Lugares

Wheels,

Adventure touring, One Eye on Road, Other on Patagonia





Torturous roads compete with stunning scenery in 'bike tour of Southern-most
America
JEFF JONES
Special to the Star

Riding through Patagonia on a motorcycle is not the typical way for tourists to travel. Most prefer the comfort of a tour or a rented 4x4.
The huge region in the extreme southern end of South America is a harsh, expensive, beautiful and unforgiving land made up of bad roads and brathtaking scenery.
However, to really experience it, you should be "in it" rather than "on it". The only way to do that is from the seat of a motorcycle.
The idea of a ride to Patagonia was hatched over lunch with my friend, Dyon Yungblut at the Toronto Motorcycle Show in 2006. We were police officers together in London, Ont., until he felt the pull of the corporate world and left to get his MBA. We both shared a love for wilderness travel.
Dion said that he had recently spotted a website in Chile (motoaventura.cl) where we could each rent a BMWR1200GS - a model that we both had an interest in buying as replacements for our current BMWs. It was also a bike that has acquired a cul-like status among adventure touring riders.
Suddenly, our vacation looked like it might also be an opportunity for an extended text ride.
"Im really busy at work though, and I can only spare about 12 days." Dion said "Do you think we can do Patagonia in 10?"
I'd read in Patagonia, The Motorcycle Diaries and Chansing Che, so the idea had instant appeal. It's a vast place, almost 700.000 square kilometres of mostly wilderness. We wanted to see it, as Lt. John Dunbar says in Dances With Wolves, before it's all gone." Large corporations and wealthy private individuals are already buying up hunge chunks of it.

   Dion Yungblut heads across the Torres del Paine as he and friend Jeff Jones continue their motorcycle tour of Patagonia. The two rented BMWR1200GS bikes in Chile and toured for 10 days.

Patagonia more real on two wheels
The plan was to ride as fas south as we could, perhaps to Tierra del Fuego. This meant crossing the border between Chile and Argentina several times.

We arrived in Oosrno, Chile 10 months later, a little early for good weather but less likely to encounter tens of thousands of 4x4 tourist and backpackers who visit annually.

Roberto and Sonia at MotoAentura, the rental agency, gave us route suggestions and an introduction to the bikes controls. Arrangements were made to have the bikes shipped by boat back to Osorno.

Even though it weights considerably less than its predecessors (R1150GS), the R1200GS is a big bike any way you look at it. We were both long-time riders, but neither of us had any real of-road experience to speak of. However, as soo as we got under way, the stability and comfort of the big Beemers put us at ease.

   The road to Coihaique was closed for three hours due to construction work. So the riders sat down with flag girl Eva and brewed some tea.

It is 120 km of paved road along Hwy. 215 from Osorno to San Carlos de Bariloche just across the border. In that short distance, we rode through the most varied scenery of the trip.

From temperate, green lowlands, the road climbed steadily up to a cold mountain pass dusted with fresh snow. Then down into arid, desert like terrain before finaly reaching the lush lakes district surrounding the pretty town of Bariloche, whose European roots are strongly reflected in its architecture. It was as if Patagonia had not made up its mind what sort of place if wanted to be.

It was National Election Day in Argentina when we arrived, but you'd never have known it. During a brief ride around town, we didn't see any of the advertising that normally accompanies our own elections. The front-runner was Christina Kirchner, the wife of the outgoing president. If elected, she would be the first woman presidenta in Argentina's history - a sort of latter day Evita, according to some graffiti.

We settled ourselves in a small café near our hotel and watched the election coverage on a television in the bar. I asked the waiter who was going to win. He looked at me and laughed: "Christina! How can she not win? Her husband is the president." The headlines in the newspaper the following day ( in October, 2007) confirmed her victory by a big majority.

Touring deepest South America



Highways 258 and 40 out of Bariloche towards Trevelin were well paved through fast, scenic valleys. It was still early and cold and I switchen on my heated handgrips. The adjustable windscreen seemed perfectly set up for me, pushing the cold air high up and over my helmet.

After about 150 km. it got warmer and the tree-lined valleys eventually broke onto flat, scrubby prairie and land reminiscent of western Saskatchewan.
In Trevelin, settled by Welsh immigrants in the 19th century, we stayed at the Hostal Casa Verde for $25 (U.S.) a night, including breakfast.
I like to talk to people when I travel and over breakfast the next morning, I asked Pablo, the young cook, about himself.
"I'm from Rosario, ouside Buenos Aires." he said. "It is the birthplace of the Che Guevara - we are very proud of this." I mentioned hat I had read about Che and reminden him it was 40 years ago, in 1967, that he had been killed in Bolivia.
"Yes, he was killed" he replied, "but is inmortal".
The Carretera Austral or Southern Highway runs for 1.240 km along Chile's west coast. Begun in 1976 under General Augusto Pinochet's regime. Ruta 7, as it is commoly known, is a main highway connecting many of Chile's smaller communities which were previously inaccessible.
The road surface is packed gravel for most of its length, steeply banked on both sides and susceptible to frequent washouts - not the sort of place where you can easily stop in case of emergency.

Once, we came upon a beautiful stretch of freshly laid asphalt complete with lane markings. Accelerating hard around a bend, rejoicing in our good fortune, we were startled to find a work crew kneeling in the middle of the road. We leaned the bikes over hard right to avoid a collision. They seemed bewildered to see us there and simply stared as we rode past. Abruptly, 15 km farther along, the Carretera changed its mind and petered out into gravel again.

Riding between the tall mountain ranges of Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, the riders were almost caught out a couple of times by guanacos in the road.

The Carretera winds it way through spectacular scenery of tall, snow-capped peaks, which form the spine of the Andes Mountains. The mountain runoff feeds the cold, swiftly flowing rivers in the valleys below and wildlife is never far away. There is a sense of constant natural renewal. Patagonia could easily pass for Middle Earth.

Coming out of the small town of Puyuhuapi on Ruta 7, the road got progressively worse and was slick with mud, sharp rocks and potholes. It was difficult to appreciate the beauty of the cascading waterfalls on my left and pretty bays and inlets to the right while trying to keep the bike upright. But this was GS territory. The bike was built to take a pounding - that's one of the reasons its BMW's bestseller.

The road ahead was closed for three hours due the construction work. Never one to miss an opportunity, Dion broke out his camp stove and brewed up a pot of tea, which we shared with Eva, the construction flag girl. She pointed out a local plant called nalca that grows wild at the roadside and broke off a piece for me to eat. It tasted like bitter rhubarb and is said to have fortifying properties. It didn't seem to work for me.

By the ime we reached the city of Coihaique, we were concerned about time. It had taken us two days to ride only 200 km. We decided we would have to cross back into Argentina and follow a better thighway. Ruta 40, south. It was more circuitous, but would save us time.

Crossing border near Coihaique, Chile and Argentina

Our rental company had thoughfully provided us with several copies of the documents we would need to make the border crossings with little fuss and we had no problems with officialdom anywhere.

The normal fuel range of the R1200GS is about 330 km before you need to look for gas. But the strong winds that blew us across the Argentina Pampas dropped our fuel range to half that distance so we had to be careful planning stops.

At 65 cents a litre, fill-ups in Argentina were relatively inexpensive compared to Chile where it was twice the price.

Gas stops usually brought out small groups who stood and watched us fill up. Big bikes are a rarity down here.

By now we were both very comfortable with riding on gravel or ripio as it called in Spanish. The Beemers were running well and obviously in their element and our Hepco & Becker motorcycle luggage was as a solid as a rock.


I'd brought along in Patagonia and read in my guidebook that author Bruce Chatwin had stayed at the Hotel Belgrano in the small town of Perito Moreno during the wanderings. The town was just up ahead so we decided to spend the night there.

I would describe our room as early Spartan and it wasn't very clean. It looked as if nothing had changed, including the linen, since Chatwin's visit in the 1970s.

"How many crime scene photos do you think this room has been in?" I asked Dion. He didn't think he could count that high. Still, the barbecued lamb was good and they were almost giving away the local wine.

In San Julian, a small town of 6.500 people, we saw a monument to the Argentina dead of the Falklands (Malvinas) War. A statie Mirage fighter sat atop the monument. Many sorties were flown from San Julian against the British Task Force in 1982.

Riding down through the tall mountain ranges of Torres del Paine National Park, we were almost caught out a couple times by guanacos in the road. These wild llamas, who are related to camels, have the very camel-like trait of spitting at you if you annoy them. Even so, a few of the looked as if they were encouraging us to stop and take their photograps. We did - from a distance.

A look at the map confirmed our suspicions that we were a long way from Tierra del Fuego. It looked as if Punta Arenas - Chile's southernmost city situated on the Strait of Magellan was about as far south as we'd get in the time left. That's where we were flying home from so it made sense to end the trip there.

About 30 km outside town is the Otway Sound penguin colony. After lots of photographs, I noticed a thunderstorm moving in from the east. If it rainde we'd never get out. The road in was just a mud track and would become a quagnire.

In true Ewan McGregor and Cherley Boorman fashion (of long Way Round fame), we got up on the pegs, twisted the throttle and sped off in a plume of dirt and mud. The penguins looked amused.

Even though we'd gorged ourselves on lamb throughout the trip, at a restaurant in Punta Arenas that night we ate the best barbequed lamt either of us had ever tasted - all three courses of it.

After logging 2.400 on the bikes, we reluctantly dropped them off at Puerto Natales the next day and I knew what I'd buying next.

Over a few Pisco sours in the hotel bar that evening, we agreed that the trip had been a blast and the BMWs perfect for the job.

All kinds of tourist fly in or drive to Patagonia these days. And that's a shame because on a bike, it is still the best way to see it.


Choice the trip of your dreams

Wheels, Adventure touring, One Eye on Road, Other on Patagonia	Torturous roads compete with stunning scenery in 'bike tour of Southern-most America JEFF JONES Special to the Star Riding through Patagonia on a motorcycle is not the typical way for tourists to travel. Most prefer the comfort of a tour or a rented 4x4. The huge region in the extreme southern end of South America is a harsh, expensive, beautiful and unforgiving land made up of bad roads and brathtaking scenery. However, to really experience it, you should be "in it" rather than "on it". The only way to do that is from the seat of a motorcycle. The idea of a ride to Patagonia was hatched over lunch with my friend, Dyon Yungblut at the Toronto Motorcycle Show in 2006. We were police officers together in London, Ont., until he felt the pull of the corporate world and left to get his MBA. We both shared a love for wilderness travel. Dion said that he had recently spotted a website in Chile (motoaventura.cl) where we could each rent a BMWR1200GS - a model that we both had an interest in buying as replacements for our current BMWs. It was also a bike that has acquired a cul-like status among adventure touring riders. Suddenly, our vacation looked like it might also be an opportunity for an extended text ride. "Im really busy at work though, and I can only spare about 12 days." Dion said "Do you think we can do Patagonia in 10?" I'd read in Patagonia, The Motorcycle Diaries and Chansing Che, so the idea had instant appeal. It's a vast place, almost 700.000 square kilometres of mostly wilderness. We wanted to see it, as Lt. John Dunbar says in Dances With Wolves, before it's all gone." Large corporations and wealthy private individuals are already buying up hunge chunks of it.
Dion Yungblut heads across the Torres del Paine as he and friend Jeff Jones continue their motorcycle tour of Patagonia. The two rented BMWR1200GS bikes in Chile and toured for 10 days.	Patagonia more real on two wheels The plan was to ride as fas south as we could, perhaps to Tierra del Fuego. This meant crossing the border between Chile and Argentina several times. We arrived in Oosrno, Chile 10 months later, a little early for good weather but less likely to encounter tens of thousands of 4x4 tourist and backpackers who visit annually. Roberto and Sonia at MotoAentura, the rental agency, gave us route suggestions and an introduction to the bikes controls. Arrangements were made to have the bikes shipped by boat back to Osorno. Even though it weights considerably less than its predecessors (R1150GS), the R1200GS is a big bike any way you look at it. We were both long-time riders, but neither of us had any real of-road experience to speak of. However, as soo as we got under way, the stability and comfort of the big Beemers put us at ease.
The road to Coihaique was closed for three hours due to construction work. So the riders sat down with flag girl Eva and brewed some tea.	It is 120 km of paved road along Hwy. 215 from Osorno to San Carlos de Bariloche just across the border. In that short distance, we rode through the most varied scenery of the trip. From temperate, green lowlands, the road climbed steadily up to a cold mountain pass dusted with fresh snow. Then down into arid, desert like terrain before finaly reaching the lush lakes district surrounding the pretty town of Bariloche, whose European roots are strongly reflected in its architecture. It was as if Patagonia had not made up its mind what sort of place if wanted to be. It was National Election Day in Argentina when we arrived, but you'd never have known it. During a brief ride around town, we didn't see any of the advertising that normally accompanies our own elections. The front-runner was Christina Kirchner, the wife of the outgoing president. If elected, she would be the first woman presidenta in Argentina's history - a sort of latter day Evita, according to some graffiti. We settled ourselves in a small café near our hotel and watched the election coverage on a television in the bar. I asked the waiter who was going to win. He looked at me and laughed: "Christina! How can she not win? Her husband is the president." The headlines in the newspaper the following day ( in October, 2007) confirmed her victory by a big majority.
Touring deepest South America	Highways 258 and 40 out of Bariloche towards Trevelin were well paved through fast, scenic valleys. It was still early and cold and I switchen on my heated handgrips. The adjustable windscreen seemed perfectly set up for me, pushing the cold air high up and over my helmet. After about 150 km. it got warmer and the tree-lined valleys eventually broke onto flat, scrubby prairie and land reminiscent of western Saskatchewan. In Trevelin, settled by Welsh immigrants in the 19th century, we stayed at the Hostal Casa Verde for $25 (U.S.) a night, including breakfast. I like to talk to people when I travel and over breakfast the next morning, I asked Pablo, the young cook, about himself. "I'm from Rosario, ouside Buenos Aires." he said. "It is the birthplace of the Che Guevara - we are very proud of this." I mentioned hat I had read about Che and reminden him it was 40 years ago, in 1967, that he had been killed in Bolivia. "Yes, he was killed" he replied, "but is inmortal". The Carretera Austral or Southern Highway runs for 1.240 km along Chile's west coast. Begun in 1976 under General Augusto Pinochet's regime. Ruta 7, as it is commoly known, is a main highway connecting many of Chile's smaller communities which were previously inaccessible. The road surface is packed gravel for most of its length, steeply banked on both sides and susceptible to frequent washouts - not the sort of place where you can easily stop in case of emergency. Once, we came upon a beautiful stretch of freshly laid asphalt complete with lane markings. Accelerating hard around a bend, rejoicing in our good fortune, we were startled to find a work crew kneeling in the middle of the road. We leaned the bikes over hard right to avoid a collision. They seemed bewildered to see us there and simply stared as we rode past. Abruptly, 15 km farther along, the Carretera changed its mind and petered out into gravel again.
Riding between the tall mountain ranges of Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, the riders were almost caught out a couple of times by guanacos in the road.	The Carretera winds it way through spectacular scenery of tall, snow-capped peaks, which form the spine of the Andes Mountains. The mountain runoff feeds the cold, swiftly flowing rivers in the valleys below and wildlife is never far away. There is a sense of constant natural renewal. Patagonia could easily pass for Middle Earth. Coming out of the small town of Puyuhuapi on Ruta 7, the road got progressively worse and was slick with mud, sharp rocks and potholes. It was difficult to appreciate the beauty of the cascading waterfalls on my left and pretty bays and inlets to the right while trying to keep the bike upright. But this was GS territory. The bike was built to take a pounding - that's one of the reasons its BMW's bestseller. The road ahead was closed for three hours due the construction work. Never one to miss an opportunity, Dion broke out his camp stove and brewed up a pot of tea, which we shared with Eva, the construction flag girl. She pointed out a local plant called nalca that grows wild at the roadside and broke off a piece for me to eat. It tasted like bitter rhubarb and is said to have fortifying properties. It didn't seem to work for me. By the ime we reached the city of Coihaique, we were concerned about time. It had taken us two days to ride only 200 km. We decided we would have to cross back into Argentina and follow a better thighway. Ruta 40, south. It was more circuitous, but would save us time.
Crossing border near Coihaique, Chile and Argentina	Our rental company had thoughfully provided us with several copies of the documents we would need to make the border crossings with little fuss and we had no problems with officialdom anywhere. The normal fuel range of the R1200GS is about 330 km before you need to look for gas. But the strong winds that blew us across the Argentina Pampas dropped our fuel range to half that distance so we had to be careful planning stops. At 65 cents a litre, fill-ups in Argentina were relatively inexpensive compared to Chile where it was twice the price. Gas stops usually brought out small groups who stood and watched us fill up. Big bikes are a rarity down here. By now we were both very comfortable with riding on gravel or ripio as it called in Spanish. The Beemers were running well and obviously in their element and our Hepco & Becker motorcycle luggage was as a solid as a rock.