Adios Tierra del Fuego

You’ve heard from us about adventure cycling, what we’ve been up to, and some of the people we’ve met. But what’s it really like in Tierra del Fuego? How is it similar, how is it different to the Northeastern United States: what we call "normal"?

The sight was almost too much to take in all at once: after days of hills, sheep fields, and more hills, the town of Porvenir finally appeared before us. We descended the last hill. Colorful rooftops spotted the hillside opposite Bahia Porvenir, the bay at her base. Time for some much-needed comforts of civilization.

We travel around the world on bicycles. We have all the things we need to survive on the bikes, so they are very heavy (muy pesado). We are slow (lento), very slow (muy lento); and we get tired (cansado), very tired (muy cansado). However, this is not such a bad thing because we get to experience South America unlike other travelers that get around via motorcycles, vans, or busses. Our slow pace allows us to spend time getting to know the land, the interesting flora and fauna and all the wonderful people we meet along the way!

We left the border station after midnight, crossing into the 14 kilometers between Chile and Argentina. The border guards seemed nonplussed at the four bikers getting their passports stamped in the middle of the night, dressed in neon colored jackets, wearing headlamps and bicycle helmets. Just another day in the life of an Argentinian border guard. Only 14 kilometers seperated us from Chile, but the night seemed to drag on forever. First the roads, fifty meters after leaving the border station of San Sebastian, the wonderful paved roads ended, dumping us into a sliding mix of golf ball sized rocks and deep sand. Our friend Angelo told us that these roads were fixed, not ripio! With only the pale white beam of our headlamps to guide us, every moment required total concentration just to keep from wipping out. We were all starting to doubt the wisdom of trying to beat the wind by traveling at night. It had worked so well coming from Rio Grande to San Sebastian. Just as we thought things couldn’t get worse, the trucks came. A seemingly endless line of great rumbling, clanking, earth shaking, dust raising death machines grinding past us in the night. Wonderful. With every truck that comes around the corner, the four of us come to a sliding, gravely halt, pulling off the road to let the metal beasts past.