06 January 2011

I decided to drive to El Calafate instead of returning to Puerto Natales to replace my tire. On the way out of Torres del Paine I stopped to take a few photos but it was cloudy and not as clear as yesterday.

The border of Chile was crowded with passengers from a bus but the officials let me cut ahead since I was the only one exiting the country. At the border of Argentina I met a girl and her boyfriend who were hitchhiking with an RV caravan. One RV was an Austrian couple and the other was a German couple. Both of the couples were older and probably retired. The girl said she was from Raleigh, NC.  They approached me asking if the car with the NY plates was mine. After brief pleasantries they wished me well and I was on my way to El Calafate. I had to unhook the chain blocking my way into Argentina.

About two minutes later I realized my RPM gauge wasn’t working and neither was my speedometer. Immediately I knew this was going to be a problem. It meant the alternator was dying. Sure enough when I braked to turn off the gravel road and onto Route 40 the car died.

I let it roll slowly downhill. Behind me I saw the German RV approaching so I waved him over. He pulled his RV around facing my engine and we tried a jumpstart. The other RV pulled up and the Austrian was helping to fit the cables. The jump lit up the battery but when I braked to shift into reverse the engine died again. The German suggested we tow my car to the next service station.

Jump start

He got out a thick flat rope and clamped either end to each car and we were off. Steering and braking were easy. We were going 50mph. We had to stop when the rope got tangled in my axle. It sounded like I had ripped off part of my front end with all the noise and jolting.

The Germans had driven around the world in their RV

The next service station was  In Tapi Aike. There was nothing there. No mechanic. No city. Nothing. Just a gas station that didn’t open until 1 pm. It was 12:45. I told the German I would pay him to tale me to El Calafate but he said it was too far for him.

The girl’s boyfriend ran across the street to the building over there and he was told that there is a mechanic in Esperanza which was 80 kilometers away. The girl remarked that it sounded hopeful (esperar, from which Esperanza is derived, means to hope) and that getting there and finding a tow truck would be my best bet. I did not want to do this at all. El Calafate is a large city and I knew I would find what I needed there. But we pushed my car out of the way and I hopped into the German’s RV.

The Argentine pampas is a terrible place to break down. The land stretches for an eternity in all directions with no sign of life. The wind shifts the clouds into enigmatic shapes. There are streaks and cotton balls and large battle ships floating in the blue sea above. You can see the heat shimmering off the ground making all watery and hazy. The sun pounds the earth without mercy. I am sunburned from yesterday.

They dropped me off at the gas station. I knew right away nothing I needed was here. Esperanza is a gas station, a hotel, a police station, and a scattering of smaller buildings. The gas station clerk said the mechanic was across the street. But I needed more than a mechanic. I needed a tow truck. The mechanic pointed me to the police station. 

Through my terrible Spanish I told them I was broken down 80 kilometers south and needed to be towed to El Calafate. They called three different tow companies. First was 2300 pesos, the second 2600, and the third 1800 pesos. The lady at the front desk called the third company while the the two men were getting ready to leave. The cop had his gun holster in his hand wrapped in his sweater. The barrel was sticking out and pointing directly at me.

Police dog

She told me the tow truck would be here at 4:30 with my car. An hour and a half. So I walked to the hotel restaurant and had some lunch: steak topped with eggs and french fries on the side.

The tow truck did not arrive until 5:30. I sat in the police station for an hour and a half. I had some half conversations with the lady cop, Alexandria. She had a ring tattooed on her right ring finger. I think I fell asleep for a moment. I woke to the sounds of a little girl and a scampering puppy. A man followed them inside. He also had a ring tattooed on his right ring finger. They were married, both cops, and the little girl was theirs.

In El Calafate we went to three mechanics and they all said they couldn’t fix my car. Then we went to find an ATM so I could pay for the tow. The first two ATMs were out of money and the third had a long line. Waited for at least twenty minutes. There were strange curved horn billed birds honking and fighting in the tree tops.

We dropped my car off at a gas station. There’s also a repair shop there. Tomorrow begins the long search for a mechanic.

The hostel I’m staying at is nice and cheap but you have to make your own bed and the ladder to the top bunk is loose and a hazard. You also have to turn in the key to the room when you leave. Each room has one key. So it’s cheap but it’s pretty lame.

I had a large pizza for dinner. I think I’m becoming a glutton.

Yesterday I met an old fat man and his wife in the woods. He was wearing a Wisconsin hat so I asked if he was a Badger. We talked for a bit and he said “You’re living my dream.” Made me feel gross inside. I don’t want to be living someone else’s dream.

While I was hiking I thought a lot about pop culture. So many movie quotes and songs rang through my head. I didn’t like it one bit. Here I am in Chile in Patagonia and I can’t get away from T.V. and movies. I saw this guy with a hat that read “Marmot” so I said, “Nice marmot” and laughed hard but I felt like jerk. I don’t think he got it and he didn’t come all this way just to hear a Big Lebowski joke.

05 January 2011

This evening my body is sore from 13 hours of hiking. I left camp at 7am and headed for Valle de Frances. I did not make to the end of the valley. Only halfway to camp Brittanica. But the half way point was a nice open space with a sweeping view of the surrounding mountains. Everyone was eating lunch and watching the avalanches. They thundered throughout the valley.

At Los Cuernos camp I ran into Jordan again. He said he was going to El Calafate so maybe I will run into them again.

 I do not know how far I hiked but it was at least 32 kilometers. Most of the time I was alone. It was very peaceful.

I decided to turn around where I did for several reasons. Mostly it was a nice view and there was no need to go further. I would have to return the same way and my feet were blistered and my legs exploding with exhaustion. Also I started thinking about what I was really doing and how pointless it was. I’m going around looking at stuff I will never see again. What’s the point of that? Merely to see?

I used two walking sticks today. The first snapped in two while playing baseball with a rock. I used the stub and kept an eye out for a new stick. I tried to snap off a few dead branches lying around before I gave up and let providence provide. I found my new stick lying in a shallow stream; I left it at a directional sign when I returned to camp.

I got back just in time to put the rain cover on my tent. Yesterday it blew off so I set it aside. A French lady knocked on my tent to alert me to the problem. As I was fixing it I saw the tent wasn’t being held by the pegs. The tent had moved completely. Only the large rocks inside were keeping it in place. This morning was very still and I can only hope tomorrow will be as well.

After fixing the tent I walked to the bathroom. Someone was playing “Where is my mind” on a nylon string guitar.

04 January 2011

I did not wake up until 9am. Seeing the time I hurried to prepare for the long hike ahead. The wind was rattling my tent back and forth and I thought it would be terrible if it got blown loose from the ground.

The first part of the trail was a steady ascent up the side of a hill. I ran some of the way up to get away from the loud chattering people behind me. From the top of the hill to Camp Chileno was an easy descent. It was very windy at the top. Down at camp it was mostly flat with not as many steep ascents as the first part of the trail.

The path to the lookout point for the torres was excruciating. Winding up the side of the mountain among huge boulders and bonsai looking trees with orange markers to direct you. It would’ve been easy to lose the trail without the guideposts. With each step my legs cried out for mercy. The sky was clear and the sun was hot. I forgot my wide brimmed trekking hat so there was no protection for my face.

Weird twisted tree

Almost there

Finally at the top, but the lookout point and the towers were ensconced in clouds. The peaks weren’t visible at all. I stayed for about an hour eating lunch, taking photos, resting, and waiting for the clouds to vanish, revealing the towers. I even took a group photo for the loud chatterboxes I had run from. One of the three looked like Che with his beard and beret.

It was easier to hike back down but very slippery. I almost fell a few times. Looking back I could see the clouds start to break apart. Figures. It only took five hours to do a roundtrip.

I filled up my water bottle from this stream

These little flowers were growing all over the place

Back at camp I ate a can of pea and ham and bacon broth soup which was not soup but real thick like paste. I also spoke with a Canadian couple who rode bikes to Arizona then bought a Suzuki and drove down here. Been on the road for a year and a half. The first thing the man asked was about my stickers. “Are they anti-gay or anti-Cusco?”, he asked and when I said anti-gay he asked why I would wear my hate out so openly. But we ended up talking about the road. They told me how to get to El Calafate. The man’s name is Tron.

I went over to my tent and saw two people messing around it. They asked if it was mine and said that it had blown over on top of their tent. Some of the flimsy spikes were gone but thankfully I had some stronger ones in the car. I used the rocks they had placed on it to reinforce the spikes. Hopefully it doesn’t move again.

After that I took a shower and got ready for bed. The wind kept blowing ferociously. I took out my shortwave radio and was able to listen to jazz as I fell asleep.

03 January 2011

Last night, at the hostel, I ran into a French guy who had been lodging at the same hostel as the Israelis. In Ushuaia we witnessed a beautiful sunset together Probably the most beautiful sunset I saw in Ushuaia. As well as telling me his plans on buying a horse in Costa Rica so he could ride through Nicaragua he also showed me on a map some great trails in Torres del Paine.

The hostel I stayed at in Puerto Natalaes also functions as a sports club and there are numerous rugby trophies in two large glass display cases. Overall the hostel is a wreck with incredibly squeaky floors upstairs, terrible wi-fi (my Mac indicated I was connected but no pages would open and this happened every single time I logged on), and worst of all locked doors so that one could not freely go to and fro without having to knock loudly to re-enter. I dropped off my clothes at the laundry in the morning (they said return at 6pm) and I left the hostel in search of something better.

It was the bad wi-fi that prompted my move. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was planning on waiting for my laundry and staying another night because it was raining but in a huff I decided to scrap that idea. I went looking for a hostel that was incorrectly marked on the Lonely Planet guidebook map (it was on a different street) and ended up at a cafe with wi-fi. But they turned up the music really loud like it was a disco-tech so in an even bigger huff of anger I stormed out leaving my untouched cappuccino on the table and the front door open.

Driving around I found a bookstore cafe where I hung out for almost four hours. The rain stopped finally and I went to check on my clothes to see if they were done early. On the way I bought a large funnel for pouring gas into the car. Thankfully my clothes were done two hours before scheduled. All neatly folded and placed in a bag. I ate one last monster burger and left town. But not before recommending the hostel I stayed in to some folks who were looking for a room. Only for the low price though.

Driving in the foothills of Torres del Paine is akin to driving in the foothills of Glacier Park in Montana. I stopped to take some photos and this is when I noticed my rear driver side tire was nearly bald with the metal tread poking through the rubber. No wonder the mechanic in Ushuaia said he didn’t recommend driving anywhere on those tires. It’s only one tire though and I have a donut and the providence of God. What happens, happens. In the meantime I’m driving more carefully.

Obscured by clouds

Just like the day I entered Grand Teton National Park, the mountains were obscured by clouds. There was no moment of awe or revelation. The mysteries of these mountains remain locked. I ended up driving for an hour in the wrong direction before I realized it and made a u-turn. I did it on a curve and almost got reamed by a van.

I made it to a campground and parked. A guy approached and asked if I drove all the way from New York. I said yes. He said “I notice you got a Wisconsin bumper sticker as well. I’m from Wisconsin as well. I’m from Madison.” His girl was packing the car as we were talking and all of a sudden it hit me that I had met these two, Jeff and Evelyn, in September 2009 at Olympic National Park in Washington. It was Evelyn that brought it all back. She is Chilean. It was strange to meet them again on the other side of the world. They were on the way out though. I wonder where we will meet again. Jeff said “I hope your luck with the car continues.” I said thanks but I should’ve said, “It hasn’t been luck. It’s been God’s providence which has sustained me.”

Everyone at this campground has the same yellow igloo tent. They probably all rented from the same trekking company in Puerto Natales.

15 December 2010

I don’t know for how long I slept.  Maybe an hour and a half.  I woke up at 4:30 and dawn was already breaking on the eastern horizon. I drove past a sign pointing to Tierra del Fuego and doubled back to head down the road to the ferry.

Dawn

There was a long line of semis and no ferry and no sign of activity in any of the buildings except for the janitor. I asked him what I was supposed to do. He said the ferry arrives at eight to begin loading, makes its first voyage of the day at eight-thirty, and that I needed to queue next to the trucks. Also Argentina pesos were just fine to pay with. So I parked next to the trucks. I still had a three hour wait so I cleared my backseat and curled up to nap. I woke when the semi next to me roared its engine to life.

I got out of the car, opened the rear, and fished out my mouthwash. Looking behind me I saw I was first in a long line. I was also first to board the ferry. I suppose I could’ve not paid because no one asked to see my receipt when I exited.

The boat was very bare bones. Just one level for cars and semis. Cars to the sides and semis in the middle. It made for a tight squeeze and I had to duck under one trailer to return to my car. I was going to have a coffee but everything, the coffee and the milk, was a powder. I walked out on the upper deck to get a view of the Strait of Magellan. One of the crew asked where I was going and then escorted me into an area blocked off with a chain. He said dolphins swim in the channel sometimes. He also said Punta Arenas is much more beautiful than Ushuaia and that I should visit. I probably will not visit.

On the ferry

It took us about twenty minutes to get to Tierra del Fuego. I snapped a picture of the welcome sign then headed on my way. The paved road gave way to a gravel road that lasted for about eighty miles. It was rainy and wet and I slid on the rocks like on snow and ice. Mud splashed all over the body and windows. The Chilean border was quick and painless but the Argentines thoroughly riffled through all my things throwing them out of order. Two of their dogs pissed on my tires. They cleared me to go.  I filled up the tank and washed my windows at the gas station outside the border.

Final border crossing

The cops pulled me over in the next town, Rio Grande and I almost splashed one of them. They told me to drive slower and turn on my lights. The rest of the way was a breeze. I second guessed myself and took a wrong turn in the city though. I stopped along the way to Ushuaia to snap photos of mountains. Cloudy and rainy the whole way but began to clear up the closer I got to Ushuaia.

At the entrance to town a couple who bicycled from Buenos Aires was taking photos at the Welcome to Ushuaia sign. I waited until they left and took a few photos of the sign. Then I drove to the end of the highway which happened to be in a national park. The road turned to dirt outside the city and snaked its way through the park all the way to a parking lot and a large official sign proclaiming the end of the road. 

Ushuaia entrance sign

The End of the Road

There wasn’t anything left after that The park and the town are both gorgeous. Surrounded by mountains and rivers, lakes and the ocean. The end of the road.  I headed back to Ushuaia and got a room in a hostel and began the search for the cheapest passage to Antarctica.

13 December 2010

This morning my car was blocked in by another car. I had breakfast, some toast with jam and nescafe, while I waited for the owner to come down and move it. I picked up a student who was hitchhiking on the highway and gave him a ride a few miles up the road. Then I exited for Puyehue and the Argentina border. I didn’t fill up on gas because the book I had said there was gas near Puyehue but I didn’t see it. I had to drive 30 miles back from the border to Entre Lagos to find the gas station because I did not want to risk running out of gas in the Andes. The reason I did not see the gas station on the way to the border is because it is in town away from the main highway and therefore hidden.

Exiting Chile was easier than entering. No one inspected my belongings or my car. I didn’t have to unload everything and run each item through the x-ray. The drive between border stations runs through a large mountainous, snowy, national park. There was snow alongside the road and on the ground higher up. Chile was overcast but the sky cleared up to a bright happy blue as I entered Argentina. I saw a semi laying on it’s side. Dangerous curves.

Angled road ahead?

Immigration in Argentina was quick and painless but customs took a while. Slow computers perhaps? No car inspection here either. The customs official looked like a younger Roger Ebert. The drive from the border through the park was spectacular with panoramic mountain and lake views. I think there was a bike race because I saw bicyclists and at a curve there were two men taking photos of them with large professional cameras. I stopped many times to take photos of the scenery. Yellow and purple flowers bloomed along the highway. Some trees had a strange orange fruit or mold hanging from them. Summer in Patagonia was just beginning.

Not far from the border is Villa la Angostura which is composed of many resorts. Tourists were everywhere. The road wound round and between the mountains, each curve revealing a new marvel.

Way past Bariloche and close to Esquel the mountains begin to fade and give way to smaller hills and wide windy valleys. The gusts are extremely fast and dangerous. I thought my car was going to be blown off the road but I managed to keep it at a steady 80 mph. A large van behind me flashed it’s lights at me then pulled up beside me. A woman was yelling and pointing at my car like something was wrong but I couldn’t hear her or figure out what she was going on about. All of a sudden they started cutting back over into my lane to avoid an oncoming car, pushing me off the road. It’s times like these I wish I had a working horn.

Very windy

Further on the I stopped to take a picture of a sign warning of high winds. I saw my rear license plate was only hanging by one bolt so I fixed it. The van that almost ran me off the road zoomed by and honked. I think the lady was trying to tell me about my license plate. I sped back onto the road and into Esquel for gas. I ate a sandwich inside. There was a fat gaucho whistling loudly and talking on his cell phone. He looked French with his beret and shoe-slippers and his wide colorful sash. 

When I walked out I saw my rear plate was gone. Immediately I knew the wind had whisked it away right where I had fixed it. I headed off in a hurry before the wind could blow it too far.

But the cops at the towns entrance decided to stop me. They took my papers, looked in the car, and then called the captain over who did a thorough inspection of all my vehicles contents. All the while I was explaining the situation with my license plate: that the wind had blown it off and I needed to go search for it. Finally they let me go.

Frantically I looked from side to side as I slowly drove up the road. I saw nothing. I got  to the sign where I had taken a photo and then turned around to do another search. Still I didn’t see a thing.

Then all of a sudden I saw it! Upside down and stuck to a fence post by the wind. Praise God! What a mercy. It could’ve blown of into the field but He kept it right there for me. I threw it in my car, hurried back to show the captain, then proceeded on my way towards Tecka. I picked up a guy and gave him a lift to Tecka. There was a large statue in memory of a local man who had died in the Falklands War. It was still light out so I kept going for Gobernador Costa. But there were no hotels. The only hotel was full and wherever the attendant pointed me to in town, I couldn’t find it despite cruising up and down each street.

On the way out of town I saw what looked like little cabins but they were all dark and I didn’t see anything that could be the receptionists office. I knocked on the door of the house next door and asked the lady who answered. She called the owner for me. I’m not sure if she told me to wait for the owner or if they weren’t available but I waited for a minute then decided to leave. There was a lot of construction on some of the cabins and it all looked closed anyway. I also did not want to wait for an indeterminate amount of time.

I drove to San Martin and there was nothing so in the dark I headed towards Sarmiento. I hate driving in the dark here because it is especially dangerous. There are potholes you can’t see as well as curves you can’t see. I was cruising along at 70 when I hit the guanaco. I saw it run out just in time to slow down and clip its legs. I got out to inspect the car. No blood or damage. I shined a flashlight behind me and didn’t see a corpse. I’m sure the animal will die.

I was the only one on the road for a long way. At times I could see the headlights of semis from a long way off. A car eventually caught up with me and passed me. I made it safely to Sarmiento around midnight and pulled into the first hotel I saw. I had to pound and knock around before someone came out.  Thankfully they had a room.