Ruta 40... What the Hell have we signed up for?

Route 40 is the longest route in Argentina and one of the largest in the world (along with the U.S. Route 66 and the Stuart Highway in Australia -without counting the unofficial Panamerican Highway) more than 5,000 km (3,107 mi) long. At its traditional southern end near the city of Río Gallegos it starts at sea level, crosses 20 national parks, 18 major rivers, 27 passes on the Andes, and goes up to 5,000 m (16,404 ft) above sea level in Abra del Acay in Salta.

Sadly, one day the 40 will all be paved, the danger then of course will be the volume of traffic that can access the route. At present, virtually no heavy vehicles use the road.

Incorporation of sections of other highways into Route 40, along with paving, is part of an Argentine government initiative to promote national tourism, drawing upon the legendary and some say mythical attraction attached to Route 40. The attraction is actually international in scope, and many websites throughout the world advertise the private and commercial adventures associated with travel on this roadway.

Right! that's the informative bit of Ruta 40 out of the way, I could have included the descriptive prose from various tourist sights which make it sound romantic and adventurous but that would be dangerous. The stark reality is, if your'e going to ride the 40 get up to date info from someone who's done it, and done it recently! Talk to the locals (most of whom will tell you not to do it!) and they will recall the most recent fatalities, it really is that bad. In fact it's worse than bad, it's FUCKING BAD!...I make no apologies for the swearing, I cannot find any other way to lend gravity to the adjectives used in describing this road. If I say was windy or desolate just put fucking in front, or better still put a few fuckings in there for good measure. At the end of each day we were completely shot, every part of my body ached from being under tension trying to keep the bike in a straight line and upright. I don't know how Sue can sit on the back of BOB with no control over what happens other than when to 'bale out' if the bike starts to go down.

Take the time to read Kev and Lorraine's account of one short stretch, bear in mind they have just returned from some of the worst roads in Africa.

Today is the day, 05:00 and no wind, pack down quick and get around to the fuel station and fill up for our first day on the worst part of the Ruta 40.

At the fuel station for 06:45, it is supposed to be 24 hour, just ring the bell for service. Three rings and half an hour later we get service! Fill up the tank and jerries and hit the ripio.

It is BAD!! Right from the start, very deep with small tyre tracks to follow, it wouldn't be so bad but the wind is starting again, we are not looking forward to this. I had checked Markus’s website previously and he had reported that the first 50KM’s were really bad, he wasn't joking.

Plodding through the deep shit at a crawl, no more than 30KMH for the most part and lucky if I got out of second gear, the wind is now really strong and we get blown into the berms of loose gravel but surprisingly managing to stay upright. A couple of times we came very close to losing the bike into a ditch, this is very hard work.

An hour on the road and we have only travelled 23KM’s. We get a bit of a break in the wind and pull over for a smoke break, as soon as we slow down to stop we get hit by a gust of wind, pushing the front wheel into some loose crap …..  and over we go! A slow spill so no damage. Luckily I spotted a car coming down the road so we flagged them down to help us up with the bike.

Now the wind is blowing again, and taking the bike off the sidestand is proving to be difficult, no firm footing and as soon as I lift the bike the wind is pushing it over to the other side. Lorraine wanders off up the road to see if there is a bit of shelter near an embankment we can see further on, I stay with the bike trying to keep it on both wheels. Lorraine has disappeared into the distance when I eventually get enough of a drop in the wind to get off the sidestand and get going again. I catch up with Lorraine and there is a little bit of shelter where I can stop, although the bike is rocking on the stand and we are expecting it to go over any minute.

Back on the road again. Another 45 minutes and we have covered another 15KM’s. We are in wide open countryside now with absolutely no shelter, the wind is the strongest we have had so far and we are struggling. Then we get a reprieve, the wind drops, until that is we start to slow down for another break and we get hit by a huge gust that has us off again. Again we are lucky with another car coming close behind us to lend a hand. We manage to get the bike upright but the left hand pannier has come adrift, we can’t carry on with it like that or we are going to break the frame with the corrugations. With the bike on the sidestand leaning into the wind, Lorraine digs into the pannier to get the tools out while I push against the bike to try to keep it upright. Tools out and Lorraine has to take my place, I tell her if it feels like the wind is going to push the bike over to just get out of the way and let it drop. I get the pannier reattached and the tools re-stashed just in time. The wind now is rocking the bike with both of us pushing against it, we could be here a long time!!!

For well over an hour we stay like this, both of us pushing as hard as we can against the bike and trying to keep as low a profile as possible before we can get back on and move off again. Arms aching from all the pushing and the struggle so far, the riding is getting harder. An hour and a half and another 24KM’s and we have off No.3 just as another gust pushes us off line, it’s not funny any more and we have a bit of a wait before a car turns up, we didn't even try to lift it this time, just left it in the road. Again a struggle once we were upright to get moving again.

Another 50 minutes and 25KM’s and we reach Lago Cardiel and pull into Estancia La Siberia absolutely knackered.

59 miles in 8hours, I hope we don’t have any more days like that!

http://www.takingthelongwayhome.co.uk

We haven't spoken to or heard from anyone who has had a good time on the 40, if we do we'll know they either haven't done it or they're lying.

Leaving tarmac and just about to hit the ripio.

The constant battering of the wind against our helmets gave us neck strain and a strange ringing inside our heads (should have used ear plugs)

This is a stupid sign, if it was representative of actual conditions the tree sign should be on the ground (a bit like us really!) 

On the early part of the ride the hills and bluffs provided some protection from the wind but when you passed by a rise the wind would hit you so hard it was impossible to keep the bike in a straight line. If you were travelling too fast and your front wheel got on the wrong side of the berm, you were off! This was going to be a long day.

The only thing that's constant is the wind and going south it always comes off your right shoulder.

BOB blocks the road.

Bajo Caracoles, one of the most remote outposts on the 40, this collection of tin shacks includes a couple of loosely termed 'hotels' and a fuel station.  

Chris decided to ride up the hill at the back of the hotel to take some photos, he only managed half way before realising he wasn't going fast enough! but he did manage to get the shots. To his credit he did really well to turn the bike round on that gradient and get back down.

Where he promptly dumped the bike on the gravel, I should have gone to help him get the bike upright but I was miles away.(this photo was taken with a zoom lens, honest!) Oh! and I couldn't stop laughing.

This was our 'hotel'? in the foreground.

To everyone's credit we had avoided crashing or been blown over today,  the main reason was the fact we were travelling slow enough and after all the warnings we'd been given, we weren't about to take foolish chances. We had taken five hours to cover 128 kilometers (80 miles)!, we were all in one piece, the bikes were a bit dustier and some parts were probably a bit looser after the corrugations but there was a sense of relief and achievement when we sat down to eat that evening. We later spoke to a couple of guys on KTMs who'd done the same stretch in under an hour and a half! (clever bastards). Tomorrows ride to our next stop at Gobernador Gregores would be 330km, at today's rate it's going to take 13 hours...note to self, need to get a move on!

Yesterday's ride included plenty of rest stops, so all in all we were probably riding for nearer four hours than five but that still meant an early start tomorrow. We woke at 5:30 the next morning in the hope of avoiding at least some of the wind before the sun came up, it didn't work. The wind had been howling all night but we had no option but to press on so it was feet up at six and off into the twilight. We had bought food the night before as there is nothing between Bajo Caracoles and Gregores except a few estancias (farms) so we would have to eat on the move. It was also cold, how cold?, you've guessed it... fucking cold! it's the first time the cold weather gloves had been out since Alaska.

First stop of the day before the sun was up and it's for one of Dave's toilet breaks. Dave's bladder control was about as effective as a baby's.

This was the view from the bike for the whole of the day with a few exceptions. God it's a desolate place, I didn't see a great deal of the landscape. I had my eyes firmly on the road ahead.

Next stop was for Dave again, If he'd been facing west he'd have wet gear for the rest of the day!

"Look if you don't stop pissing we'll never get anywhere"

Oh! and someone wake up Chris.

The road conditions had worstened dramatically, the berms of gravel between the tracks were now a foot deep and trying to keep the wheels in the existing tyre tracks was like trying to ride along a plank. Chris in the meantime had ridden ahead and it was clear his skill in riding this type of road was a huge advantage. 

Shortly after Dave dumped the contents of his bladder he dumped the bike in the gravel. It was a combination of road and wind, he was probably doing no more than 20kph concentrating on the line and the wind just blew him over. Literally, one minute he was riding ahead of us and the next thing he was on the road next to the bike. I'd never seen that happen before, we'd ridden in bad winds on the north slope in Alaska and I remember when we crashed, the wind was a big factor in preventing me from controlling the bike but this was as though someone had pulled the road out from underneath him. We helped him to his feet and got the bike upright but we had to hold it steady while he got back on, I'd put BOB on the sidestand but even at 300+ kilograms the wind was shaking the bike to the point where I thought it would go over. We also had the problem of getting Sue and I back on the bike, and Sue would always get on and off on the windward side to help me keep it from going over. Once we were moving the extra weight of the big BMW gave us a little more stability, but for Dave on his 'lightweight' Yamaha, the worst was still to come.
Dave had not gone more than half a mile when he went down again, no damage done but he was frustrated and losing confidence in his ability to continue. He was cursing and swearing as we got him going again but we could see he wasn't happy, he was riding tentatively now and that's a recipe for disaster.
This time he only got a couple of hundred yards down the road when the bike went over as he was coming out of a dip in the road. We were following at a safe distance and realised when he made no effort to get up that something was wrong, the nearside pannier had been torn loose and the bike had landed on Dave's leg. This time Dave was in pain and clearly unable to continue, Chris had come back to help and we now had the problem of being in the middle of nowhere with no assistance, we had no idea how far we would have to ride until the road conditions improved and were weighing up the options when a car arrived and stopped to check if everyone was OK. We decided the best thing would be to ask the driver if he'd take Dave to the nearest town and we'd sort things out from there.We bundled Dave off and said we'd sort the bike out and see him later, Chris and I took the bike and parked it off the road out of sight and set off to find Dave. We didn't realise there were no towns for miles and we ended up riding the next 130km to Gregores hoping to find him there.

Chris takes a break, again.

This was our lunch stop shortly after separating from Dave, the only shelter we could find was next to a storm drain at the side of the road but there was no hiding from the wind or sand as it blew the contents of the neighbouring pampas all over our food.

Once we arrived in Gregores we had no way of contacting him so we had no choice but to ask around at the likely spots, Police station, Petrol stations etc. It was now early afternoon so we organised lunch and found a hotel and left Sue to rest while Chris and I went to try and organise getting the bike, we eventually got help from the local Fire crew who contacted the Ruta 40 recovery service. This is a free service paid for by the State to recover broken down or crashed vehicles only off Ruta 40, they will collect your vehicle and take it to the nearest town but after that you're on your own. The guy arranged to meet us at 6:00pm and didn't turn up till 7:30 so by the time we left it was dark and there was still no sign of Dave. The drive back to get to Dave's bike was as nerve racking as doing the same ride again on the bike, this time we were on four wheels but our driver never dropped the speed below 70mph all the way. It was clear he knew the road like the back of his hand but in the dark and on a shit road like the 40, I was considering walking back once we'd got the bike. When we arrived at the spot where we'd left the bike the bike had gone! Shit! there was little or no chance that someone would steal it but where the hell was it. The only possibility was that Dave had somehow returned and got it, as it was he had been dropped off at a nearby estancia shortly after we'd put him in the car and had managed to get the bike there with the help of the estancia owner's pick up and a group of bikers heading north. Luckily, Chris and I spotted Dave's bike parked up in the yard on our way back to Gregores. The riders informed us that Dave had organised a lift and had only just left for Gregores and that we must have passed him on the way here. At least we knew he was safe and we also had the bike, so we loaded it into the recovery vehicle and set off  back to Gregores. By the time we arrived back at the hotel, Dave was sat with Sue having something to eat, he had trailed round the few hotels in town and found Sue in the last one. We had been on the go for 19 hours, we were physically and mentally shot but because of Dave's condition we would at least have a break the next day!.


The lack of photos today was due to the fact that we had neither the time or the inclination to record what had been one of the worst days of our trip, how bad had it been? you guessed it....Fucking, Fucking Awful!!!!  

The next day brought the reality of what to do regarding Dave and his bike, it looked like he had damaged the ligaments in his knee and was having difficulty walking so the first thing was to find a support bandage or strapping. Then there was the issue of how to get all of us to El Calafate, we really only had two options: one was to leave Dave in Gregores until he was well enough to ride, or, find some way of transporting him and the bike 330km south. To stay in Gregores waiting for his leg to get better whilst we rode on would be expensive so we looked at the other option of hiring a vehicle to take him to El Calafate, the guys at the fire station were really helpful and phoned a few contacts but without any luck. To hire a pick up and driver was going to cost close to a thousand dollars!, Dave just didn't have that kind of money in fact that was more than his bike was worth....
The only option now was to advertise that a penniless biker needed to get himself and his bike to El Calafete and was prepared to pay a couple of hundred dollars for the service. There just might be someone heading south for their own reasons and wouldn't mind making a few dollars taking a bloke and a bike, with the help of the hotel receptionist, Chris and I made up some posters which we then stuck up around town and also contacted the local radio station who kindly agreed to broadcast the plea for help. Within fifteen minutes Claudio turned up at the hotel and offered his services for US$250.00...Done deal, thank you very much, Dave was over the moon at the thought of not having to spend too long in town (even though they really were nice people, if any of them are reading this!). So tomorrow at 7:30am we would all be heading south albeit on different modes of transport and for another US$40 Sue would also accompany Dave in the pick up, which would make the ride for me that bit easier.
At 7:30ish' the next morning we loaded Dave's bike into the pick up and he and Sue set off with Claudio to El Calafate, Chris and I followed but figured as they were on four wheels they would make better time than us.
The first 80km were easy the road was hard packed dirt rather than gravel and we even managed to catch up to the others in the pick up.

Lago Cardiel.

Chris and I then stopped at Estancia La Siberia for a coffee break, it was just a small farm in the middle of nowhere but had basic accommodation and a small cafe area which allowed us to get off the bikes and warm up, out of the wind. Chris had been unwell for a few days and needed to stop regularly to recharge his batteries but this morning he looked dog rough so we were glad the riding conditions weren't too arduous...Yeah right! no sooner had we left the estancia than we hit the bad gravel.

I hate this stuff after two days I really am ready to pack it all in (and do what you fool?)

I only take photos now when we stop for a break, why risk falling over for the sake of letting you lot marvel at this barren, hostile environment. I can reflect on the solitude of riding through a featureless landscape when I'm old and grey (or older and 'greyer') but for now I only have one desire and that is to get out of the wind and off this F******, F******,F****** abysmal track!  

Every now and then Chris would race ahead for a few miles and then get off the bike to rest whilst I pottered along at a snail's pace and caught up. I didn't mind going slow, I was quite pleased at not having fallen off so far and the memory of the pain and guilt of nearly ending the trip in Alaska before we were less than a week into our journey was a constant reminder of what can happen with the slightest lapse in concentration or a bout of over confidence.

Chris resting again and trying to get out of the wind.

"Get up you 'girlie', call yourself an adventurer"

I've got lots of shots like this, would you like to see them?

This one is of some particularly nice gravel, the big rocks are great for knocking your front wheel off line.

At one point I caught up with Chris to find him leaning on the bike after being blown off the road, I don't want to labour the point but there is nothing you can do to counteract the force of the wind other than riding slower or stopping. If you steer into the wind you risk straddling the berms with the front and back wheel and then your only going one way and that's down! Chris had decided to allow the wind to push him across both sets of tracks and then he fell off at a convenient spot. he was so knackered he made no attempt to pick the bike up, he just sat there and waited.

Hey! Chris, beautiful sky eh!.

My smug satisfaction at being the only one not to fall off lasted another 10 minutes. After picking Chris's bike up, he rode on ahead whilst I slowed down to stop for an oncoming car, every time a vehicle came from the other direction I would come to a standstill rather than risk getting blown across into it's path. This time I was in a gully and got hit by a gust of wind and could not have kept the bike upright if I'd wanted to... Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!, the car coming the other way slowed down to make sure I was OK but the only thing damaged was my pride. I had now joined the 'dust eaters' club and up ahead I could see Chris looking back from the side of the road (probably with a wry smile on his face) "No I'm fine you stay up there, I'll pick up this 300kg lump of fine German engineering on my own, ya bone idle Yank!"

We endured this torture for the next few hours until Tres Lagos where the tarmac starts and continues all the way to El Calafate, we rode in and joined the others as 'broken men'

The view across Lago Argentino towards El Calafate. 

El Calafate.

OK on reflection, what did we think of Ruta 40? you can probably guess by the preceding account it was grim, add as many expletives as you want and it still wouldn't describe the anguish and torment of three days riding this so called 'Adventure Highway'

Would we do it again? Oh! yes of course, but maybe next time on a bicycle.....

Would you recommend others doing it? You bet, it's a piece of cake. Go on have a go, it's only a road after all!!

We went out that evening for something to eat and were standing in the queue at the cash machine when Johannes and Jude turned up (small world eh?), they had hired a car in Rio Gallegos and had driven back across country to visit the Perito Moreno glacier. They had had a tough time with the wind after we left them and reckoned the ride to the east coast was almost as bad, even though it was all paved. It was good to see them again and after recalling our exploits over a cup of coffee we agreed to do the glacier trip together the next day.