OK, Calafate here we come. Packed up and bikes loaded we bobbled back along the pot holed dirt track to the main park junction and eventually picked up the sign for El Calafate. The day’s cold drizzle had already set in making the track slippery as we made our way to the small border crossing where we’d slip back into Argentina and pick up the Routa 40. With boder formalites done we exited Chile without fuss and headed East. 5 km’s later and we were de-robing again at the small army checkpoint and being questioned rather firmly about our route and our reason for entering Argentina. 30 minutes later and we were still being asked to provide documents. This didn’t have a good feel, these guys were angling for something. “Seguridad” the older official barked. What? We had no idea what he wanted and a few minutes later he was becoming impatient. We finally got it. He was demanding our insurance. OK, well here goes…time to see if our home cooked insurance cards still get us by. We confidently handed over our laminated world motor vehicle insurance card. The officers looked disappointed and with a gruff grunt it was accepted and we were dimissed. We weren’t unhappy to be leaving. This is the first time in Argentina that we have been asked to provide proof of vehicle insurance.

At least the rain had eased up. Rather unceremoniously we were riding the infamouse Routa 40. South America’s own version of the USA’s legendary route 66. It was a little disheartening to realise that we would ride 150 mile detour around the goliath landscape to get 48 miles North of our starting position this morning, but El Calafate would be our launch board to the Perito Moreno Glacier.

With a few stops for photos, we arrived in El Calafate by late afternoon. Lisa had been feeling steadily worse as the day had continued and we were both a little concerned what another cold night in the tent would do to her. The hostel del glaciar looked good. We’d just passed it on our way down to the campsite. With a quick U-turn we’d parked up outside, practically fallen of the bikes in our desperate bid to reach the warmth inside and had agreed a price of 48 Pesos for a room. Oh, heaven. Solid but firm beds, a small but immaculately clean bathroom and best of all under floor heating. We simply stripped and led on the floor for 10 minutes soaking up the heat passing from underneath and into the shiny ceramic tiles.

Back outside and once again with all my clothes back on; I hauled our heavy bags off the bikes. That dark stain of oil isn’t meant to be streaking down the front left fork. Shit! With a quick inspection complete I sussed the damage. After 100,000 miles + and the Routa 40 my left fork seal had finally died, leaking very worn fork oil down to the lower leg. I’ll try to asses the repair option later. Right now I just need to get warm.

Lisa’s hacking cold wasn’t going to stop her enjoying what we are here to see. The Perito Moreno Glacier…… and so by 10:00am we’d climbed back into our layers of riding gear, somehow managed to do up the strained buckles on our boots and were waddling downstairs and out to the bikes.

The 11 took us straight through the centre of El Calafate and before long we were enjoying the vast open views over ‘Largo Argentina’ (the 3rd largest lake in South America) and over to the snow topped peaks on the horizon. This was great, even with my dodgy seal the bikes were feeling good and we were both enjoying being ‘luggage-less’, with all our bags and kit tucked up nicely back at the hostel.

Fast tight clean curves were wetting our appetite before we arrived at the park entrance where we swopped 30 Pesos each for our light blue printed day visitor passes.

We still had another 30km to ride from the park entrance to the glacier itself, but wow, what a ride. We hugged the mountain side as the lake slid in and out of view, and wove in and through the light forest covering that was by now shimmering gold and ochre reds.

At last the enormous glacier came into view, over to our left and no sooner had we’d been given a glimpse then it disappeared as we round the next tight bend. Some 10 minutes later and we were excitedly locking up the helmets, making the bikes safe and hoiking out our camera kit. We were like kids before Christmas.

The first impression of the Glacier simply leaves you breathless. The sheer size and shape of the pre-historic ice field has your mind reeling as you try to grapple with is proportions.

The grey over-cast day meant that I wasn’t going to get the photos I wanted but still, somehow it didn’t matter…we were here. It’s strange but for some reason getting to the Perito Moreno Glacier for both Lisa and I held much more thrill than actually getting to Ushuaia. We’re still not sure why? Maybe it’s because we’d read and seen so much more about this awesome glacier than we had Ushuaia.

The Sun was doing it’s best to burn off at least some of the thick cloud base, occasional winning when a contrasting finger of white light would breach the seemingly inpenatrable cloud and highlight the dragon like scales of the Glaciers upper surface.

The glacier is in constant flux, continuously groaning, creaking and moving ever forward at a rate of up to two metres per day.

By late afternoon we’d taken as many photos as we could and then it happened…the moment we’d hoped desperately to witness. One of the towering ice blocks at the glaciers leading edge was pulling itself free. Telltale powder ice was dropping from around the cracks that joined this wall of ice to it’s parent. Then with a thunderous elongated cracking sound that echoed around the valley it was done. Thousands of tons of ancient ice had broken away and was now plummeting in apparent slow-motion 50-60 metres down into the the milky blue ice water. The rupture hit the water with incredible force sending water shooting into the frosty air and pushing out a mini sunami which spent the next 15 minutes bouncing off the ice-bergs that had littered the Glacier. I was buzzing…It happens rarely that I have the camera out and was in the right place at the right time. Chuffed or what!

With the afternoon darkening we walked the 400 metres back up the worn wooden stairs to the bikes where we’d packed some food in the panniers. Louis was having a good look at the bikes and with in a few minutes we’d made our various introductions and were compering notes on South America. Louis was from Mexico riding his black BMW R1150GS which he’d parked up two spaces from ours. He’d been here for a while but in our excitement to get to the glaciar we hadn’t even seen his bike.

It was time to get back to the white monster and so as Loius climbed aboard his bike we arranged to meet up in town aroud 8:00pm.

The whole experience was a little over-whelming. Not that dissimilar to whale watching…you always want to stay for another 2 minutes. I had to literally drag Lisa away. We needed to make a move, it was now dusk and getting harder to see. And so as we turned our backs on the glaciar we took slow reluctant steps back to the bikes not knowing when we’d return. We hope we do.

Louis pitched up at our hostel spot on 8:00pm and before long we walked the short distance into town centre and and had found one of the towns more inexpensive eateries.

What a great evening…conversation flitted in and out of Spanish and English, good food was enjoyed along with great company. We called it a day at around 1:00am.

We’ll see Louis again in Mexico.

A weird kind of ‘bitty day’ really. With a swift but strong coffe downed in town we found the nearest internet café and set about emailing and researching a solution to the leaking fork seal on ‘Tinks’. In the mean time I’ve found some hydraulic oil and will top up the fork with that and hope it holds a little longer.

By the time we’d got back to the hostel we’d done the rounds at the supermercado and managed to pick up a few provisions. Typical, todays clear blue skies are in stark contrast to the bleak grey of yesterday. We briefly contemplated going back to the glacier but we just don’t have another 60 Pesos to shell out again…Mmm, but it was tempting, I was desperate to get some realy stunning photos.

Danny gave us the biggest surprise of the day. We’d spoken a few times to Danny who’d we’d been introduced to as the Manager and a proud owner of an African Twin. Turns out Danny’s one of the owners and after a visit to our site droped into conversation that he wanted to offer our last night here as complimentary. This kind of generosity is so unexpected but makes so a big difference to Lisa and I.

I’ll spend the rest of the evening catching up on diary. We’re hoping to get an early start tomorrow morning.

What a great evening. Around 1’sh I’d been approached by a young English guy and asked if we were Kevin and Julia Saunders. He’d recognised the bikes outside and was trying to place where he’d seen them. A few minutes later and we’d put the puzzle together. Gino´s a regular visitor to a web-based forum we use…UKGSer.com. He’d read several of our post and and even used our website.

By late afternoon he and Bryony had returned and we’d accepted a very kind offer to join them for dinner.
Thanks for a wonderful evening guys. Good company, great lamb and a shared ‘dodgily warped’ sense of humour. Enjoy the rest of your travels. See you on the road somewhere.

Back on the right end of the Routa 40 we’d been surprised to find at least 15 km’s of good asphalt before the Routa 40 turned to loose ripio (gravel) for which it’s famed. We were heading for El Chalten and the Fitz Roy mountain range inside the Los Glaciares National Park (www.parquesnacionales.gov.ar)

The heavy but patchy cloud that covered the sky was casting wonderfully contrasting shadows over the golden tinged landscape. Dark green hued striped rock creating an alien looking hillside to our right and distant dark cold snow covered peaks lined the horizon to our left. It´s diffcult to keep up the concentration required for the road when there is just so much to look at!

However, we’d have to keep the sightseeing to a minimum as the ripio got worse. The riding hadn’t been difficult but the 5-7cm thick pile of gravel and shit either side of the tyre tracks was just waiting to catch out an unsuspecting motorcyclist. The colour all around looked like the landscape had been ‘photo-shopped’. Sandy, golden scrub stretches out across the prarie and periodically a shocking bright white oval patch will catch your eye. There was salt left over from water trapped and then evaporated. Coutless streams, rivers and lakes all a ‘postcard’ polarized icey blue lace the country side. 20 km out from Chantel the 40 worsend. Heavy loose rocks bounced the bikes about and the tyres tracks we’d tried to stay in had gone. Controlled blips of the throttle were keeping the bikes centred and upright. Standing on the footpegs was giving us a better viewpoint of what lay ahead but made a larger surface for the strong North-Eastely wind to catch. By the time we’d reached Chantel forearms were aching.

This late in the season El Chalten looks more like a ghost town that a tourist attraction, with countless shops and café bars bolted up for the ‘off’months and windows all coverd with newspapers.

We’re staying tonight in another hostel at the North end of town. We’d found the campsite but the wind had become so strong that it would have made putting up the tent almost impossible.

Talk to you tomorrow.