So here we are in the deep south of Patagonia just about to cross into Chile
our 22nd country and it starts to lag it down with snow - they didn't
mention that in the "Biking the Globe Holiday Brochure". We are not exactly
geared up for winter riding so we are wearing just about every item of
clothing we own and resemble Michelin Men. The summer gloves are the main
weak link and with a broken heated grip my left had is suffering. The
scenery is desolate down here and with the snow it just adds to the feeling
of isolation.

A short ride over the border we arrive in Puerto Natales the gateway to the
Torres Del Paine national park, a hiking and climbing Mecca. Alan and I now
have a difference of agenda and decide to do our own thing for a few days,
the first time our paths have diverged on the trip so far.

I really wanted to do some hiking in the National Park and take a short two
day whistle stop trek. I must say the Torres Del Paine Park is stunning and
well worth the effort. This enormous outcrop of jagged granite peaks (nearly
3000 meters high) poke out of a range of snow capped Andean mountains and is
surrounded by a lake and glacier filled wonderland. My decision to go was
last minute, so with rapid midnight packing of anything I thought I might
need I was off on my solo trip at 7am. The weather can be really changeable
and carrying only my bike oriented camping gear I was to say the least under
prepared, with not even a pair of hiking boots!

I had loosely arranged to meet up with some other hikers but in a splendid
example of miscommunication I managed to be doing my own thing. Luckily I
hooked up with Asa, an English bloke and off we trotted at breakneck speed.
I only managed to do a small corner of the Park but what I saw was
breathtaking, quite literally. Luckily it did not snow and with only minor
rain I managed to live through a very cold nights camping. Having proven my
point I decided to head back to my bike and catch Alan up.

Only a day later Alan and I meet at the Straits of Magellan ferry crossing
onto Tierra del Fuego: The Land of Fire and the end of the world. We were
now back off the tarmac on some good gravel trails, with hardly any other
vehicles there is a real feeling of being well off the beaten track.
Stopping at a roadhouse cafe an Argentinean family arrive by pick-up truck
suggesting that I had kicked up a rock as I had passed them and smashed
their windscreen. When you pass a vehicle on the gravel you have to be
fairly quick about it as you have a disconcerting few moments of zero
visibility in the dust cloud. I did mention that swapping insurance details
would be of little use (especially as mine had been canceled) as there had
been no collision. Depending on the country we often travel without
insurance (other than health), like most other riders doing this sort of
thing. After some research it is apparent that available insurance is either
outlandishly expensive and/or completely useless. So often we ride
unprotected though carefully and with fingers crossed.

Due to a lack of available rooms in Rio Grande we ride on at 8pm in the
lagging rain towards Ushuaia. This is our most tiring, wettest ride yet,
with freezing hands and steamed up visors/goggles we press on past some no
doubt, beautiful scenery totally focused on the trail ahead. Some sections
are quite muddy and passing trucks kicking up a thick brown spray is not
much fun. Finally the cloud breaks and like a vision of heaven we see the
sun setting ahead of us through a range of snow capped peaks.

Arriving into Ushuaia at 10.30pm it is still light, we are filthy and soaked
and all the hostel rooms are full, either that or again we look an
unattractive bet. After riding around town half a dozen times we finally
find something and take a well earned cold shower - nice! So we have made it
to the end of the world after having ridden nearly 22,000 miles in seven and
a half months - it must be beer time!

We decide to stay in Ushuaia for a few days as we have caught up with a few
other travelers we met previously along the way. The town has a great
frontier feel to it, surrounded by mountains and ocean it is the embarking
port for expensive cruises to Antarctica. The nights are very short here in
summer and the place has an almost eerie calm to it, especially considering
it is only a stones throw away from the infamous Cape Horn.

Heading north from Ushuaia we feel we at the half way point of our planned
journey and effectively on our way home - only 20,000 miles to go! Unsure of
which route to take our decision is cemented when my bike starts to run like
a dog. I spend a couple of fruitless sessions fiddling around checking for
good spark and proper fuel flow through the injectors. Under the fuel tank
there is a worrying confusion of electrical components and cables somewhat
resembling spaghetti, covered in a thick layer of dust. The beauty of our
high tech, modern 1150GS BMW's is that they are very reliable and rarely go
wrong. The down side being that when something bad plays up only the boys at
BMW can fix it – somewhat thin on the ground in Africa and South America. I
am seriously worried something might be up with the engine management
system, though I have checked all the connectors. Discretion being the
better part of valor we decide to head for a biker meeting at Viedma
directly without trying the Carretera Austral highway in Chile. The Austral
is supposed to be pretty wild gravel route snaking its way up through
Chilean Andes and one I have had my heart on since I first heard of it - Oh
well!

We arrive in Viedma to attend the Horizons Unlimited meeting and hook up
with Javier and Sandra and some of the other guys we met at Dakar Motos
(www.dakarmotos.com)
in Buenos Aires. As soon as we arrive Javier suggests swapping components
from Alan's bike to locate the problem on mine. I had suspected the left
cylinder injector and lo and behold it runs like a dream again with the one
fitted from Alan's bike. Why hadn't we thought of swapping components before
- Doh! This was the main reason we had chosen to ride his and hers, same
model bikes in the first place - honest!

The meeting was quite a hoot. Very well organized by Oscar and his family
whose hospitality showed no bounds. It was a great opportunity to meet up
with other bikers doing similar trips to ours. Horizons run a great web site
(www.horizonsunlimited.com) for overland bikers; it is a mine of useful
information and contacts. If you want to check out the photos and read the
meeting report have a look at their web site. The ride out to a middle of
nowhere farm down a cool track with around 12 bikes and a sidecar outfit was
a highlight. We tucked into a couple of barbecued lambs, ate with our
fingers and drunk wine from a sheep’s stomach squirty thingy - fun but
messy. The guys on the farm then cut us each a piece of sheep skin to
cushion our sore arses. Trouble was the skins were quite fresh and a bit
stinky and I soon found I was somehow quite popular with the stray dog
population. Oscar’s family pet found a particular affinity with my nether
regions, always entertaining in polite company.

In the evenings we generally had a few drinks some home cooked grub and on
the last night we had a good old sing along with Camilla on her guitar, the
only one amongst us with any talent. After a few too many glasses of the
local vino tinto Alan and I broke into the rugby songs - oops! I just hope
they never get a translator for that video recording!

Chilling and chatting around the camp was enjoyable and just as we were
starting to get use to this camping thing it decided to tip it down on the
last night. As we packed our tents in the mud and wet our new found affinity
with camping was starting to wane again. We adjourned to Oscar’s house for
more outstanding Argentinean hospitality and the use of his garage to
service our bikes and sort my fuel problem. I soon found the route cause:
half a tank full of filthy petrol including water, mud, grit and bits of
plastic - nice. Oscar ran us all over town for parts, let us use all his
tools and kept us fed and watered - what a great guy, just struggling
getting use to the Argentinean custom of man kissing - no tongues mind you!

It seems to be impossible to get tubeless semi off-road tires that will fit
our BMWs in South America so we again have to resort to getting them shipped
from the UK this time to Buenos Aires. Thanks again to our mate Graham at
IBS (www.ibsblowers.com). This is getting expensive, next time we might have
to be less picky and used cheaper tubed tires which can be sourced locally.

We make a short visit to Azul and La Posta the infamous overland biker stop
off point run by Pollo another top Argie. The whole place is decorated with
memorabilia and graffiti left by the passing overlanders - a very
interesting and cool place. We are again reminded of the popularity of the
type of journey we are into, especially in the Americas. We are also
reminded of the dangers, viewing a glass case containing the helmet of a
Japanese rider who died riding the Sahara.

Christmas in Buenos Aires was not exactly what we had expected, checked into
a lively hostel we got caught up in the backpacker scene and the late night
Argentinean culture, something we were struggling to get use to. Typical
Brits we head out at 8pm and everywhere is empty, by the time people start
arriving at midnight we are hanging by our chin straps. Maybe it's just me
but going out to a club at 2am and coming hope at lunchtime, just seems
wrong! None the less we met some great guys at the hostel, got into the
swing of it and had a good time.

New Years Eve in Cordoba was fun too. We met up with Vanny the daughter of a
guy we met for 20 minutes in a petrol station a few weeks ago and she showed
as around the city. This is a good example of Argentinean hospitality, they
did not know us from Adam and we were treated like long lost friends. Not
wanting to crash the family thing we went out alone on New Years Eve only to
find everything shut. We ended up seeing the New Year in with a beer and
sandwich at a street cafe, watching the kids let off bangers. We did carry
on though, with Vanny, her friends and 3000 other nutters to a massive
outdoor club until well past our breakfast time.

Before going north into Bolivia we are now heading west back into Chile over
the Paso del Agua Negra, crossing the Andes at 4800m. We have heard that the
trail is not too hard but then again that depends what kind of rider you are
talking too, a hero or a pussy. We, being heroic pussies are going to give
it our best shot