Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Uruguay to Tucuman

Our campsite at sunset. Outside Dolores, Uruguay

We rode half way to Mercedes and camped in a beautiful spot off the side of the road with the setting sun and tall grasses. We were eaten alive by ants but the mosquitos weren´t too bad.

It turned out that the warm up was a good idea. During Critical Mass in Buenos Aires, in our last few days there, we met a French couple living in BA for their daughter who wanted to learn Spanish. She had already learned French, English, and Chinese so Spanish was the next logical choice. They invited us over to a home made lasagna dinner and fantastically suggested that we ride to the next bridge in Fray Bentos instead of taking the ferry to Uruguay. We changed the idea but took it to heart. After 4 months of almost no bike riding, being dropped off at the foot of the Andes seemed a little daunting. So we did take the ferry but we biked north to the bridge in order to cross back. The bus from Rosario is over $100 US cheaper than the one from BA, and we didn´t have to pay for the ferry back.

Uruguay was beautiful, mostly flat with easy rolling hills. Farmland. Even so we were riding directly into the brutal, relentless wind and having small muscles to start, we averaged about 8 mph. Fortunately the people there are the friendliest people we´ve ever met. Always time for a chat, a tour, directions, offering help.

In Dolores, Roberto gave us a tour and invited us into his home for lunch - explained that he was poor for having 5 sons, but let us use 2 of his 3 computers with speedy internet and offered up his play station on one of his 2 TVs. We had run into him coming into town. He was waiting to pay his internet bill. We compaired prices of internet in the US and Uruguay. Still a little cheaper there.

In Mercedes Orlando helped us happily when we told him we lost our stove back at our campsite. He drove Chris back 15 km to look for it while Courtney waited with the bikes. When they returned he gleefully shouted out the window ¨NO ENCONTRAMOS!! NO ENCONTRAMOS!!¨ we didn´t find it. But he called Chris ¨Che¨ lovingly and we all got besos. Three 10 year old boys joined us in the plaza, played Courtney´s Ukulele until they broke a string, and sang us songs. They watched Chris make a new stove and all lined up for besos from Courtney and strong Norte Americano handshakes from Chris.

We were told that the Estancias of Uruguay were free to stay at and they give you food. So the night after we siesta´d in Mercedes, we went looking for an Estancia. We turned off the route onto a dirt road and biked for 6 miles into the hills and back out deciding that if there was an estancia down there, who knows how far it could be. We camped under the roof of a slightly abandoned house - well kept but empty. Good thing too, because the rain was incredible that night. The lightning was like a strobe light.

Our estancia. Outside Mercedes, Uruguay

Unfortunately Fray Bentos´s bridge has been closed in protest of the paper plant by the Argentinians for about 4 years. We talked with many Uruguayans about the conflict. There were troubles with tourism (people now having to drive 100 km north just to get home), troubles with cost of goods (it´s harder to transport goods over the boarder to Uruguay, raising the price), troubles with jobs (the commuters trying to get from Uruguay to there posts in Argentina lost their jobs. There are fewer positions available in Uruguay, something that after 4 years many people have not recovered from), not to mention the fact that the general relationship between Argentina and Uruguay has suffered. Argentina, as we now learned, has bitter relationships with Chile AND Uruguay.

The paper plant outside of Fray Bentos, Uruguay

Despite the closure, many Uruguayans suggested that we give the bridge a try. We are not Uruguayan and the closure is symbolic, so we may not have any trouble. It was worth the shot since the next bridge north was Paysandu: 100km farther north, into the wind.

We didn´t even get the chance to talk/bribe our way through the boarder. The Uruguayans stopped us first. No bikes on the bridge. But the bus to Paysandu was only $70 Uy and that´s about $3 US so we took our chances. To get the bikes on (despite the obvious amount of room) we had to argue, sweet talk, and eventually cry to get them on. The police and both drivers were ushured over. Driver no 1 said no, finally driver no 2 said, if they fit, why not? Yes, why not? So having fit bikes into much tighter spots, we were victorious and made it to Paysandu. We were not looking forward to our bus trip from Rosario to Tucuman. Turns out there´s an easier way.

The main avenue in Paysandu on Saturday Night, Argentina

As far as we were concerned, Paysandu was like Tokyo. The second largest city in Uruguay, (100,000 ppl) and lit up amazingly on Saturday Night. A vast difference when compaired with the other pueblos. We were showed the bootleg clothes and black market and directed to the free camping on the beach. ¨but it´s all underwater, so good luck¨ It was underwater. Several feet of water. But we camped up higher with the parrillas with no trouble.

In the morning we crossed the bridge without any problems at all and made it to Colon where we stocked up on supplies and headed south (winds at our backs). Argentina is building a second lane to make Route 14 a divided hwy but it´s not done yet. We had the pleasure of a whole 2 lane hwy to ourselves. Que fortuna. We made it to Caseros for the night when Courtney realized that she had left her wallet behind - we had just been to the bank so this was a huge blow. Thinking we were going to have to bike (possibly 25 miles) back to look for it, Courtney went to see if anyone could do anything to help. More than just anything, the employee of the gas station called the police and had them come to pick Courtney up. The police, for no reason at all, helped us. Courtney was driven to the last two rest spots (the second one was indeed 25 miles away) just to look for it, and THERE IT WAS! waiting for our return on the side of the new hwy. The color of dirt at this point so no one had spotted it. What luck. The police teased Courtney that her esposo wasn´t going to leave her now that she found it.

We left Caseros in high spirits but were lazy all day. We made it about 30 miles down the road, having stopped a few times (the wind had returned now that we were heading west) and eventually came to the realization that we needed to get to Tucuman to start the tour. Some how realizing this made it happen. After about 30 min of hitch hiking we were picked up by a family going to Rosario (a 3.5 hour drive away) who threw our bikes in the back of the truck and off we went. We were intertained by Juan, the youngest, and his stories about Wall-e and Lela´s (the older sister) love of Betty Boop. We made note of the fact that, if we had riden this distance, we would have been able to cross the bridge over the Parana river - there are paths on every bridge the whole 60 km between Victoria and Rosario. We also saw that those 60 km are completely flooded with water. El Niño has taken it´s toll here as well.

Our new friends who drove us all the way from Basavilbaso to Rosario, Argentina

We thought we would spend a day in Rosario but it was overwhelmingly cityish and so we just caught the 11pm bus out. The easier way to get the bikes on, bribe them. This made the cost of the bus no less cheaper than the ferry back to BA would have been, but no regrets.

Now we´re in Tucuman getting ready for ¨tour propper.¨ Today we head up the mountain dispite the pouring rain and thunderstorm the weather forcast has promised.


Thursday, February 18, 2010

Warm-up in Uruguay

We started the tour!

First day we rode our bikes and put them on the train to Tigre, suburb of BA. From there we took a 3 hour ferry to Carmelo, Uruguay. As it was getting dark soon, we took a quick tour of the city to see where we might camp for the night. About one block from the ferry and we were making our first friend, Poppy. Our new dog wouldn´t get his name until we woke up the next morning to find that he was still outside our tent, watching our bikes for us.

The night we arrived was the end of Carnival, so we went downtown to watch the parade of pretty ladies, boys in white masks dressed in drag, and Mozambique (sister city?) drummers, also in a bit of drag. Poppy was with us the whole time, barking whenever we started to get on the bikes. Anytime a car would pass us, he would bark at to make sure we were safe.

Poppy, tounge out.

Day 2, February 17th, we left Carmelo going northwest towards Nueva Palmira. As we left the city, surely Poppy would leave us behind. No, Poppy wouldn´t leave us until we left route 21 to enter Nueva Palmira, about 18 KM away. That dog was hard to deter and harder to wear out. It was a shame we couldn´t keep him, but 50+ KM per day is a lot to ask of a dog.
Roberto and Chris on the Rio San Salvador

Today we´re taking our siesta in Dolores. We made fast friends with Roberto, who gave us a quick tour on his bike. He told us about the cereal grain industry here, showed us the old Molino San Salvador (still running) along the beautiful and tranquil rio San Salvador, and the statue of Artigas, the Uruguayan liberator.
The Molina (mill) San Salvador

A cool shower was next, Roberto knew exactly what we needed. Over a nice lunch, our host told us about the Argentine picketers who have kept the international bridge from Fray Bentos to Argentina closed for years, in protest over a paper mill on the Uruguayan side. The battle seems lost as the paper mill has been running awhile now, and thanks to the protests and new technology is a relatively small issue as it pertains to contamination of the river. The soy crops, he says, are a huge polluter.

But now, on towards Mercedes.



Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The Why of it.

Chris and Courtney are trying to make it to Lima, Peru by May 1st. A series of crazy events including a broken arm have thus far kept us from fulfilling our dream bike tour in South America. We waited it out here in Argentina and have seen many beautiful things, BUT inflation is high, work is hard to find, and wages are low so in order to make it north to Peru we're asking for help.

While we are in South America our goals are to learn Spanish, Culture, History and Agriculture. Currently we are studying Spanish in and out of the classroom. We are reading and conversing about the history of Argentina and it's neighboring countries. We have traveled to the far reaches of Argentina - gaining a broad perspective of the language and land. We have already passed many hours conversing with locals and learning about their stance on life and politics. When we set out on this adventure, we were hoping to make it more than just a vacation and we have succeeded thus far.

We want to travel to Northern Argentina, through Bolivia, Chile and Peru. From here we hope to learn about the many differences and similarities in Culture, History, and even Language these countries have to offer. Along the way we're hoping to volunteer on small farms.

In order to Achieve this goal we will need a few thousand dollars for visas, day-to-day expenses, shipping our bikes home, Spanish Lessons, and entrance fees to Cultural Events and National Parks, etc.

This is a tall order, but anything helps and the rest is up to luck and hard work. So this is technically a blog about our bike trip to Peru. And will be once we start our tour. But for now we will entertain you with stories about our time away from home thus far.

So you know just what you are contributing towards, we've constructed a tiered budget to show a continuum of comfort and completion of the trip.

Making a minimalist trip that takes us through Bolivia to Peru, and home:

  • $200 - taking our bikes home on the plane
  • $270 - reciprocal entrance fee to Bolivia for U.S. citizens
  • $300 - bus and train rides through un-bikeable areas (the never-ending urbanity of Buenos Aires and deserts of Bolivia)
  • $510 - food budget of $30/week for 17 weeks
  • $300 - travel insurance

The minimalist trip costs us $1580. Doing the trip as we intend to, the budget goes up:

  • $510 - fresh foods and the occasional bed and shower, to keep us moving while we're biking the Bolivian altiplano at 13,000 feet; again, this is over 17 weeks.
  • $150 - Spanish Classes
  • $400 - non-bicycle-activity fees such as entrance to parks for hiking the Peruvian Andes, tour of Uyuni Salt Flat, and seeing Macchu Picchu.
  • $500 - preparation for the inevitable: inflation, broken equipment, unexpected costs.

Our total expected costs are $2540, and the cushion money puts our goal at just over $3000.

Please donate any amount to make our trip a reality. Short-term, interest-free loans are also welcome.

To learn more about us you can jump to the first post: Bike Tour Peru

Thank you so much for checking this out!

Chapter 9: Back to BA

So we made it back to our friend's house in Buenos Aires just one day before Christmas Eve and were able to get some money to buy a duck for Christmas dinner which we shared with Mike and Eliza, our friends here.

Courtney and Mike in front of Chrismas Dinner, Buenos Aires, AR

Shortly after we arrived, Andrew and Vicky showed up to go traveling with Mike and Eliza. After New Years Celebrations and Chris's Birthday Brunch all four of them headed off to the North and left us alone in the apartment for 6 weeks to walk the dogs and care for the apartment.

Chris in front of his birthday cupcakes, courtesy of Eliza. Buenos Aires, AR

Left to Right, Mike, Eliza, Andrew and Vickey leaving for their own adventure, Buenos Aires, AR

What is life like in BA? Do we get to call ourselves ex-pats or tourists? Well, life is surprisingly domestic. To keep within our food budget, we visit El Galpon - sort of like a farmer's market - twice a week for groceries. We've also discovered a similar cooperative just blocks from the house where we got a better idea of the organization of these healthy food markets. Rather than being organized around a central theme like organic or local, these markets support small farm movements in several fertile areas, thereby embodying the various ethics held by tomato farmers in Mendoza, Mate growers in Misiones, and of course local guertas - small plots producing the closest thing to organic available.

The bounty of El Galpón all for about $10 US, Buenos Aires, AR

Our day to day is spent rather calmly. We did the research and math about how long it takes to find a job, what the pay is, and how much we already have filling our days. After a few weeks of trying, we decided to call off the job search. Chris tends to stay below deck, stretching his fingers and retraining his hands to hold the violin with more precision while Courtney sunbathes on the terrace, attempting the unthinkable - she is reading, and finishing, Gravity's Rainbow.

Our Corner street art at Ravignani and Cabrera, Buenos Aires, AR

One good reason for our domestic lifestyle is our primary function here in Buenos Aires: to care for the dogs that Mike and Eliza had to leave behind. They have a dog walker but, like everyone else in Buenos Aires, he left for vacation. So our days are fairly organized around feeding, walking and exercising the pups - who have a lot of energy but need to stay in kennels every time you leave the house (lest they poop and pee and hyperventilate until you return. Strangely they seem to do just fine in the kennels in comparison). Needless to say, a long stay away from the house is hard for them.

Our charges: Inga and Emmy Lou. Plaza Mafalda, Buenos Aires, AR

When we leave the house, we study the Castellano language in the context of political questions surrounding guerillas, transportation, raw food, and worker cooperatives (having accidentally found a Spanish Teacher who loves all the same things we do). At night we attend free tango classes and various performances that the city government puts on in the plazas around the city.

Tango Aéreo in Parque Centenario, Buenos Aires, AR

We've also toured the city a little and now that Courtney is back on a bike, it's even easier to get around to see new things (naturally it has been raining ever since). We've thoroughly explored Palermo (the enormous neighborhood we live in) although there's probably many more secrets out there to see. Palermo spans across the northern part of the city along the river with the exception of Barrio Norte to the south and Belgrano to the north (neither of which are nearly the length of Palermo). It includes Palermo Soho, Palermo Viejo and Palermo Hollywood (we live in Hollywood). It's chalk full of cafes, plazas and parks. In fact a good third of the barrio is the Bosques de Palermo a park along the riverfront. We don't have money for cafes but it's quite nice to walk the dogs past all the people sitting outside them on the sidewalk under the shade of the trees drinking coffee, tea, wine, enjoying themselves. There's also Cementerio La Chacarita which is much lest touristy but equally as stunning as La Recoleta.

Family and geese under the Puente Blanco in El Rosedal - the Rose Gardens of the Bosques del Palermo. Buenos Aires, BA

We've been down south to San Telmo to see the flee market and the colonial architecture, and north to Barrio Norte to see the Cementerio La Recoleta where Eva Perón (Evita) was buried but we were turned away because of our bikes so we went to Floralis Genérica instead. We've been in the Microcentro to find camping equipment, see the masses, and view the famous Plaza de Mayo (the historical local for many a riot and revolution) and far North to Belgrano to see Barrio Chino (China Town) where they sell all the Asian and North American delicacies that are hard to come by in Buenos Aires (not without a decently sized price tag, however). Tomorrow with our Spanish teacher we're going to La Boca to talk to one of many worker-owned collectives in Buenos Aires and hopefully see some Tango.

Floralis Genérica at Plaza Naciones Unidas. Buenos Aires, AR

Chapter 8: Mendoza

Wine cellar at Familia Di Tommaso, Maipú, AR

We all got on a local bus to Mendoza City where they were preparing for their yearly holiday fiesta. There was drumming and a parade to the Plaza Independencia, live music and dancing. Instead of hassling the crowds in the plaza, the police were rescuing stray children which was adorable. Quite a welcome. We walked around the city watching the festivities, enjoying the warm night air - something non-existent in Patagonia - and made a summery green pepper, tomato, and squash soup for dinner.

Mendoza police officer rescuing a little boy, Mendoza, AR

We split up our time between the city of Mendoza and the surrounding vineyards. In Mendoza, in addition to the fiesta the night we arrived, we also spent a day walking around to all the satellite plazas that represent the different European backgrounds of the city and of course one for the hero of Argentina General San Martín. San Martín was born in Argentina but schooled in Europe where he also served in the military. When he learned that his home country was going through a revolution he quickly returned to help with the fight. His efforts proved to create miraculous results: training a military force and then charging over the pass between Mendoza and Chile (which even cars today don't attempt - the pass has been closed for years and a tunnel was built in its place) to defeat the colonial forces thus liberating Chile. He later helped with the forces in other countries, trying to help them break free of colonial rule but found his efforts were not quite as helpful and retreated back to Europe where spent the rest of his life. Mendoza also has an enormous park named for San Martín in which we spent a day wandering around.

The enormous monument to General San Martín perched at the top of Cerro Gloria. Mendoza, AR

Mendoza was also the place where, for the first time, everyone seemed to think that if we camped we would die. We got our wallet stolen and everything we did was just a little too touristy and organized - even though we didn't actually do any tours. Mendoza is the famous wine region of AR. They've been making wine here for about 500 years so it's pretty good. Unfortunately some things went wrong and we only got to taste at 2 places - Ironically one of these things was Chris having to bike for an hour to get to the bank to withdrawal the money that was going to be stolen that night.

However, the perk of going wine tasting is more about the beautiful landscape than the drink. We biked, Courtney mostly one handed, around through back roads with vineyards on all sides and pretty trees. It was hot and pleasant. Any time we tried to do something outside the normal wine route everyone was supposed to be on, someone would come up and tell us that we didn't want to or couldn't or shouldn't. So we did anyway and that was fine. Wine in the grocery store is really cheap also, so since we would have had to pay 25 pesos - 10 pesos more than most fairly good bottles - each just to taste 3 wines it turned out better to have spent most of our time biking around.

Chris trying the complementary wine at the Museo del Vino. Maipú, AR

We did end up at a (highly over priced) campsite where we met a group of French exchange students on vacation from school and a German couple. They invited us to eat their "Montón de Carne" with them and we all spoke Spanish since it was the only common language we had together. We spent two nights chatting it up until 4 in the morning over the parrilla - Argentine BBQ (only to get up at 7 am for touristy activities - We found out later that they were all 20, which explains why they had so much energy). In addition to new friends, our campsite had a pool! We were able to wake up to a good swim every morning.

The morning after the wallet was stolen, however, the police picked us up to file a report and let us use their phone to call anyone who might be able to help us out. As it turned out Juan's truck was still in disrepair and he had already headed home by bus to Buenos Aires so as not to miss Christmas festivities. The police dropped us off on the highway and after a few hours we met Abrio and Julio. They were driving a tanker truck full of concentrated Quilmes beer - the Argentine beer of choice - that was ice cold (the day, however was sweltering hot) and Julio let us try some beer with the lunch that he fed us. He felt sorry for us and was completely distressed that Courtney had never eaten carne before, so he bought us dinner (hoping that Courtney would eat steak). He took it upon himself to teach us Spanish and, the following afternoon, dropped us off at a bus stop with $50 AR for a bus into Retiro - the Main station in Buenos Aires - and a 6 litre water bag full of cerveza.

Our ride. The YPF outside of Mendoza, AR

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Chapter 7: Northern Patagonia

Us (United States) and our new friends Rachel (Malaysia), Antonio (Mexico) and Marcus (Switzerland). How very multicultural. Península Valdéz, AR

After 4 days in El Chalten we headed back toward El Calafate for a 2 am bus to Rio Gallegos where we met Matis who took us all the way to Comodoro Rivadavia. Some gap in communication lead him to leave without us in the morning but we got a ride with Hector an YPF - Yacimientos Petroleros Fiscales, once a state-owned petroleum company, now privatized due to the structural adjustments the country went through during Carlos Menem's presidency in the '90s - employee hauling a tanker of gasoline to Trelew. He was amazingly friendly and taught us all about SOLIDARIDAD. Trelew is just south of our destination of Puerto Madryn and Puerto Piramides where we were to sit on the beach with some new friends, Antonio and Rachel, and warm up after 3 weeks of cold cold southern Argentina and then go whale watching. The whales swam right under our tiny boat.

Courtney with the whale, Puerto Pirámides AR

We also met a Marcus there who had already rented a car so he took us around the peninsula. The peninsula is an animal reserve so there's plenty to see. Guanacos, Ostriches, Foxes, Sea Lions, Elephant Seals, and especially Penguins!!! Otherwise in order to tour the island we would have been set back about $360 AR pesos or $100 US so it was nice to meet a friend.

Penguin parent and chick, Península Valdéz, AR

Actually we've had a lot of luck with that sort of thing. Any time we decide that spending money is stupid - which is often - someone comes along to say, oh, well I'm already going there/doing that/spending that money, so come with me! Or they say, oh well, you can do this other thing that tourists don't really know about and is free, so try that... Great news! we say.

Another important part about the area around Trelew is that it is the rare Welsh district of Argentina. At certain points in Argentinian History, the Colonialists were regularly harassed by the Indigenous populations. Having taken away their livelihood, the Colonialists had left the Indigenous to round up the wild cattle (introduced to the area by Mendoza, the first leader to attempt to create a European settlement where Buenos Aires now sits. The cattle and horses were left behind when the settlement was declared a failure and the inhabitants fled to Paraguay. Over the next several decades, with no natural predators, the cattle and horses multiplied and spread across the Pampa.) and sell it to the settlements on the other side of the Andes Mountains, European and Indigenous. These men were known as Gauchos. The Argentinean version of a cowboy. Today there is still a strong Gaucho presence in the plains of Argentina, although the outlaw aspect of it has dissipated. Gauchos are an important part of the mystique and identity of the country.

Unfortunately, the Cattle began to dissipate as well and the many a Gaucho was left to raid villages for his livelihood. At this point, General Julio Roca lead an army into the South to annihilate over 1300 Indigenous leaving Patagonia open to settlement. Roca was made a hero and the next president of the country. During his presidency Roca used the newly opened land as a system of patronage in order to consolidate his power. He later used this power to defeat indigenous groups in the Northern parts of the country. Roca also highly encouraged European immigration in order to fill the open space. Between 1880, the beginning of Roca's presidency, and WWI, 6 million Europeans immigrated to Argentina from Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, Russia, Ireland, and Wales.

The Welsh mark can be found in Trelew and the surrounding towns. We found ourselves in Gaiman, after Marcus dropped us off on the way to the airport where he would fly to Ushuaia and his grand adventure to Antarctica. Gaiman is proud of their Welsh roots and is speckled with Casas de Té where you can fill up on 15 different types of traditional Welsh cakes and as much tea as you can drink. It was quite the experience. It was also raining outside. Pouring. And as we left the tea house (after 2 hours of attempting to finish all the different cakes) we managed to find a nice tree to sit under while we contemplated our next move. We were attempting to make our way clear across to the east side of the country to El Bolsón. Finally deciding that the rain was not going to let up we began to walk to the edge of town and were flagged down by a nice man named Domingo with a wood factory who offered us a place to pitch our tent in the one miraculously dry spot in all of Gaiman. Domingo is named such because his feet are too big and don't fit into any work shoes. He wears relaxed Sunday shoes all year round. In the morning he told us all about how Gaiman is full of Welsh and how important that is (he being Welsh descended himself). We thanked him greatly for his hospitality and headed toward the road.

Chris, sipping properly in front of our elaborate Welsh Tea Service, Gaiman, AR

In Trelew we might have been able to find a ride in a Semi-Truck but in Gaiman there was no truck-stop so we waited with our thumbs out, got a ride to the next town and were told we probably wouldn't make it more than half way that day. He was right, in that every car we saw driving in our direction turned off into town. But miraculously two adorable Chilean tourists stopped for us and took us all 700 km to Esquel, only 100 Km south of where we wanted to be. We had lunch in the Plaza and walked to the edge of town where we camped and got up early to get another ride the rest of the way.

Our Chilean tourist heroes posing for a picture, Ruta Nacional 25, AR

El Bolsón is something like an Argentinian Bellingham or Santa Cruz. They are famous for their artisan beer and their hippies. At our campsite we met some friendly people and learned some good Argentinian Slang. We also got on a bus to Lago Puelo where the campsite had become a river and walked around for a day. It's especially gorgeous there. In the town they have a artisan craft fair 3 times a week where one can buy jams, chocolate, cheese, jewelery, cutting boards and furniture.

The artisan craft fair, El Bolsón, AR

The lake at dusk, Lago Puelo, AR

On our way out of town we visited the brewery and were able to taste a few. Unlike microbreweries in the US, the El Bolsón Cervecería is famous for their fruity beers - such as raspberry, cherry, even honey flavored beer. We camped outside of the YPF and got up at 6 am to talk to the truck drivers on their way out of town. Jorge, the first person we asked, gave us a ride all the way to Neuquin, not without delays but we had fun all the same, where we spent another night. In the morning we had some trouble figuring out where the best place to be to head toward Mendoza was but eventually landed ourselves on the right highway and got a ride from Juan who took us all the way to San Martín. Juan was another gem of the highway. He was so friendly and we even shared dinner together - cooking on his fancy propane stove he keeps under the truck (there's a pull down cabinet door that works as great counter space). He wanted to learn some English words and he taught us plenty of Spanish. It started pouring rain so we finished our dinner in the empty refrigerator cargo hold where he let us sleep for the night. His truck was having technical problems but he told us that once it was fixed he would take us back with him to Buenos Aires.

Occupying ourselves while we wait for a job to be done on way to Neuquén, Ruta Nacional 237, AR

Chapter 6: Ushuaia y Parque National de Los Glaciares

We quickly traveled from the northernmost city, Iguazú, to the southernmost, Ushuaia - the city at the end of the world, as they love to exploit. As it turns out, Ushuaia actually IS amazing and gorgeous. Mountains surround the city on all sides. They're white with snow so the vista from any given point is perfect. We spent a few days in the Tierra del Fuego National Park. At this point, we got our first taste of "everything costs more than you think it will," a symptom of Argentina's particularly fast and repetitive inflation. The bus driver says that the campsite costs $12 AR but when you get there it costs $18 AR. The Book says $5 AR. We didn't even account for the bus ticket or Park Fee which turned out to be a total of $110 AR each. But none-the-less, the park was amazing.

The omnipresent, and quite friendly Chimango in Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego.

We camped close to Cerro Guanaco and hiked to the top the next day. It was steep and quite a climb but not unattainable. And, if you do reach the top, you're rewarded with beautiful views. We took 6 hours and were well worn out by the time we got back. We decided to take the next day a little easy and just do a 6km coastal hike. Seemed nice, and was, but it was our first time hiking with backpacks on in quite a while. So once again, we were all tuckered out by the time we reached the edge of the park and rather than walk the next 12 km into town we met a nice couple who drove us the rest of the way. Ushuaia as a city is beautiful and so the next day we really DID take it easy and just walked into town from our campsite and toured the prison. The prison was not technically a penal colony but often was treated and viewed by outsiders as such. It was something of a South American Siberia. We also walked downtown to eat some chocolate - something that Patagonia is evidently famous for.

A hardened criminal, right where he belongs.

There's plenty of evidence all over Ushuaia and Tierra del Fuego of the indiginous population: the Yámana. History is widely available in the prison and town. In the National Park you can view the archeological sites of their Middens (trash piles outside the front door of their dwellings - the Yámana consistently shifted the opening of their homes away from the wind so the pile becomes more of a moat over the years.). They were canoe going people who were all but whiped out by the colonial populations. They were viewed as a particularly savage race. Their language was their culture and the only thing they really built were canoes. They were likely not very cooperative in helping the colonists. Some Yamaná were taken, to be "civilized," back to Europe but the venture was a failure and they were dropped back off on the shores of Tierra del Fuego. Jimmy Button, one of the Indigenous that traveled to Europe is known to be responsible for killing several missionaries himself. The last living Yámana, and only speaker of its language, is said to be over 80 years old.

The next day we headed for a 2 day hike over a mountain pass, el Paso de la Oveja. The first day we spent walking through a beautiful valley. We began to ascend the mountain only during the last few hours of the day. Our guidebook described a serene mountain lake whose shores would make an ideal campsite. It also said we could follow the guanaco tracks over the pass. It turns out there's still a lot of snow in November. We camped in the snow with no lake in sight, and did a fire dance to get warm, which actually made the stove work. Before reaching the top of the pass on the second day we spent 4 hours in snow at times up to our waist. For a while it seemed that we would not make it. We certainly couldn't see the guanaco tracks. The snow was pristine and beautiful. When we finally did reach the pass we were rewarded with a small yellow stake - the first trail marker since the afternoon before. As we traversed beyond the pass, we walked high above the canyon and had some fun sliding down the steep sides of the mountain on our butts with our rain pants on.

Stepping outside of our comfort zone. Paso de la Oveja, Ushuaia, AR.

We got back to Ushuaia after 10 hours of hiking and somehow still managed to walk into town to buy dinner supplies and make a delicious seafood soup. Courtney fell asleep with her head on the table and we weren't able to make part two of dinner so we ate the ravioli for breakfast and realized it was Thanksgiving. We Cheers'd and then set out to leave Tierra Del Fuego and head for El Calafate.

The journey was long and cold. Ushuaia is quite balmy compared to the rest of the Island of Tierra del Fuego and at one point we were riding in the back of a pickup for 90 km with several large logs of wood and a couple of bags of raw fish as our company. Although they were going EXACTLY where we needed to go, we were MUCH too cold and got out at the Chilean boarder where we met two other truck drivers who took us a good distance - Rio Gallegos - where we caught the bus to El Calafate.

We've been hitchhiking around because buses are too expensive. Our Spanish is so much better now thanks to the days and days we've spent with truck drivers trying to communicate. This country is enormous and no matter where we went there was 1000 km to pass through first and it would take us at least 2 days of hitching to get there. But Argentinians, so far, are really nice and love to teach Spanish so that's lucky. Some are polite, while others are downright friendly, buying us sweets, sharing meals with us, helping us when we were down and out.

Everyone who comes to El Calafate is there to see an enormous glacier, Perito Moreno. So we went and watched it slowly advance upon us. It was beautiful. A must see. They know this and rob you blind - the bus there picks you up 1/2 hour late and leaves 1/2 hour early and costs $1 AR per Km - $80 AR in total. Then you pay the park entrance fee of $60 AR. The best is when you learn that residents pay $6 AR or less. Sigh. But then, it's only fair. The Argentinian National Parks are the only or one of the few National Park systems in the world that are self funded. So we're proud to participate in that.

Perito Moreno, calving. El Calafate, AR

Perito Moreno is inside of Los Glaciares National Park. Half of the park is made up of the largest continental ice extension after Antarctica. This ice field creates 47 big glaciers, 13 of which flow to the Atlantic. There are also more than 200 smaller glaciers in the park, unconnected to the Ice Caps. The glaciers are remarkably low down making it possible to approach them on foot. Perito Moreno is roughly the size of Buenos Aires. It is so popular because of it's easy visibility, provided there's not a blizzard going on, it's location on the lake which makes a quite stunning vista and the fact that it is one of the very few advancing and stable glaciers in the world. In the afternoon when it warmed up a bit we saw it calving - shedding 5 story towers of impacted snow into the lake below; it is advancing by 3 meters per day. We were able to ride in a boat right up to it (very dangerous supposedly, and now that we've seen the calving, we can see why) to fish out an enormous chunk of ice that rich people can put in their $30 ounce of bourbon. But it's the bourbon that cost money, not the ice so we got a few chunks for our water bottle. Mmmm Fresh!

Later that day we also went to a bird reserve on Laguna Nimez for free that no one knows about and that they have evidently neglected to put in the guide books for the past 6 years. Good thing our guide book is an antique. The reserve was home to many species. The prize birds were the pink Chilean flamingos, with wings the color of sunset. It was beautiful. Beautiful.


We got on a bus to El Chalten to do some more hiking. El Chalten is in the northern part of Los Glaciares National Park and the trekking capital of Argentina. The expected route was short - 3 days - and full of beautiful views of Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre Mountains; a few stunning lakes, glaciers and valleys as well. We passed the downtime chatting with friendly Germans Tourists who had followed us all the way from our campsite in El Calafate to each of our destinations in El Chalten. At one point we accidentally took a wrong turn and ended up 1 km south of where we wanted to be. Fortunately the trail we met up with took us to the right place so the worst that happened was an extra 45 min of walking through gorgeous valleys. Plus, the trail we turned on to took us away from all the other tourists - El Chalten is packed with everyone in the country who wants to take a walk - for several hours and was not without it's vistas.

The "wrong" trail. El Chaltén.

Chapter 5: BA y Iguazú

Chris's college buddy Mike picked us up at the airport. He and Eliza have been living in Buenos Aires for 3 years and have found a beautiful apartment and group of Argentine and ex-patriot friends. They showed us around their neighborhood, Palermo and took us to visit Tigre - like coney island or coney beach, with river boats, hundreds of parrilla restaurants, and a ferris wheel.

We went to the Iguazú waterfalls, known in Argentina as Las Cataratas, and actually stayed in a hostel. We thought we would call it our romantic getaway because we were spending a little more than we would usually. Turns out Iguazú is actually the most romantic place ever. The first day there we fell head over heals in love and the waterfalls were magical, beautiful and perfect. The next day we watched other couples falling under the same spell. We saw kisses aplenty. All around us boys and girls were running off to make out and again, everything was marvelous. It had just rained incredibly hard when we arrived. In fact, most of the tourists were on their way out of the park as we headed in, so as to avoid the torrential storm going on. But they missed out because the falls (250 in all) were even more powerful and amazing thanks to the added rain water.

We hitchhiked to San Ignacio to learn about the history of the area. Misiones, the province in which Iguazú is located, is a rare part of Argentina that juts into Brazil and Paraguay. Here the land is green, lush and tropical, much unlike the rest of the country, the majority of which is an enormous plain filled with Guanaco and shrubbery. Strangely, the tropics here make their mark on the rest of the country. For instance, tropical birds can be found all the way in Ushuaia.

In San Ignacio there are Jesuit ruins. The Jesuits colonized this area of South America, and did so rather successfully. There were obviously problems with the colonial rule, but the Guarani were possibly the best off. They were an effective, co-operative style, farming community and were taught Spanish, Latin and Guaraní in school and the Jesuits often intermarried with the Natives. Unlike much of indigenous groups the rest of the country the Guaraní were treated as more than slaves and survived as a group much longer. They also proved to be a highly successful army. But, alas, other colonizers became jealous of the easy workforce the Jesuits had under their thumb and the Jesuits were expelled from Argentina, by order of the Spanish Crown. The Guaraní were entrusted to the Franciscans and sold as slaves. A few Guaraní live today and the language is spoken by many intellectuals.

Chapter 4: New York, New England, Philadelphia

Sharron's kitchen aka Wedding Catering Central, Brooklyn, NY

Nif and Damian's wedding was promising to be tons of fun. Many people had made the trip from San Francisco to attend. We helped make food and zines for the celebration and visited with a few friends. Chris went off to the bachelor's party and Courtney to the bachelorette's. As it would happen, instead of attending the wedding, Courtney would flip over her bicycle that very afternoon and break her arm in three places. She laid on the side of the Manhattan Bridge waiting for Chris to come find her and for the ambulance to arrive. Bicyclists gave her the thumbs up and David Byrne stopped to ask if she was OK. Instead of the wedding, Courtney got surgery and spent 3 days in Bellevue Hospital. Each day Chris did physical therapy on his Achilles by walking 3 miles to and from the hospital to bring Courtney fresh juice. Along the way Chris visited old friends from school and camp, Alix and Maggie.

Courtney is thrilled. Bellevue Hospital, Manhattan, NY.

After the hospital, Caitlin and then Christi let us stay at their tiny Lower Eastside apartments despite the obvious lack of room. After a few days of recovery we hopped on a MegaBus for only $1 each to Boston where we stayed with Alex and Dace, and then Bonnie. Alex was an old friend of Courtney's from school who we hadn't seen in two years. Bonnie had just moved to Boston to start Grad School. We got to see Alex's settled in life and Bonnie's new Boston career all in one visit. We went to the Institute of Contemporary Art (www.icaboston.org/) and the Cambridge Brewing Company. Bonnie showed us her College grounds and Dace took us to his art studio Open House.

A view from the Williamsburg Bridge.

In between Boston and Philadelphia (where we would fly out of to get to Buenos Aires) we stayed in New York again, this time at Sharron's apartment in Brooklyn, and got to spend some time with the new Bride and Groom.

Courtney is still thrilled. Summerville, MA.

We arrived in Philadelphia as apple season hit the Mitten, our co-op house host - the neighborhood had overtaken their yard and fresh cider was in abundance. We attended the Peoplehood parade, took long walks through the "wasteland" and were present for the Mitten's dinner theater: Food themed after the musician of the evening - Patrick Elkins featuring Legs on Percussion (http://www.myspace.com/patrickelkins). Everyone we stayed with after the broken arm incident was overly helpful and kind. We were offered beds to sleep in and Courtney's lethargy was excused. Thanks.

Peoplehood Parade, West Philiadelphia, PA.

And so, off we flew to Argentina.

Chapter 3: Bike Tour, Take 2

Cluster of VW Bugs in the Appalachian Mountains

In Wooster, OH, at Aunt Jacqui and Uncle Rick's place, Rick suggested that Chris slide his cleats all the way back along his bike shoes to reduce the movement in his ankle. This was marvelous advice. We were able to ride all the way from Wooster to Harrisburg, PA with no further problems. Even after Courtney's Achilles began to go the same way, the cleat trick worked to avoid injury.

We passed the first day on the Sippo Valley Trail - A Rails-to-Trails path (http://www.railstotrails.org/). We camped on the side of the trail just outside of Canton. This time around we reduced our mileage to about 30 or 40 miles a day instead of shooting for 60 and 70. We saw more and spent more time at lunch and in towns or trails along the way. We were much more relaxed and injuries ceased.

Mornings are cold in Ohio and Pennsylvania in September. We stopped for a warm up coffee in Canton and then headed down the road toward Homeworth, OH. This was not intended as our destination but we stopped to ask for a refill of water and Steve, busy taking care of a hornet nest in his back yard, was happy to oblige. We were only a mile down the road when his friend caught up with us in a fancy red Ford Fiesta to tell us that Steve wanted to invite us to camp in his yard and feed us dinner "It's after 5 now, you won't be getting much farther tonight."

We ate salad and chatted with Steve. Sat on his deck and watched the sunset. In the morning we set off down Georgetown Rd - a quiet road with short steep bursts of hill, made a wrong turn and ended up on a numbered highway, which on Sunday, was quiet and calm with slow rolling hills. This road carried us straight into Lisbon, OH and the Johnny Appleseed Festival. Home made delicacies, free apples and live fiddle music, for Chris's extreme enjoyment.

We picnic'd amongst the festivities and chatted with some people to get new directions. They gave us all the wrong numbers but we got the basic idea and set off toward East Liverpool, OH. We ended up riding along HWY 30 which, at first is rather small but turns suddenly into a 4 lane divided highway. 30, otherwise known as Lincoln HWY, was once THE cross country road to New York. The history this road could share is unimaginable. This was not our first time encountering it but, these days, we had made a point to not stay on it too long. Many cars passing at fast speeds isn't good for bike riding. It was still Sunday, however, and most everyone was at home or elsewhere so we enjoyed a pleasant 15 miles of easy highway grades and wide shoulders before ending up in E Liverpool. This was to be our last night in Ohio, and it was quite a send off.

We parked ourselves along the waterfront where many people were enjoying the last sun rays of their Sunday evening. When we asked someone if they knew of a place to camp for free, the troops were rallied in. Everyone was asked and everyone had a suggestion. Advice wasn't the only thing they had to offer. We were told stories about the town and it's generosity (such as the story of the two elderly ladies who sold their houses and moved into a boat that they were sailing down the Ohio River toward Louisiana. They had some engine trouble and ran aground right in E Liverpool. They ended up having to stay there for several weeks. People made them food, helped with engine technicalities, and organized to get their retirement checks sent to the office in town. These adventurous ladies were on their way and in good spirits.). Eventually someone called the town guard over to ask if we could camp right there along the river. Sure, no problem, I'll get the security to check on you once an hour to make sure you're OK.

Our beautiful Campsite on the Ohio River in E Liverpool

We made it the next day to Pittsburgh where we stayed with Cara and Cleveland, friends from San Francisco. They showed us around. Two big things were happening in Pittsburgh when we arrived. 1. We had gotten there just before the G-20 conference so there was an air of political tension which would break down into chaos. The sidewalks were caged up, military police were everywhere and many streets were shut down. 2. The Steelers were playing against Chicago. And they lost. For 60 miles outside of Pittsburgh all anyone seemed to want to talk about was the Steelers. 'Where you going in Pittsburgh? The Stadium?' 'Oh, you're coming from Chicago? That's where the Steelers are.' 'Don't tell anyone you've ever even heard of Chicago...'

We left Pittsburgh after a few days. We biked out just as the official rallies were beginning and headed North East on quiet roads. On our way, we passed the Bell Township where we were transported to a perfect Pennsylvania fall day. Crossing a bridge over a picturesque lake and cruising into falling golden leaves. We reached Slickville, PA where we spent the night outside of a Fire station. We were woken twice in the middle of the night by a brutal end-of-the-world alarm, or what we imagine the atomic bomb drills must have sounded like.

But this time the world didn't end and in the morning we hopped on a Rails-to-Trails path to Ebensburg, a city at 2000 ft which you hardly notice with the easy rail grade that the path provides. We passed two days away from cars on a few forested trails. These were gorgeous. Pennsylvania is lucky to have them: The West-Penn Trail, The West Mooreland Trail and Finally the Ghost Town Trail - a path that took us through the, now non-existent, Ghost towns of the old coal mines in Pennsylvania. We got to see the ruins of a few Coal Ovens and learned a bit about the history of the area. The Hoodlebug trail, however, was not a trail at all, and if you ever find yourself looking for it, we advise you to find another route.

As we rode into Ebensburg it began to pour down rain. We have full rain gear so we were prepared but attempted to wait out the rain none-the-less. As we were riding through town we discovered that Ebensburg was having their annual Potato Festival. Potato everything was available to view and purchase. We were stopped by a local couple and asked what on earth we were doing with these bikes all loaded up. We chatted for a minute and the man got his friends who were working outside a diner to watch our bikes for us while we stepped inside for a cup of coffee. As we were saying goodbye, he gave us $5 for our first cup. Even the diner was celebrating and had a special potato menu so we enjoyed french fries and potato pierogis with our coffee.

Courtney taking a break from the rain outside of Roaring Springs, PA

As we left town the rain only got harder and we chose to wait under a few over passes for the storm to stop. Little did we know it would take days. But, while waiting, we hailed down Marty who took us 27 miles to Roaring Springs, PA. We talked about the new windmills and the loss of trees and hunting land due to them. We talked about work, lack of work and "green jobs." Marty had just lost his job as a truck driver and was out for a Sunday Drive to no where in particular. We made it to Roaring Springs long before we would usually stop for the day and had only biked 15 miles that morning and afternoon. So we braved the rain once more and headed up Henrietta Mountain Rd. A road that everyone seemed to enjoy telling us was a tough one.

We were just about to ascend the steepest part when the roads confused us and we stopped an adorable high school couple on their way to Home Coming - both looking dapper, the girl with perfect blond curls. Which way to HWY 26? About 3 miles, right? Great! Thanks!!

Two thirds of the way up Henrietta Mountain Rd we were stopped by an older relaxed looking man in blue jeans and a beard who insisted on offering us a place to stay for the night. As it turned out, the young boy in the car had called his dad and informed him that two Mennonites - this area of PA is highly populated with Mennonites - were biking up the hill (in this pouring rain) and could use a hand, if not a change of clothes. So he, Collin, had driven down his equally steep driveway and sat in his car waiting for us to reach him. Deborah and Collin let us wash our clothes, fed us soup, pizza, canned peaches and many other home made delicacies. They even opened a bottle of wine to share. We slept in a bed with a poster of Vashon Island, WA above our head. Andrew, the son, came home in the morning and we were able to thank him for the phone call.

Going up Henrietta Mountain Rd is hard. Going down, is scary. But we made it and thus began our travels through the mountains of Pennsylvania. Up and down. Through the trees and towns. Names like Burnt Cabins, Broad Top, Newville, Newburg; so many burgs. In Newville we camped outside of a church and in the morning one of the daycare counselors kindly asked if we had any interest in talking to the kids about the bike tour. We got to answer questions. Show them our bikes and rain gear. Listen to them tell us about how their dad does the same thing or how long their longest bike ride was. Little girls talked to Courtney about how they liked to bike too. Boys asked us what kind of bike computer we had. We showed off a little by stretching and they imitated us and then we rode away and everyone waved goodbye.

In the valley after a three mile descent from Broad Top, PA.

We arrived in Harrisburg a few days before we were supposed to be in New York for our friend's wedding. We had decided to take a bus from there so we could help out with wedding preparations. But after many days of riding through mountains, the valley just outside of Harrisburg was a breeze so we arrived in Harrisburg early and were able to explore the city a little before heading out again. Harrisburg is quite beautiful in an old broken down colonial sort of way. Even downtown is pretty - separated by a river and connected by a dozen unique bridges. They even have their own microbrewery. The Great Wall Chinatown bus took us all the way for only $25.

Quite evening waiting for the bus on the Harrisburg riverfront.

Chapter 2: Recovery

Chris was bed ridden for a week with a strained Achilles tendon and it was 2 more weeks before we could get back on our bikes. We visited Chris's family outside of Cleveland, OH, catching up with Grandpa Gene and Judy, who in relaxed fashion ("no parties this year") cooked food and tracked down Janik descendants from near and... about an hour away: Jill, Jacqui, Andy, Joe, Jesse, Lauren, Dominic, Aiden, and of course the dutiful spouses. And knowing that Chris would miss Mannie's wedding, we met up with him for dinner and excellent local beer at the Fat Head Brewing Company on our way back to Michigan.


The Wheatland traditional music festival represents Chris's annual homecoming.



Aside from attending the actual festival with Ben, Liz, Geno and Tish, we saw Erin (Chris's sister) and Brian, and made a couple trips to Bell's Brewery - where one drinks the finest microbrews and inevitably runs into old friends. Finally we were ready enough and house-crazy enough to get back on the road.