It's 0630 as we mount the bikes for the last morning.  The sun is, as it has been for the majority of our stay already high in the sky.  We depart Hotel Barlovento in Porvenir for the ferry docks.  We arrive a bit early, but soon enough the roll up door for processing is opened and we pay our 12,300 pesos for each bike.

The ferry crossing is only 20 miles and will take about 2.5 hrs.  It is uneventful,  assuming you are not a sheep.  Then it means 6 crates 3 crates high with your friends.

The ferry itself can hold 300 passengers and 70 vehicles.  And to my surprise, somehow this sleepy hollow town of Porvenir has somehow scrounged up that kind of traffic to fill it 75% capacity.

There was a sighting of some sort of whale, but it never really got close enough for anyone to tell that from the Lockness monster. 

I do like this sign.  My interpretation is you go open the door to piss on the car deck?

The last 200 kms into Puerto Natales is all paved, sans the occasional construction detour.  We make good time, thanks to an occasional tail wind.  But then again, we get terrible gas mileage thanks the the occasional head wind. 

All in all, the wind on the trip has been very predicable and manageable.  However, given that it is essentially high summer (e.g early July for Northern hemisphere), it has been a very cold trip.  And the rain.  It does the daily Thunderstorm thing like Florida, except the temperature drops to near freezing during the escapades.

We get an email from Ulli, the bike owner that the mechanic had to fly out of town.  So, instead of picking up the bikes from the hotel well need to drop them a few blocks from the hotel.  And with no further ado, we check into the hotel and unpack. 

So tonight we are again bikeless, and now feel more like backpackers.  Hotel Costaustralis is right on the water and in a very trendy part of town.

We are going to take a down day or two and get some sleep and rest up a bit before we head home. Picture is out our hotel room window. Thanks for coming along and we hope you enjoyed the ride!

As with any adventure, there is always a turning point.  Since we are on a peninsula right now, there is only one possible choice for us. We must backtrack the way we came.  More than a physical turning point, the trip has a somewhat somber feeling. For the most part, this was a one-way trip for rental bikes.  The bikes will be dropped at ferry port two days north of here and then return to original town of Pucon via boat.  

In an ideal world, we would just drop the bikes here at the ferry port and fly north.  However, that is a bit problematic as the bikes are on a temp import in our names (Argentina), but yet are Chilean plated.  Both countries have very high import taxes on vehicles, so the bikes are strictly controlled to prevent people from trying to avoid paying taxes. The bike rental place even implored us not to get the bikes stuck or other abandoned in Argentina, as it takes him 6 weeks to get the bikes back (he has to get a court order).

Some neat wall art, as we leave Ushuaia.  Also, we pass by the Naval base where that 2017 ill-fated submarine was stationed.

We pass through the final Ushuaian guard shack with ease.  Surprisingly, not one of them have noticed Bruce's missing license plate that fell off nearly 2 weeks ago.

Popping over the mountains to leave Ushuaia is a biker's treat.  The road has some fab twisties and the scenery delivers. 

The gas stations in Argentina have been a Government wonder of inefficiency.  While they are full service, we hope you enjoy the wait line. And most towns have only one, maybe two gas stations, and it's not uncommon for them to be waiting for the refueling truck.

This creates a sort of hording mentality I suppose, as we got to wait behind a pickup truck with two food grade plastic 55-gallon barrels he was filling with petrol.  They were secured with only the twine you see people driving down the road with mattresses on their roofs.

But we did find one thing that the gas station attendants excel at.  We pull into Rio Grande, which is our very last commercial city in Argentina on this trip.  We give them a pile of currency and then charge the rest of the fuel bill to 'creditio'.  Somehow, they do this split transaction with incredible ease and speed.

As side from the border crossing, the landscape is now long and boring.  So, boring in fact the Go Pro will be taking its' normal one photo every 60 seconds.  Notice how this 4-min sequence looks more like a early flip-action book than live footage?

The border crossing is the same one we did 48-hrs ago, and it a relative breeze.  As we depart the border crossing, we notice that we have only 140 miles remaining for the day, but the GPS time seems way long?  That is because will have one more clip of dirt. And it starts to rain on us, as it has just about every other day on this trip. We hare covered a few 1000 clicks on this trip, and the roads have been in remarkably good condition.  And then it happens. 

They say that bad happenings make great stories and you interesting at parties.  We popped over this small blind hill, and the far side is complete concoction of unexpected conditions.  It is steeply sloped and off camber.  And somehow is is covered in a  few hundred meters of wet snot mud.  Any one of these conditions by itself would have been a better outcome, but for me the bike has a minor tip over. 

Frankly, I think this is the only bike I've ever ridden which I gave it no more consideration to buying.  The bike hits the soft, muddied ground at a speed under 10MPH. No worries right? Just get the bike upright and carry on as you have hundreds of times before on all the other bikes you have ridden. 

A few miles down the road, the wet mud is drying.  Except for one spot on the engine.. it seems that that piss-ant, no-nothing fall has resulted in a cracked crank case.  Luckily, it's only weeping oil and we are closing in on town.

Although we literally only have a few hundred clicks to return the bikes to Puerto Natales, Bruce decides to give his try at asking for directions to a mechanico. 

The only irony is that we decided to leave our JB Weld at home this trip.  Guess there is a life lesson in that thought process somewhere.  No worries a bit of sanding and prep work, and we now have this great story!

The mechanico did a great job, and frankly had it been our personal bikes, we probably wouldn't even bother replacing the $42 side cover.  But this isn't our bike, and I sincerely doubt that the end damage bill will be that.  I also realize that the reason this has never happened before, was because we've done a more through job at protection.

The skid plate on the CB500X uses the bolts on the alternator case as a support bracket. It seems like bad form to use the motor as an attachment point, instead of frame mounting it.  Additionally, the skid plate itself does not have the bottom 'ears' to shroud the motor.  This would not have been so bad, but the bike also has upper (and not lower) crash bars. I guess there is nothing left for the bike to do but use the engine side cases as a skid point.

We ride into the mechanico shop, and he greats us warmly.  He is convinced that we have arrived to hire him to pressure wash the bikes.  Why would we consider wiping all that smiles off?  He does attend our more pressing matters, and we are good as new in a bit under an hour. We hop over to the hotel, unpack and get cleaned up, and by now have completely missed the lunch window.  No worries, dinner is only 5 hours away.

We decided to go try to refuel the bikes in town, as the only station was out of fuel when we came through the first time.  While we do get fuel, we are not successful at finding an open restaurant.   So we return at the hotel restaurant at 1900, only be told the chef is on the ferry and it's apparently late.  What is another hour waiting I suppose. 

Sometimes the chefs in these sleepy-hollow towns are out of this world.  We can only hope that that steak is as good as New Years Eve in Gobernador Gregores.

As we do on every day off, the weather is very pleasant.  It can only mean that tomorrow's forecast of 100% chance of rain will make the 444 Kms north to the ferry all the more delightful in my BMW Adventure jacket.  I think the BMW engineers thought the design requirement was to see how much rain water the jacket can collect, rather than more obvious rider-focused solution.

Nonetheless, we mount up after a lazy morning and trot the remaining 20Kms down Ruta 3.  The park will make us 1100 pesos less rich and we will continue on our merry way.  The road narrows to 1.5 car-wide dirt road.  Which would be ideal except there are full sized tour buses driving as if they are an electron excited on the outer ring of a molecule.  But then at mile marker 3079 kms from Buenos Aires, Ruta 3 terminates.   Terminates with this sign. 

And since I've done a spectacular job of comparing known photos during this ride report, I wonder why they spelled La Plata has the extra 'I' at the end....

We don't stay long.  For one, we had to wait for our turn at the sign and tour bus after bus is dropping off people like puppy breeding mill.  There is no solitude here.

On the way out of the park, we wave to a few backpackers as we have throughout our entire journey.  Instead of the normal happy wave, they scowl at us as if to suggest the motorbikes are messing up their pristine park experience.  It is interesting that cars and motos only have a value to them when they are hitchhiking out of town and need something from a petrol engine.

The park has watersports too.

Not quite a yellow brook road... but close!

The tree canopy covers the road.  However, the trees are covered in a fine brown road dust from all the traffic.

These flowers are pretty, if not for their prickles.

We stumble upon this time capsule interred in 1992.  Apparently it contains a Laser Disc to be opened in 500 years.  And it also warns of time traveler that will witness the re-opening.  Neato!

I guess when you are done with your sheepskin car seats, this what is left.  Spatchcocked barbecued lamb!  I don't really like lamb, but this was out of the world fabulous.

How many ways can you say Ushuaia?

We depart Cerro Sombrero this morning, with the next overnight in Ushuaia.  There is a 0% chance of rain, and for us that is a percentage of certainty that we will be cold and wet again today.

Arrival tonight in Ushuaia means that we have accomplished another feat in our own travel guide.  The equator is latitude 0, with the southern and northern pole 90.  Ushuaia is at the -54 parallel, and interesting Caniapiscau, Quebec (e.g the Trans Tiaga) is at +54 parallel.  We now ridden motorbikes on 108 of the 180 degrees!  So, while we do have some bits to fill in the center of that 108 degrees, not a bad accomplishment indeed!

We take the China Creek dirt road, and as was yesterday, we again find ourselves as bonafide sheep herders!  Still a neat situation, but yesterday was a better shot since the we were traveling against the herds direction of travel.

We have considered buying some sheep, and some lights to make our own vid like this one

And we find Flamingoes

We stop in Tolhuin for the most amazing French bakery, La Union.  This place is crazy good and packed!

La Union has this nice tribute the 2017 Submarine mishap

It is Sunday and both immigration locations are very quite, so we sail right through.  We were actually sad when we completed the China Creek bypass, as we were all but certain that was the last of the gravel.  Never discount no-mans land in Argentina's customs though, they do dislike pavement it seems there too!

About 45 minutes later, we see this young couple pushing a bike.  You know these Hondas we are on haven't needed a damn thing other than petrol in the last 3 weeks.  Poor Bruce is going trough cold-turkey ratchet withdrawal.  With that, secretly hoping that they just need some petrol, mechanic Bruce springs into action.

No luck that this would be a 'simple' fix. They have a very crappy bias-ply tire already sporting a plug in the sidewall and is worn beyond its'  useful tread life. And the hole is at least a 2 stringer fix.  After 2 failed attempts to get the plug to set, it's clear that there is just not more we can do for them.  We bid them well and carry on.  Hindsight, it is probably best that that plugs failed while still on the side of road, lest it come from together while they were 2-up!

Bruce is always looking for design ideas for his next garage.  I just wish that he didn't take his clues from a submarine dry dock in Rio Grande!

We are getting a bit tired of the Wyoming flatness of the terrain.  And the rain.  Must it really rain everyday?  We are pretty much resigned that this will be our 1 and only voyage to Ushuaia.  And then it happens.  The flatness gives way and the Sun comes out. 

The last 40 miles into Ushuaia is really nice.  Ski resorts and hiking trails abound!

It's 0230 and we are startled from our slumber by a primordial noise.  Something is sounding like it is quite pleasured.  Then, the are a few rocking noises.  Our room is a cluster of 4 rooms, and I just chalk it up to a 'frisky' set of human occupants next door.  Bruce however is very concerned that the noises are clearly from something very, very big outside.  He peers out the window, and nothing is in sight. 

At breakfast, we find our offenders! A herd of free ranging cattle have wondered into camp, and the yearling bulls are rubbing their heads on damn near everything.

It has rained most of the night, and the mountains surrounding Hotel Del Paine are now covered in a fresh dusting of snow.

Since the park hosts a glacier, it is overrun by tour buses.  Sadly, this lovely section of dirt road is also now nearly 50% paved. 

Our luck in fuel stops has changed today.  Not only do we find no closed stations, we also find a brand spanking new one that just opened!  I am not sure what my obsession is with lone rock formations, but I do have a predilection for them.

Here's another one.  Everyone knows about Ayers Rock in Australia.  Doesn't seem that Australia should be 5800 miles away, does it?

We were suppose to catch a ferry into the "Land of Fire" (e.g. tierra del fuego).   

Just kidding.  That was a just a photo op that was marked on the Montana.  The real ferry cost 5,000 Chilean pesos and is very modern!

Bruce has decided to wear his rain jacket today, as the morning air has a bit of a nip.  I think that appeases the rain gods and all we get a the beautiful cloud formations, and a few errant sprinkles (as opposed to the deluge from yesterday).

We find the the suggested town for the lunch stop, but not the actual restaurant.  The place we end up eating at doesn't have a bath.  Such a damn pity.  But the gods must be loving me when not even a few clicks down the road they deliver me the cleanest port-to-potty I have ever seen and right next the Ruta!  Do you like the ropes tying it down?

So for those keeping score, we had the luck of the Irish today.  We scored an extra brand new gas stop, we found that gem of a potty, and now the money shot.  Apparently it's time to get your kilt on. 

There are few road signs compared to the states. But when you do see a warning sign, you had best heed it!  Today, we see a flagman warning of animals on the road ahead.  Mind you this is a road with a 100KMs speed limit and ferry truck traffic.  We must have (kid you not) 15,000 head of sheep.  There might be a joke about Why do Irishmen wear a kilt...so the sheep don't hear them coming.  Sheep don't hear much including an African Twin motorbike.  We drive at least 1/2 mile passing them! Today's money shot!

The gauchos

Imagine our surprise when we find this taxi on the ferry crossing with us.  We are nary 6400 miles from zip code 20646 (La Plata, MD).  How much did that taxi ride cost?

Our hotel tonight is in another windswept town.  I think that I enjoy these little places off the beaten tourista paths.  Simple pleasures of clean rooms and good eats.

Here is the Day 14 'Proof of Life' photo.  Yes, we might be queuing again for 'full service' gas, this wait was a paltry 10 mins. With only 6 days remaining on this adventure, Bruce has settled into a nice battle rhythm.  Nothing phases him at this point.  He's kickin' back and just enjoying the ride!

Finally!  If you recollect a few days ago, every time I went to photograph this bird, it would evaporate.  It became known as my personal 'Kevin' from the pixar movie Up.  Well, Kevin no more.   Your long beak has been snapped, if not slightly fuzzy.

It is our day off.  We have a slow morning.  We are happy to leave behind the 'upgraded' room at the Design hotel as they still haven't sent the Engineers to fix the plugged up commode since the request 5 hours ago.  And the bath tub is now our own personal terrarium filled with black beetle-type bugs.  The hotel staff speaks decent English, but there is something ambivalent about their attitudes.  For example, every meal but breakfast must have a reservation.  Despite the fact the when I walk by, the place is mostly empty.  And if I have to hear one more time about how you are so booked, it will be the end of me.

The bikes need to be fueled, so we decide to go mid-afternoon to try and avoid the New Jersey-style full-service pump lines.   No such luck.  We queue up just like every other day, about 7 deep.  While they have no less than 2 islands sporting 13 pumps, only 2 pumps area operational (1 diesel, 1 petrol).  And so the 2 attendants have to wait for the other side to complete fueling to get the hose. 

Meanwhile, we park the bikes on main street.  Hindsight, that may have been a poor idea given that Bruce has no license plate.  Any chance this is a "Welcome" card?

While we initially think that it is a parking ticket, it is sort of.  More really just renting a parking spot.  Soon enough, the attendant is 15 pesos richer and we are on our way.  That was a close one!

Having paid our debt to society, mind as well continue enjoying the main drag.

And while these dogs appear feral, they are certainly not very hungry.  I gave a piece of hamburger bun to two of them, only for them to go back to sleep, ignoring the food.

I see Guacano on the menu, and decide to give it a go.   Boy it was terrible. But as consolation prize, we find this neat little chocolate/ice store.  Who could resist a handspun ice cream? The odd thing is you always pay first here, and get a receipt which is then given to the girls serving the ice cream.  We will also use this photo as the day 12 "Proof of Life" ransom photo for Bruce :-)

Some things are the same the world over.... we leave the hotel in Gobernador Gregores at 0630.  Across the street from hotel,  a New Year's eve party is still in full swing.  A few people leave the party and are staggering/walking down the street, when one decides to dump something in the neighbor's bushes and then 75 yards later whips out his stuff and pisses on the small wall surrounding someone else's yard.....too funny!

They say you should start the year doing the one thing that you want to do for the rest of the year.  Not a bad start for us I'd say.  The track into El Calafate is 335KMs, and probably 100 clicks of high speed gravel.  Thousands of miles in Canada have certainly provided us some life skills to easily trot down the track.  It is certainly high desert.  We run the go pro and the 200+ photos it captures the scenery certainly doesn't change much from frame to frame, even though it only shoots every 60 seconds.  We do stop to 'admire' what this fish creature is doing in the middle of the scenery. 

Now on day 2 of living among the Guanacos, we have found them remarkably predictable.  We also noted they prefer the less windy places (if you could really say that about this vast open space) to hang out. 

Little Guac's are nothing but all neck and legs..

We stop for fuel about 0900 at Tres Lagos.  I have a bad feeling as we pull up the pump.  Notice that the pump is again covered in stickers?  Yes, there is also no fuel at this station either.  There is a sign on the window saying something about 1030, but it's not clear if that is when they open or the fuel truck should arrive. 

We know from yesterday, that the despite the larger tank the Afrika Twin, it is a more thirsty bike.  We also know that that the low fuel light is on at 90KMs.  With a cushion of 40 clicks between fuel to empty and remaining miles on the track (plus another 11L in the fuel bladder), we don't wait 1.5 hrs to see what might happen. 

Another 57 clicks down the track, the sole building in La Leona is too inviting not to stop.  And besides the best beef empanadas, we discover Butch is Back!  Apparently, he thought the same of the place and stopped here for a month while hiding out during 1905!

And so the next ride idea is born.  We will follow in escape path of Butch from his arrest in Wyoming State Penitentiary in Rawlins, WY  through South America.  I guess it is time for me to start getting some history books.

We sit eating our emapandas in relative peace as the earlier 10 days have been.  And then it happens.  Not one, but 3 tours buses unload their zombie tourists on the little cafe.  I have experienced less chaos when driving through a horde of grasshoppers.  Not only is our scenery changing in a little bit, but apparently the tone of the trip will also be morphing.  Sure enough as we get back onto Ruta 40, we are also playing frogger with all madmen driving the tourists.  They were probably sane men before they started that job, so I can't really fault them.

But the landscape is changing yet again.  And imagine our surprise when we happen upon Superman's Snow Fortress!

We are in Glacier Country Now.  Meet Fitz Roy Glacier.  The glacier is most noticeable in the center of bowl leaking out.  There are about 13 glaciers in this region.  This one would take about a day hike to get closer, and we are adventure riders not hikers.

Icebergs presumably calved off one of the many glaciers.

We (try) to check in Hotel Design in El Calafate around 1300.  No dice.  The Hotel self-certify's as a 5-star accommodation, but so far the don't have a continuous room for us for both nights, so we will have to move after night one.  The Jacuzzi tub doesn't work, we managed to plug the commode, and this morning the tub is filled with bugs that presumably crawled up through the Jacuzzi  drain as they can't seem to get out!  But, the weather is suppose to rain a bit tomorrow, so we jet out to see the Perito Moreno Glacier. What is another 160KMs!

The USD is quite strong against the Argentina Peso, so it's about $13USD to enter the park.  And Ruta 11 is quite a fun bit of tarmac to tear up.  In fact, the Afrika Twin has endeared itself to Bruce enough he might consider one in the stable.  We get close enough to watch it for the better part of an hour.  It interesting to see it calve, the hear the bizarre sound waves catch up moments later!

The day starts off on the right foot. The hotel has been dead quite last night.  Eerily quite if you will.  Like "The Shinning" type of quite.  But the lack of distraction has done Bruce's healing body well. He is clearing the 30 hr mark since his first dose of Cipro, and has really perked up.  In fact later in the day, he orders ice figuring that he is currently invincible and all.  Way to tempt fate with an unknown water supply.  We had a delightful $24USD stake dinner last night, and we that we welcome the next chapter in this adventure "Live the Wind" was the name of restaurant.

I peep out the window to confirm that nobody stole our view last night, and happen upon this critter.  It is a bunny.  But a bunny like no other.  It must weigh at least 30 pounds. And so the stage is set, we ride among the critters today.

The trip is only 415 clicks due south, all paved.  However, the ride book comes with a huge warning about the Gaucanos. The 'Guacs' are the largest mammal in Argentina, a close relative to the llama.  There are approx 460-525K of the little critters in Argentina, and I think we have accounted for all but two of them in today's ride.  

Apparently, their blood has 4x the amount of hemoglobin that a human does, so they easily live at altitude.  And the fur is prized for its soft, warm feel and is found in luxury fabric. Despite the numerous herds on Ruta 40, I struggle to capture their beauty.  

The first attempt was to 'sneak' up on them.  Basically, kill the engine and roll the last 100 yards to get the camera out.  By this time, they generally would turn and jump over the fence intended to keep them off the road.  The jump was always from a standstill. Compared to a horse, I'd rate them a 0.5 on a 10 scale on form.  No attempt to tuck their knees at all!  Bruce did have one double around behind him, then come up from the rear flanking him.  Apparently, this country needs more hunters with guns!

Since we have plenty-o-time today with the short ride, we decide to stop a some of the early herds and try to funnel my inner 'Ansel Adams' on them.  We did get these peacefully grazing.

We do get kind of cheeky and decide to test out our wrangler-like skills and test their aptitude to be herded.  In this (failed) attempt Bruce starts in the opposite lane and then quickly changes direction.  Nope the Guac just stands there!  But the most successfully attempt we had was when Bruce just honked them the entire time I was taking the photo.  Go figure, they find that noise soothing...I guess as cars do it all day long.

I am not sure what the natural predator might be, be there were plenty of carcasses that illustrated that fences are dangerous.  Apparently, get a leg hung up is a certain death out here.  Ditto for the impact with a vehicle, although we see little indication of Guac damaged cars.  And the Big Rigs don't have the obligatory front brush guards.  

And all the while we are getting out "Guac" on, we run into these unexpected finds.  The Rhea bird (a small ostrich/emu)!  The world needs yet another flightless birdie.  But apparently, if you sport a long neck you are in heaven here.  Bruce thinks we are going to need a bigger smoker for Thanksgiving though...

And then our friends the Flamingos make another guest appearance.  The super-est bummer of this, after I put the camera away they take flight.  I've never seen one in flight before, but I was in awe over the vivid colors of their flight feathers.

We also see a tiny fox, like probably less than a few pounds. And a small 1 pound armadillo.

Bruce does think that he might be home in Wyoming today.  But between watching for every damn critter, the pot holes and gazing into the wild, this otherwise straight and barren patch of asphalt is actually quite taxing.  But the weather is absolutely fabulous!  Mid 70s!  

Fuel in Argentina is much cheaper than Chile, as most of it is drilled here.  However, fuel distribution is apparently not their forte.  While entertaining on some level, the fuel pumps at the mid-point have been out of fuel for a week.  So, I guess you are suppose to leave a sticker and kick the pump as you drive off? We do have a full fuel bladder with 11 liters, but who wants to empty that prematurely?  

And what could make the low gas situation any more 'adventurous' than seeing this sign.

We do gather some additional data today, such as a Africa Twin low fuel light goes on with 90 clicks of reserve. Then we roll into the final stop for the day, Gobernador Gregores.  It's New Years eve and I have to say that this might be the worst hotel of our adventure thus far.  The description in the road book of "a small windswept town" leaves little to the imagination. We should know better, as we drive by this over-the-top extravagant welcome sign.

But when in Rome, act like a Roman!  Here Bruce attempts to blend in...

Tonight should be a hoot. Apparently, the entertainment consists of racing your loud, no mufflered quad around the city streets in a reenactment of Baltimore's 12 o'clock boys.

And how's this for hotel security?

The day off at the Terra Luna lodge is spectacular...unless your name is Bruce.  It seems that he has decided to come down with a bout of "Travelers Sickness".  No worries, we packed some Cipro antibiotic and he should be as good as new in 36 hrs.  And the other great thing about Cipro, as broad spectrum antibody, it treats many other maladies such as Gonorrhea :-)

The lodge was a fun place to hang and you could zip line, helo ride, kayak or just walk around the campus.  Or your dog could take you for a boat ride.

Maryland has all these odd initiatives to clean up the Chesapeake Bay.  I think they think that one day it will be this clear.  But really, the only way to do that is to export 90% of the residents.  Because the secret to pollution is dilution!

There were these birds which appeared to be everywhere. Everywhere until I had a camera.  Then they were nowhere.  They had a long beak and frankly their behavior resembled that of Kevin from Pixar's movie "UP".  They even make a maddening laughing noise, just to add salt to my wound. 

But no worries, I am an avian expert photographer, and captured these feathered friends.  And no, I don't want to hear that one is an ordinary goose!

The ride today is all but very short.  Probably because our hotel for the rest day was 1.5 hrs into the days ride, and there was all but no lines at our 3rd border crossing.  Nonetheless, we still seemed to get ourselves into a bit a pickle.  Bruce's license plate was only secured with 2 bolts at the top.  The washboards have stress fractured the corners of the plate, and well, now it is riding in his side case.  Should be a flipping hoot, as we go through at least one policia inspection station daily.

Devils Tower of the South?

The landscape is certainly changing, as the snow capped mountains are fading away.

The hotel tonight, Hosteria Antigua Patagonia, appears to be an old military building of some sort.  And of course, right on the water!

We absolutely know we are in the right place...this is the sign in the lobby!  And a room has a view!

We are entering what many consider the true Patagonian region.  In fact, when we depart this lodge we are just few hundred clicks from where the extreme clothing founder of North Face, died of hypothermia after his kayak capsized a few years back. The lake we have followed for the majority of the day today which is the 11th deepest lake in the world at 586M.

The color of the lake is owed to not only to cold waters, but also an artifact of glacier activity.  As the glacier melts, it leaves stone particles in the lake silt which then reflect the blue-green color. What is more remarkable that if this location was closer the to populated world, every inch of the landscape would certainly be infested with million dollar condos.

Our weather routine is becoming ingrained.  We will mount up in the morning under the banner of rain sizzle.  The when we are 30 clicks from the end of the day, the sun will follow us in.  Only to allowing enough time for the rain to catch up as we unload the bikes again.

We are beginning to notice huge changes in the rocks.  While they are still very tall and jagged, now the rock is wonderfully colored with wide bands of reds, greens and grey colors.

Goat with funny fur coats.  Why they don't get hit and killed on the road is beyond me.

These purple flowers have popped in and out of adventure for days now.  Today however, they have been flourishing.  The best I can tell they need 3 parts wind, 2 parts rocky soil and 1 part moisture

Ever feel like you are not alone way out here?

In a few short years, the last stretch of the dirt road will be paved.  In fact, they close the road every day from  13-1600 for rock blasting.  We do get an incredible giggle as we navigate this section.  We approach a man with a sign, red circle with a white outline.  And the word "Para".  Given our excellent mastery of the Spanish language, we deduce that red is bad and we elect to stop.

The next vehicle construction vehicle has female driver wearing a construction vest and the word "Inspecion" emblazoned on the back of it.  Soon enough, this red Toyota truck decides that he is just going to go around us and the above mentioned "Para" sign.  

They say that communication is 80% body language. The Inspecion female jumps out and trots up to the driver of the red truck.  She commences to wildly point to the "Para" sign and look otherwise aggravated at Mr. Red Truck.  Bruce has very good commentary he chats along with in our comms.  With that, we are given the Green Circle "Siga" sign and proceed through the next 20 miles of construction.  Mr. Red Truck was given a bit of an adult time out, and now is relegated to the back of the 5-7 cars. 

We've been on the road for a week now, and the bikes are starting to feel like home.  My CB500X is a very capable bike for this ride, with two very noticeable glitches.  The first issue for the life of me, Bruce has become my automatic kickstand retractor.  Just an odd combination of my leg length and the bike saddle girth.  Also, the bike certainly carries it's center of mass up much higher than I am used to.  

The Africa Twin however has been getting accolades because it makes "cool noises".  However, wheelie pulling machine it is not.  I have giggled a bit as Bruce explored the off-road settings, especially the one with the overzealous traction control that cuts all his power as he attempted to power through some washboards.  *snicker*

An ode to Canada. This section of high speed gravel certainly brings back excellent memories!  The road surface is superb, nicely packed and no dust

Living north of an active bridge in Maryland, we know that the traffic conditions can change instantly.  So, on holiday weekends we normally don't stop for dinner on the far side of the bridge.  The same with intuition, we don't stop at the recommended lunch stop, but rather the next town.  We find this nice hole in the wall place and get salmon. And now that we know that salmon is cheap and plentiful since it farmed just a bit up the road, it is certain to be on every meal from here on out.  Reminds me of when Bruce was in Afghanistan traveling and hit the 'surf and turf' menu for days on end.  He refused to eat either for months after coming home.

The only thing maddening about lunch was the group of 12 or so backpackers. They were trying to split the bill like 26 ways using only pennies.  Needless to say, they were there a lot longer than necessary to figure out that mathematical mess.

No doubt, I see how easily one makes riding a moto a full-time obsession and returning only to see everything in their name to follow the pursuit of happiness.  Soon enough though...soon enough.

For now, these will be our casa for the next 36 hours.  There is a slight advantage to being a bit on the shoulder season, the tour company was able to get us some top notch reservations.  A few days ago, we were talking to gent and he said we should stop at Terra Luna lodge, it was the best in the region.  He wasn't kidding.

A view to die for to boot!  Can even hear the waves crashing in.  However, it's 945pm and the sun is just now dropping behind the horizon.  Crazy long days!

If there is one thing that I have learned from today's weather is that if you see a photo you want, better to take it now.  Lest the clouds roll in within the next 5 minutes.  We leave the lodge at Puyuhuai on the 0930 water taxi.  It was nice to have a bit later start for the day, and the next stop, Coihaique, is a mere 200 clicks down. This is perhaps one of the easiest days to date. However, it is raining again, which the boat operator says is very usual for this time of year.  And boy is this one big bummer. In fact, we end up having to bypass the first glance at a Glacier because it is all fogged in.  And we are cold and sopping wet by the time we get to take the second option of 60 clicks of dirt.

Today, we will ride the valley of magnificent waterfalls.  However, the micro 4/3rds camera doesn't handle water well and will spend most of the day locked away.  The other cameras just don't have the lens to capture them well.  But we do get this money shot.

Lunch stop arrives in feels what would be a second breakfast, so we soldier on.  Roads are really quite good down here so you could see a lot from a rented car. Gas, although expensive at $6/gal, has been plentiful so far.

This waterfall is apparently very windy at the top near the bowl.  Notice the huge water spray at the top?

I don't think that you could ever get tired of posting photos of water falls?  This is the same one as the money shot above (Cascada La Virgen), but what is usual is the close proximity to a town and the base is very accessible pretty much right off the Ruta 7.  Our guess is that the total fall is >100ft.

We travel the valley all day, and have sheer rock faces like this.  Also of odd note, there are animals everywhere.  Sheep, cows, wild boar, horses and all but one, have been in excellent flesh.  It is strange though to see little to no hay production given the animals probably out number the human population.

We have seen hoards of backpackers and bicyclist too.  Those poor souls really struggle into the headwinds.  And also at customs and the policia road blocks.  We started customs while they we still inside, and rode off without ever seeing them again.

Yesterday, I had just past a few cars and Bruce was 2 cars back as we entered police road block.  For a moment, he stops me looks only at the side of the bike then ushers me though.  Apparently, the cops rough up on you if you have clapped out vehicles (which they kindly perform an impromptu "safety" inspection including that of your luggage), or check your papers.  Realizing the little CB500X Honda was very new, he let me proceed.

And here is the track for day..notice the start point on the far side of the water!

I get a bit leery about the hotel for the night while reading our roadbook.  For one, it has what I consider a suspicious sounding name, Dreams.  For second, it is also a casino.  I have flash backs that it is going to a rundown Nevada-style whore house.  To my pleasant surprise, it is absolutely neither.  And wouldn't you know it, it also has a waterfall shower!

We leave Trevelin behind and almost immediately find ourselves on high speed gravel.  It is a delightful ride, and the bikes are starting to feel like our own.  The river we are tailing is all blue-green, and crystal clear.  In fact we can see some quite large sunken trees.  Certainly, these will probably be wood for a million dollar Stradivarius violin one day.

The Argentina border crossing agent has a sense of humor and makes the Asian karate noises while giggling about "Bruce Lee" on the passport application.  Overall, the agents are very courteous, and the place is incredibly well staffed given the low volume of 1 car per hour that must pass here.

A bit down the road, we get the bikes back into Chile. The bikes are thoroughly searched for as they sleuth for that one bit of forbidden fruit.  Little do they know Bruce is much like Sam am I. He wouldn't have a bit of fruit ever, he's much too 'meat and potatoes" to expend energy eating a fruita.  I think that he might be the "Sam I Am
 of the frutia world... Just substitute the word 'fruita' for "Green Eggs and Ham"...

Do you like Frutia

I do not like them,  Sam-I-am.
I do not like Frutia
Would you like them Here or there?
I would not like them here or there.
I would not like them anywhere

The valley is magnificent as we continue on the gravel road.  One day we are certain this will be a movie set backdrop.  It has everything, an island, blue water and a island to boot!

We travel through this town, which had a terrible mudslide a few years ago.   Good to see the National flag still flying in the face of all the devastation.

Love the wooden bridge design.

Lunch at "Mi Casita de Te" was a nice stop.  We realize that the temp has dropped and we are actually a bit chilled.  It is also a good place to burn some time, and the wifi is smokin fast!  We spy these 3 waterfalls on the way out of town.  However, we have to say that the panoramic overlooks from the tarmac are about 3 orders of magnitude less impressive than the dirt road this morning.

Soon enough we leave with plenty of time to top off fuel in Puyuhuapi.  How the heck to you pronounce that?  Does this sign help you? Nope, didn't help us either.

To get to the hotel, you need to catch a water taxi.  We get to the launch point about 30 mins early, and are greeted only by a locked parking lot. We find ourselves at the only rendezvous point in all of Chile without an overhang.  Seriously, every Podunk bus stop has been exceptionally high-end compared to the town...and here we stand here listening to the rain drops pelting our helmets.  But soon enough the ferry arrives. I have no idea why half the visitors are wearing their life vests.  It's a 10 min ride and you never lose sight of land.  Safety third for us though.

We met a German fellow yesterday, who booked via another broker. Apparently, there are only three bike rental agencies in Chile.  Every broker/travel agent is using bikes from one of those.  He is convinced that with our swanky hotel arrangements that we are on the honeymoon tour.  I can't really disagree with that argument tonight.  

The lodge has an interesting past.  Here's a photo of the first building in the 1940s, and they took cattle to the island by tying their feet and lifting by the horns.

Stunning floro at the lodge.  In fact, Bruce wants to know if he can take this "hat" leaf though customs..

At dinner Bruce looks out the window while I am away.  He swears he seems something porpoise a few times then disappear.  We thought this was a landlocked lake, but turns out it is actually an inland port to the South Pacific.  In fact, huge ships come in to harbor from the storms.  Additionally, there are many salmon farms in the area both receiving food by the pallet for them, and also shipping them back to market.

There are 3 thermal pools at the lodge. This one was 38C....absolutely relaxing in the natural setting.  Fits a dozen people comfortably. Bruce nearly fell asleep!  We did get some other visitors and they were painting their faces with the mud.  I thought about doing that too until I realized I pretty much get that a free service from riding behind Bruce every day of my life.

Apparently, Christmas in South America isn't well observed.  But Argentinians aren't well known for their work ethic, so that just means they will close up shop early on Christmas eve, and heck let's scratch off Christmas Day too.  This means that Bruce and have had a few interesting food sources from gas stations to room service to cover the void, but all in all, we probably have met our caloric intake for the day. 

We have a big mileage day ahead of us 374 clicks, so we leave the hotel right after bfast.  Bruce is a mountain boy through and through.  He normally has little want for a home on the water.  After seeing the Llao Llao homes, he thinks he has found the best of all worlds.  I can't say I disagree.

The first 1.5 hours hugs the lake.  We pass the the nesting grounds for the condor birds.  No we don't get any condor photos, but they were out soaring, but do waste a good 20 mins trying to fail at least!  They are nesting in these cliffs.     Can I offer you a photo of a more easy to catch water bird?

The interesting thing about the Andes is that the road never really attempts to cross them often.  The flat valley is surrounded on both sides by jagged, tall geology.

We travel among giants today.  The trees are GRANDE!  They are cousins to the North American Redwoods which can have a lifespan of 2000 years.  Somehow, these have persevered and survived being harvested for wood.

For those that don't know, apparently Butch Cassidy escaped the US and ended up a bit north of Chilola, Argentina.  His homestead nothing more than a one-room clog cabin.  Nonetheless, who isn't attracted to the allure of a wild west saga? But  being Christmas day and all, the tribute museum for Butch Cassidy was closed.  So, although most wild west outlaws made the victims famous by having a shoot-out at the OK coral, we won't be able to partake today. 

But as a nice consolation prize, the we will score free entrance to the park as the rangers have the day off.  

We followed this river for most of the afternoon.  The water was crystal clear...thanks to its' near subzero feeling temperature no algae grows.  However, we were dismayed that flying insects are back in play.  We haven't seen them since we arrived in South America last weekend.  The 60 clicks of gravel is high-speed hardpack getting us into the hotel at very reasonable hour of 1600.

The El Toro, the lunch stop is buttoned up tighter than a drum.  We do grab a quick bite to eat at the gas station.  Luckily, the hotel we have planned will be making us dinner.  Mushroom and pasta and also veal parm.  It was interesting that it has such an Italian flare.  But then, the cook tells us that about 50% of Argentina has an Italian background.  I guess that explains the kids with red hair!

Bruce is falling in love with road signage.  How about crossing the 42nd parallel sign or entering Patagonia? And really can you have a Patagonian coddiwomple if it didn't actually take place in Patagonia?

 Did anyone actually know that pink flamingos were real creatures?  Most of my adult life until today, I thought they were only mythical creatures that existed as plastic yard kitsch in the old lady yards of Florida.

The rain drops pelt the window still all night long.  So much in fact, sleep is little. The weather is suppose to push out by morning, but by 0830 still a bit dewy.  We take a leisurely pack out and then we leave Pucon behind. 

The morning is ride is all but stiff. The bikes have brand new Mitas E07 Skins on for which I am grateful.  However, the tire whiskers aren't even scrubbed off yet. And the tarmac is clammy from last night's rain.  But traveling in Volcano country, we've noticed an additional service that the underground lava appears to provide--automatic road dryers. At least that is our story...

I've just not chilled with my new steed.  For one, the rear suspension isn't dialed in for me and is much too stiff.  For another,  the kick stand is awkwardly situated for my liking.  For those reasons, Bruce has been relegated to be my automatic kick stand deployer for the day, and job is none to happy to assumed.

The flora today has taken on an odd twist. Where the wick through the high desert Wyoming-like feel, the road is peppered with these purple and pink wild flowers.

Bruce, however, is petrified that somehow we will miss the border crossing. Now, I am certain that no country hides their border crossing, that the GPS is still on track, and that the next town is still away out. Nonetheless, Bruce would like to stop again and  triple check the GPS.  We debate the issue for a few minutes before I look up.  There, as if a sign from god, is a freeway sign that must be 8 by 10 feet saying the Aduna is 17 clicks out.  See you do need to get your nose out the GPS once and a while. 

The actual border crossings are smooth as pie.  Check the people out at desk 1, check the bikes out on desk 2....drive down the road a few clicks and repeat the process to import them into Argentina.  Probably less than 20 minutes at both locations.  I think getting our gear and helmets on and off actually took longer.

The Agentina guards have a bit of sense of humor.  The wind wicks through their location a what must be 30mph.  As you approach, you get a tiny slip of paper maybe 2 inches by 5 inches.  You need to not lose that piece of paper in the windstorm, get it stamped inside and then provide it as an exit ticket.  Somehow, we managed to accomplish that feat.

I am not exactly sure if little munchkins trim these trees into rounded balls, or if there is simply no reason to have a pointy top when you live in 40mph wind all day.  Round on top?

Clearing boarder control, we will be traveling on the 7 Lakes Routes.  Yes, I assure you that Count Bruce-cula (e.g. Count von Count From Sesame Street) counted each and every lake to me. 

While most of the rural backcounty has pretty much unregulated speed limits, towns are very controlled.  Here we see they have taken the extra effort to build a rickety raised walkway to keep the kiddos out of harms way when they walk to school.  Maybe using non-rotten wood on bridge version 2.0 would increase safety even further.

Why complicate the Banos with confusing words.  We will just 'international' symbology to label the bathrooms.  The best part since Bruce was the second to use the bath, he agrees to take the photos.  He said he felt a bit like a stalker pointing a camera at the ladies room door.  *Snicker*

Every town no matter the size always has bit of an entrance.  Meet Bariloche. 

Hotel Alma del Lago is stunning.  And it is shame that we won't be able to enjoy the view a bit.  However, probably the low light for us.  It's the eve of Feliz Navidad, and every restaurant in town is closed up.  While we won't mind eating in the hotel, the entire dinning room is reserved for a private party.  Wrot Ro Scrappy, this leaves us with the only option of room service.  To which I am pleased when I get to order the Ravioli.  And displeased, when they deliver only 4 ravioli.  I guess this was an appetizer platter?  No matter, it's late, they are slow and I will just retire to bed.  

We meet a fascinating gent, Ro from Germany who is also on the same journey as us.  It seems that our paths will cross a few points/hotels over the next few weeks.  I have come to realize that you can send 20 riders out on course, and come back with 20 different stories.  For him, he's met the Chilean police for speeding on the urban motorway leaving Santiago, and also had a bit of coming from together when he stopped for a photo and put him foot on the low side resulting a minor turtle-ing.  I do enjoy our chats as I am left mystified at all the discrepancies between our rides.

We couldn't have been more fortuitous.  We sit down at a somewhat trendy restaurant that served pizza for lunch today.  Since between the two of us, we have a Spanish vocabulary that a 2-year old child could shame us with.  So, we've been enjoying the Spanish Translate app on google.

The server happily speaks her two volumes of words in the google machine, and out comes the best translation ever.  You see somehow we have "won" the special golden spoon and we have the option of paying $9.90.  Certainly, how could I not partake in my golden spoon.  So, with that my one word of true Spanish is spoken.  Si. 

There is nobody in the restaurant but us, and we sit there under the soft Summer sun just gazing.  The weather could not be more delightful. Mid-70s, no humidity, and no bugs.  At this point, we have our golden spoon prize in weather alone, even if the restaurant only ever delivers us a $9.90 bill.

There is a reason that Pucon is rated so highly.  Simple touches such as roses in the center divide...which are apparently watered by hand daily.

The Fire House is just darling, and the police force is very visible.  Walking the beat, riding bicycles, riding motos, driving trucks (with green flashing lights).  We must have seen them at least ever other hour, but never were they engaging the population.  Of course with all the stupid sh*t tourist outdoor activities (raft, trek, backpack, ski, snowboard, fishing, mountain bike) they probably have their rescue hands full.  But the ring of fire is benevolent, and she also provides you thermal springs to wash your bruises away.  There must be at least 15 thermal springs within an hour's drive of Pucon. The equipment being sold/rented is high end stuff no junk here.

We have forgotten some oddball stuff on our packout, so we poke around the shops some.  Pucon is adorable.  A bit of Swiss Ski Chalet feeling with the wooden/log construction. And surrounded by beautiful mountains on all sides.

I spot this well fed herbivore.  He is hauling a load of raw lumber.  Bruce doesn't know why I am so excited to see a horse, it is not like I don't normally pet one every.single.day of the my life when at home.

A few block away there is a street performer with a trumpet.  All of sudden Bruce starts his Big Shoe dance with his hands.  I find this particular, because certainly the man doesn't have great hearing....yet the Big Shoe dance at 1600 yards is perfectly audible to him?

Meanwhile, we are still waiting for something to happen with our lunch.  The waitress delivers our golden spoon. Apparently, it was chefs choice pizza.  I knew the golden spoon prize was real!

We enjoy the tastes of a somewhat an unusual pizza creation.  I split the last piece, mostly stuffed at this point.   So imagine my surprise when the waitress brings us this now..

Who are we to say no German sausage pizza?  But, alas our Golden Spoon prize is now self-evident.  It is an all you can eat chefs pizza lunch. We get back to hotel and get the call from Ulli, our bike pick up person.  This afternoon we will rendezvous and gather our steeds up.  Our helmets have been insides there black stuff bags, and after Bruce over-overhears the conversation he readys his helmet by letting it see out the window.

We show up to collect the bikes and this is our greater.  And look at the view from the Biergarten.  That is Villarrica Volcano in the distance.  Yesterday at dinner, the clouds were lifting.  We discussed if the volcano was erupting.  Nah, none of the people seemed the least bit concerned. Sure enough, Villarrica was letting off some steam!

The town is beginning to make more sense.  There have been some very anglo-saxon skin tones, but yet certainly not westerners.  Apparently, there is a huge Germanic population.  So much that they have their own German school, German hospital and keep the German traditions alive and well. Who is Bruce to turn down an opportunity to gorge himself on  2 pounds of meat and potatoes. But boy does this outdoor dining space have all the pizazz it needs.  And could the Geranium bushes be any bigger and colorful?

And so the journey begins as it always does, 2 people on 2 bikes and nothing but days to coddiwomple lie ahead.

As the discount airline commuter plane struggles to peal itself over the gravitational pull of the blistering hot Santiago (SCL) tarmac, we are soon aloft.  Having a window seat on the left side of the plane, I can watch as the city-scape gets smothered under the smog or maybe it was haze.  My guess is that it is the latter, since tall mountains tend to trap in inversion as the day smolders on.  Of course, volcanoes also produce more CO2 far outpacing the damage that industrialized nations can produce, so maybe it is smog.

The flight from Santiago to Temco is barely an hour.  One of those flight that the plane is either ascending or descending, but never flying level.  I gaze out the window, and caldera after caldera welcomes me.  We have arrived what is know to most as the "Ring of Fire".  I am sure that Wikipedia has a better description, but basically it is the horseshoe shape following the western South American coastline over to the Hawaiian islands, and down to New Zealand-ish.

We can't but wait to go see calderas up close and personal, and we have access to an easy one tomorrow after we pick up the bikes.  My hope is that it doesn't do what Volcanoes do and that is get really, really hot--fast.  Sort of like a reenactment of the recent tragedy in New Zealand when a bunch of folks were burned beyond recognition during an minor eruption.  I am all but certain that I will be crunchy when fried, but then again, I may also be a delicacy with a side of some ketchup.

We have only thus far seen the inside of the Santiago airport, however, we will stay there for a few days on the northbound trek home.  However, compared to Temuco and Pucon, Santiago has all the ills of a big cityscape.  Smog, few trees and a desolate high dessert feel.  Pucon however, it appears to be the on equatorial mirror of Maryland.  Maryland is approx on the 38th parallel, and we see a sign advising trucks not to go north on 38 parallel on our trek into Pucon. I surmise that we are somewhere around -38 latitude.  Bruce laments aside for the road signs posted in a slightly unknown tongue, the vegetation is all but similar from the trees to the grasses.  Even down to the yellow weeds that grow among the hay fields! The world is one big giant mirror!  He also laments it was odd to see so many 'Texas' flags....except while of similar color and shapes, those might actually be those of Chile!

Despite nearly a full 24 hours in transit, the adventure has gone off with nary a hitch.  I was able to score a $1K discount by booking the Washington to Santiago flights via Latam, which a code share airline with American Airlines.  The only fly in the ointment was didn't get seat assignments until check-in. But since I normally get up around 03:30, I decided to check in before we got to the airport.  Low and behold, we scored some excellent seats.  It seems the only remaining seats were those that had the extra 6" of leg room!  And it only got better as the day worn on.  This was the final "leg" of our journey today!  I actually feel as if we are getting a bit too greedy, if anybody could ever say that about airline legroom standards.

Once in Santiago, we had to bogey through customs then check back in with the regional carrier, Sky.  Our tickets had the priority pass included, and boy was it nice have our own check-in line and also be the second people to load onto the plane.  Correctly applied splurges ($7 USD in this case) often can turn a suck-ass trip into a very enjoyable adventure.  Of course, the trick is to apply previous experiences to make the future better.   Hindsight, we did have some long layovers.  Aside from suffering through four (!) gate changes in Miami, we decided to eat our way through the layovers. It was nice to know that we didn't need to hurry at all, not for late plane arrivals not for anything.

I feel like I have been practicing my entire career for this trip. You know the one with the motto--Join US and, see the World!  But the digital age has made travel so much easier.  The American Airlines app provided up to minute baggage updates, and gate changes.  The Google Translate app allows you to translate any menu through using the phones camera. Uber made is a snap to arrange final transport to the hotel, despite the language barrier.     

Now exhausted, but also hungry again. We can't decide if we should solder on to normal bedtime, or go meander around town. We are staying for the next 2 nights at Hotel Rangi.  Nice enough boutique hotel a few blocks from main street in Pucon. Tomorrow, we pick up the bikes.

We are now in the trip twilight zone.  That zone where you are close enough to panic that there is no way you will ever be prepared enough and that excitement of launch day.  The trip books arrived last week and I've decided to go all "Type A" on them and converted them to GPX files....despite the warning there was no need.  I guess I've sat in enough rain forests wondering about how the heck to find civilization to know better though.

So a bit about the the Coddiwomple. We are renting bikes for a one-way trip to the point of South America.  Additionally, besides the GPS, sextent, and our good senses, Bruce and I will be running with scissors to lead our own holiday.  We will try to roughly follow the map shape below, but at the end of the day, we are only 1 wrong turn from destiny.   And if you really want the skinny on the day-by-day play, you will need to follow along here.  

Until then, here is the tour operators site.

A coddiwomple is defined as  'purposeful travel to a yet unknown destination'.

I suppose in the naming this trip a coddiwomple, many might be deceived.  Deceived to believe that we all don't understand the end goal is Ushuaia.  But for Bruce and I, we've had delay this trip as 2018 was probably the tumultuous year for me.  But as bad times can't last forever, on 31 Dec we cooked a Filet Mignon on the grill and bid farewell to all that encompassed the year.

Anyhow, as the reservation deposit is clearing the bank this week, I figured it was time to at least carve out blog.  I will probably port some of the ride planning over as time gets closer.