Iguazu and back

OK! OK! so I'm behind on the blog and people are now beginning to wonder what's happening. Well in short we're back home trying to come to terms with life off the bike. We have nowhere to live as yet and are looking at where to go next! We have loads to do and folks to see so the blog has taken a back seat. In an effort to get my arse into gear I am making a concerted effort to finish the last couple of weeks and bring you all up to date, so this installment is the penultimate blog entry in our journey DUE SOUTH.....

To say Argentina is flat is something of an understatement. With the exception of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego the rest of the country is mostly open pampas devoid of elevation, which is great for sheep and cattle but tough on the eyes for eight hours a day.

Dave kept getting in the way!

With the recent rains most of the surrounding land was under water which was bad news for the families that lived in small huts along the roadside.

When we left Buenos Aires, Frank, a fellow traveller had informed us that the run up to Iguazu was similar to travelling Ruta 3 only greener. We'd had enough of flat boring landscapes and we knew the next three days and 1300 kilometers riding were simply a means to an end. Although the recent floods did add a different pespective to the scenery, there was nothing to see in the way of tourist attractions, so it was simply a case of sticking to the main roads and eating up the miles. We knew we would be stopped by the police at some point but the process of avoiding being ripped off by corrupt cops was now an all too familiar part of the journey and true to form it seemed that there were road blocks every couple of hundred kilometers or so. 

First of many checkpoints.

Most of the time the police or military would require you to stop or slow down enough to recognise that we were foreigners and then either wave us through or carry out the cursory document checks, on a number of occasions Dave tried playing the dumb tourist by ignoring the cops and just continued riding which worked until we arrived at the notorious kilometer 341 checkpoint.
The countryside is so flat and the roads so straight that as soon as we got within a mile of the checkpoint we could see standing traffic at the side of the road but the cars and trucks were still moving on the highway after being waved on by the police. 

The police station at kilometer 341.

We decided to tuck in behind a truck and hope we wouldn't be noticed but the traffic was moving too slowly through the roadblock and we were waved onto the hard shoulder, Dave tried riding straight through but one of the cops whistled at him and he was stopped a few meters further on. 

Dave under interrogation.

The cops must have been desperate for cash and were working both sides of the road.

At this point it was straight into friendly tourist mode, remove helmet, smile, be polite and offer documents. I was expecting the worst and as the Police station was right next to the checkpoint the chances of bluffing our way through were zero. It must have been our lucky day, that or the fact that there was too much traffic and potential witnesses but after a few routine questions and a 'don't be a naughty boy' warning to Dave we had our papers back and were on our way. I am now of the opinion that the rumours of corrupt cops on Ruta 14 could be grossly exaggerated (but ask me again in a weeks time!)

An hour later and another check.
.

Throughout much of central and northern Argentina the roadsides are dotted with shrines devoted to the memory of the Argentinian cowboy Gauchito Gil.

Gaugho Gil is famed as a local Robin Hood who lived as an outlaw in the 1800s after refusing to fight in the military in a civil conflict. Legend has it that after his capture and just before a police sergeant slit his throat, Gil told him he was killing an innocent man who after death could intercede on his behalf with God. Gil told his executioner to pray to him for his child's recovery from an illness. The sergeant did so and the child was cured, giving birth to the cult of Gauchito Gil. He is revered for sharing his spoils with the poor and protecting them to this day. The Roman Catholic Church does not recognize him as a saint and Church leaders are divided on whether to embrace or condemn the phenomenon.

The man himself (or rather a tacky effigy of him!) Put one on the dashboard and you're safe from harm.

It didn't matter how much you prayed, you couldn't stop the bloody tropical rains!

The further north we travelled the more the flat landscape gave way to the lush green of the jungle, it felt good to have that enclosed feeling riding the highway between the walls of foliage Once we got to within 50 kilometers of Iguazu we started looking for accommodation. Bearing in mind that this is one of world's great natural tourist attractions and as such the closer you get to the falls so the price of hotels and hostels rises accordingly. We eventually settled on the Hostel International which was close enough to the falls and cheap enough to feel as though we were'nt being ripped off. The weather over the last couple of days had got progressively hotter and humid and the hostel's swimming pool full of semi naked backpackers was a tempting sight (for a swim that is). The great thing about the hostel scene is the availability of information on tourist attractions and activities. Sue got talking to Mary a backpacker from Seattle (talking to a backpacker, what next!) whose boyfriend was the best friend of one of the staff at the BMW dealer in Seattle who Sue and I had met whilst getting a service for BOB, he was doing the South America thing and was meeting up with Mary on his way home. We all arranged to visit the falls the next day to view them from the Argentinian side, it's worth mentioning at this point that the falls and the river are a natural border between Brazil and Argentina and both countries claim to have the best views and the best facilities. The process for entering Brazil from Argentina (or vice versa) is made easier by both countries in order to boost the tourist revenue from people wanting to see the falls from both sides and we had decided to do the same, although we would be crossing the border into Brazil on our route back to Buenos Aires. The next morning we were up early and rather than ride to the falls, we took advantage of the frequent bus service which stopped opposite the hostel on it's way from the town of Iguazu to the falls. Whilst we were waiting for the bus to arrive one of the local taxis pulled up and offered to take us to the falls for not much more than the bus fare, I think we may have even beat him down by a couple of dollars but anyway it would be quicker and more comfortable than the bus. On the way to the falls we were chatting to the driver (well actually I was talking mostly bollocks and a bit of 'Spanglish'!) and trying to understand the information he was telling us about the falls, he was obviously proud of the fact that Argentina had the best views of the falls but at the same time offered to take us across the border to see them from Brazil, so we managed to negotiate a deal whereby he would take Sue, Dave and I across the border the next day and bring us back. Mary unfortunately was on her way to Paraguay the next day so would not have the opportunity to compare which side was best, she would have also had to pay the $130 visa charge imposed by Brazil on American tourists.

Iguazu Falls

Just a small section of the upper falls.

The Iguazu Falls are actually a collection of over 270 individual waterfalls that stretch almost two miles along the Argentinian and Brazilian sides of the Iguazu river. The largest of the falls is known as the Devil's Throat and spans 700 meters across the border of the two countries, the amount of water flowing over the falls varies depending on the time of year but due to the heavy rains recently, it was estimated that the flow rate could have been in excess of half a million cubic feet a second!! 

Before we arrived at the falls it was possible to see the mist created by the force of the falling water above the jungle canopy. When we arrived at the park we payed the entrance fee and caught the train through the park to the one kilometer walking trail that terminates at the Devil's Throat.

The falls are divided into upper and lower falls, the upper falls cascade out of the jungle along the length of the trail and descend to the river below. The lower falls can be accessed by boat for around £25 which includes a  ride underneath some of the smaller falls, we decided not to miss out on the opportunity to view the falls up close and booked a ride later in the day.

One of the upper falls, and Sue.

Nice hat Sue!.

The Devils Throat is another one of those jaw dropping spectacles that overwhelms the senses, the noise and sheer volume of water have to be seen close up to appreciate the full effect. It's mind blowing to consider the volume of water that constantly crashes hundreds of feet to the river below.

The view up the river towards the Devil's Throat.

As usual with visual spectacles such as this it's impossible to capture the full beauty in a single photo, the best I could do was stitch three photos together as a panorama.

There was so much water going over the falls I couldn't avoid getting plumes of mist in the shot.

Once we'd done the tour of the upper falls we headed back along the trail and made our way to the makeshift jetty for our boat tour of the lower falls. This was a totally different experience altogether, within a couple of minutes of being on the river we were up against the falls and completely soaked! the inflatables were fitted with a couple of hefty outboard motors and had enough power to reverse under the falls and escape without getting submerged. Obviously, having already had one waterlogged camera I wasn't about to risk a second disaster or start messing about putting the camera in a plastic bag, so what you see on the video below are shots of the same boat but filmed by me on the riverside.

Isn't she ....Wet!

After we had finished our tour of the lower falls we returned to the hostel for the buffet meal and a quick Tango demonstration. 

The next day we were woken at 6:40 by some pillock playing his guitar in the next room, I resisted the urge to go round and restring his instrument and achieved the desired result by beating on the wall until he got the hint and went upstairs to the communal area to annoy anybody keen enough to be about at that time in a morning.

The return trip to view the falls from the Brazilian side involved crossing the border into Brazil but thanks to our friendly taxi driver it simply involved sitting in the taxi whilst our passports were checked. It felt strange not having to go through the whole immigration/customs procedure than we had endured over forty times in the last nine months.

It was definitely worth viewing the falls from both countries, the Argentinian side probably gives you access to get closer to the falls but the views from the Brazilian side are far superior. To see the lower falls from the Argentinian side it really is necessary to take the boat trip but from the Brazilian side almost all the falls are visible, either way we were glad to have done both days and are still undecided as to which side we prefer. 

Iguazu Falls from Brazil

We had arranged to visit the falls early in order to leave enough time to pack and get across the border on the same day. Once the bikes were loaded we headed into Brazil, the border crossing started off promisingly but ended up taking an hour and a half due to idle customs officials.

Here's Sue standing on the bridge over the Parana river. The concrete barriers are painted in the national colours to denote the geographical border between the two countries.

From the bridge it's possible to see three countries, Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay.

The next three day were spent riding in sweltering heat and tropical storms across Brazil to Florianopolis on the coast.

View Larger Map

Florianopolis is an island of the coast of Brazil and linked to the mainland by a series of bridges, the main towns on the island are tourist resorts which suited us just fine and we decide to stay for a couple of days after finding an apartment on the beach. For most of the time it was hot, humid and the skies were cloudy which is normal for this time of the year, unfortunately it's still possible to get burnt by the sun as Sue found out!

After a two days rest and relaxation (and rain!) it was time to return to Buenos Aires. Dave had three days to get back to BA in time to ship the bike home, we had time to spare and by now we had seen and done everything we wanted but decided to take the long route down the coast through Uruguay. We would ride one more day with Dave before he left and headed across country to take the shorter route into Argentina. The night  before we had emailed Charles who we met on the Carratera Austral in Chile in the hope that we could meet up on our way down the coast. I knew he lived in Brazil somewhere close to the border with Uruguay but didn't have an exact address, however, as we were travelling out of Puerto Alegre later that day we were passing a police station and got flagged down. I expected it to be another shakedown from dodgy cops but as we slowed down I recognised it was none other than our old friend Charles.

We're nicked!

It turned out he hadn't even read my email and had passed  us a few miles back down the road without recognising us but decided to pull us over for a bit of biker chat. Dave, not recognising Charles had hightailed it down the road and was waiting for us to catch up thinking we were being given the third degree!. Over a cup of coffee in the station we caught up on our journeys since we last met and Dave eventually returned (sheepishly) and rather than continue on the road, Charles escorted us to a nearby hotel (blue lights and sirens) in Puerto Alegre where we spent the night. In the morning Charles joined us for breakfast and we said our goodbyes once more before heading South, Dave had already left as he needed to make up time and we set off for Uruguay. There were now only a few days left on the road before we returned to Buenos Aires, pack our bags and head back home.....to who knows what!

From here on, it gets wetter!

The morning we left Bariloche, Dave took the time to change the oil in his bike and I made more pointless enquiries in the hope of getting the shock repaired, so by the time we were finished it was almost 12:00. 

Dave managed to change the oil at the back of a local garage, it's always useful if there's somewhere to dispose of the used oil.

The road from Bariloche to Esquel.

We had originally planned to reach Tecka that evening but due to the late start we stopped 100km short of our intended destination at Esquel. We had passed through Esquel a few weeks back on our way down to the Carretera Austral and knew as it was a fairly large town it would be easy find accommodation. Just outside the town we stopped for fuel and got chatting to John and Isabel from the UK who had sold up and bought a 4X4 in order to travel the Americas, they had shipped the bike to Canada and had intended to cross the border into the US but had tragically been refused entry for some real weird reasons. Sadly this had scuppered a lifetime dream and they have now been resigned to seeing only 2/3 of the continent due to the anal homeland security system adopted by the United States.

John and Isabel.

John and Isabel had just left Esquel and gave us the name of the hostel where they had stayed but when we got into town there were some street celebrations going on which meant we couldn't get there. In the end we settled for a smelly hotel on the main street and then got fed up looking for somewhere to get a decent meal and ended up with a burger and bed!

After a crap nights sleep (music till 5:00am) it was back to bad roads and wind and even a short stretch of the dreaded Ruta 40 before we hit Ruta 25, the main road east to Trelew. Dave's neighbours in the hotel were worse than ours and he was concerned that the days ride would be too tiring,  there were options of stopping before we got to Trelew, but not many. The next 300 miles of road contained 4 or 5 villages but we had no idea if there was any accommodation, so at worse it would mean sticking it out until we reached Trelew.

A bit of early morning dust and gravel.

For the most part Ruta 25 was well paved.

More desolate pampas

Occasionally the road would pass though a canyon or follow a river which would break up the boredom or provide a welcome break from the winds. As I explained in a previous blog the wind on the pampas almost always blows from the west and as were heading in an easterly direction we expected to be given some assistance from a tailwind, strangely it wasn't the case and we were always fighting the wind from the front or the sides. 

Los Altares.

This place served the best steak so far on the trip.

Back to following Dave and 'Maisie'

And this is what it looks like from Sue's point of view filming on a bike with a blown shock absorber.

Because Dave had been struggling all day with the wind we took the advice of some friendly locals and stopped at a local beauty spot for the night. Dique Florentino Armeghino nestles in the shadow of a dam holding back the waters of a huge man made lake, at one time it would have been a remote canyon settlement alongside the Chubut river, now it provides campsites and basic accommodation for holiday makers looking to take advantage of the activities offered at the nearby lake.

The dam and hydro-electric plant.

The road over the dam.

The road out of the village.

Next morning we left for the run to Peninsular Valdez, first stop was Trelew, originally a Welsh settlement founded in the late 1800s when Welsh settlers migrated to this area to build a railway. We stopped for breakfast in the city centre at the Turing Club hotel, one of the original city buildings and a real throwback to the past with memorabilia everywhere and waiters in white jackets (Oh! and free WiFi).

The next few days turned out to be a complete washout, we did get to Puerto Piramides on the peninsular but any hope of seeing the killer whales were washed out along with the local roads by some of the worst rains this area had seen for years. The road around the peninsular was basically mud and to make matters worse the graders were out skimming the top surface of gravel off leaving a nice slimy base underneath, we did give it a go but turned round after a couple of kilometers. The locals predicted the rains were here to stay and could last a couple of months!, we weren't about to hang around waiting for the dry season and had to get to Buenos Aires, so left the next day slightly disappointed. The truth is we would have had only a 3% chance of seeing a killer whale attack so we'll have to make do with National Geographic or videos like the one below.

The next morning we donned the waterproofs and left in heavy rain and for the first time on the trip it felt like we were on the homeward stretch. Sue was now feeling homesick but not enough to think about missing the trip to the Iguazu Falls, but first we had to get to Buenos Aires to sort out BOB and look at getting him and us back to the UK. The worst part of riding to Ushuaia is the run back up Ruta 3, even in good conditions it's just a long boring ride but throw in some wind and rain and it becomes tedious to the extreme.

A day after leaving Puerto Piramides we ran into the flood plains, there had been so much rain over the recent weeks the surrounding land looked like a huge lake. The news reports from Buenos Aires looked even worse with whole areas of the city under water, our only problem was the occassional submerged sections of highway.

Another foot of water and we'd be swimming!

A mile further on and the road was submerged.

Just keep it in a straight line....

Isn't she pretty!

On the second night we stopped in Bahia Blanca and were woken at 3:30am to the sound of heavy rain, there was a commotion outside in the corridor and when I went to investigate I was greeted by the hotel manager desperately trying to get rid of a floor full of water from overloaded drains. Our room was slightly higher than Daves which meant he had an inch of water covering his room floor but fortunately all his belongings were off the ground.

We could have asked for a discount, or maybe just free swimwear!.

The ride into Buenos Aires should have been straightforward, even if we had to ride through the middle of the city the GPS had the most up to date maps and we would only have to deal with the congestion of city traffic. The recent floods changed all that, the fact that the city had been under water for the past couple of weeks meant that there were whole suburbs that were no go areas for traffic and even with the TV news reports we had no idea which areas were affected, we had seen that parts of the city centre were still under water and wanted to avoid those if possible.

We'd like to avoid Palermo please, BOB would definitely struggle to get through this!

And we would certainly want to avoid this level crossing if this idiot is driving the train!

As usual we had a few misdirections entering the city and had to stop at one point to put on the waterproofs as the afternoon rains started, I couldn't force the GPS to re route us around the city centre so in the end we had no option but to follow the directions and hope for the best. Even after travelling through Central America in the wet season, I'm still amazed at the amount of rain that falls in such a short time, it took us less than 30 minutes to reach the city centre and by that time some of the streets were under a foot of water. People seemed unphased by the downpour and the majority of them didn't even bother with umbrellas, I on the other hand had to try and see though a constant stream of water covering my visor, follow the directions on the GPS, negotiate traffic and avoid what looked like the deepest bits of floodwater. Our initial destination was Dakar Motos in the north west of the city, a family run motorcycle business that seems to exist now purely to cater for travellers like ourselves. There is nothing on the outside of the building indicating Dakar Motos, simply a house number painted on a pair of galvenised steel doors.

Dakar Motos, Buenos Aires.

The premises are basically a lock up garage/workshop with an enclosed yard at the rear where those on a tight budget can pitch a tent or alternatively rent a bunk bed at the back of the workshop if one's available.

The owners, Xavier and Sandra provide various services from repairs and bike storage to assistance with shipping, when we arrived our priorities were to find some nearby accommodation and enquire about repairing the rear shock. The GPS managed to get us to our destination and someone came out to investigate on hearing the bikes pull up outside, there are always travellers on site and we were suprised to see Phillipe who we'd last seen in Ushuaia, he was waiting for repairs before heading north on his way back home to Quebec. When Xavier finally arrived I explained about the busted rear shock and after a quick look he said "no problem, bring it in on Monday morning and I'll have someone repair it", it was as simple as that, no sharp intake of breath, or "it's gonna be expensive" just all very matter of fact. We still had no accommodation but wanted to be close to Dakar Motos until the shock was fixed so Xavier suggested a couple of places, the first was a bit like something out of a horror movie but the other spot was ideal, a couple of miles away with secure parking and WiFi.
So this was it the end of the road for us, the final destination, we still had the ride up to Igauzu to see the falls and the run back through Brazil and Uraguay but eventually we would return to Buenos Aires to ship us and BOB home.
The first thing Monday morning, Sue, Dave and I went back to Dakar Motos, Xavier removed the rear shock and 5 minutes later a guy arrived to collect it for repair, we were told it would take a couple of days to service it and replace the damaged seal.

BOB undergoing surgery.

Xavier and BOB.

The rest of the day we hung around chatting to other travellers and waiting for Sandra to arrive so we could get some quotes for shipping the bikes back to the UK. It turned out the cheapest option was to fly the bike to Madrid and then transport it from there to the UK by truck. Sue and I would have to scour the internet to find a couple of cheap flights to Heathrow, however all of this could be organised when we got back from Iguazu.

Every day it seemed as though there was always someone arriving or leaving.

When we left Dakar Motos at the end of the day I got a lift back to the hotel on the back of Mark's bike, a fellow traveller staying at our hotel and Sue rode back with Dave and Maisie.

Xavier checking that Sue's happy as a pillion passenger.

Stop posing and get back to the hotel!

The shock was repaired and ready a couple of days later, it was actually ready to fit the day after it was removed but I had taken the ignition keys back to the hotel which prevented Xavier from removing the seat so he could refit the shock. The whole repair including refitting cost us US$150 which was a bargain, how long it will last is anybody's guess but as long as it gets us round Brazil and Uruguay we can look at getting a more uprated shock when we get home. Sue had spoken to Jude and Johannes yesterday and arranged to meet them downtown for lunch, they were leaving for home in a couple of days and this would be our last chance to get together and catch up on what's happened since we left them in Puerto Montt. It turns out that Buenos Aires is actually a really cool city even with the torrential downpours, it's cleaner than most of the major cities we have visited and the people are friendly enough. Currently the Venezuelan president, Chavez is trying to brew up trouble over the proposed exploration for oil down in the Falklands, most people that we have spoken to on the subject seem to fall into one of two camps, those who aren't bothered about the whole Falkland's sovereignty thing and the other group (mainly younger adults) who feel aggrieved that the Falkland Islands are still under British rule and are thoroughly pissed off at the thought of us exploiting natural resources so close to their homeland. We just hope that if things get worse we're out of here and on the plane home!
We took the train into the city and met up with Johannes and Jude at the obelisk on 9th of July Avenue, the main thoroughfare through downtown Buenos Aires, it's also reputedly the widest street in the world (140m wide) although it is made up of three separate roads running parallel to each other.

9th July Avenue with the Obelisk in the centre.

The Obelisk
The Obelisk was built in May 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the first founding of the city. It is located in the center of the Plaza de la República, the spot where the Argentine flag was flown for the first time in Buenos Aires. Its total height is 67 meters (220 ft) and its base area is 49 square meters (530 square feet). It was designed by architect Alberto Prebisch, and its construction took barely four weeks.

Our arrival also coincided with the start of a demonstration for something or other, some of the demonstrators were equiped with machettes, baseball bats and steel pipes but it all seemed very civilised and colourful and we got the feeling the police were used to this kind of activity.

Nice day for a 'Demo'.

Jude dodging the BA taxis.

Downtown Buenos Aires.

As usual with the group dynamics it took us 15 minutes just to decide which direction to go for lunch!

Phillipe and Sue sporting the black tee shirt and long hair look.

Johannes and Jude were due to fly out the next day on their way to Germany to see Johannes's family before heading home to Tasmania, they had shipped their bike to the US as Australian Customs would not allow them to import a foreign vehicle less than a year old without paying exhorbitant import duties. It would be stored at Chris's place in Miami until they could get it back without penalty at which point they will decide if they want to continue travelling, we chatted over lunch and said our final goodbyes (again!) before heading back to Dakar Motos to collect BOB.

We were now ready for the final excursion up country to visit the Iguazu Falls, one of the world's greatest natural wonders, and after that we may as well ride back to Buenos Aires through Brazil and Uruguay (time for more stickers!).
The next day we returned to the city to buy third party insurance for the upcoming trip, the need to have insurance varies from country to country, sometimes it's available at the border but often it's up to you to find somewhere that will sell it. For a number of countries we simply didn't bother and took the chance if we were stopped, in all of our travels we were only asked once for proof of insurance and that was at one of the border crossings between Chile and Argentina. In that instance I managed to bluff my way out of it by presenting my medical insurance policy instead (fortunately the guy couldn't read English!) but this time we were heading up Ruta 14 and through an area policed by some of the most corrupt cops (cue Jeremy Clarkson's voice).....In the world!
Ruta 14 runs north from Buenos Aires and closely follows the border with Uruguay, the police on this stretch of road and particularly at kilometer 341 are notorious for fleecing any motorist but particularly foreigners as a means of enhancing their salary. We had been warned by other travellers about the need to ride within the speed limits and to make sure our documentation was in order. There are numerous threads on adventure travel web sites recounting horror stories of people being ripped off for fear of ending up in jail.
So that's something else to look forward to!

Crooked Cop shop - kilometer 341
Travellers beware! anyone riding Ruta 14 needs to make a note of this place, in fact anywhere on this road and you're a target. The worse thing is, even if you're abiding by the law and sticking within the speed limits you'll still get stopped....Bastards!

View km 341 Crooked Cop Shop in a larger map