Jan 25th 2020
Today I woke up at 9am, after 10 hours sleep. Yesterday, I had been suffering from a stomach bug all day, and the day had been spent mostly lying on the grass outside the tent, after dropping the bike off for a service. I’d also bought more food supplies, and a new phone. Although the one I bought last week supposedly has the specs to work with my drone, it didn’t. An unwanted expense, but I am not going back to Chicelito to change it. I picked up the bike from Marcello last night.
After packing up, with some rearranging necessary now that I had less spares and more food, I set off for the Chile border, which was only about 25 km away. Now, it’s time to hit the road, towards Chile and the Carreterra Austral. The forecast is for rain, but I will see how it goes. I planned a route on Google that takes me on the main road to Asorno, then cuts through the countryside to Puerto Montt, and the start of CH-7, the Carreterra Austral.
Marcello, has done a very thorough job. Steering, which had a bit of shimmy at low speeds, has been tightened, as have several engine casing bolts which had worked loose. Valves checked, oil changed, new brake pads (which I’d brought with me), and the bike is now cleaner than it has been since the start of the trip. Marcello couldn’t fix the speedo, no spares, so I am still using Google Maps for my speed. He also had a go at fixing my Motopressor pump, but couldn’t get it working. I bought a cheap foot-pump in town. My air filter turned out to be the wrong one, so I’ve been carrying it around for nothing. Luckily, Marcello still had Itchy Boots’ old air filter, from when she got her bike serviced by Marcello. It was in much better condition than mine, so it’s now on my bike. I took it fairly easy to the border, to give the new brake pads time to bed in. The border is only 42km from Villa la Angostura, so it only took me 40 minutes or so.
At the Chile border there was a huge queue. I thought of filtering to the front, but other bikes in the queue indicated this might not be acceptable. I did jump past one car, and pulled up next to another biker. His name was Jorge, from Cordoba, riding what looked like a brand new Benelli 502, with a huge knobbly tyre perched on top of his luggage. Jorge was also heading for the Carreterra Austral. It took us about twenty minutes to get to the car park at the border, park our bikes, and make our way to immigration. He helped me through the paperwork, and an hour after arriving we departed on the 32km ride to the Chile side of the border. It was a great bit of road, lots of twisty bits winding through wet hills. It was raining, but not enough to need to put the waterproofs on. Just as I was thinking this, the bag attached to my right engine guard, containing said waterproofs, announced its departure by hitting my right foot before tumbling down the road. It had survived hundreds of kilometres on dirt but, having been taken off by Marcello for the service, was evidently not as well installed. I went back to get it and a few minutes later Jorge came back looking for me. Just as he pulled up, the side-stand on my bike sunk into the road, and bike toppled over. Jorge parked up and helped me lift the bike.
At the Chile side, once again there was a huge queue. It seemed I was missing a bit of paper the Argentine customs should have given me. Jorge smoothed things over with lots of Spanish and gesticulations. At this point, we decided to ride to Puerto Montt together. Initially, it was exactly like England on a summers day, with a threat of rain. The road flattened out, passing through fertile farmland. At Entre Lagos, my phone told me to go left, but Jorge continued straight on, and I followed him. I thought about just shooting off to the left, but after Jorge’s help with the bike and at the border, it felt a bit churlish to suddenly veer off and leave him. We then spent over an hour negotiating roadworks, with long delays at traffic signals waiting for oncoming traffic to pass. The road dried out, and huge clouds of dust covered us as traffic passed. Eventually we reached Osorno, and then joined a massive motorway for 70 miles. Jorge showed no inclination to take a break. I was by now regretting my decision not to abandon him. It rained a bit, but the traffic wasn’t too bad. Jorge’s bike was afster than mine, and a few times he pulled way ahead, then would slow down to let me catch up. On reaching Puerto Montt, Jorge showed me a hostel up a scruffy looking side street. It looked a bit dilapidated. Puerto Montt has a seedy port atmosphere about it, and I had no desire to stay there. I told Jorge I would find a campsite. He was staying with relatives. I found a campsite on iOverlander. Jorge was staying with relatives. Tomorrow he is getting the huge rear knobbly he has been carrying fitted, ready for the Carreterra Austral. My first days riding with someone else on the trip had not been much fun, and I was pissed off I had missed the interesting looking back-roads to get to Puerto Montt. Maybe we will run into each other again in the next few days. But having ridden alone for the whole trip, it works for me, and I like it.
The campsite I found is next to a fast food shack, 3 mile’s down the coast from Puerto Montt, with a great view of the Pacific. I bought a couple of beers, was interrogated by two dodgy looking guys for a while, then, after setting up my tent, cooked a dinner of pasta with tomato sauce. Tomorrow, after getting fuel and some local currency, it’s off south into Chilean Patagonia.
The whole day, I hadn’t taken any pictures. That’s what comes with riding with someone else, I guess. I did shoot some video, but that won’t be edited until I am home.
