Its been a blast

Well Buenos Aires turned out to be quiet a city. Arriving on Ruta 3 from the south we saw the city build and build until we felt very small indeed. However, even in the city people where shouting and waving at us from cars and vans and, even at a rest stop in a gas station we had people congratulating us on our journey.

We had been told that there was an over lander’s hostel come garage called Dakar Motors to the west of the city so we headed for that. We got within a few miles of the hostel before we did the taxi thing to take us to the door. What a great place Dakar motors is. Friendly and welcoming, it is a garage with bunk beds as opposed to a hostel, but it would do nicely for us as we found our feet in this massive city. Sandra, at Dakar motors, could also help us get the shed ready for its return to the UK. This was a wonderful help and I have no idea how we would have managed without her.

As it was a Wednesday the arrangements would be made to sort the paperwork out the following day and the shed would be flying east the following Monday or Tuesday. This would give Sandra (my Sandra) and I the chance to see a bit of the city and get our flights changed from the 25th some two and half weeks away.

A great and cheap hotel

Unfortunately we could not get our tickets changed due to a very heavy demand so this meant we had longer time to kill in the city. Funds being dangerously low it meant tightening our belt a little and we found a clean cheap hotel right in the city centre. I was dreading spending that much time in the city, but to be honest BA was wonderful, a very exciting place indeed. You get the impression that history is happening all the time in this city, things and people (politicians especially) changing all the time. I can wholeheartedly recommend this wonderful place.



Lots of artists selling really good stuff

I liked this bridge just like one we have back home in Middlesbrough

We did the tourist thing and visited most of the famous places. We met up with our good friends Sebastian and Diego (remember them from Peru) who showed us a great time. Diego showed us his boat that he was restoring, a fine craft from the 1940’s. We had a beer or two on board, tried Mate for the first time and both treated us to the most wonderful steak lunch. Thanks guys you helped make our stay in BA great.

All was going well until the second to last day. We were at an internet café (remember our PC had died the week before) writing the last blog when we discovered that someone had stolen Sandra’s bag. Not much was in it but our camera was. This was not going to defeat us though, we simply spent the last day and a half in the city retracing our steps and taking the same pictures again with our backup camera. It turned out to be great fun and clearly demonstrating, yet again, that every cloud has a silver lining. So that was BA. We caught up with friends, had our first Tango lesson, ate wonderful Argentinian beef, saw how tango should be done, saw the Evita museum and tomb (very interesting) and toured the city. What a way to end our trip.

Our Transport home

The flight back was uneventful. We were picked at Heathrow airport up on a rainy dark morning by my brother in law, Patrick and my nephew, Mike. These chaps had travelled all the way from the north of England just to pick us up (big thanks chaps) and on the way north we had planned to pick up the shed some 240 miles north at Manchester Airport. After several hours on rain covered motorways we found the old girl in a corner of a cold bleak warehouse strapped to the same pallet we had tied her down to on that hot, hot day in Buenos Aires. It was an interesting contrast.

The bike also seemed smaller now, less important in this busy place. But this old BMW had done its job beautifully and we are both now rather attached to her. Untied and off the pallet, she fired up first time. Sandra and I put on lots of clothing for the final 40 miles in cold, dank and wet conditions to our final destination, We were back and the family was waiting to greet us, a real nice home coming.

However, coming home is not as we expected it to be.

First and foremost, I have to say it has been wonderful to see all our friends and family again. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to see my kids and folks again. However it’s all a bit of a shock too. Having spent the last seven and a half months making very simple but very important decisions, coming back to what seems like complex situations and details you are not used to is a bit of a shock. Cars need taxing, the bike needs insuring, people need details, trusts get bent out of shape, jobs need to be found. It all seemed a far cry from the Patagonia roads where Sandra and I made all the choices. However, we are slowly getting back into the pace of things but as my daughter Michelle put it, "it’s been a very hard landing Dad".

So where does this leave us. Well first and foremost I am immensely proud of our achievement. I think this has been the most wonderful part of my life but getting this across to folks is a little difficult and it’s hard to explain well. I have learnt a few things though about adventure motorcycling. Firstly it has nothing to do with start and end points, Prudhoe Bay and Ushuaia are for me, just points on the map. Maybe necessary to contain the journey, but the real achievement and enjoyment is the day to day riding on that old bike, just me and Sandra seeing everything new for the first time, each day bring all kinds of excitement,. We have seen such wonderful sights, met incredible people who go to almost any lengths to help; we sincerely hope that we can stay in touch with all of them. My faith in human nature is well and truly restored. I have loved this trip and believe it has changed me. We sit here on a cold English winters afternoon having severe withdrawal symptoms. They might go in time, but I hope not. Even now Sandra and I are talking about taking off again…….. maybe China….. maybe round the world who knows.

It just leaves me to say “adios” and a big “thank you” to you, dear blog reader, I have no idea how many of you are out there, but I sincerely hope you have enjoyed both Sandra and my blogs. We have loved writing them and receiving the comments and good wishes. Your scribe will be, hopefully writing again soon as we prepare for One Adventure Two Journeys…………… the sequel.

To be Continued…………………………………..

The never ending Ruta 3 north

Firstly, apologies for the lenth of time it has taken to get this blog published. We now find ourselves in the Capitol of Argentina in this wondeful city called Buenos Aires, waiting for our flight home.


But I´m getting ahead of myself a bit. I last left you crossing the last border from Chile into Argentina and believing that was about that. It´s all a breeze from here on in I thought. This was to be a very wrong assumption on my part. We had the small task of traveling the whole length of Ruta 3. Whilst almost a fully paved road, this 3000Km length of black stuff takes you from Ushuaia to Benous Aries through some of the most boring countryside you could imagine. Long straight stretches and when I say long, we are talking eight days long. We started to feel the pain almost as soon as we started. Patagonia is noted for its fierce winds and we were not to be spared any of its anger.


The ride north from Rio Gregarros started of quiet enough but as the morning went on the winds picked up hinting at what lay ahead of us. We were buffeted from side to side as we battled the winds. Mile after mile was spent trying to hold the bike steady and this started to tell across my shoulders. Anyway it was only a matter of time and some heart stopping moments that we arrived in Puerto San Julian. The weather was at least warm and dry and after we found our hotel and got settled in we decided to explore the town. Puerto San Julian, as far as we can tell, is a small holiday coastal town. It seemed very quiet to us but we decided to have a ride around the town and it turned out to be very interesting indeed. It had a tourist cartoon galleon ship which you could pay a fortune to look around,




so we didn’t, and a memorial to the galliant men who lost there lives fighting in the Malvinas (Falklands) war. We stopped for a short while and paid our respects.


We often thought that the issue with this small group of islands would have been a greater focus with people we had met in Argentina on our trip, but this is not the case. No one has ever mentioned this to us at all. We have always been greatly welcomed by everyone we have met in this country, which we both were beginning to become very attached too. The town also had a little waterfall and a very very good restaurant, so fully watered (wine) and fed we trooped off back to our hotel for a good nights sleep.


The next morning was New Years Eve and we set of again as early as we could to avoid the winds, which really did not work. Super strong gusts would actually push the tyres across the tarmac either into the oncoming traffic or into the verge, I am not sure which I disliked more, but no matter which direction you are riding in the wind ALWAYS seemed to be a cross wind and it was becoming very hard work indeed. More endless straight roads and endless miles saw us in Comodoro Rivadavia, a rather big town/City, but it was new years eve, Party time


Now Sandra’s and my idea of a party after seven months of traveling is a quick drink then bed. New Years Eve was to be no exception. We did try and find some signs of life in the town but just like Christmas day in Ushuaia everything was closed. However the hotel we stayed in had its fair share of bikers. Ruta 3 is an iconic road and Argentineans and Brazilians will often travel its length. We met a bunch of Brazilians who where heading south and full of excitement about their trip. We had been given a couple of miniatures Irish whiskeys from Mark, the crazy Northern Irish bar owner from the Shamrock in Canoa, Ecuador. We had carried these two small bottles of Irish golden wonder all this way and we had promised Mark they would be drunk on a special occasion. A new decade seemed special enough to us. So our crazy party antics consisted of telephoning the families at nine o’clock (midnight UK time) downing the whisky and hitting the sack.

It should be noted now that both Sandra and I had some serious fatigue issues. Traveling for seven months was taking it´s toll and we where both feeling it badly. The goal had been reached and we where heading home. This had allowed us to relax a bit, but with this came a deep weariness, something that’s hard to explain. Anyway the next morning the Brazilians wished us a happy new year in English and off we set.


We had seen on the map that just west of a town called Trelew was a Welsh settlement called Gaiman. Our plan was to ride to Trelew, park up for a few days and visit Gaiman. The ride was the now familiar beating from the Patagonia winds, my shoulders now very painful from trying to steady the shed, but the weather was still dry and we made it to Trelew which turned out to be a big disappointment. Still very quiet (new years day) and it seemed somewhat unwelcoming. We decided to press on straight to Gaiman. Only one thing prevented this, which way? We have now learned that as soon as we are lost we stop at a garage and ask directions. This we did.


In front of us was a rather large oldish chap on a moped who, having heard our plight, insisted that we follow him to the right road. It’s hard keeping a fully loaded shed at something less than walking pace, but this kind chap took this odd looking convoy to the correct road. It’s just incredible what people will do for you. We shook hands and were on our way.

Gaiman is both bonkers and wonderful. Hot and sticky when we arrived, the town seemed almost deserted. This is normal in most South American towns in the afternoon. Now Gaiman has a wonderful history. Founded by the Welsh in the late eighteen hundreds this South American town has all kinds of sights and sounds that echo its Welsh heritage. The people for one thing are not typical looking, light skinned and hair, blue eyes and some very non South American surnames, like Davis and Jones, Evens and Griffiths. The town itself still retains it’s welsh architecture and the shop names are in Welsh as well as spanish. We were told the kids all learn Welsh in school too.


We had a meal at a local tavern and the proprietor was very proud of his welsh ancestry and showed us a scrap book of all the past families and events of the town. In the evening we walked in the square and it was great watching the families come out and socializes together and seeing dads playing with kids in the evening sunshine. All in all it was a great place to visit. Our Hostel was a bit basic...... err very basic, but our host made us feel very welcome even saying that I looked like a very famous rock star. Modesty prevents me for saying who this is but it made Sandra and I laugh. He also went to the trouble of getting some stickers for the shed, something we had trouble finding.

An early start saw more straight roads and more wind, it was really beginning to tell on us. But we made it to San Antonio Ouste, again a disappointing town full of dust from construction so we pressed on to Viedma. Now the lonely planets book gives this town the thumbs down, but we found it to be a really nice place. A large wide river with people enjoying the sunshine along its banks, a great hotel with secure parking for the Shed meant we had a great evening and night.

The next morning saw an even earlier start with good weather at first. The winds picked up almost straight away and steadily got stronger and stronger. Then we noticed SAND being blown across the road. Given that we were being thrown from one side of the road to the other the addition of sand made me feel very uncomfortable about the whole affair. Then to add insult to injury the rain threatened to pour. As we rode on we could see mist in the distance, but as we approached this mist turned out to be a wall of sand being blown around. It was like entering a sand blasting chamber.

Any exposed skin got stung by this combination of wind and sand. The bike stated to gleam as the months of grime and dirt peeled away under the onslaught. Even the nasty old stains left be the goo on the Dalton Highway back in June was cleaned up; proving every cloud has a silver lining, except for the big rain clouds that constantly threatened us with a soaking.


We were lucky and only got a mild wetting and the day suddenly got better weather wise so we pressed on. We reached Bahia Blanca, a biggish town, and started the usual trawl for a hotel. It was very hot by now and the hotels did not have great parking for the shed. As we discussed our options a cab pulled up and basically told us to follow him. We knew he did not know what we wanted but like sheep we followed him anyway; he led us out of town to Ruta 3 north thinking we were leaving instead of arriving. Still this meant we could visit the sea side town of Punta Alta and stay there the night.

From there it was an uneventful ride to Azul, our final stop before Buenos Aires. A road side hotel and a meal had us ready for the City.

Our very last fuel stop of our adventure.

The Pillion

Now a quick word about “the pillion”, Its hard to even imagine taking a trip like this without Sandra. In fact I don't know of another woman who would even consider a adventure like this. Sandra has always been a tower of strength, she has a sixth sense on the bike and has never complained at every left hand bend I managed to cock up and has always ridden perfectly every time I managed to nail a right hand one She is steady and thinks logically in the face of sometimes great difficulties, she has kept me sane. We have laughed, cried, nearly died, fought and loved on this trip. Sandra you have been wonderful and without you this whole thing would be without meaning..... thank you.

The Pillion.... My wife, who made this all possible