Day 55: Earning it on Ruta 40 (353 kms)

After getting a patch on my tire, we left town around 10:30. We crossed the 49th parallel at the scenic Lago Cardiel with snowcaps and turquoise waters.

Ruta 40 is being paved in an ambitious project, and we were hoping that we might be able to ride more asphalt than was indicated on the maps. In two years or so there won't be much dirt left on 40 in the south. This year there was more than enough to go around. In some ways the presence of the construction may have complicated matters: often the road was a rough temporary track to allow continued circulation while they worked to build up, grade and pave the main road; I also suspect that investment in maintenance may have declined given the imminent arrival of the asphalt road. In some spots we were able to ride on the new roadway and did so even though there were berms to prevent entry; Peter got temporarily stuck making one such entry.

About 100 kms north of Calafate we came to Lago Viedma with the view of Cerro Torre and Cerro Perito Moreno. Stunning.

Days 53 & 54: Ruta 40 through the Pampa (561 & 659 kms)

There was a miscalculation of mileage in the plan, so we opted to ride further and earn an extra day off at Christmas. This made for two long days of riding in western Argentina with a final destination of Gobernador Gregores.

The first day of riding we saw some other overlanders. First, some Germans on rented bikes heading south. We rode with them for a while but to our collective relief they pulled into a service station relatively quickly; they were unsafe riders.

Later that day we were passed by a steady stream of vintage Volvos heading north. I spoke to one of the drivers and discovered that all one hundred or so vehicles were Dutch and doing a two-month journey around SA. Nice!

Late in the day we encountered the first of the strong winds. Some riders rigged up ballast systems to keep the bike level.

We found a decent spot to camp on the pampa once the estancia fencing opened up. Nathan and I both found skulls of camelids. Mine became a kind of totem until it was confiscated by the Chilean customs.

The second day, which comprised some of the most difficult riding of the trip, with the dirt, gravel, wind and persistent construction of Ruta 40, ended later than anticipated. We also passed through a wicked little hail storm and I stopped to take a photo of the bike with some of the accumulation.

The delay was my first flat of the trip Eventually we made it to the town and had a kind of mini-celebration dinner of ravioli and vino tinto. More gravel awaited us the next day, before a day off in El Calafate.

Day 52: Southern Andes (372 kms)

This was my second favourite day of riding in the entire trip. We left out camp at Licàn Ray on Lake Calafquèn around 8am, passed a dramatic snowcapped AND smoking volcano in Chile's Villarrica national park, and, once on the gravel road that would return us to Argentina, stopped for breakfast at a hotsprings. Nathan and Peter found the eucalyptus sauna boxes to enjoy (mandatory viewing video to follow).

Back on the road, the riding grew more technical as the track narrowed and climbed. A truck was down in a creek below a bridge after misjudging the turn. We exited Chile at a tiny border station that also served as the frontier to the Lanín national park. Some excellent riding passed lakes, rivers and lava fields. The border station into Argentina was even more casual; we interrupted the single young officer who was wearing pyjamas and cooking his pancake breakfast.

After a short delay for a flat on Peter's bike we stopped for lunch in the town of San Martín de los Andes. Great pizza!

It was early evening by the time we headed south on La Ruta de los Siete Lagos, a route recommended by Uncle Harry, to Bariloche. The road did not disappoint: mostly it was tar, but there was a 30 km section of gravel that was ready for paving. In that area, there was still several inches of volcanic ash on the ground; it covered the vegetation, road and buildings in a thick crust and the air contained noticeably more particulate.

Riding south along the eastern shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi to Bariloche was almost like being transported back to coastal BC.

Day 51: South, faster (822 kms)

Every motorcycle trip I've been on has one. A day to make miles. There was no time for photos.

We rode due south on highway 5. It was a fine, simple and efficient ride on an interstate quality highway.

Based on how the day started I wondered if we might spend the night near Santiago. The one repair Nathan was not able to complete yesterday was changing his chain. But he met a couple of riders who offered to help first thing in the morning. The one guy, Nico, owned a pizza joint in a southern suburb just off the highway. He was an Italian emigre in his 50s. The other,
Davide, was an Italian national who was riding solo around the world, sponsored by Yamaha, in his early 30s and was billeting with Nico for a few days. We turned up at the gate at 8:15am and my first impression is that we'd woken them up and Nico had completely forgotten about his promise to help.

Maybe I was wrong, since he jumped right into the task and didn't really look back. Nathan commented later that he was exactly opposite to the kind of mechanic that instilled confidence. Within seconds Nico had cut the old chain off with a disc sander. So far, so good. Then he lined up the new chain, eyeballed the length and removed a link. Still too long. Two more links sliced. Too short. Fortunately there was a spare link. Unfortunately it didn't fit. He tried another spare link. Didn't work either.

At this point I had to avert my eyes. There were parts strewn everywhere on the ground, Nico was still cutting with his sander and Nathan was pale in the face.

The problem was solved when Nico cut a basically new chain off another bike parked in his lot and fitted that to the KLR. Just in the nick of time too, because all his riding buddies starting showing up for their Sunday ride. This week was special because of Davide's presence, and these old dudes were primed to show they could still ride.

Davide was a dude, the other guys were putzes. I didn't want to ride with them at all. They were all over the road, crunched up together and popping wheelies for no reason. Nico was the worst of all. After about 20 mins of riding with them, we just got off and started the long ride south.

Day 50: Santiago

Notionally a day off, we still did a lot of running around. We all had repairs to do: Nathan tires, chain and welding; Peter tires and brakes; me luggage and some loose nuts and bolts.

My left luggage box had been damaged when I hit a big pothole in Bolivia. In truth, the box itself was limp from the 2008 Africa trip. I should have replaced it before the trip. It never fit the frame snuggly. It was replaced. I was sad to lose all those stickers so this photo is a nice memento.

In the evening I met up with Alejandra, a friend from business school. She took me to a rooftop dance party at her friend's apartment. The best way to get to know about a country truly is by seeing and speaking with locals in their own spaces.

Day 49: Ruta Siete to Santiago (425 kms)

A late start, but a beautiful ride on the principal road connecting Argentina and Chile across the Andes. We bade Andrew farewell and joined national highway #7. The road rose gradually from Mendoza, passed under the continental divide and international frontier through a tunnel, and dropped precipitously in tight switchbacks into Chile.

Before crossing we passed to the south of Aconcagua which at just shy of 7000 meters is the tallest peak in the western hemisphere. There was a partial view from the park gate.

On leaving Argentina there is a prominent road sign standing testament to the continued national irritation over the Falklands Islands. And then we were in Chile; the final country (although not border crossing) of the trip!

The most dramatic moment of the day was an altercation I had with another motorist at a gas station. He was trying to go the wrong way through the filling bay (queues at station are ubiquitous and managed by single direction traffic). When I wouldn't yield ground he actually hit my bike - while I was riding it - with his car. The contact was not violent but still there is nothing quite so unnerving as being on a bike and having a car attempt to muscle you off the road. It's intolerable. I returned contact. The car had Chilean plates and apparently he held a grudge all the way to the border; a particularly busybody policeman there asked me "Why hit car Chile?" Indeed. Peter duly noted the addition of this question to the pantheon of Great Unanswered Philosophical Questions.

Day 48: Mendoza (277 kms)

On the short ride into Mendoza, 50% of the vehicles ran out of gas, Nathan and Andrew simultaneously. The problem was quickly solved and we were checked into a hostel in Mendoza, floating in the pool and refreshed by 2pm. We met a number of other travellers during what was a late night of a short stay, some who would gladly have joined us for the remainder of journey to Ushuaia.