(CESAR see wonderful things, is saved by a BMW rider, and enters Chile)
Again in the route, we stopped to load naphtha in the outskirts of Trelew, we
converse with all type of tourists, some told us that we were completely
crazy, for as loaded leave the beast (The great HONDA TRANSALP).
We follow our trip, we stopped in Garayalde to load naphtha and energy, we speak with a
truck driver that I advance us that the landscape would continue being
completely monotonous as up to now, until we arrive to Comodoro Rivadavia, it
counted us about the rigors of the wind, but good, we are motoqueros, that
guys doesn't scare this way us. Good, I should say them that the wind took of
point, it hit us as if we had violated to the same mother Earth, and at least
it pitied of our fragile conscience when we stopped in Comodoro Rivadavia to
take out us the pictures of style, to load naphtha and to eat. Already in
Comodoro Rivadavia, hungry (as what we accustom to be), we stopped at 14hs
o'clock. in a grill that she/he said free dining roomÆ as all they should
already have eaten at some time in a free dining room in their life, they
know very well that this place is spectacular for the travelers, good,
anything but inexact, we hardly request the first parrillada (ASADO), we
already entrust him that they bring other and they answered us that they
will see, because the parrillero man must to go (at 14hs o'clock! What is
this? Is a Joke? We said). Not alone we ate less than what we felt like, but
rather we had to continue eating lettuce ensaladillas and other litles things
(boludeces), I in the personal thing didn't cover myself neither the first
molar left with what we ate. Continuous act, the of liter of wine that was
in the bottle of wine grab and before the whole people we pass it to another
bottle of empty water mineral, we take it to us and we present our respective
complaints, obviously they shitted in them.
With rough fellow man, the TRANSALP walked of marvels, she (TRANSALP = LADIE)
could travel peacefully at 160kms/h, but the reality is that we take it the
wrong swig with the philosophy of all that is on vacation, so we continued
traveling at 110km/h. Regarding the landscape, once we enter to the County of
Santa Cruz, one can say that him but I abut it is to see the blue sea as
never before had seen it, since until Caleta Olivia's City the National route
N 3 lapses parallel to the sea with a view of the GULF SAN JORGE impactante,
cliffs, plateaus, and... route, always route for before. We stopped in Caleta
Olivia, we load naphtha and we met Sebastine, Lucas and their companions,
they traveled in a FORD Falcon Model 1962, call THE FALCONAVEÆ(FALCON
SHIP); to Lucas I already knew it of Ciudad Tribunales, we are with them that
also went to Ushuaia that if we saw each other there, we would make a roasted
one in the ass of the world. When the route leaves the coast to enter in
the county the landscape it is monotonous, until, to break the ice of so much
route, a car that traveled before us hit a Mountain Cat (they are quite big
kittens), we grab it of the line, we take it to the marker of the KM 1672, we
take out ourselves a historical pictures with this kitten, we speak with that
of the difficult thing that it was to cross the route and other boludeces. As
was to foreseeing, to this height of the day, impossible era that we arrive
at Rio Gallegos, after analyzing where we would sleep, we fix to arrive to
Port San Julin and to make there night. It happened this way, we stopped in
the municipal camping site for a price of 2 chirolas (for nothing), and we
could appreciate the beauty of the Bay San Julin, at night and by day. The
strange thing is that although San Julin's Bay has a beauty worthy of being
visited, not this exploited turstic this City. It is a Pain.
To the fourth day of trip (Monday 17/2/2000), the road afforded us several
incidents. The only thing that could turns in route to Rio Gallegos that had
certain tourist interest it was San Julin's Great First floor, depression of
105m, that is the but it gets off the whole Argentina, there the wind blew
unceasingly and with force, and I don't know why, but a completely strange,
similar, but not same noise left the great first floor, to that that makes
the wind when she/he approaches a storm; it is indescribable, as so many
things that we saw in the trip.
Previous to arrive to the City of Major Good Stone, a fox patagonico appeared
recently hit by some car, as of habit, we grab it of the line, we take it to
the marker of the KM 2335 and we mount an entire photographic production with
the canine, very kind, this it was lent for the pictures without the most
minimum problem, she/he didn't have shame and until I accept to be smoked a
cigarette with the suscripto, she/he requested the borrowed cap to Roberto
for not leaving in the uncombed pictures and everything. The moment arrived
of saying goodbye to the fox and it asked us us to bring near it some Kms. to
their burrow, we made this way it. (JA-Laughs-Alone the one that lived him
can understand similar history, so if it is not they amusing I don't care in
him but minimum, to me and Roberto yes).
Once left of Comandante Piedrabuena I play us to manage under the worst
climatic conditions (but without rain), blasts of up to 105kms/h that made a
sense ONO to THAT, the moto could stay it is its rail if it was managed to a
speed of 90km/h (but not because she got lost the adherence), and bowed
toward the right about 55 from its vertical one, ÆÄúan entire adventure
(and
a danger). I know very well that, those that had to live this are the only
ones able to believe and to understand in their true dimension what I am
counting them. The autonomy of the BEAST left to the I cross out of garbage,
and lacking about 30kms. to almost arrive to the Rio Gallegos City I am left
without naphtha, until he appeared of a English he swims his in a moto BMW
that I stop amid the storm of wind to give me 4 liters of naphtha, for which
I wanted to pay him and I obtained as answer a firm one NO, doesn't matter,
it's to player, mayby some day we'll meet againÆwhat is said
PHENOMENONÆ
English calls himself MARK MANLEY. Single subtraction to add that to the
alone naphtha tank they ended up entering 2 liters of so beautiful I
liquidate inflammable, the rest: GONE WITH THE WIND! We could arrive to the
Rio Gallegos City, we eat lunch there, there were sprinkles, of everything.
Here some comics of a station of Service informed us that to cross to Tierra
del Fuego we could load naphtha in the raft that we should take to cross
Magellan's strait, but good my friends, we all know that when the charity is
big, until the saints they distrustÆ so I told them that they load me 8
liters of naphtha but in the drum that took like reservation to such ends, in
conclusion, then we would need it.
It was to leave Rio Gallegos to have to make road for a rubble route; that of
the rubble doesn't deserve any special mention unless for that had never
managed in rubble with a crossed wind and sometimes of front of a speed of 90
or 100km/h, really, or you know how to manage in rubble, or these lunatic or
a suicide man; neither a thing neither the other one, the thing was to arrive
to Tierra del Fuego when finishing the day, although some madness is to have.
We arrive to the frontier, we made the you process of customs, those of
Gendarmera made me all you process them quick, then we arrive in Chile; here
the customs officers us boludearon a while, but good, it consoled us the fact
of knowing that in our map, the Chilean route appeared as paved and that
serious a relatively quick step to happen for it Screeches and to return to
Argentina. Surprise ours when after 5kms of trip in Chilean floor are with
which the route of pavement had a single rail of pavement and another of
rubble, The wind took us from a side to the other of the route and when leave
somebody of in front of us we should lower the speed or... they chash us, an
entire adventureÆ here we lost for blame of the wind (and partly our) the
pava to heat the mate, some cookies that were good by way of deceit for the
stomach and mainly the maps. That fight had!, Roberto was a good while
without speaking to me and without making any joke for the doubts that I got
angry with him, it was completely angry, and in another country. Here it had
arrived the moment that it puts into practice all that that I said on that
IÆ had memory for the maps, it was this way, it Followed then everything on
the way to rubble, we take a route to the left and we arrive to the famous
raft to cross the First narrowness of Magellan's Strait; we were lucky, since
for the wind that there was, the raft was the whole suspended day, but we
grab the second that they enabled in the day. And you don't taste like who
are there?, yes to the FALCONAVE guys, spectacular!. A while waiting and I
play us to ascend to us to the raft (the truth is that we strain ourselves
with the connivance of the Chileans that they directed the raft, because a
moto enters in any place), we put the moto in a small place that was in the
raft and it left the same one. The trucks that were in her, one of the other
one were so together that alone it separated them about 20cm. mirror with
mirror (the truck drivers here or they have ÆÄúdoll or they overturn yes or
yes).
The beautiful sensation can not be described that had when crossing
Magellan's strait, the pictures don't reflect sensations; this should live
him yourselves, my friends. The thing is that once crossed the strait, we get
off the raft putting the moto a little in the water and to continue with our
destination that was THE SAME to every DAY... To TRY to ARRIVE TO USHUAIA.
Rubble route, a lot of wind and desert, alone that was what we saw, to
exception from some posters to the side of the route that you warned of the
danger of passing over those wired to be mined the fields. It was 21hs
o'clock. and the sun even refused to hide. In to stop of the route, in Cerro
Sombrero, we hoped to find naphtha to be able to supply us of her, but the
only bomb of available naphtha, it was dry, if like they read DRY; that is to
say that, there were 180kms. We had left to travel 120kms but of rubble and
alone we had enough naphtha to travel 80kms but, according to the autonomy of
the moto under these conditions of time; to that adds him that we had a
terrible fatigue and that it would grab us the night in the means of the
Chilean route. The topic of the naphtha, we fix it tossing hand to the 8
liters of reservation that we had in the reservation drum. Now was cheats to
adjust the other topic: or we already managed at night (because it was an
entire history to take out the drum of the lauds of the moto) or we made
night in Hill Hat and we continued the following day. It won the common sense
and we prepared to arm the carp. It happens that the only thing that there
was in the place was 2 houses, a warehouse and a restaurant of bad death. For
bad of bad, we were dirty, and the Chileans treated us as if we were
deliquent, a wrong memory of the neighboring country. We arm the carp behind
some foils, to shelter us of the wind (a taken out dog of the house of Goliat
tied with a chain that gave the impression was of the other side of the foils
that in any moment it would use us like breakfast). Arrived the case, we
would make it return to the ÆÄúcucha (houseÆÄôs dogs) with a beautiful and
bloody memory in the neck, JAJAJA.) The thing doesn't finish here, my
friends; it is that in the restaurant of bad death (restaurant too ugly) We
took charge two beautiful milanesas with lettuce and tomato, but it stops our
surprise, each milanesa sandwich (that didn't overcome the size of my hand)
they sought to charge it to us $4. - each one; obviously, we hold back the
hunger and alone we buy one lonely. They arrived the boys of the FALCONAVE
then, they stopped to talk with us, we take mate, we confirm the topic of
making a roasted one in the ass of the worldÆand then we follow each one
their road, them managing at night and us... to sleep. During the whole night
we listened completely strange and unknown sounds, but the fatigue was such
that we are fried.
In the morning, we lauds everything, half reserves of the trip and we
undertook road toward the end of the worldÆ we manage 110km until the
frontier, the wind was terrible and already in the position of custom
officers from Chile, the first custom officer (an uss hole by the way) there
is made us (there is loved us spend the it cheats (forrearÆ) to take out
the papers amid the wind, us out and him inside. The best thing was when the
idiot waited that we died from cold, but for us that were sheltered until the
teeth, the fact of getting off the moto was as a day of walk for the park,
and for the customs officer that was warm inside the position, to open the
window was an entire calvary, in any event, I care very little (Me inporta
muy poco). We made the migratory steps and we flytoo fast to our dear
homeland. (One can say, in the personal thing that the Chileans don't like in
him but minimum that we strolled for their country with a totally had moto of
celestial and white (The Argentina flag), of there that I show off that what
we had to live in Chile, not to all the Argentineans it passes them, so go to
Chile and live him personally you).