The kindness of strangers

Promoto Suzuki did a great job of patching up the bike. I left it with them for a few hours and they replaced the 20,000 mile old chain, replaced the broken-and-duck-taped-since-Alaska short windscreen with a taller one, and replaced the bar end I somehow lost. They also put the fairing back together properly, a job I'd been meaning to get round to since it was damaged in the crash, nearly 19,000 miles and four months ago. Any gaps left were then duck taped, which would have been great if they hadn't pressure washed the whole bike ten minutes later ;) I had a chat with the owner, who spoke good English and explained that they rent bikes... giving me the kernel of an idea for the next trip!

I left Santiago knowing I had the best part of a thousand kilometers to get into Patagonia. I'd decided to head to Osorno as it would allow me to pass into Argentina through the lake district, then turn south and go around Chaiten, where the road was closed. The day started ok, getting used to the bike again after the modifications. The tall screen was a great plus, in fact I couldn't understand why Suzuki sell the VStrom with the shorter screen. No more buffetting, I could cruise along at motorway speeds and hear myself speak (not that I talk to myself much ;) ). The tyres were another matter, having spent 50km or so scrubbing them in, I still hated every corner and roughly surfaced road resulted in many a brown trouser moment. I shuddered at the thought of riding over gravel.

Thankfully days here are long as it is approaching summer solstice. The road south from Santiago was as dull as a double glazing seminar, but there was so much of it. I rode the equivalent of London to Glasgow on the M1/M6 - over 900Km of motorway and the only interesting bits were ice creams in service stations ;) As the sun started to set I was struck by just how much the landscape had changed, I was riding through pine forest again and a rural land very much like England. So much so, that I started to sneeze and my eyes started to itch. I've never suffered hayfever outside the UK before (let alone in December!).

It was very dark when I arrived in Osorno, but after a few minutes I found an hotel and wandered in, to be told they had no rooms. Wandering out again, I was stopped by a very European looking guy and he told me that there was an event in town, a shopping centre was opening and all the hotels were full. He introduced himself as Jose, and his friend Guido was much more Hispanic looking. Jose explained that Guido was a biker, on his way to a big meet in Bariloche, and they would not see me go without a bed for the night. While Guido picked up a local phone book and starting phoning around all the hotels in town, Jose explained a little about himself. He said he was German, but on further investigation it turned out that most of the Chilean Lake District was German. The Germans had come to clear forest there a hundred or so years ago, and stayed. He asked me about my trip and as seems to be normal in Chile, asked me if there were any dangerous parts - like Colombia. I seem to have spent my time in Chile telling people to visit Colombia and change their opinion.

Guido found a cabin and after spending a couple of minutes drawing directions, they figured I looked tired so volunteered to lead me there in their car. The cabins turned out to be really nice, a sight for sore eyes at 11.30pm after 920Km on a motorbike. The owner couldn't apologise enough for not speaking English, which I tried to explain was perfectly ok as we were in Chile and I should be speaking Spanish. I had bad heat rash and my butt was so sore I thought it might get up in the night and sneak off, hoping I wouldn't notice. The thought of ever riding again hurt, let alone riding tomorrow.

Jose and Guido said their goodbyes and left me to it, saying that if I was in Bariloche on Saturday I should stop by at the bike meet as I was bound to win the prize for coming from furthest away! The people of Chile had managed to amaze me since I'd arrived and I wasn't looking forward to heading into Argentina in the morning, even if only for a day.


Leaving Osorno a little late, I headed through the Chilean lake district towards Argentina. The scenery was outstanding, lakes and snow capped peaks and south, one solitary snow capped volcano cone. Leaving Chile and entering Argentina was simple, the only delay was having to wait in a long queue. However I knew I needed insurance cover and typically they didn't sell it at the border. I was assured there was a town 25Km into Argentina and I could get insurance there. Riding away into the Argentine lake district, the reason everyone goes on and on about Patagonia became immediately apparent. The lakes and mountains reminded me of Canada, but the whole place was in bloom. Lupins lined the roads in purple, while whole verges of Jasmine made for a beautiful contrast with the blue sky. I was desperately low on fuel but had to stop to soak in the view. I pulled up at a lakeside viewpoint, and bumped into a handful of riders from Majorca. They had rented bikes in Buenos Aires, and ridden across Patagonia... nice. After some photos and a chat we went our separate ways and I finally found the town I had been told about at the border.

I tried asking in the fuel station, and a shop but no one seemed to have a clue about insurance. Eventually I tried the local police and almost immediately started to regret it. No one spoke English and my pathetic attempt to explain what I wanted in Spanish resulted in having all the bike documents examined, whereupon the cops decided all was fine. At that moment a guy walked in that spoke excellent English and within two minutes everyone was on the same page. I was told of an insurance agent in town, and after a brief ride down a gravel track I found they were closed until 4pm. That would leave me about 300Km to do before it got dark. Hmmm.

Once open the insurance was straightforward to sort out and at 90 pesos much cheaper than somewhere like Mexico. I rode south in a hurry, determined I didn't have time to visit the bike meet at Bariloche. When I rode through town there were many Harley type bikes and I rode right past the meeting site without stopping. I just couldn't afford to wait a day :( I took Ruta 40 all the way to Esquel, riding parallel to the setting sun as it sank behind the Andes. My shadow, always seeming to be on my left, lengthened away into the pampas. There was nothing, no one around for miles at a time.

Without wishing to sound too much like a tree hugging hippie, the road seems to have become a mirror for my life. I seem to be following it to it's conclusion, unable to turn around and go back, just waiting to see what the next corner holds in store. I have no idea what I will do when I reach the end. Only somehow I know that a part of me will always be riding in that beautiful Patagonian sunset.

Fraser.