Southern Exposure

Friday, April 3

We left Ushuaia with almost a weightless feeling. It was a dark, gray morning with a damp chill in the air, but for the first time in a long time, we were going north instead of south. The race against winter south was over, but it felt like we’d almost tied mother nature. The mountain tops that had been lightly dusted when we rode in were now solidly blanketed in white snow.

On our way out of town, we had tried to catch a picture with Ross and his car, Jerry. Ross actually thought we meant it when we said we were leaving early, missing the key word trying in trying to leave early, which we rarely succeed at. By the time we’d reached his hostel at 10 he’d thought we already left and had gone out for breakfast. Jerry was still there and we took a picture with it.

The ride out of Ushuaia would be the best ride for days to come. The forest of greens, oranges, and reds climbed the sides of the mountains before ending at the solid white snow line. Ushuaia bid us farewell by treating us to a light snow storm to ride out in as we climbed through the mountain pass. It was very light and not dangerous, but it was our first riding in snow on the trip and an appropriate farewell to riding south.

As we descended out of the low mountains to the coastal plain, the charming light snow turned into a miserable rain. Rain and upper 30s or low 40s with a steady crosswind mixed in for good measure is not my idea of fun. I’d been expecting it to be cold and I was wearing everything I had for cold weather. Thermals on top and bottom, quilted jacket liner, two shirts, jeans, two pairs of socks, glove liners, and our windproof bank robber style masks. Even wearing all of this and the heated grips on high, it was a cold ride. My boots are no longer waterproof and slowly allow moisture to creep in.

By the time we reached Rio Grande, we were deeply chilled and not very happy. We rode through the entire town and didn’t see a single restaurant. It’s not a very attractive little town and our mood didn’t add any charm to it. After searching side streets, we finally found a burger joint type of place and we went in for coffee. Of course they didn’t serve coffee. Fortunately they had hot water and we were able to make some tea to drink while we ate some burgers. We tried to dry off a little by the gas stove but its heat was feeble. It was better than nothing though and we set off north slightly warmer.

We reached the border, and nothing had changed since we last went through. The line on the Argentinean side moved agonizingly slowly, while we were in and out of the Chilean border post in 10 minutes. The Argentinean border agents should take lessons from the Chilean agents.

The downside of being in Chile was the end of the pavement. The road north was in bad shape from the rain, with all of the million potholes filled in with water, making it impossible to judge the depth. Occasionally the hard packed mud unexpectedly gave way to slippery, soft mud and the bikes would get our adrenaline pumping by sliding around a bit. Otherwise it was a jarring, tough ride. With more potholes than flat surface, it was an endless series of jolts, with occasional big ones hiding as surprises beneath the muddy waters. The poor bikes took a beating.

We finally arrived in Cerro Sombrero in the early evening. The last mile into town was paved, which gave us great pleasure. The first hotel we came across and possibly the only hotel in town was suitable, and we eagerly unloaded the bikes. Inna had made us some sandwiches before we left in the morning, so without taking off our riding gear we walked in the cold to the grocery store to stock up on breakfast supplies. It felt wonderful when we returned to shed the heavy wet gear. We ate our sandwiches, took hot showers, and went to bed listening to the howl of the wind outside.