wet cold windy wet cold windy wet cold windy wet cold windy . . . my new mantra - Punta Arenas was my first real city since January in Mendoza. I needed a little rest before the final push down Tierra del Fuego to Ushuaia. Matt and I stayed in a cheap but comfortable hostel with the only downside being the cats, I am allergic, but hard to begrudge kittens. The hostel was essentially empty. Tourists are dissipating with the approaching winter but one other cyclist we had met on the road outside of Calafate, Bert from Belgium, did show up - he was ending his trip.
Matt needed a new camera so we spent some time in the zona franca (tax free zone) camera shopping - which actually required three trips for Matt but he ended up with a nice camera (Canon s90). The prices were good for Latin America but on average about 20% higher than list price in the United States.
Matt and I went for a little stroll around the city to give his new camera a spin but after walking the beach to the port we looped through the city and made it to about here . . .
Men sat singly and in pairs at formica tables sunlight streaming through the plate glass windows illuminating half liter Australs and wafting cigarette smoke.
A nice Saturday afternoon. Initially, they wondered how the foreigners wandered in here but soon we were chatting and invited over to a table . . . however we were catching a ferry in the morning and still had errands to complete - so no extended drinking session with locals.
I needed to repair my rear rack . . . again. The first top rail broke in Peru, the second on the Austral Highway but now the main vertical support was bowed and a weld splitting - a show stopper. I went to a hard ware store for more hose clamps, tubing, and found a metal bar in the hostel courtyard to use as a splint - ta da frankenbike - just needs to hold for 450km. But first we stopped and got some curanto, a mix of seafood and sausages . . .
We rose early Sunday morning to ride in the rain to the port to catch the ferry to Porvenir, Tierra del Fuego, Chile.
Thankfully, the ferry had a large heated cabin with seats and coffee - both Matt and I napped our way across the Straight of Magellan. Tierra del Fuego was looking cold wet and windy
dolphins escorted the ship towards the harbor.
We disembarked in a light drizzle and pedaled the short distance into Porvenir to grab a couple supplies and use the free municipal WIFI to check some directions.
We headed out on dirt road - my final 140km of ripio for this trip. The landscape was a rolling treeless brown along the coast of the Straight of Magellan with abundant wildlife - Guanacos heralded our passing with a strange call between the whinny of a horse and high pitched bray of a donkey.
yet more flamingos.
The rain never really stopped but varied in intensity - Matt decided to buy fenders when he returned to Santiago, Chile . . .
good idea.
After 100km of dirt road in the rain we stopped at a bus shelter we knew was there from a previous cyclist - however the windows were busted, the door missing, and some asshole had taken a shit in it . . . but it was raining, dark, the ground was soaked, the temperature dropping fast . . . so in we went huddled in our bags and made dinner of green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and chorizo over rice .
In the morning I woke damp looked outside and it was snowing - not flurries but piling up and had blown into the bus shelter in the night.
A good thing we had the shelter but Matt had left his ride clothes outside and they were buried in snow . . . at least we had snow to melt for coffee and polenta. I guess we looked a little dejected in our busted up bus stop looking out at the snow - a car passed honked waved then flipped back around to offer us hot coffee from their thermos - nice people, very nice people.
After coffee and breakfast it was time to move - wet ride clothes are never fun but snowy wet ride clothes really do suck. I put plastic bags over my feet and hands to cut the wind. We had 40km to the Chilean border at San Sebastian and hoped to find some shelter and warmth . . . maybe an abandoned building to light on fire.
We lucked out and the only business in the whole of San Sebastian was a hosteria with restaurant - it was expensive relative to our usual digs but everything costs more than a bus stop. However, we needed to dry out before we continued and our feet were blocks of wood - the kind of needling pain when circulation returns.
We made good use of the room, every available heater in the hall way, and shower - that is about an inch of mud on the bottom of the shower stall after Matt rinsed his clothes. After taking care of business I slept for hours warm. We were not the only travelers stranded by the weather, three motorcycles were parked there as well - one from Austin, Texas, a German, a Russian, and two Spaniards. The next morning dawned clear and cold - fine riding weather if you have dry clothes.
The Spaniard was traveling around the world and had his gas tank decorated in Pakistan.
Crossing back into Argentina we ran into Lucie and Torrie - they had been to Ushuaia and were hitching back to Buenos Aires to return home on April 18th. Argentina was welcoming as usual and everyone knew where we were headed, wished us the best of luck and said we were likely the last cyclists of the season.
We headed out across the pampas of Tierra del Fuego making good time on pavement passing estancias and sheep to reach the city of Rio Grande by nightfall - a city about industry and sheep with some of the highest wages in Argentina - braced against the winds on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean.
Two days from Ushuaia we continued towards the still distant mountains of the south and trees begin to reappear. The famous winds that were supposed to blow us south never materialized and we battled cross and head winds all day.
I am getting tired after all this peddling. Recovery is not happening fast now my legs are lacking spunk but I can always push pedals down. In the afternoon I bonk while climbing the plateau to Tolhuin in the passing rain showers, snow, stinging hail. . . it is depressing to realize that while only 30+km to go you may take close to three hours. Nightfall and freezing temperatures are good motivators. I make a little withdrawal from the "pain bank," stand up and push hard into the dusk then night for the final 20km into Tolhuin to arrive at Panaderia La Union. The bakery has become an institution for touring cyclist going south. The owner, Emilio, is an avid cyclists and opens his doors to all cyclists providing a free warm room and shower in the back storehouse with several tons of flour.
Matt and I ate 28 empanadas, 12 facturas (pasteries), 4 churros, and drank six beers so I think the open door policy works well for everyone in the end. Matt and I read through the guest book recognizing the names that came before us in the past several months.
After coffee, pastries, and a brief stroll around town (cannot be anything but brief really) we put on dry warm ride clothes for the final 100+km to the end of the world.
Once again we are cycling in Patagonian trees, mountains, lakes and Matt and I are pleasantly surprised. We expected a continuation of the flat muted brown features of the pampas.
Fall colors are in full riot . . . strange to think I will be seeing the reds of a budding spring in less than a week on the other side of the world.
We finish out a pass through snowline and begin the descent through the valleys of the Martial Mountains to Ushuaia on the Beagle Channel.
The ride could have been fast if not for the head winds that became a crazy buffeting swirl until . . .
Ushuaia the southern most city on Earth, fin del mundo, the end of my ride after 17 months 1 week and somewhere around 24,000km. The finality starts to dawn as I remove my panniers, for what I realize, is my last time . . . on this journey.
wet cold windy wet cold windy wet cold windy wet cold windy . . . my new mantra - Punta Arenas was my first real city since January in Mendoza. I needed a little rest before the final push down Tierra del Fuego to Ushuaia. Matt and I stayed in a cheap but comfortable hostel with the only downside being the cats, I am allergic, but hard to begrudge kittens. The hostel was essentially empty. Tourists are dissipating with the approaching winter but one other cyclist we had met on the road outside of Calafate, Bert from Belgium, did show up - he was ending his trip.
Matt needed a new camera so we spent some time in the zona franca (tax free zone) camera shopping - which actually required three trips for Matt but he ended up with a nice camera (Canon s90). The prices were good for Latin America but on average about 20% higher than list price in the United States.
Matt and I went for a little stroll around the city to give his new camera a spin but after walking the beach to the port we looped through the city and made it to about here . . . 
Men sat singly and in pairs at formica tables sunlight streaming through the plate glass windows illuminating half liter Australs and wafting cigarette smoke. 
A nice Saturday afternoon. Initially, they wondered how the foreigners wandered in here but soon we were chatting and invited over to a table . . . however we were catching a ferry in the morning and still had errands to complete - so no extended drinking session with locals. 
I needed to repair my rear rack . . . again. The first top rail broke in Peru, the second on the Austral Highway but now the main vertical support was bowed and a weld splitting - a show stopper. I went to a hard ware store for more hose clamps, tubing, and found a metal bar in the hostel courtyard to use as a splint - ta da frankenbike - just needs to hold for 450km. But first we stopped and got some curanto, a mix of seafood and sausages . . .
We rose early Sunday morning to ride in the rain to the port to catch the ferry to Porvenir, Tierra del Fuego, Chile. 
Thankfully, the ferry had a large heated cabin with seats and coffee - both Matt and I napped our way across the Straight of Magellan. Tierra del Fuego was looking cold wet and windy
dolphins escorted the ship towards the harbor.
We disembarked in a light drizzle and pedaled the short distance into Porvenir to grab a couple supplies and use the free municipal WIFI to check some directions. 
We headed out on dirt road - my final 140km of ripio for this trip. The landscape was a rolling treeless brown along the coast of the Straight of Magellan with abundant wildlife - Guanacos heralded our passing with a strange call between the whinny of a horse and high pitched bray of a donkey.
yet more flamingos.
The rain never really stopped but varied in intensity - Matt decided to buy fenders when he returned to Santiago, Chile . . .
good idea.
After 100km of dirt road in the rain we stopped at a bus shelter we knew was there from a previous cyclist - however the windows were busted, the door missing, and some asshole had taken a shit in it . . . but it was raining, dark, the ground was soaked, the temperature dropping fast . . . so in we went huddled in our bags and made dinner of green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and chorizo over rice .
In the morning I woke damp looked outside and it was snowing - not flurries but piling up and had blown into the bus shelter in the night. 
A good thing we had the shelter but Matt had left his ride clothes outside and they were buried in snow . . . at least we had snow to melt for coffee and polenta. I guess we looked a little dejected in our busted up bus stop looking out at the snow - a car passed honked waved then flipped back around to offer us hot coffee from their thermos - nice people, very nice people.
After coffee and breakfast it was time to move - wet ride clothes are never fun but snowy wet ride clothes really do suck. I put plastic bags over my feet and hands to cut the wind. We had 40km to the Chilean border at San Sebastian and hoped to find some shelter and warmth . . . maybe an abandoned building to light on fire.
We lucked out and the only business in the whole of San Sebastian was a hosteria with restaurant - it was expensive relative to our usual digs but everything costs more than a bus stop. However, we needed to dry out before we continued and our feet were blocks of wood - the kind of needling pain when circulation returns. 
We made good use of the room, every available heater in the hall way, and shower - that is about an inch of mud on the bottom of the shower stall after Matt rinsed his clothes. After taking care of business I slept for hours warm. We were not the only travelers stranded by the weather, three motorcycles were parked there as well - one from Austin, Texas, a German, a Russian, and two Spaniards. The next morning dawned clear and cold - fine riding weather if you have dry clothes.
The Spaniard was traveling around the world and had his gas tank decorated in Pakistan.
Crossing back into Argentina we ran into Lucie and Torrie - they had been to Ushuaia and were hitching back to Buenos Aires to return home on April 18th. Argentina was welcoming as usual and everyone knew where we were headed, wished us the best of luck and said we were likely the last cyclists of the season.
We headed out across the pampas of Tierra del Fuego making good time on pavement passing estancias and sheep to reach the city of Rio Grande by nightfall - a city about industry and sheep with some of the highest wages in Argentina - braced against the winds on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean.
Two days from Ushuaia we continued towards the still distant mountains of the south and trees begin to reappear. The famous winds that were supposed to blow us south never materialized and we battled cross and head winds all day.
I am getting tired after all this peddling. Recovery is not happening fast now my legs are lacking spunk but I can always push pedals down. In the afternoon I bonk while climbing the plateau to Tolhuin in the passing rain showers, snow, stinging hail. . . it is depressing to realize that while only 30+km to go you may take close to three hours. Nightfall and freezing temperatures are good motivators. I make a little withdrawal from the "pain bank," stand up and push hard into the dusk then night for the final 20km into Tolhuin to arrive at Panaderia La Union. The bakery has become an institution for touring cyclist going south. The owner, Emilio, is an avid cyclists and opens his doors to all cyclists providing a free warm room and shower in the back storehouse with several tons of flour. 
Matt and I ate 28 empanadas, 12 facturas (pasteries), 4 churros, and drank six beers so I think the open door policy works well for everyone in the end. Matt and I read through the guest book recognizing the names that came before us in the past several months.
After coffee, pastries, and a brief stroll around town (cannot be anything but brief really) we put on dry warm ride clothes for the final 100+km to the end of the world.
Once again we are cycling in Patagonian trees, mountains, lakes and Matt and I are pleasantly surprised. We expected a continuation of the flat muted brown features of the pampas.
Fall colors are in full riot . . . strange to think I will be seeing the reds of a budding spring in less than a week on the other side of the world.
We finish out a pass through snowline and begin the descent through the valleys of the Martial Mountains to Ushuaia on the Beagle Channel.
The ride could have been fast if not for the head winds that became a crazy buffeting swirl until . . .
Ushuaia the southern most city on Earth, fin del mundo, the end of my ride after 17 months 1 week and somewhere around 24,000km. The finality starts to dawn as I remove my panniers, for what I realize, is my last time . . . on this journey.
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