It was my intention not to come back in for some days but there is too much happening and I really have to keep up to date or memories will be lost.
To start just some short messages;
Matt. Just eaten a Chorizo Cabbollo. A pile of steak on a platter plus a plate of fried eggs, fries, and a side salad. Half a bottle of wine, water, coffee. 3.60p. They do ski holidays here in our summer, fancy a try...............
Jilly P. Gluten free meal please, I have pre booked them.
What is gluten
Well.....
Signore, I understand, we have five different types of bread and our croissants are dipped in honey, will that do.
Well..............................................OK.
Into Chile. Arrived at Peurto Varas very late and the town was going flat out, bands playing etc. Had a very late dinner and to bed. In the moring the curtains open to a view over the largest lake in Chile and a close up of three vulcanos, snow topped and as if drawn on a Japan type print.
A quiet rest day at the hotel which sadly is very internatonal. The town is fine, very Germanic or Alpine but not in any way exceptional.
Next day we are met by a guide and taxi and taken to Osorno, this is our motorcycle pick up point. We end up in the back of nowhere on an industrial estate and there meet Sonia and Roberto who own some 25 BMW trail bikes. Most bikes are vitually new, this is a big investment for these two at 10K a time, they turn out to be really a cuddily happy pair. We take about an hour to get set up and then ready for the off.
Ha ha, oh no a problem. Me, I, Robert, rider of a thousand bikes is unable to get onto the machine. The saddle height which does not adjust is simply too high. I just cannot get my leg over. ( Now lets stop here for the moment. Before the abuse starts I want my public to know that last autum I had a full scan and I was told that my prostate is in PERFECT conditon, the rest of my body is a wreck, but the prostate, thats okay. )
Right, I cannot get my leg over, the seat is far too high. I try all the tricks but still no progress. In the end the two mechanics who watched my efforts with a smirking delight come over and point out that when my wife gets on that the seat will be lower, I ask if they think she weighs so much, more giggles and then they let me into a little secret.
But I still cannot get on board. A combination of very tight jeans, a fat stomach and joints that do not bend seem to be the real problem. Eventually I take a run and jump and presto!!! Well I did get on.
We head off for the Andes, straight boring roads, no scenery other than the occasional Guacho and cattle.
The bike does not handle well, it weaves. I know full well what the problem is, its the baggage on the back, add to this our luggage and we have too much weight out the back end. A familiar problem that I am sure many of us to relate to!!!!
This is a problem to be resolved later. I have to re stow the bags, tune the suspension and set the tyres to my own liking and presto!!
After some 60K we start into the Andean foothills, have lunch at a good bar with the most miserable waitress in Chile and move on. We start to climb back into rivers, lakes, and mountains. Climb, climb, climb. Passing through rain forest full of petrified trees a wonderfull pale grey in colour all of which are broken down by what appears to be snow damage. It is clear that winters here are tough.
We make the Chilean customs. I have forgotten in my travels in the EU just how easy we have made boarder crossings. We have to pass through four different offices, endless paper and all rubber stamped, bomperty bom, bomperty bom, time after time. Am I exporting the bike, no. I have paperwork that shows that this bike has crossed the boarder more times than I been to the toilet in the last year, but no. Engine number, chassis number, colour, type, reason for..............................................
At last we leave with a wodge of paper, helmets on, jackets, gloves, visor down, move off, a hundred yards another office, still Chilean, a bit of paper, what bit, the bit that looks like a very small till reciept that somewhere the bottom of the bag. Helmet off, gloves....................
Then on and up yet again. It is stunning. We reach the boarder line and take a break. Incredible.
A minor problem starts to occur. Sonia, you remeber Sonia. She said we needed our thermals on as high up we would be above the snow line. It would be cold. We were up above the snow line and it was 90 plus, the snow was there alright but the heat. We moved off quickly to keep cool and start down, ever down now but its too hot, hairpin after hairpin, the tarmac is now melting.
For those of you not into biking that means its like walking on jelly and the bike drifts about. It tends to give a strange feeling in the area of your willy, this is known as fear!!!!!!
There are skid marks everywhere, some disappearing over edges, some into the trees, and the lucky ones into the cliff faces that meet the road at various points. They just stop at the foot of a cliff base as if the vehicles have just passed into the hillside. A bit like Harry Potter passing through the barrier at Paddington.
The signs read, Snow Chains Must be Used, they get three metre dumps of snow here in the winter months.
Later at the Argentinian customs posts there were endless wrecked trucks, buses, cars all of which had at some stage been off the road.
Mind you I have more tread on the top of my head than some of the trucks had on their tyres.
Argentinian customs. Some two hundred or more cars waiting, red hot, no shade. As we step off the bike our boots just glue on the tarmac. Apparently one person from each vehicles goes to the shed and does all the same paperwork we have just completed in Chile. Bomperty bom yet again. There is a queue over over a hundred people and Christine bravely goes forward. It chaos but great. Everybody is happy, they accept the situation, children as young as two toddle through the cars, some of which are moving on, but is not a problem, no bad temper, everyone minds the kids as they weave around. A lesson in life.
At last escape back into the wilderness. There are deer, sheep, cattle, horses and even Puma, but we have not seen one to date. Then into Angostura, a wild west Alpine village next to a stunning blue blue lake, good local accomodation, good food and bed.
Off again to San Martine. After a few K we step off the tarmac. bumpity bummmmmmp. Miles and miles of unmade road, we were told about it, the dust, the traffic. But its like when someone hands you a plate and tells you its really hot, do not touch. Well, you just have to, and as a result you learn something. Well the roads are the same, they tell you but until you are there..................
Imagine a normal A road at home, buses, trucks, cars, then take away the road surface, vary the width from 30 metres to 4 or 5, then out again. Hills, hairpins, holes in the road, the road under constant repair because of the winter ravages, a road repair system that is simply massive road planers pushing the surface back into place, a road repair authorty that like to amuse themselves by leaving boulders in the middle of the road, or a tree around a blind bend stretching across the surface.
THEN THE DUST. It is incredible. They tell you to go slowly but it makes no difference, the only place to be is out front and thats is what we did. It was like riding on marbles, we surfed for miles. Again for non bikers it like being on tippy toe all the time. The locals just go for it, we have jackets and trousers fitted with body armour to protect us if we fall, well this was like riding in a shrapnel barrage, stones ping, wang, bonk, on helmet elbows and knees as they passed by. BUT THE DUST, just like a pea soup fog.
Nowhere to stop but when you could see it was wonderful. I wonder, can you get laked out!!!!!!
Then after some 40K a hotel, yippee, in we go, but but but. This is not quiet right, no cars in the car park. Up to the door and you expect Anthony Perkins to step out. Pyscho or what!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Any chance of coffee and cake, of course come in. This is not right
What kind of place is this.
Well they do not normally open to the public but this is a church hotel run by the Argentinian Church. Despite the fact that we were head to foot in grey dust looking like ghosts we were made so so welcome, they specialise in adventure holidays for children. They gave us coffee and just the biggest wodges of chocolate cake I have ever seen. Christine could not eat half. Lovely people.
Then at last back onto tarmac. Down, down down, bend after bend and into bed in Angostura. Again wild west Alpine. Good food, shops and a rest day tomorrow. A few hours walk about, they have a resturant here where you can buy a three course meal, each course is chocolate, really. YUK.
Sorry about all this but I did need to get it down otherwise days blend into days. You have already forgotten the grumpy waitress I bet. Off to bed, enough. Love to all.
Bye the bye this keyboard has no real puctuation or spell check so bear with me.
