From: "Ricardo Rocco" <aroundforpeace@hotmail.com>
To: Tynda
Subject: Riding south, ´till the road ends, Part 2
Date: Sun, 11 Mar 2001 12:57:42 -0000 Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego
Argentina 54 degrees latitude south
Ecuadorian motorcyclist going around the world for Peace, arrives in Ushuaia
Ricardo Rocco, of the Around the World for Peace and against drug abuse motorcycle expedition, arrived into the southernmost city in the world, Ushuaia in the Argentine province of Tierra del Fuego.
After traveling more than 8.000 km., starting in Quito, Ecuador, he visited Perú, Bolivia and Chile, in the company of American riders Ed Tartetlon and Matt Stockpole, completing the first part of his world tour.
Rocco, who is considering the possibility of competing in the next edition of the famous Paris – Dakar rally, during the African stage of the international friendship mission, expressed an extreme feeling of happiness upon arriving to the "end of the world".
The participation of the Ecuadorian rider, former Ecuadorian rally champion, in the Paris – Dakar depends, in great measure, on the support of his sponsors and the help of all his friends from around the world.
Check cool photos at: http://communities.msn.com/AroundtheWorldforPeacePhotos
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
web site: www.andesmoto-tours.com courtesy of SATNET
Medical Insurance courtesy of SALUD S.A.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sponsors and Friends: (First part of the Second part)
LA RUTA AUSTRAL
We are leaving Puerto Montt behind, the day is overcast and cold. Far away, behind lakes and mountains, certain clarity in the sky gives hopes of sunny and blue skies. The road follows the shore of lake Llanquihue, one of the biggest of Chile. Almost at the end of the lake, while we stop in a picturesque place for breakfast, the heavy cloud cover goes away and the sun comes out with all its splendor, warming up the morning and the cold bodies of this moto travelers.
For a change, we are taking the longer route to the Camino Austral, avoiding one of the ferry crossings. The secondary road, seems more like a terciary one. Mud, rocks, plenty of curves and puddles, all the ingredients for a perfect ride and ideal for our thirst of adventures. Finally, the road widens and after a long straight, it merges with the Ruta Austral.
This is a "penetration" road to the southern XI zone of Chile, more than a road it is a way, which allows the traveler to enter in contact with one of the most beautiful end ecologically rich places on earth. In perfect natural armony, rivers, waterfalls, lakes and lagoons, dense forests and magnificent rocky peaks of snowy summits, succeed each other. The beauty of this region emerges in front of our eyes in total magnitude, far away from the crowded concentrations of tourists in the Region of the Lakes or in the beaches closer to Santiago de Chile.
We are in the heights of the Southern Hemisphere summer season, but the rigors of the weather in this region are strong. The always changing climatic contrasts, make hard to predict the atmospheric conditions. It could rain at any moment, and after a while, we can be under a bright and sunny sky. From cold to hot weather after a turn on the road.
The Ruta Austral, is a twisty and curvy gravel road, build during the military governments. It surpasses the irregularities of the terrain with extreme ease and a typical military design, with ample constant ratio curves and long predictable straights, which is amazing, considering the natural ondulations of the mountainous zone, where the Andes practically merge with the Pacific coast.
It is a fast road, especially for an off road bike. The rider can not afford to desconcentrate, not even for a split of a second, because the gravel is very slippery and unforgiving, even for an experienced motorcyclist, and can take "the floor away", even at lower, safer speeds.
Fresh snow splashed rocky peaks, surround the green and leafy valleys. Once in a while a little stream, a big river or a huge lagoon will cross the way, forcing a series of bridges to maintain the continuity of the route. There is a sector, where it seems that not even the military could "win the battle" against nature, and the route is cut by some hundreds of kilometers, forcing us to take a trasbordador (a big ferry) that takes 6 hours to cross the distance. The day is sunny and beautiful, we sail on the upper, deck and the cold marine wind coming down the fiords, makes the ride a bit cool.
Every afternoon, after traveling a long way and replenishing our eyes and senses of natural beauty, it is easy to find great places to camp, on the shores of a lake or some river or within the unspoiled forests with some small little stream in the background. After setting camp, we gather firewood to initiate a bonfire and to cook some food, simple but delicious, not as much by the flavor of the
cooking arts of tired travelers, but by being able to enjoy it in such a special place, far away from "civilization", far away from it all, in the middle of nowhere, with the heat of the fire burning in the dark night, dampening the intense cold. Few things in the life can surpass this.
In the morning, waking up in places like this, the soul gets surprised and renewed with the view of the virgin landscapes. After some coffee warmed up in the bonfire, we pick up our camp, with no hurry, savoring the moment, although sometimes, the fact to do it every day tires you, and bad humor wants to damage a good moment. The day is long and the extra hours of light allowed the austral summer, help to take things easy. Usually, we reinitiate the trip around noon and we still have ten hours of light ahead of us. In one these glorious mornings, we meet Steve and Matty, a couple of Australian motorcyclists, who are riding the Americas on their BMW, and when they see us stop to say hi and to share the life on the road.
The Camino Austral is coming to an end, we have visited the zones of Chaiten, Coyaique and now we approaching Cochrane. The border with Argentina extends opposite, to the other side of those mountains. To know if there is a migratory control in the borderline is a lottery. We use the last road shown by our map to cross towards Argentina, a crossing seldom used, since the way, narrow and precarious, is not apt for automobiles. The exuberant vegetation of the Chilean side gives step to the solitude and dryness of the Patagonia Argentina. Trees and bushes disappear, replaced by grasslands and small shrubs, the intense green becomes deep yellow. The high rocky mountains become rolling and interminable hills and sharp canyon walls. What stays constant, is the successive appearance, once in awhile, of lakes and lagoons, of green colored waters, maybe due to their volcanic origin, in some cases, and in others, due to its waters coming from the innumerable glaciers of snow-white mountain peaks.
After camping on the shore of a lake, a few kilometers before the border, near a solitary group of trees that protected us from tenacious gusts of wind of the Pampas, we cross towards Argentina. "My Argentina", my second home country, where I woke up from puberty, many, many years ago, during my times of "scholarship" student in this great country. In the early morning, after
overcoming the difficulties of the mountain road, including a couple of falls, and crossing the border point, we descend from the high part of the Pampas, towards the infamous Route 40, that takes us towards the south. Here we meet again with Steve and Matty, our Australian friends, who took the most commonly used route through Chile Chico.
THE ROUTE 40
Route 40, crosses about 5,000 km. of Argentinean territory from the border with Bolivia to the Land of the Fire. What a tenacious road! It is a wide, boring and straight highway, although the abundant gravel debris accumulated between the tracks left by vehicles, make of a simple lane change, a torment. Wind, that crosses the naked Pampas at full speed, without any obstacle to lessen it, seems to drag us off the way all the time. Sometimes it comes from the front, stopping the advance in such a way, that it is necessary to use fourth gear, sometimes even third, to ride at no more then 80 km per hour.
Other times, it comes from the sides, inclining man and machine in incredible angles, hard to believe. It is necessary to use all the leverage allowed by one's own body to keep the bike on the road and advancing. In rare occasions, the wind comes from the back, impelling the march, reigning silence and helping the motor. But this does not last much, and one is fighting against aerodynamics and searching for it, where it cannot exist.
After two complete days of fighting against this invisible and invincible enemy, what a torture, we arrived finally at the Calafate, population located in the shores of the beautiful Argentine Lake, to visit the famous Perito Moreno glacier. There we meet Ezequiel, a of local tourism guide, that offers the garden of his house for us to camp. Later, Tilo his fiancée appear, a couple of German riders crossing South America in a Yamaha 600, whom I have met in Quito some months ago. Our friends Ezequiel didn't really know what kind of trouble was he getting into. We are grateful of him accepting this legion of travelers of diverse parts of world in his house.
THE PERITO MORENO GLACIER AND TORRES DEL PAINE
The Perito Moreno glacier is an immense mass of snow and bluish old ice, aged by time and the innumerable climatic vicissitudes of the successive stations. The mass of ice, cracks, crumbles, moves imperceptibly, in a constant change. There is not a moment that something is not happening, now a wall of ice cracks and falls, with a fabulous roar, within the frosted blue waters of the lake. In another one, another hard crack and dreadful noise denote the movement of the masses that under tons of pressure that exerts the advance of the huge 14 kilometers long, glacier from the snow-covered summits, advances 2 to 4 meters every year. Often, an Iceberg pulls away and moves floating away down the lake.
Again in our campground in the garden of Ezequiel, all night wind blows strongly from the lake making it very cold and difficult to sleep. I wake up in my tent, it is ice cold and very damp. Today is February the 20 th., my birthday. My friends congratulate me, whereas in the middle of the lake, a giant floating iceberg shows up, surely come off the glaciers by the fort wind during the night. My friends joke that, that is my birthday present. I think: what a perfect gift for an adventurous traveler. We baptized it like the " Glacierberg Rocco ". At night my friends invite me to a fabulous barbecue in one of the restaurants of the locality.
We go again towards Chile, after crossing hundreds of kilometers of Pampas facing a tenacious wind, we cross the border near Puerto Natales and go towards the national park of Towers of the Paine. After some kilometers I take a turn after a signboard indicating the entrance to the national park, and I must stop. Invades me an indescriptible emotion. My eyes fill with tears. I almost cannot believe what this eyes are testifying.
An enormous mass of rock and ice imposingly emerges from the naked Pampa, as a rebellious expression of the Earth entrails. The summits of the rocky peaks are filled with snow. In the center, four granite towers rise like stone fingers. To the flanks, imposing noses of rock and ice appear throughout like trying to demonstrate that the immense forces that hide in the depths of the planet are alive and trembling. Ours is a living world and I´m witnessing this in this reserve of the
biosphere that constitutes Towers of the Paine. Here the traveler can appreciate the fragility of our system and how important is the care that we must give to it.
We camp in one of the camping zones of the national park. It´s expensive, but there are baths with hot water and good wood for the bonfire, in addition to a spectacular landscape. When the night falls, a frozen wind begins to run, the heat of the enormous bonfire barely manages to warm up my hands. I set up my tent with all the securities of the case because it seems that the night is going to be long and hard and we can have bad weather. Strong blasts of wind descend intermittently from the heart of the mountain. During each frightful burst, I feel as if my tent is going to fly towards the air. The cold is so intense, that everything that is outside of my sleeping back seems to be inside refrigerator. Me cago de frio!
The following day we go trekking up the mountain. I start ascending the step slopes and my hart wants to pump itself out of my chest. The bad "Peruvian" cold that I acquired in the White Mountains is not leaving. It has bugged me during the entire trip, and is getting even worst with the frosty nights the dusty roads, and sleepless nights. You know, every time I go up the mountains, I admire even more my good friend Ivan Vallejo, the best mountaineer of Ecuador. If I feel astonished by the hard climatic conditions of this small (in altitude) mountains and by the hardships of climbing them, I just can imagine how could it be in the Himalayas, at more than 10.000 m. of altitude, where Ivan had his greatest conquests, up in the Everest and the K2. The return to the campsite is a relief. My humor is not at its best and I'm not feeling good at all, but sitting beside the campfire, with the great company of my American and Australian friends, the bike parked next to my tent and sipping some "mates", everything seems to fall in its place. Being in such a special place and remembering the hardships overcomed to get here, make me feel much better.
Promising myself to return to Towers of the Paine with my children, I go in company of my inseparable companions, Ed and Matt towards the south, to Puerto Natales. From the farthest part of the national park, we have to return to the main highway, right the way we came in, since we find a badly damaged bridge, that none of us dares to cross, without risking our faithful mounts. One slight mistake and we will lose our bike, thus meaning end of trip. Before arriving at the beautiful and colorful Chilean little town of Puerto Natales, we cross the great Plains of Diana and Cañadon of Bambolou. To my right, towards the west, the magnificent mountain range of the Andes begins to die, in these regions the colossus arrives at its aim and sinks in the Antarctic Sea. The last Andean summits seem to express a death shout to the sky, with their pointed up tips stained with white, pure snow freckles like the core of a young virgin. The last section, takes us to Punta Arenas, where we sleep in a backpackers albergue.
TIERRA DEL FUEGO AND USHUAIA
In Punta Arenas, we take the ship that sails the Magallanes strait and we enter Tierra del Fuego. To sail through such a legendarious waterway produce a weird feeling of being far, very far away from home. Weather is overcast and a light drizzle predicts bad weather, but ir doesn't get that bad and overcoming the intense cold, the sleepiness caused by the long straight roads, we re enter Argentina and arrive into Ushuaia by nightfall.
Tired, cold, dirty and hungry but extremely satisfied and happy, we are in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. For me, it is a very personal satisfaction, I have challenged myself on this world tour and it can not be complete without including the "end of the world".
Is this the end of the world or the beginning of it? The road dies here or it is born? Is this the end or the start of the continent? Is here where the world finishes or starts?
In any case, when you find the end of the road, you can always search for the start of another one.
Ricardo Rocco Paz
Alrededor del Mundo por la PAZ
Around the World for PEACE
www.andesmoto-tours.com
FOTOS en: http://communities.msn.com/AroundtheWorldforPeacePhotos
Return to CHILE HOMEPAGE