Ruta 40 Takes its Toll.....

Our first day on Ruta 40 across the Chilean border and on to El Calafate was tough to say the least, but what with the Argentine government's project for it to gradually being surfaced, and Ewan and Charlie's plan to "do" the Americas next, we are definitely doing this at the right time. The Perito Merino Glacier (not the confusingly same named Mountain, city and lake) was disappointing. Although massive in scale and the world's only currently advancing glacier, it felt very tacky and touristy, with visitor centres and minibus shuttles galore, a fate suffered by many of the world's other superlative sights. So next day, we continued on Ruta 40 to El Chalten and Mt Fitzroy. The weather was great and unusually calm, with none of the usual side winds to make the rutted and gravel roads even more challenging. The approach to El Chalten was brilliant. Almost as soon as we were out of El Calafate, we saw the profile of the mountain which towers over El Chalten, a distance of more than 200 kilometres away. The azure blue sky was streaked horizontally with white stratocumulus lines. With the sun blazing directly ahead in the northern sky, the Argentine national flag was made real. I stopped to take a picture and Neil did too, only to come off as the looser gravel on the side of the road gave way. We also had plenty of pushing action too as Neil was diverted by a newly laid tarmac road off to the side into loose gravel on soft sand. I didn't fancy the look of that so I broke the wire across the road and carried on the silky smooth tarmac. We met Duncan in town and planned a 2 day hike with him whilst Neil relaxed in town. El Chalten had a similar feel to Puerto Natales, in that it was a relaxed place, a bit of the current tourist trail, but with the feel that was soon to change with the completion of the metalled road. We learned later that the town was founded in 1982. Next day, Duncan and I trudged the dusty roads looking for breakfast and supplies, before heading off to Laguna de los Tres, with a steep uphill finish for a fabulous view of Mount Fitzroy, the eponymous tarn below, still fed by a rumbling and cracking glacier.We continued towards laguna Piedra Blanca, looking for a wild campsite and were rewarded by some rock - hopping into a hidden gorge, with the laguna and its regularly calving glacier beyond. Although the arroyo exiting the glacier had a strong current, there were plenty of significant lumps of ice left for Duncan and I to try out jumping and walking from one to the other. A late night, or rather an early morning (it doesn't get dark here until gone 12.30am) pee run from the tent gave us our most stunning view of the southern nightsky yet, with familiar sights as Orion and the Milky Way clearly in sight and new features such as the coal sack and the Southern Cross clearly visible in stunning brilliance too. Next day we went via Laguna Capri to Laguna Torre and back to meet up with Neil.
Off from El Chalten the next day towards Perito Merino - the town, not the lake, the mountain or the glacier. Ruta 40 is getting tougher, sand, dirt and deep gravel ruts which are almost 2 feet deep in some areas and a real challenge to cross, whether because of oncoming traffic, overtaking or just because your concentration wanders on such long straight stretches, before suddenly coming across a corner, a bridge or a pothole. I am feeling good though, especially now that my fork seals are fixed and my fork stanchions are tightened (Pablo left them loose as we discovered in El Chalten - hence my previous poor handling). I find myself conquering fear by riding with confidence, mostly stood up on the pegs for greater control along with the automatic feeling of assertiveness this affords. My normal neck ache and back strain start to disappear and the riding experience improves to the point where I am enjoying the challenging conditions.In particular, I am leading when we overtake a 4x4 convoy of adventure overlanders, crossing ruts, dodging the stones thrown up by their wake through the blinding and choking dust feels exciting and challenging. At that point, I sit down for the first time in what seems like hours and notice that there is no-one behind me even when I slow down so my own dust plume disappears. I wait for a few minutes for Neil and Duncan to appear - when they don't, my heart goes cold and I get a sick, acid taste in my mouth as I ride back and still no-one comes to meet me the other way with a wave and then in the distance I see a cluster of people and cars by the side of the road. I eventually refine the image that rushing up to meet me through the heat haze as the 4x4 convoy, a bashed up bike, an ok looking bike by the side of the road and Duncan sitting in the ditch, with Neil putting a sling on his right arm. Duncan looks shaken and pale and explains that he got into a tank - slapper as he crossed one of the deep ruts and was thrown off to the side of the road at some speed. Luckily, the loose gravel was an advantage to some extent when landing an prevented more serious damage to his bike and his body. Still, it looks initially like he has dislocated or possibly broken his shoulder and the front console of his bikeis smashed up, although once we haul it up, the bike starts and is ridable, although the forks are twisted at a strange angle.
Luckily, in such an empty stretch of the road, Estancia Angostura is nearby and we are able to summon help from friendly Maria and Fede who come out to the road and carry Duncan and his bashed up luggage to the farmhouse and call an ambulance, whilst Neil and I shuttle the bikes off the road. This is great for us all, as it turns out theirs is a tourist Estancia and just to get off the hot and dusty road, with all the well - meaning but patronising remarks of the 4x4 convoy to slow down and take it easy, etc is great. Particularly when we come doen into the Estancia and enter a river valley that is green and verdant and full of stock and wild animals, only a couple of kilometres from the dry and dust of the empty desert by the roadside. The ambulance arrives, and I ride the 50km to Gobernador Gregores hospital behind Duncan whilst Neil fixes up his bike some more. We get to the small but efficient hospital on what is Friday evening and Duncan is seen to straight away, having X rays and painkillers whilst I sort out the insurance and paperwork and do the translation job. It seems odd to me that even here, the hospital is roasting hot and the central heating system is turned on! However, the main difference is that there is a stray dog wandering around the ward with as much proprietorial nonchalance as the medical staff, who also ignore him as though he was a regular visitor. It turns out that he has broken his collar bone and whilst they patch him up, they want him to travel a further 200km more on a bus on Monday to attend a trauma clinic run by a specialist in Buena Piedra. I explained this to him, along with my experience of breaking my collar bone twice, and eventually we made a plan to get him a taxi and into a hotel for the weekend, found out the bus schedule and sorted out some food and drink from the local supermarket. After the clinic on Monday, Duncan would return to the Estancia, where the rest of his stuff was, recuperate for the 3 or more weeks they estimated, work on his bike and then carry on. It felt terrible to leave him, although he chose this plan as my advice to return to the Estancia straight away was dismissed because he felt the dirt road was too bumpy and painful. It was starting to get dark too and I was glad for the foresight of removing my luggage before setting out as the road followed the course of a river between Gobernador Gregores and the Estancia, through mud, sand and plenty of corrugations and was amongst the most challenging riding so far for me, and the most beautiful too as the moon rose through the dusk and the guanacos, nandu, armadillos and patagonian hares came out to play.
I get back to find Neil fixing up Duncan's bike so it is ridable - forks are bent, which was not possible to fix at the Estancia and was uncomfortable but possible for Duncan to ride out to Buenos Aires or Santiago in a few weeks time. Judging by how asymmetrical his shoulders looked in the hospital, it could be the most comfortable position for him anyway. At the same time, a parilla is starting and we meet an Argentinian family who are staying there and 3 dutch. Neil and I eat and drink with relish after a tough day and we get on really well with the Argentines, who are a fun loving group and soon get out their guitar and we all have a sing song session until late in the night. Up the next day, we pack up Duncan's stuff into one of the barns, write him a note (detailing what we have done on the bike and encouraging not to stop his journey) and make a plan for his return with Fede and get going again on the road. The heat haze, dust and long straights of this section lead to some hallucinagenic confusion. Objects in the far distance seem to rush up to you at the last minute and it is hard to tell whether the few and far between occasions when you see someone else on the road, whether they are travelling towards you or away from you until the last minute. Also, we take all day to travel a surprisingly short distance and find it hard to locate exactly where we are on the map. Our growing concerns about running out of petrol are allayed when we reach the fly - blown outpost of Baja Caracoles, which has petrol and is the junction with a road that heads into the mountains and the Cuevos de Manos, a cave with prehistoric art inside. We decide not to visit the caves and order some surpringly good coffee and some unsurprisingly bad sandwiches from the man who served us the petrol outside. He seems to be the only one working in the enitre place, although there are lots of other blokes hanging around, most noticeably a Mr Big character with a briefcase from which he seems to be dispensing and receiving money and various other pieces of paper. Two clean cut American backpacker - girls approach us to ask if we can give them a lift to the caves as they had been dropped off by a bus more than 3 hours ago - they just looked like the wrong people in the wrong place and as we left, we hoped they got to see the caves, but most importantly that they got out of Baja Caracoles...... We continued to Perito Merino, the city, not the glacier, the mountain or the lake - as we crossed our path for the first time and found a nice little cabana to hole up for the night. We noticed a good looking fruit shop on the corner and rushed out to buy some delicious peaches, plums and bananas, our first fruit for a while. We are also join by a stray bitch and her pups (mostly alsatian) who live under our cabana and who we enjoy playing with.
Our plans to be up and out early are thwarted by the barking dogs through the night (who have also stolen and chewed up Neil's socks), the first petrol station not having any fuel (something that is happening more frequently in the last few days) and the other one being re-fuelled, taking 45 minutes. Neil gets minty because he needs to crap (the fruit was obviously working!) and he goes through the rigmarole of getting the key, finding the men's too dirty to use and trying to explain why he needs the key to the ladies! Anyway, eventually we get going and onwards through the roughest section of Ruta 40 so far. At a diversion, I am sent off the road into heavy gravel and all of a sudden I am thrown into a rodeo competition as the bike is changed into a bucking bronco. Twisting and rolling to try to throw me off, come off the saddle and only my instinct to stand up on the pegs, come off the throttle to slow down and then power through the stones without touching the brakes or clutch gets me through. Again and again, we are sent of the main dirt road, into the dirt, which has had a lot of heavy chunks of gravel thrown onto it, then a T junction and we are almost into Rio Mayo, where hopefully we can get some more fuel and some coffee. The diversions are because of the perpetual roadworks we have seen to tarmac the Ruta 40. I slow to let the dust settle behind me so I can see behind me and sit down to check that Neil is still in my mirror and no sight of him. I check to see he is not in the blind spot and no sign, so slow and wait in case he has stopped for a slash. Wait for a few minutes and then turn around with the same growing chill in my heart and acid tast in my mouth as a couple of days before. My worst fears are confirmed as I return to find Neil and the bike on the side of the road after he was thrown off by the soft gravel of the diversion. Thankfully he only has a few bashes and bruises and his bike is ridable too, although the front end is smashed and the sub frame bent so that his front mudguard is fallen into the wheel. We haul up the bike and crawl on to Rio Mayo, where there is nothing at all and eventually getting fuel in Gobernador Costa and then holing up for the night in Esquel. Next day we move on to El Bolson, find a dirty but cheap cabana where we can work on the bike (mainly with my axe to re-shape the sub frame) and relax in this comfortable town with a wide variety of micro - breweries (cold bottles of cerveza frambuesa are our favourites) and play pool in Los Dos Ruedas, the local bikers bar. we also meet up with the Argentinean family again who invite us to stay at there place for a few days, but now we are on a mission to meet up with Nat and Lena in Lima in less than a month.....