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Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Epic Rides' started by Travelbugblues, Oct 22, 2013.
Tasmania does that to people...
Tasmania was my absolute favorite part of Australia! I'd love to live there someday. Had things worked out with my man, I'd definitely have stayed. What a place!
Sorry to hear. Affairs of the heart are always challenging, I hope you're doing OK. Good to see the plans for the next trip, good luck.
I'll survive. I think every girl in this situation should buy a motorcycle and tour a new continent. What better way to deal with life's curve balls?!
You rock girl ! Hang in there and keep up the great RR and I will be looking forward to your South America Adventures
Well said. I've met SO MANY moto riders, guys mostly, traveling on motorcycles because of life's curve balls. You don't see motorcycles parked in front of the psychologist office for a good reason.
That brought a big smile to my face! Well said :)
Was looking forward to your arrival up here (Darwin), was hoping to get the Tasmania download over a few drinks..
Assuming you're not going into Asia and beyond now also?
Good luck to you Elisa, I hope you have a great time riding South and Central America. I reckon a small bore bike would be ideal there. Best wishes, Marty.
Thanks for the comments! No Asia for me in the near future, but would still love to do Mongolia through the Stans and into Europe. We'll see how my finances are looking after Latin America :)
fingers crossed....don't spend too much $$$ on the next trip.
UPDATE: I tried to start a separate Ride Report for my Latin American shenanigans: http://advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?p=23221263#post23221263
... but that thread was SO GLITCHY, that I eventually gave up and am going to be posting on this one again. Stay tuned!
They certainly can do some damage... and are almost sure to pee on you.
I am on a xt225 heading south to Chile.
In Ecuador at the moment. Would be fun to meet another small bike adventurer
hope your having fun.
Hey Matt, we will eventually cross paths. I'm on my way down to the Carretera Austral, and will likely make my way back up through Argentina, or possibly the boat from Puerto Arenas area to Puerto Montt, then cut across the Andes back into Argentina, around Bariloche area. Keep in touch! You can see where I am via my blog, below.
It might seem strange to continue with the same Ride Report having left Oz and started again in a new country (and continent) but it's a continuation of my "Free-as-a-bird/I'm turning 30!" year of travel (or two), so it makes sense to keep it all in one place since it's the same trip.
Follow the link below to get a recap of the first few weeks, from Santiago down Patagonia. I won't continue with that thread because for some reason it was full of glitches, and this thread seems to be working just fine.
A speedy recap: I flew to Santiago de Chile from Sydney, Oz, with a brief 10 days at home to visit family. Meeting up with Kath and Rob, two Ozzies I met on my motorcycle trip in Australia, was a great way to begin the trip. Together, we bought 3 shiny new Honda CGL125s, and off we went! First stop: Carretera Austral!
If you're interested, flip through the ride report link above, but on this thread, I'll begin from Ushuaia and heading north again, which seems like a natural place to jump in.
Thanks for reading!
Some photos of the journey so far:
Rob and Kath, who I started the trip with from Santiago, and continued with until Punta Arenas, Chile. I'm in the middle. We said goodbye in Punta Arenas, and I rode to Ushuaia with my boyfriend Tom, who decided to fly down and join me for two months of my trip.
Welcome to Ushuaia!! We took the $20/USD ferry from Punta Arenas to Tierra del Fuego, and spent a glorious afternoon riding down 100km of dirt, overlooking beautiful tundra landscape (Tom's first day on the bike- a great way to start!). On the way, we stopped and saw King Penguins with fluffy little babies, or eggs still under their bums.
Welcome to the Tierra del Fuego national park, and the very end of the 3,000km Ruta 3! Ushuaia was nothing special, but I did love the park itself, where we stayed two nights camping.
Funny story I'll post from my blog, regarding our experience in the park, and this Fat Fox:
In the cold, biting night air at the southernmost tip of South America, I ran through the damp dark in flip flops and a t-shirt, shivering, afraid, and worst of all, pantsless. So this is why people insist on wearing proper pajamas, I thought as I lamented my choice of bedtime attire, or lack thereof. I edged nearer the bushes, hearing the sounds of something tearing
Earlier in the day, a cunning fox came waddling into our camp, sniffing and looking around with a nonchalant air. I had seen other foxes all along the route down to Tierra del Fuego, but this particular fox was by far the biggest and fattest I had ever seen. All the other foxes had a feline look and grace, whereas Fat Fox, four times bigger than his kinsmen, swaggered and sauntered about, knowing his own superiority. There was no doubt about it: Fat Fox was the king of these woods.
In the middle of our first night camping in the Tierra del Fuego National Park, I woke up to a tearing, ripping sound from somewhere behind the tent. Groggy, I turned my headlamp on to check on my bags, which were a mere 6 inches away, separated by only the thin mesh of my tent. My drybag containing gear and food was missing. I untangled myself from my sleeping bag and liner, waded through helmets, boots and bags to stumble out of the tent, and search for the bag in the dying light of my headlamp. The tearing sound grew louder as I raced, bare legged, to the tangle of thorny bushes behind the tent. In the darkness I couldnt see anything, but knew Fat Fox was making quick work of my precious motorcycle luggage. At the edge of the sticker-bushes, shivering in flip flops and a tshirt, I shouted incoherently for Tom to come save my bag. He has my bag!! Fat Fox is EATING MY BAG! Tom, in striped black and grey long johns (the ones he insists he must always wear in case of a burglary, bear attack, or in this case, feast of a Fat Fox), came running to the bushes, weapons in hand. Crashing through the shrubs (as I stood, scared, shivering, on the edge), he shouted at the fearless fox, who was not giving up his loot. Tom, wielding sneakers in hand, hurled one and then the other at Fat Fox, sending him retreating a couple meters into the bushes. Climbing through the thorns I found myself in a garbage pit of ripped up camping food packages, containers, scraps of plastic- everything Fat Fox had stolen from previous campers. I felt like the woman in the movie The Descent, who finds herself in a cavern amidst the bones of previous hikers, with the stealthy monsters lurking nearby. My bag was torn and punctured all over with tiny little tooth marks. My scarf, which had been hanging innocently on a line amidst two trees, was torn to the ground, dragged around, pawed on, and lay crumpled in the dirt. Toms Man Bag, containing toothbrush, toothpaste and floss, had been pulled from its nail high up on the tree and discarded in the grass.
The rest of the night was spent in a fitful sleep as we listened to Fat Fox jump on our tarp like a trampoline, drag a plastic bag with oil and chain lube into the night (which I retrieved), clatter amongst the pots and pants, and wreak general havoc.
On a walk the next day, we found Fat Fox promenading down the lane, regal bushy tail following like an entourage. Throwing rocks at him to try and instill a fear of people (for his own good, and ours), he joyfully bounded up to each bouncing rock, excited at the prospect of new gifts. It was hard to remain mad at him after that
In February, Tom decided to re-learn how to ride a motorcycle and spent a couple of weeks riding my Super Sherpa in New South Wales, Australia. After an (in)sufficient time practicing, he packed his bags and hopped on a plane for Punta Arenas, Chile, where a shiny new 125cc Honda Storm awaited. I said goodbye to my friends in The Gang of 84, whom I had planned on being with only from Santiago to southern Chilean Patagonia. While I made for Ushuaia, the southernmost town in the world and renowned for its beauty, they took a four day boat back north to Puerto Montt.
Heading for Ushuaia in the cold wind and low clouds was a dream. Like my feelings towards Iceland or Mongolia, it felt like a far off and remote place buried in a corner of the world, although in reality its just as accessible as anywhere else these days. Still, the beauty of the area, the nature and the harsh landscape, the thought of those first explorers and settlers to the region, sent a literal and figurative chill as I made my way through the mountains and scraggly forests, the coldest riding Ive experienced so far.*
Although the town of Ushuaia was nothing special in itself, leaving the desert-like tundra and suddenly entering a lush mountainous region through high winding roads was spectacular. Snowcapped peaks dotted the skyline as the Beagle Channel and penguin colonies lay far below. Beaver dams marred the landscape, red oxidized soil amongst wild ponds and tangled bushes made me wonder if thats how this land, Tierra del Fuego, got its name.
It was a turning point in the trip. Turning north signified heading for home, even if home was still 20,000 miles away
*Bundled up in a tank top, merino wool long sleeve shirt, Toms thick fleece sweatshirt, down coat, motorcycle jacket, rain jacket, scarf, balaclava face mask and scarf, merino gloves, winter motorcycle gloves, yoga pants, armored motorcycle pants, rain pants, two pairs woolen socks, sturdy leather backpacking boots = still absolutely freezing.
Very impressive ride indeed with your little 125cc bike!
Did you get any pictures of you with your bike in front of that Ushuaia sign?
Also would like to thank you for your ideas on travel..
I am old, feeble and surly at times and would never considered motoring to S.A. as there is no way I could/would endure the border crossings in C.A.
The Fly/Buy/Ride option you have shown has me thinking..
Really looking forward to the rest of your report as it unfolds..