Shapes in the wide Patagonian sky

I was a bit hasty when I said I had seen the most beautiful sunset I'll ever see, way back in Arizona. The last two evenings in Patagonia have definitely rivalled the Painted Desert. The immensely strong winds here paint the clouds into strange elongated shapes, unlike any artist could imagine.

I'd managed to get the ferry from Puerto Ibanez at the second attempt, I turned up half an hour before sailing, paid a uniformed official and rode on board. The ferry was like a military landing craft, so I ended up sitting on the bike on deck for the two and a half hour crossing, as it wasn't tied down, fretting about the official having taken my money and not given me a ticket. Or any change. As the ferry docked in Chile Chico, like the shopkeeper from Mr Ben the official magically appeared again and gave me a ticket, and my change. Um, thanks.

I rode out of town and almost immediately came on the Chilean side of the border, which was straightforward enough, but between Chile and the Argentinian post was a stretch of gravel road. As I rode onto it, there was a clunk and the bike ceased forward motion. It was in gear, I was revving, and nothing was happening. Oh @%$&, I thought, I've snapped the chain. I'd been aware the chain was a weak point in my armour ever since Alaska. I had no spare chain, no chain rivetting tool, and was therefore completely reliant on the chain holding up - which was why I had got it replaced in Santiago. Should have thought a bit harder about it really ;) Plucking up the courage I looked down, and saw to my relief that the chain had jumped off the rear sprocket, but was otherwise ok.

A few minutes fiddling and the chain was replaced, I was covered in grease, and I made a mental note to adjust the chain at some point as it was too slack. At Argentinian customs I tried not to look at the officials as I smeared black all over their important-looking forms. Oops.

In order to make up some time I had decided to hammer down the paved Atlantic coast road rather than take gravel roads, then I would turn inland and head towards El Calafate to see the glaciers near Mount Fitzroy. In order to get to the coast road, I had to cross mile after mile of pampa. Tufty clumps of grass as far as the eye can see, completely flat in all directions, for hours on end. The only living thing I saw outside of the occasional car was a small armadillo which I almost ran over.

After turning onto the coast road, I left the last big town there would be for several hundred kilometers and realised I would be riding after dark unless I got a move on. The bike seemed to be going through fuel a little quickly so at a tiny town called Fitzroy I pulled into a petrol station, and as I pulled back out up a gravel slope there was a clunk, a bang, and the rear wheel locked up. I was lucky to stay on.

Why - WHY do I always put off stuff that needs doing immediately??

This time the chain had jumped off the rear sprocket and coiled itself around the axle, locking the rear wheel up. About half an hour was required to extricate the chain and finally loop it onto the sprocket. Firing the bike up to see if all was well I was rewarded with a whirring noise and not much else. My first thought was that I had mangled the gearbox, but on closer inspection the chain had jumped the front sprocket too. That was harder to sort, but having got the chain back where it should be, I took all the luggage off, got the tools out and adjusted the chain there on the side of the road. I noticed there was a small garage nearby and a guy was standing patiently in the doorway watching me, like a vulture watches rabbits trying to cross a road ;)

I put the bike in gear and was rewarded with something approximating final drive once more. Looking west the sun was not far from the horizon, and I realised I was still two hundred kilometers from Puerto San Julian, where I was going to spend the night. It would be dark soon. I figured I had the tent, and if I was going to pitch that it would need to be in the light, so as I rode along I looked for likely spots to camp. It was all so flat... I didn't want to be visible from the road.

Sunset seemed to last forever. Riding through it was an experience that will stay with me for the rest of my life. As the sun sank beneath the western horizon and the moon rose behind me, the perfectly cloudless sky became orange and purple in the east, and brilliant orange in the west. Overhead was a magnificent deep blue, with the brightest stars and the planet Venus becoming visible gradually. As I looked up the road, a large meteor plunged through the sky and broke up right before my eyes.

In the deepening gloom I could see shapes moving out in the pampa, they could have been sheep for all I know but all thoughts of camping vanished from my head ;) After a time I passed a small hill with two Guanacos silhouetted on the top, maybe they were the mystery shapes. It had been dark for some time when I reached San Julian, so cold that I didn't care where I stayed as long as it had blankets! The chain, worryingly, appeared to be very slack again.

In the morning after another adjusting session, I headed south before turning west towards El Calafate. The bike appeared to be going through petrol way too rapidly, and as there were no fuel stations I started to fret I was going to run out of fuel. With fifty kilometers still to go to Esperanza, where I hoped there was a garage, the fuel light started blinking at me. The furthest I had ever been on a blinking gauge was about thirty five km, in Canada. I was going to run out of fuel. The last twenty km into Esperanza were spent waiting for the bike to cut out and leave me with a long push across the Patagonian steppe.

Finally, cresting a rise I saw the telltale blue sign of a fuel station and whooped that I was going to make it. The garage didn't take credit cards and I only had enough cash for about ten litres, but it would get me to Calafate. Just. I adjusted the chain again, worried that one more adjustment would be all I could manage if the chain kept stretching. When I finally made El Calafate in the early evening, as I pulled up I could hear the chain rattling on the swingarm, it was so loose again :(



I ate dinner in the hotel and sat next to a huge window overlooking the Andes behind Lake Argentino. The sun was setting behind the mountains and the tortured, stretched shapes of clouds slowly danced in the sky. Several were edged with fine rainbow colours, all looked like the brush strokes of some giant master artist. I was happy that tomorrow, at least, I would be off the bike as I was going to see the Perito Moreno glacier. I could worry about what was for lunch for a change :)

Frase.