The day starts with Steve moaning that the hotel owners, who are clearly speaking German to each other, are not responding to his German greeting. The lady quite happily replies "guten morgan" to my pigeon German. Perhaps it's his Lancashire accent that threw them? 'ap'n. Steve observes that we haven't really met any interesting locals to photograph yet, they're all too European. It's true it's all very European and not like our usual exotic jaunts to far flung places. India, Cambodia, Bolivia and Mongolia - the peoples and cultures were very different to what we're mostly familiar with....
Damp out, and we all have to wipe down our seats and mirrors before setting off. The roads are also a little slippy, tarmac with a layer of dirt and gravel in places sees me being very cautious on the heavy 1200GS. After a few km I stop and realise the 'adjustments' I made to my rear brake yesterday are causing them to bind. I smell burning, see smoke, and my wheel is now locked solid! Cory arrives in a few minutes and we slacken off the brake. Back on the road and everything is back to normal thankfully.
I catch up with Mark and Gerard waiting at the roadworks shortly afterwards as they had become detached from the main group after stopping to take photos or other roadside diversions. We then wait for ten minutes or so while the road crews clear the rocks that they had just blasted. We pass by the huge machines drilling holes for the dynamite but unfortunately don't get a chance to take any photos.
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| Stopping for some dynamite action |
We're skirting the Pacific shoreline and this is the new road being cut into the rocky cliffs that meet the sea; the Pacific views are superb and it's not hard to imagine that until relatively recently the only access to this area was by sea.
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| Early morning Pacific bay shore after leaving Puyuhuapi |
The gravel road heads uphill via a series of sharp hairpins cut through the dense forest and then down again on the other side. In the Alps, hairpins are to be savoured as a chance to hone your cornering skills, but here the unstable surface waits ready to laugh at your inevitable deficiencies; I had a few moments on the 1200GS. In my mind I imagine carving a majestic arc, spraying a rooster tail out behind me, but in reality I'm in first gear crawling around the curve trying desperately not to fall off and ruin my bikerdom hairdo.
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| More roadworks, but time to recover after the series of gravel hairpins |
The gravel eventually gives way to tarmac and before lunch we traverse a veritable carpet of smooth tarmac as it winds its way up and down between the snow topped mountains. The next time we stop, we all have huge grins. Lunch is sushi in a town called Aisen and I dine alfresco with my hommies.
After lunch we become momentarily lost leaving Aisen and end up in a port/naval base at Puerto Chacabuco. Back-tracking we take a different route out of Aisen and find ourselves back on Ruta 240. More great riding roads and the group spreads out with their different paces. Now the scenery could be California, with some distinctly Yosemite-like vistas in the wide open sections. In places the road runs past a fast flowing river in the shade and momentarily you can feel the air temperature change dramatically as if you've entered a refrigerator. And then you emerge into the sunlight and the heat again; it was 29C in the shade today.
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| En route to Coyohaique |
For the second time on this trip I feel a splat at my chin and a fine spray coat my lips. Of course it's fly blood. Moments like these you're glad a) that you ride with mouth shut, b) that you carry a water reservoir backpack and feeder tube, which you can used to clean your mouth and lips without stopping. And of course you don't want to stop. You're in the groove, you've never felt so alive, senses poised to react to the road conditions that change in fractions of a second. I'm sure bikers have sharper reactions than regular road users. The number one rule to remember at all times: make sure you can stop within what you can see ahead. Don't blindly plough into bends, positively seek visibility, and slow for crests and dips. And be wary of cows, small children and snappy dogs jumping out.
This afternoon I'm on the lowly 650GS Sertao, less than half the power of the mighty 1200GS, but I'm still really enjoying it. As a single cylinder engine, it vibrates more than the other bikes, however it still pulls well. In fact I took one of these engines to the Alps once and had a blast there; the same engine is waiting for me at Brussels airport on my return. As I've said before, it doesn't matter what you ride, it's the riding and the roads that count, and ride we do.
Over dinner talk is of sideways action in the dirt, juddering, slipping, moments, skating, wobbling and tank-slappers. Must have been a good day then.
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Sent from the dusty road using my rusty BlackBerry
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