over to visit Tom and Jules who had gone hiking in the National Park where the 'end of the world' sign is. It made me feel a bit lazy as we hadn't done anything since Torres. Anyway, T&J were going to make dinner so we all sat around in the kitchen in their hostel talking with some other travellers from the boat. As it approached 8:00 I figured I better head back for our "end of the world" celebration that night and told T&J to come over to meet us if they felt like having a big night out.

Upon my return I found that the crew had made some serious progress in diminishing the supply of wine and beer that I had purchased at the grocery. We sat around the kitchen table talking until midnight when Jeff decided that it was time to hit the dance clubs. By this time K&J's emergency supply of whiskey had been polished off and I knew we were in for the long haul. We hit the town and found that there weren't many places open (it was Sunday night after all). We found a place and shared some beer but there was no dancing so we moved on to the dance club recommended. The club charged $3 a beer so we decided to skip it. We found a 24-hour cafe and shared some more beer. In Jeff's never-ending quest to make it a "proper" celebration, he asked the waitress if she could recommend a dance club. She wrote down some information and we set off in search of the club. To those of us that were sober it was quite easy to see that she was pointing us to a club of ill repute. Kevin and Jeff, however, headed straight for the awning with flashing lights that read "show, show, show". Great, a girlie bar. Seemingly oblivious they headed straight in through the doors while Julia and I waited outside for their immediate exit. 1,2,3... here comes Kevin with scantily clad girl chasing him down to make sure he didn't want to go inside. We assured her that he didn't. Meanwhile, I was beginning to get peeved that the other fellow hadn't returned. I told K&J that I was going in. So I pushed and shoved my way through the surprised crowd of men where I found Jeff trying to ask a question to the waitress. I reached out, grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and yanked very hard. "Wha..wha.. what is this place?" he said. "I just figured out that this was a girlie bar right when you pulled me backwards". "Yea, right", I exclaimed. So as we re-entered the cool night air, Jeff was in a fit of giggles. He continued to profess his innocence... "Why did the waitress at the 24-hour place recommend a girlie bar to us when she knew we were two couples?". "It did't make any sense to me that it could be a girlie bar because why would that girl have recommended it to us?". And so on, and so on. All the way home he pleaded his innocence to the three of us, interrupted by fits of giggles of how funny it was when he simultaneously figured out it was a girlie bar and felt his wife yanking him out of the place. So, there it was... the end of the "end of the world" celebration.

[Scribe: Jeff Under the advice of my attorney I have no comment except to say that I had no idea that it was a girlie bar and that just because there was a naked girl dancing on the stage does not prove otherwise.]

The next morning was of course a late one. Julia and I were up first and decided to make some breakfast. After bringing the boys a cup of tea in bed, they decided they could eat too. So we enjoyed a quiet morning laughing over the previous evening. J&K spent the day running errands while we went shopping for more cold weather gear. We got back to the hostel first and plunked ourselves down in front of the cable tv. Around 6:00 Tom and Jules came over toting a couple bottles of Quilmes. They wanted to have a celebratory beer before they flew back to the UK the following day. They were ending their 9 month vacation and were very excited to be going home. The look on our faces was probably enough to tell them that we couldn't face another beer after last night. So we sat around chatting until they needed to go home to pack. It was strange to see them go after the last 2 and a half weeks on the boat and hiking together. Travel is always stange that way. Anyway, eventually K&J returned and we all spent a very low-key evening watching a b-grade British movie until midnight.

The next morning we didn't get up until around 11 a.m. Julia couldn't believe that we all slept in so late again and exclaimed, "You guys must be a bad influence! We never sleep-in this late!" I can see that our master plan is working flawlessly. Pretty soon we'll turn all the world's motorcycle traveller's into lazy good-for-nothings-that'll-never-account-for-anything. We eventually packed and rode the 30 kilometers to the "end of the road" sign in the National Park. Along the way I was surprised to see an 18 hole golf course just before the park entrance. We may have to change our departure plans. The park entrance fee was $5 and even though we were only going for the picture it was well worth the price of admission. The gravel road snaked through some beautiful scenery. If it was anywhere else it would probably just be par for the course, no pun intended...ok maybe just a smidgeon of pun intended. It was just the feeling that we were in the Southern most territory in the world. It gave it a special feel. In actuality we really weren't any more south than Canada is north. In fact, South America is home to glaciers that are closer to the equater than anywhere else in the world. The glaciers in Southern Chile start at the 47th parallel whereas the glaciers in Alaska start at the 57nd parallel and in Norway they start at the 67th parellel. Just a little FYI to impress all your buddies at work. I'm assuming that if you're reading this, you must be at work. Anyhoot, we got to the park about 1:00 and spent about an hour snapping all sorts of poses with the 'sign'. From there we bid K&J farewell. We first met Kevin & Julia at the Quito clubhouse in Ecuador and it really made the world seem small that we could also meet them in Ushuaia. Hopefully we'll meet up with them again on our way back up. So they set off for a day hike and we set off for Rio Grande. But first I had to check out the golf course. It was an 18 hole course, not sure what par was and the greens fees were $30 with a $15 club rental fee. Since it was already getting late and the fees were a little too rich for my blood (although less than the $135 I forked out to play Bandon Dunes golf course in Oregon) I made a decision that I would probably regret for the rest of my life. Instead of tackling the "Southern Most Golf Course in the World", I said let's just move on to Rio Grande and skip the golf. I can't believe that I could ever so casually blow off a round of golf. This travelling thing can really change a person.

I got ahead of Linda on the gravel road and when I stopped to wait for her I realized that she must have accidentally taken an alternate route. So once again I tried in vain to think like her. I drove around for about an hour until I finally found her waiting for me on Ushuaia's main drag. Oh well, I suppose if I rode slower and she road faster these types of things would never happen. But they do and we were rapidly losing daylight. So off we set to Rio Grande. For some reason I was as anxious to leave Ushuaia as I was to get there. Maybe it was because we were now heading North for the first time in 5 months. Or maybe it was just time to learn more about this fabulous Continent.

It was now pushing 5 p.m. and we had to get gas and munch down the sandwiches that Linda had made that morning. It was a beautiful day and now we could see in beautiful sunlight what we couldn't see in the rainy, dark night when we arrived. The sun was getting low in the evening sky and provided a perfect backlight for the mountainous scenery. As we approached Tolhuin we noticed that we were the recipients of a pretty strong tailwind. At Tolhuin we turned north and that tailwind became a vicious sidewind. The wind soon picked up in velocity as we left the mountains and entered the treeless pampas of Tierra del Fuego. By now we had been riding in so many days of high winds that we were becoming wind connoisseurs. Much like the trained eye of a sailor, we scanned the terrain identifying where the wind was strongest and where there were lulls. It became almost second nature to anticpate the blast of wind being funnelled through a small canyon or rest during a natural wind block. Instead of fighting the wind we were now partners with it only taking what it would give us. At times we had to slow to 20 mph to prevent being blown off the road and other times we would accelerate to 60 mph during the lulls. It was the strongest winds we have faced in South America and certainly rivalled the wind we experienced in the Isthmus of Mexico. Fortunately it was warm and sunny, so all things considered it was still pretty nice. As we approached Rio Grande we made a 90 degree turn to the east and the monster of a sidewind became our best buddy pushing us into town. Once we arrived in Rio Grande we consulted the outdated, poorly written LP for accomodations. We went in search of the cheapest one and found that the price was $28. Bummer! Just as we were getting ready to fork out the big bucks a man approached us in his mini-van and told us about a sailing club he belongs to that rents out a place to sleep for $5 per person. Perfect. We followed him to the river and the Club Nautico clubhouse.

Club Nautico is a sea kayak and sailing club that keeps some campsites outside and a large warehouse that stores all the club member's boats. There is a grill in the warehouse along with a ping-pong table, kitchen and new bathrooms with hot showers. Upstairs is the club member's meeting room. They had two tents set up for the lodgers. As we were unpacking, a couple of the club members started playing ping-pong. I asked if I could play the next game, they said sure and before long I was playing a guy that was ok but not highly skilled. What these guys didn't know was that when I was much younger, I was the world's foremost gym rat. I hung out in gymnasiums all day honing my skills in various trivial pursuits for moments just like this. Even though I haven't played table tennis competively for over 18 years, all of the old synapses started firing and I quickly took the first game. The next guy, who was a little better than the first, stepped up to the table. By this time the rest of the club members came over to watch. It was a close game but I mangaged to come out ahead. I could tell I was now facing the upper eschelon of the club's ping-pong players. One by one they stepped up and soon there was no one left to challenge the ping-pong-playing-gringo-from-hell. At one time there were about 10 guys standing around the table giving a running commentary on the action. It's been said that ping-pong isn't the most demanding of sports but after the last game I was exhausted and dripping with sweat. When I finally relinquished the table I found that Linda had unpacked all our gear, set up sleeping mats and made dinner in the clubhouse kitchen. Needless to say she wasn't exactly thrilled by my stories of intrigue and conquest on the ping-pong table. After dinner Linda called it an early night and I went downstairs to hang out with the boys. As I was showing them our website pictures on the handheld, they immediately recognized Nat from England. (The guy we meet in Honduras who rode from Alaska to Ushuaia for MS). They went and grabbed their photo album and showed us his picture. It really is a much smaller world than one would be led to believe. I snuck back up to the tent a little past 1 a.m. to find Linda sound asleep. If for some reason you find yourself in Rio Grande you must stay at this place.

Bright and early the next morning we woke to rain beating on the tin roof. Needless-to-say, we didn't hurry, in hopes that the rain would stop. We got out about 9:30 and the rain was indeed lighter. We filled up with gas and set off down the paved road. It was still raining lightly but it looked promising up ahead. We quickly crossed the Argentinian and Chilean borders in San Sebastian. From there we took the road north to Rio Gallegos. This was the road that Kevin had said was not very good. By this time, the weather had cleared up and it was sunny and warm. We made fairly good time at first and only stopped briefly to shed some clothes. As we progressed, however, we found out what Kevin was talking about... the road deteriorated to very loose gravel intermixed with washboard. It felt a little like my teeth were jiggling out of my head. I didn't mind it though because there were heards of guanacos, grey foxes, rheas (smaller version of an Ostrich) and bazillions of cute little sheep. Jeff on the other hand was finding it to be a grind and couldn't help but think about what was going to snap off. We finally made it to the free 20 minute ferry that crossed the straights of Magellan. By now it was really, really warm and I shed all of my extra layers. We were absolutely starving by this time and agreed to eat the first chance we got.

After riding off the boat we were happy to find that one lane of the highway close to the next border was paved. We zipped down the paved lane until oncoming traffic forced us back to the gravel side. In no time we had reached the Chilean border but still hadn't eaten. While dealing with the border formalities we had an appetizing lunch of m&m's and chips. Back on the bikes and down to the Argentinian border. When we went inside we saw that all of the passengers on the bus in front of us were having to show all the contents of their bags. Uh oh. Somehow we got to skip all of these people and went to the front of the line. After revealing that we were just simple minded motorcyclist they didn't make us unpacke and were on our way in about a half hour. Excellent. It was now about 4:30 and we still had about 45 miles to go, 40 unpaved. So off we went for the final stretch in to Rio Gallegos on decent dirt roads and were there within an hour. We hadn't even had too much wind. We pulled over to consult the LP and checked out a couple of hotels. We wound up with our first double bed in about a month with a shared bathroom for $30. Ouch. The hotel was very dirty and dingy but we did get a mouse to go with the room.

After checking in and unpacking we went out to scare up some dinner and see if we could get e-mail. It was way past promotion time so the going rate was a $1.10 per minute. After one bad attempt we decided to bag it and headed off to find a restaurant. We finally settled on a pizza place and had a nice relaxing dinner watching the top ten Latin American music videos. On our way back to the hotel we walked by a group of four inebriated guys leaning on a wall, drinking beer. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some murmuring going on and some sideways glances in our direction. As soon as we passed them, they simultaneously got up and started walking behing us. We took a left. So did they. I told Jeff that I thought they were following us and that we should go into the store we were walking past. When we stopped they awkwardly passed us and stopped up ahead. Jeff decided to call their bluff so as we re-passed them, he looked right at them and said "listos?" (are we ready?). They all just stared at us and it seemed that they couldn't figure out what to do next. Strange. That's the first time that I've ever felt like I was being followed while travelling, or ever for that matter.

We awoke to a chilly, cloudy morning. We packed up the bikes and were on the road by about 9:00. As soon as we hit the road we had to stop at a police check. Jeff went in with the documents and I hung out with bikes. As I was standing there a big two level truck full of sheep pulled in. I felt so sorry for those cute little fuzzy guys crammed into such a tight space. The stench was overwhelming. Finally Jeff returned after the police entered every lick of information from our documents into a computer. No telling what they do with all of this information. We set off for a long stretch through the pampas and it was really cold. Our map didn't indicate any towns for 160 miles. Wow. Now that's a long stretch. Fortunately there were plenty of sheep stations that gave me something to look at. Right as my hands were about to turn to ice cubes, we spotted a gas station/hotel/restaurant. We pulled in for a hot drink. We sat down and enjoyed tea and coffee which seemingly came with fresh bread, jam and butter. How nice! We chatted with the proprietor and feeling nice and warm and ready to brave the cold, we asked for the bill. How much? Six pesos (dollars)? Oh my. I believe we just experienced monopoly prices at their best. We chided ourselves for not asking the price first. Ah well, so we set off through the pampas once again and it appeared that we were chasing the sun. Within twenty miles, we moved out from under the cloud ceiling and the blue sky and the bright sun was like brain candy. The road was pretty darn staight and beautiful pavement so we were able to maintain 70 mph. We spent most of the day going for 70 - 90 mile stretches, only stopping for caffeine-pick-me-ups to keep us from falling asleep. The scenery was fairly unchanging but I rather enjoyed the beautiful, clear sunny day on smoothe pavement. Jeff, on the other hand, was flagging and for that rare opportunity I got to be the encouraging one. I can generally be happy on any terrain if it's sunny! So as the afternoon waned we approached our final stretch of road... 70 kilometers of gravel heading due west into the setting sun. As we wiggled our way through the gravel, a flock of rheas ran beside Jeff for several hundred meters. He clocked one bird at 35 mph. Pretty fast. It was a really neat experience.

The sun was beginning to dip as we made the final push through the gravel and arrived on the tidy streets of Pico Truncado, a surprisingly pleasing little town. We began making the hotel rounds and bumped into the Hotel Argentino. The proprietor came out the front door with her little dog and welcomed us in. She was obviously very proud of her hotel which she was slowly refurbishing into its original form. The walls of the dining room were covered with newspaper clippings, invitations and other memorobilia from the hotel's past as a school, hotel and various other things. We gladly accepted the $20 price and unpacked our things. We spent quite some time talking with the owner and playing with the dog. She informed us that the small town had grown up around the railroad and the surrounding oil fields. Many immigrants had come there via the railroad over the years to find jobs in the oil industry and there was a great deal of Russian and Welsh influence in particular. Finally hunger took over and we asked for a restaurant recommendation. Just blocks away we shared a huge meal for $7 which was the best bargain we'd gotten in Argentina so far. An all around nice day in my book. We headed back to the hotel for some rest after our long day.

Well, as usual after a 400+ day, we wound up sleeping late and didn't get on the road 'til about 12:00. We only had about 200 miles so we weren't too concerned. We bade farewell to the hotel owner, filled up with gas and set off through the oil fields. Everywhere you looked you could see the pumps drilling away. Supposedly Argentina is self-sufficient in petroleum production and a large percentage of it comes from the region around Pico Truncado. Otherwise, the scenery was fairly unchanged with straight roads through flat pampas with little green shrubs. Today the miles passed slowly and we could barely go 50 miles without a stop. After about 150 miles though things got greener and a huge lake flanked our right side. We began to see a few farms and the scenery was beginning to look a lot like home. It was a refreshing site.

We approached Los Antiguos, the Argentinian side of the border. It was nearing 4:00. We quickly got our exit stamps and began the stretch of ripio (gravel road) to the Chilean border, Chilechico. The gravel was really loose and a real pain to ride through. They were just dumping new gravel down so it hadn't had a chance to become hard packed. I was really looking forward to arriving in Chilechico as it was fairly early and we might get a chance for a little rest. We planned to take the ferry across the lake the following day to begin the Carratera Austral. However, as we stood in the Aduana we noticed the ferry schedule on the wall. It was scheduled to leave at 5:30 that afternoon and then not again for two days. Well, "I guess we better get on it" we stated in near unison. After chatting with the friendly border guards we sped off for the ferry. Seeing as we hadn't eaten since breakfast I went for sandwiches while Jeff worked out the details of the boat. 5,000 Chilean pesos or $10 each for the 2 1/2 hour trip accross the lake. In no time at all we were packed onto the boat and on our way to Puerto Ibanez. Jeff was considering starting the Carratera Austral from there but I assured him that we would be arriving at dark and that we were stopping in Puerto Ibanez

The boat trip afforded some nice views of the surrounding mountains but we were a little too weary to take advantage of it. We finally arrived and scurried down to the bikes to make sure we were first off the boat. We de-boated and found the first residencial which offered us a room for $10. We rolled in to the back parking lot and I couldn't help but to notice the freshly killed sheep whose skin was hanging on the fence. Yuk. Anyway we unpacked and did a little typing and finally decided to split a dinner in the residencial's restaurant. It turned out to be the best meal we had in Chile. We had mutton (wonder where that came from?) with a spinach filled crepe. Delicious. We finally retired to our tiny little room with half-sized bed and I was taking notice of the fact the walls were really just dividers that didn't come flush to the outer wall nor the ceiling. Needless to say, it didn't leave much to privacy. Which wouldn't really have been so bad except that our neighbor on the other side of the partition had an unbelievably loud snore. We could hear his significant other trying to roll him over to put an end to the god-awful noise. He would briefly wake up, they would then laugh over the snoring and then it was as if someone turned on the snoring switch. After a few tries, she gave up and we were all in for a very long night. I promptly shoved my earplugs into my ears which droned him out enough to allow me to sleep. Jeff wasn't quite so lucky.

The next morning I was still shell-shocked from El Snorador. It actually made the thin walls shake. I immediately reminded Linda how lucky she was to be married to a non-snorer and maybe she should be a little nicer to me in the future. We packed up and, as I had promised the two little boys who lived at the Residencial - I gave them a ride around the block. I put the youngest one in front of me and the older boy on the back. When we hit a straight-away I would accelerate very quickly. I could hear the kid behind me squeeling with delight but the little one in front just hung on. Before every straight-away I would say "Listos?" (Are we ready) and the kid in back yelled "Si!". On the last straight-away I asked the little boy in front if he was ok, he answered with an emphatic "Listos!" It was pretty fun. Although I'm not sure how excited the mother was about the whole thing; but then again mothers are never very excited about their babies climbing aboard motorcycles.

The road out of Puerto Ibanez was a very rough gravel road that climbed away from the lake towards the glacier clad mountains. After an hour or so we connected with the Carretera Austral which was in process of being paved. Chile must have more civil engineers than any other country in the world. There are paving and road widening projects going on from the Peruvian border to the Magellan Straits. What are all these engineers going to do when they finish all these projects? Probably draw some lines in the sand for the next generation of tourists. The funny (funny ironic) thing about gravel is that when you're on it you yearn for the smoothness of pavement. Then as soon as you hit pavement you wish you were back off road. So it was then that we were riding on pavement when I was missing the gravel. I didn't have to wait too long. The pavement quickly ended and we found ourselves in a construction zone that alternated between loose gravel and hardpacked dirt. This time I took advantage of the terrain and took off. Along the way I passed a maniacal mini-bus driver. We raced along the route for about 40 minutes. I would dust him on the hardpack and really nasty sections and he would catch back up on the really loose gravel. Finally I decided that I'd better wait up for Linda and pulled over. When he passed me he flashed a mischeveous grin and gave me the thumbs up. Linda eventually rolled up and we rode the rest of the way to Coyhaique on a paved road. If the rest of the Carretera Austral is anything like this section of road we were in for a treat the next couple of days. As we arrived in the charming little hamlet it started to rain. We quickly found a nice little hotel. I waited while Linda went in to ask about the price. She came back with a big grin and said that it was an awsome place and only cost $20. We quickly unpacked but as soon as I brought in our luggage I could tell that something was 'rotten in the state of Denmark'. The room was beautiful with dark wood trim and a fireplace. I asked Linda if she was sure that it only cost $20 for both of us. She said yes but would go back and confirm the price just to be safe. Sure enough the lady quoted Linda 20,000 pesos or $40. It was beyond our budget so we begrudgingly repacked the bikes, took one last look at the lap of luxury, and moved on to find a place with a little less charm.

As we checked out one shack after another we saw a couple of motocycles parked outside the telephone office. It turned out to be two Peruvians who were on their way down to Ushuaia. We talked for awhile about all the things that motorcyclists talk about; punctures, road conditions, wearing women's clothing, etc. We eventually moved on to find the Residencial Lautaro for $20. From there we posted some pictures to the website and walked all around the town. Since it was Sunday everything was closed. So we decided to stay another day so we could load up on camping gear and food. We then found a really nice restaurant. We were excited to find salmon on the menu. It was great to be eating salmon again and it was perfectly prepared. We spent the rest of the evening listening to live music and sipping some Austral beer served in 1 liter mugs.

The next day we went off in search of some white gas for the MSR stove. I've decided that the fuel that I bought before would not vaporize enough to be effective. I was going to give the stove one more chance before I tossed it into the trash bin. We basically just spent the day lazing around resting up for the next 400 kilometers of gravel.

We packed up under the warm embrace of sunny skies. I was really excited about the weather because according to the locals this was the time of year when the weather turned "Feo" (ugly). We were soon to find out just how feo this weather could be. We were going to take the paved road to Puerto Chacabuco but the road was closed for 3 hours, due to construction. So we back-tracked a couple of kilometers and took the gravel road. Except for long sections of loose gravel, the going was good. I soon found a truck to race and we went flying through the twisty sections - through wonderful mountain valleys and canyons. Once again I pulled over to wait for Linda. Instead of a grin and a thumbs up the truck driver gave me a "are you crazy?" look and just motored past. Just as Linda rejoined me the skies opened up and doused us in the 'chile' rainwater. We soon reconnected with the Carretera Austral and now it was really raining. In spite of the rain it was still hard not to notice the immense beauty of the terrain. At times the road was just a one lane path through a rainforest. I suppose that we were experiencing the scenery in its natural environment but with all the rain it was hard to appreciate it. That is until we got to the section of roadway between Parque Nacional Queulat and Puyahuapi. Once again it was a single lane dirt path that meandered through some dense foiliage. As I rode through the sweeping turns, the leaves and branches would slap at the handle bars and my legs. It was probably the nicest 'dual-sport' road that I've been on and the KLR was truly in its intended environment. Onward we marched until we reached a precipice overlooking a wide canyon. The road snaked straight down with one hairpin turn after another. To make it a little tougher there were large stones strewn all over the rainsoaked dirt road. After one particularly steep section I stopped to wait for Linda. 5 minutes went by, then 10 then 15. Where was she? Then the obvious answer to that question came to me. "She's wrecked!" I took off as fast as I could to find her. I'm riding for what seemed like an eternal amount of time. It is always my biggest fear that when I double back I'm going to find that Linda's been in a really bad accident. So when I finally rounded a steep turn I saw Linda there trying to lift Suzi back to her feet. Whew, dodged another bullet. Linda obviously hit her front brake on a steep and wet downhill turn. I parked the bike and helped Linda right Suzi. She was more upset that she wasn't able to get the bike back up more than taking a tumble. I was just happy that she was ok. Then my instincts kicked in and I gave her one of my famous pep talks, "Don't be emotional. We have to get down the hill first and then we can regroup. So snap out of it!" Thankfully Linda is a very mentally tough person who is able to respond positively in the face of adversity. She dusted herself off and we made it the rest of the way down the mountain, albeit a little bit slower than before. Once again I think of wrecks as a positive thing. The more you can wreck without severly injuring yourself the more experience you gain and therefore, the better rider you become. I know people who have had one wreck on a motorcycle and call it quits, when it actuality, the fact that they wrecked automatically qualifies them as a better rider. As the old saying goes, "There are two types of riders; those who have gone down and those who are going down." Needless to say that Linda is becoming a better rider just about every day.

We had been on the road for over 8 hours and we were now soaked to the bone. We blew off camping and headed for the first town that had rooms for rent. We found Puyahuapi at the nothern tip of a saltwater bay. First we filled up with the overpriced gas at the local station. This was to be my first ethical dilemma. The lady who pumped my gas had misread the meter and charged me $13 instead of $23. Should I tell her about the mix-up or just keep my mouth shut and save $10? I'm ashamed to admit it but I kept my mouth shut. $10 is $10 and you know the old saying "money doesn't grow on the Carretera Austral." We found a nice little hostal for $22 (or a net $12 :-) and quickly upacked and warmed up. Once again there was salmon on the menu so I quickly ordered one. It was smoked and was even better than the salmon we had in Cohayique. It was great to be warm and dry but it was painfully obvious to us that there was not a chance that we could expect anything but more of the same: rain, rain, rain.

The next morning the clouds were still around but thankfully the rain had subsided. The roadway was still a fabulous single lane path through more spectacular scenery. Every once in awhile we would sneak a peek at some snow capped glaciers during a break in the clouds. The scenery was still very beautiful in spite of the cloud cover. I couldn't imagine how incredible it must be with blue skies. I rationalized the whole experience by thinking that we should consider ourselves very fortunate that we are seeing the Caraterra Austral in its natural environment. Most people wouldn't be stupid enough to make the trip at this time of year. It was about this time that I noticed the unmistakeable silouette of another motorcyclist heading towards us. It turned out to be one of the few Americans that we've met on the road. His name was Stephen Rasmussen and he was riding a Honda TransAlp from Alaska to Ushuaia. He also has a website: www.netvista.net/~rasmus. Although we haven't had a chance to check it out yet. We talked for an hour or so about all the things that motorcyclist talk about; personal hygiene, political viewpoints, favorite countrywestern singer, etc. Like I've said before it is always a lot of fun to meet other motorcyclists out on the road. It is also nice to see a fellow American out here. For some strange reason there aren't many cruising the byways of South America. I suppose I could ramble on about all the reasons more Americans don't travel more but I'll save it for a sunny day.

The Carratera Austral was now starting to straighten out a bit and become a little less enticing. As we approached Chaiten the roadway deteriorated badly. Lots of loose gravel and plenty-o-holes to test the bikes' suspension. Just to keep us honest it started to rain again about 30 km outside of town.

Upon arrival in Chaiten, we quickly found the Navimag ferry office and they told us that a ferry was leaving tomorrow night at 10 p.m. to Puerto Montt. The next boat to the island of Chiloe wasn't for 3 more days. We decided to take the Puerto Montt ferry and leave the following day. Cost: $26 per person and $25 per bike. Very expensive but at this time of year none of the ferries that connected the Carratera Austral to Puerto Montt were running. Anyway, the quicker we got out of Southern Chile the better. All this rain was reminding me of Portland in February. We just as quickly found the Residencial Sebastion. It had a private bath and a common area complete with fireplace for $20. It was nice to get out of the rain and into a nice cozy bed.

We finally put the finishing touches on the Chile and Patagonia pictures and uploaded them to the website. The Chile Telefonica offices are much cheaper than their Argentinian counterparts only charging 15 cents a minute (as opposed to $1.10 per minute in Argentina). Once that was accomplished we searched high and low for a nice restaurant that served salmon. Not many options here in old Chaiten. We were forced to eat at our hotel. Once again I ordered Salmon but this time it came back fried. How could anybody fry salmon? That's down right sacreligious! I chocked down the meal along with a very bad, overpriced Chilean wine (that could just as easily have been fried). OK so the day didn't turn out to be one of the best. But we have to go through these every now and than just to keep us on our toes.

We woke the next morning to resplendant sunshine. A quick look to the horizon told us that it wouldn't last for long. We quickly donned our walking shoes and hoofed it all over the city. We tried in vain to find something to do. Forget it. This is just a transient town for people catching the ferries in or out. I don't understand why some enterprising soul doesn't try to capitalize on the number of people passing through and create a reason to stay. Next time I'm going to have to set up a meeting with the Mayor and the Chamber of Commerce. Just as we returned to the hotel the rains came pouring down again. No real problem since we were to leave that night on the ferry. Not so fast my furry freind! When we checked at the Navimag office we found out that the boat was running late and that it would arrive at 5 a.m. OK the options were to stay in our room for the night or sleep on a park bench to save money. Linda quickly voted for another night at the place-where-they-fry-their-salmon. I could hardly argue since the rainy weather pretty much guaranteed alot of wet and cold for the poor saps who were too cheap to get a room for the night. Instead of another round of fried salmon we went to a bakery and bought some very large empanadas and apple strudel. Speaking of apple strudel... we met up with an elderly German couple who were traveling together. We found out that they had traveled all over the world together. This trip was to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversry. We quickly decided then and there that they were our heroes. I hope that for us travelling together never ends and before its all said and done, we will have seen all the world's peoples and cultures. Now where was I... oh yeah, apple strudel. We packed for the early wake up call for the 5 a.m. ferry to Puerto Montt. We then watched some cheesy surf movie on the hotel's cable T.V. Note to all would be hollywood movie exec's: surfers can't act.

We woke bright and early at 4 a.m. We quickly loaded up the bikes and headed for the ferry terminal. On the way we saw numerous other Gringos doing the same. As we got close to the terminal we saw a guy waving his finger at us as if to say, "There's no ferry coming". Not a good sign. When we arrived the place was lined with trucks, automobiles and backpackers. 6 a.m came and went and still no boat. 7 then 8 then 9 and still no boat. Finally the town's Sheriff pulled up and told us to move our bikes out of the emergency lane. Ah ha! Now we're finally getting somewhere. If the Sheriff is making an appearance then the boat must be close. Sure enough we could see the boat on the distant horizon. I'm just not sure why the Sheriff wouldn't share his insider information with the rest of us. We could have slept in much longer than we did. By 10 a.m. we were all packed up and on our way for the 10 hour ferry ride to Puerto Montt. Hasta Luego Carretera Austral.

While we were waiting for the 5 a.m. ferry I took the opportunity to test drive the MSR camping stove (it failed to work in Torres del Paine). After another large flare up it cranked right up and was operating smoothly. It must have been the nasty gas I bought in Santiago. The ferry ride was very calm and we spent most of the time watching some videos, catching up on some sleep and talking to some of the other travellers on board.

We arrived in Puerto Montt just past sunset at 8 p.m. We were the first off the ferry and before long we found the centrally located Residencial Embassy for $16 that had secure parking, big bed and private bath with hot water. We walked all around the town that night looking for a place to eat. We finally settled on a cozy little place that had guess what, salmon on the menu. I never thought that I would say this but I was really looking forward to eating something other than Salmon. It was delicious though and we quickly retreated to our hotel for a little shut eye.

We woke the next morning to bright, sunny skies. When we were on the boat we had decided to ride out to the nearby island of Chiloe, but only if the weather was good. Since we were anxious to get over to Argentina, plan B would be to leave for Argentina that day. The day was nice, so Chiloe it was, but only for a day trip. We left the boxes and gear in the hotel and took off down the rode. It wasn't long before we realized that we seriously miscalculated the distance to Castro. So instead of a leisurely motorcycle ride in the country it was turning into a 200 plus mile odessey. It was only about 40 miles to the ferry terminal. The 15 minute, one way ferry ride was a spendy $8 per moto. While we were on the ferry a Japanese businessman approached us and said that he lives in Vancouver, BC. He travels all around the world buying salmon for a Japanese company. He noted that Chile is just about the only place left that still has healthy runs of salmon. He is an advisor to some of Chile's salmon farmers and lives down here 6 to 7 months of the year and can't speak a lick of Spanish. Oregon's salmon runs have been decimated for years by damning, clear-cutting, over-fishing and other developments. Washington State and Canada are now starting to feel the effects and I'm sure it won't be long until Alaska feels the pinch. Meanwhile Chile seems to be doing something right. Where salmon farms have failed miserably in Oregon, they are going strong here.

When the ferry docked we said goodbye to our Japanese friend and cruised on down the road. The landscape is basically rolling hills and one farm after another. Nothing spectacular but I suppose a trip to Chiloe needs to be done. Before long we were in the tiny seaside town of Ancud. We stopped in for soup and some much needed Coca Cola. It was hard to believe how nice of a day it was. There wasn't a cloud to be seen for miles and the temperature was around 65 degrees.

On down the paved road we went until we finally found the other seaside town of Castro which was to be our turnaround point. 116 miles. We parked the bikes and walked along the waterfront in search of more salmon. We found a little tienda that had vacuum packed smoked salmon for about 70 cents per pound. We bought about 7 pounds to be consumed at a later date. After our purchase we proceeded to one of the waterfront restaurants built on stilts that Chiloe is so famous for. Once again I had salmon and Linda opted for some kind of strange looking seafood soup. This was probably going to be my last salmon dinner until I return back to Portland so I tried to make the most of it, even though I'd eaten it 5 days straight. We soon mounted the trusty steads and hightailed it back to Puerto Montt. On our way back we noticed a rather large storm front gathering on the horizon. Yes, we had better start flying Northeast tomorrow to seek refuge from the weather on this side of the Andes.

The next morning we woke to brooding skies although it wasn't raining. We got out around 9:30 and headed up to Osorno. It was very chilly and I was hoping for sun to warm us up. Not far up the road patches of blue began to appear and as we approached Osorno it was downright nice outside. I couldn't help but to notice that the sky was quite grey to the east, the direction we would be heading. Anyway, we had planned to pull in to Osorno for one last e-mail session at Chile's cheaper phone rates. We were pleasantly surprised at how nice the town was. Osorno is known for being a big German settlement and the influence was readily apparent.

After a quick loop around the plaza central, we stopped and asked where the Telefonica office was. We were just a few blocks off and were there in seconds. The phone office was situated right by a grocery so Jeff scouted out some lunch options while I connected. Within 30 minutes we were fed and e-mailed and our way to Argentina.