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).
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.
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?
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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.
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.
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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 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!
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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.
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.