From Lisa´s notes we knew that there were going to be a few campsites around the airport. Most were closed, hey who the hell wold be stupid enough to want to camp this far South at this time of the year! After a little searching we´d finally found our new home for the night and bartered with the old lady on the gate.

The dozens of newly instaled ´nodding donkeys´ (used to lift the oil from the ground) we passed en-route to Commodor Rivadavia, were testament to this areas new found wealth thanks to the discovery of strong oil reserves. Great for the economy but sodding ugly. The influx of oil workers and money had done wonders for the local supermarket, which seemed to want for nothing.

We´d picked up groceries and meat for pennies. Lisa, after playing with the gang of ´street´kittens, cooked up a storm back at the campiste, a huge guiso (Argentinian stew) which will serve as lunch for tomorrow as well. Night, night.

Find the campsite at GPS: S45 47.010 W67 29.295 notes: not a bad site but expensive 25 pesos for 2 people and 1 tent.

By mid afternoon we´d taken the long right hander off the Ruta 3 and had driven Puerto San Julian´s main street a few times trying to pick up the camp site signs we´d hope would be here. With directions sought we followed the loose white gravel track down to the wind swept coast and found our pitch.

Large green pruned hedges separated each tent pitch neatly and gave a welcome break from the now howling wind...shit if this wind keeps up we´re going to go nuts.

With the bikes parked up we headed into the small brick reception and signed the register, whilst we happily chatted with the young heavily pregnant girl behind the desk. “You´ll need this”, the girl said off hand, handing me a large 15cm steel stake. The confused look on my face couldn´t be hidden. “Uh…right, you either think we have the biggest tent in history or you´ve watched one to many Buffy episodes”, I thought. “For your tent” she again exclaimed. Nope, the penny wasn´t dropping. I didn´t have a clue what I was meant to do with this leathal looking stake. Lisa garbles something in Spanish to the girl, which probably translated as...”sorry my husband suffers from terminal stupidity, induced by heavy drug consumption by his mother during her pregnancy”, whatever she said, the mild giggling and shared expressions now smeared across both Lisa´s and the desk girl´s faces wasn´t helping. “You stick it in the ground to make holes for your tent pegs”, Lisa kwiped. I was feeling very Hommer Simpson. I´d already clocked the rock hard ground when we´d entered the camp site. OK, right got it!!! Lisa was just looking at me grinning.

“Bloody hell…I thought I´d heard dodgy English ascents”! said the voice behind us. Mike was stood behind us grinnig like a schmuck, dripping wet and naked from the waist up, having just showered in the room that annexed reception. “What the hell are you doing here”, we asked. “We thought you´d be in Ushuaia by now”.

And so our evening started. Mike did eventually put his clothes on.

With our tent and gear put up next to Mikes we compared notes on our ride down whilst Lisa cooked up another great Guiso. We rightfully ignored Mikes pitifull attempts to politely decline our offer of dinner…”no, no I´m fine” followed by…”No I´m not hungry” and finally “well…I´m sure you don´t have enough for three”… He´s so full of shit and so of course 20 minutes later all three of us were getting chin deep in a wonderfully thick stew and Mikes wearing a grin the size of Texas.

A great evening with plenty of laughs…mostly at my expense.

An interesting couple of days, where do I start? OK, Mike made a move South a few days back, we were hoping to catch him up but that´s unlikely to happen following the ´out of the blue´ email we had from BMW Latin America two days back. The e-mail started off politely enough, enquiring as to how we were etc, etc, and then came the punch-line…BMW Latin America are having their annual managers meeting in Sao Paulo on the 29th of this month and wanted to know if we could put on our presentation. Th audience would be the BMW key mangers and presidents of both the motorbike and car sections alike.

Flattered but disappointed, we wrote back and thanked them for the compliment of invitation and mentioned that unfortunately we were no longer in Brazil, in fact we were only 400 miles North of Ushuaia! Back at the same internet café the following day, Alan Crean (BMW) had replied. We re-read his email 3-4 times to make sure we´d got our tiny heads around the contents. Here´s the gist…Ushuaia, no problem…we´ve already looked into flights and accommodation and we´ll fly you from Rio Gallegos up to Buenos Aires, where you´ll catch a connecting flight to Sao Paulo, where we´ll then put you up for two nights in a 5 Star hotel. Oh, the flights will be first class executive…will that be OK?

Our reply went something like this…OooooooKKYY- DooooooKKKKKeeeyyyyy then!!! You get the idea.
Lisa looked at me, I looked at Lisa. She stared back at me, I stared back…yeah, this went on for a while. I´m pretty sure both of us were grinning like idiots. “Are they serious”? got asked between the two us more than a few times. A few more e-mails got exchanged confirming flight details etc and to our surprise Alan had even asked what we´d be charging BMW for the presentation. After all the help and support we received from Andres and BMW Motorrad Brazil there was no way we could charge them anything. We´re just excited about the opportunity to repay their help, well, that and the idea of flying first class to Sao Paulo and staying in a swanky hotel.

And so with a few more e-mails going back and forth confirming flights details, resevations and times, we are set. We ended up deciding to stay on here on the run-up to our flight, well with decent hot showers and a reasonable price for camping, we´d gain little in moving down to Rio Gallegos early.

With another trip to the internet café and supermarcardo we´d arrived back at the campsite to a reception of activity…and swearing. The dozen or so new guests desperately trying to erect their heavy canvas tents were all battling with the rock hard and frozen ground. There wasn´t obviously enough ´stakes´to go around. The large blue ´over-land´ truck parked up looked familiar. The first commercial over-land truck we´d seen in South-America. The driver in the cab looked like he was having some kind of siezure, waving like crazy. Mmmm, he looks familiar…”NO WAY…NO WAY” The frenzied nutter in the cab who was now scrambling to free himself of the truck was ´Skanky´, one of the óver-land´crew we´d met and last seen at Snake Park in Tanzania (Africa). A few seconds later and Sass, his much better half had appeared.

“What the hell are you doing here”, yelled Skanky excitedly. “We´re still travelling”! Hugs and kisses got exchanged and a busy 20 minutes of catching up and daft stories ensued. Absolutley brilliant to see them both again. What a small world.

As the night drew in we were introduced to the 20 or so, clients and invited to join them for dinner. Great fun, dodgy haircuts (Skanky) and finishing off Skanky and Sass´s Vodka all made for a wonderful night.

See you on the road guys.

The trip down to Rio G had taken longer than we´d planned but Lisa had been in her element watching the wildlife as we roared south. Lesser (or Darwins) rhea´s (grey smaller ostrich looking birds) zig zagged across the road in front of us, like Lynford Christie on speed. Surprised guanacos, looked up, stared and then made a mad dash for the wooden and wire fence that separated the prarai from the road. One of the poor little guys had become so flustered by the sight and noise of us that he simply forgot to jump the fence and instead ended up running straight into it, hurt pride being the only injury.

Try as we might our camera lens wasn´t going to catch the photos Lisa really wanted; Black-necked swans´s (the only two-coloured swan in the world!) floating elegantly past candy floss Flamingos. We´re pretty sure it wont be the last ime we see them.

With the help of the GPS we´d ridden around RG and headed back out of town in search of ´the campsite´…what a dump! With grey clouds over head we´d pulled into the industrial side of town. The smell of burnt rubber and diesel sat heavily in the air. We´d already passed the campsite twice but hadn´t realised. Eventually with the help of a local we´d found the site and parked up. The couple in the small living room-like reception were clearly pissed off that we wanted to stay and had no intention of offering us any help at all when it came to choosing a pitch for the tent or even getting up for that matter.

We´d already had a cursory glance around. We´d disturbed a flurry of rats feasting on over-spill from one of the bins and the small, filthy wash rooms were over-flowing with a pleasant mix of rain water and toilet shit…Mmm, nice. We were just dying to clean our teeth in there??? At 24 Pesos for a tent and two people they´re just taking the piss. Here´s the GPS point to avoid: S51 37.684 W69 15.317.

Dinner was curtesy of the local YPF petrol station. Compared to the campsite it was ´Becking-ham Palace´.

Both of us felt a bit ´down in the dumps´ this morning. The cold wet start to the day didn´t help.

If we can make a move from here we will. There´s a bunch of young kids who use the site as a football pitch. Two of them have already tripped over the guide ropes to the tent twice. If they trip a third time, the fall might not kill them but Lisa certainly will. The whole place doesn´t feel safe and we´ve learnt to trust our gut instincts.

Our problem is this, we have to stay in town until our flight and have decided to look for somewhere to store the bikes whilst we´re in Brazil. Probably the best bet will be to book into a hotel for the night before the flight and another for the night we fly back. If we ask nicely we should then be able to store the bikes for free…we´ll see.

We´ve also asked Javier and Sandra to courier new tyres down to us from BA, the ones we´d been given by Mariano. The courier company had also been delayed. Apparently the truck had a break down outside of Bahia Blanco, well that was the official story. Anyway we´re going to have to find the drop-off point and ask them to hold the tyres until our return from Brazil. Fingers crossed.

Anyway Lisa´s happy just being out of the campsite. It is great to be dry and warm. (Find Hotel Costa Rico at GPS: S51 37.321 W69 12.979)

Suited and booted by 8:30am, we´d set the alarm and for once not over slept. We´d donned our freshly scrubbed ´glad rags´(black Capestorm kit and shirt) and by 9:30 am we´d trotted downstairs to reception and were boarding our taxi to the local airport. “Oh yes we do this kind of thing all the time don´t you know”???

We were like excited school kids on their first field trip. The smart automated doors of Rio Gallegos´s newly refurbed airport slid back with a smart ´swish´. The check in girl at the Argentina aerolineas desk looked a little confused. “You have no bags to check in”, she again asked in English. We loved the fact that apart from the computer bag and our hand luggage we had nothing. A really liberating feeling. We resisted the temptation to say something naff like…”Oh no, we´re only popping up to Sao Paulo for a few days, you know, just a little jaunt”. We resisted, but it was a close call?

Trying to contain our excitement we casually strode into the small café area, OK, truth be told we practically ´skipped´, anyway I digress. The large Boeing was already parked up in front of the glass walled hall and going through it´s pre-flight checks. We´ve just long enough for a coffee. We sat and fingered our little white internet flight tickets, occasioanlly glancing down at those all important and powerful words…”Seat A1 – A2, EXECUTIVE CLASS RESERVED”.

Leaving our seats at the very last minute we joined the queue to board and with a polite nod from the air stewardess we were shown to our seats, directly behind the cockpit. We could get quite used to this! Loads of legroom, which for me is vital. Over-sized chairs and yes, yes, I´ll take a glass of the champagne…thankyou. We sat grinned and sipped as the plane filled up.

The Boeings huge engines roared and the clanking of last minute seat belts hurridly being fastened seemingly triggered our take-off. We braced ourselves as our bodies were pulled back by the unseen and sudden G-force of powerful acceleration. The regular flyers, bored by repetition were already asleep, mouths agape. We were loving the whole novel experience.

The front wheel lifted, the back seconds later and within minute’s we´d banked hard heading North. The long, long straight ruta 3 we´d been riding for days could be seen stetching out into the distance. From this altitude it looked such a simple ride. Strange and more than a little disparaging to think that in only a few hours we´d be back in Buenos Aires having covered a distance it had just taken us weeks to ride.

“More champagne Sir, Madame”, the stewardess asked politley. It seemed rude not to. The smell of warm food denoted lunch was being served. Stewards and stewardesses busied themselves up and down the isle, emphatically closing the grey curtain between first class and the main body of the plane with each pass they made. It would have been easier just have left the curtain open but at the risk of ´mortally offending´ our other executive class companions they clearly weren´t go to risk it. It makes you pause for thought thoug; the idea that there are people so wrapped up that they would actually take offense at the curtain not being drawn. Being first class passengers and actually being exposed to the `others´ flying in the cheap seats. God…lifes to just short.

We thought about keeping up a certain sense of poise, unimpressed as though this mode of travel and attention was quite natural for us. Nah, what was the point, we knew we´d fail miserably and besides this was just too much fun.

Lunch was served, freshly warmed rolls of bread with soft butter was passed around. Trays of fish or chicken were offerd and gently laid out on expectant folding trays that had launched themselves automatically and rather impressivley, from hidden compartments in the chair…cool? The last flight we´d taken saw us battling for 5 minutes with the foldaway seat trays, what with broken handles and jammed into the seat compartments, we ended up releasing them with the help of our Leatherman tool and a healthy dose of brute force. This new experience was a whole other ball-game and a dam sight easier.

The solid silver cutlery made a nice change to the normal white plastic. Yep, we could definitely get used to this. With a constant flow of Champagne and wine on tap, the flight flew by…sorry no pun intended and 2 ½ hours after taking off we were touching down back in Buenos Aires. Funny the little the things you notice; neither Lisa nor I have ever been the first passengers to leave a plane, normally just stood in the isle waiting for passengers to clumsily manhandle oversized bags from the over-head compartments before finally exisitng. Not today…what a joy…first off the plane and first out of the airport with no baggage to pick up from the crowded luggage claim carrousel. Brilliant!

To our surprise and delight Sandra, Javier, Julian and Ricky (our world micro-lighting friend from South Africa) were already waiting by the exit lounge. Sandra was already crying with excitement as we walked into the lounge…she´s just a ´big softie´. It was wonderful to see them again and to see Ricky here was just the iceing on the cake. Needless to say hugs and kisses were exchanged and some 20 minutes later we were pulling up in front of Dakar Motos familiar frontage…a little like coming home!

Conversation hadn´t stopped since the airport and now we were all in full flow sipping on fresh brewed coffee. Ricky´s over here about to start his own South American Adventure. With his new book being published and released World wide in the next few weeks covering his around the world micro-light challenge, he´s picked up some sponsorship from Honda and is planning to tour South America to create some publicity and promote the book...well that´s the official line. The reality is he´s just a clever and enigmatic guy who saw an opportunity to do something that most of us at one time or another have fancied doing…taking on an adventure. South America fitted the bill and Honda chipped in. Good for him.

Ricky´s 250cc Honda was taking centre stage in the middle of Dakar Motos. It had already been ´Javiered´, shiny new pieces of hand crafted aluminium covered sensitive areas of the bike. Most of the bike over the last week had obviously had Javier´s attention at one point or another, engine, handlebars, luggage rack, the works. Touches here and there that would increase Rickies chances of enjoying a hassle free ride, well mechanically anyway.

Time was flying by way too fast. We were going to have to make a move if we were going to meet our next connecting flight, 45 minutes across town. The taxi pitched up right on cue. We´d not had long enough with Rickie to share all we wanted. Now all we could do was wish him luck and imagine the times he has ahead. We´d see Javier and Sandra again in a few days en-route South.

Our executive class tickets had been confirmed by ´check-in´girl and were now being inspected by the large imaculatley dressed security guy. “Thank you Sir, please enjoy the services at your disposal. “Ah, the wonders and pleasentaries of the the Executive Pre-departure Lounge”. This was getting better by the minute. 4 shiney new internet ready computers offerd free connection for those eager to pick up last minute emails. An endless supply of freshly brewed coffee was on hand served with a selection of…everything imaginable? We struggled through our wait. 30 minutes later and once again we were enveloped in the arms of soft velvet covered over-sized recliners. Sao Paulo here we come! 2 hours of pampering at 25,000 ft ensued.

Sao Paulo spread out…and out…and out. Coming in from the air was giving us our first real chance to see the size of this vast metropolis, the second largest in the World. It was 9:00pm and against a black skyline Milions upon million of lights lit up this side of the earth. It wasn´t far now. The tone of the engines had deepened, flaps extended and smooth hydraulics were pushing down the landing gear. It was really great to be back. We´re both looking forward to seeing Andres and Mariano again.

Our transport to the Rennaissance Marriot Hotel had already been arranged. The young girl waiting in the arrivals hall was holding ahigh the bright white board with the BMW logo bang in the middle. With brief intro´s made we headed out of the terminal and the protection of air-con. We´d forgotten the humidity. The hot warm blanket of moist air hit us instantly. A stark change to the freezing cold we´d batted to accommodate over the last few weeks.

“Welcome to the Marriot”, stated the impecabably dressed doorman as he opened the car doors. The over-sized polished brass doors of the hotels entrance opened with an ease that belied their size. We were about to hit a small ´hurdle´. “No I´m sorry sir, we have nothing under that name either”, explained the receptionist in perfect English. We´d been at the the desk for 15 minutes and having exhausted all the possible variables for the reserved name of our room, and had drawn a blank. The hotel was full and we didn´t have a room. Shit, had we got it wrong? Were we booked into a different Rennaissance hotel? No can´t be …we´d been brought here by the BMW girl.

OK, what now? We needed to conact Andres or Mariano, shit our mobile´s not working. “I believe that some of the BMW delagets are still in the dining room”, offered the desk boy. It´s worth a shot. With a quick scan of the room, I´d picked out a few familiar faces in the middle of the room. “Have you got a drink for me there”? Andres face looked up, the guest at the table followed suit. I felt a little awkward at having disturbed their evening. Andres was up like a shot, wearing his usual grin. “What took you so long”? He asked jokingly.” It was great to see him again. Introductions were quickly made to the other dining guest. I explained our problem to Andres. “…what…no that´s ridiculous. OK, come, I´ll sort it”, Andres stated confidently. Exactly wanted I needed to hear.

Back in the lavish reception hall and Lisa was as pleased to Andres as I´d been moments earlier. “Hi, you look great…but did you have to bring him”, Andres asked Lisa, darting a sly grin in my direction. “Yeah, can´t seem to shake him…he´s still following me”, came the reply. “OK, great, we´ve been here 5 minutes and you two are already ganging up on me”. Two heads grinned and nodded back simultaneously.

Back at the reception desk and a rapid fire conversation ensued between Andes and the desk boy. A BMW gold card card thrown on the desk and firm instructions were passed over. In English the desk boy had checked a few of our other details and then turned to Andres, “Yes sir, we can go ahead and organise that but unfortunealty I´ll have to check with BMW first and unfortun…”. Andres had interrupted him. Here comes the clincher, the drop goal in the dying seconds, the deal closer…”No, that will be fine” Andres stated quietly but firmly, “…I am BMW”!!! By now Lisa and I had taken a backward step, we were just grinning. We were the little kids in trouble, being rescued by the biggest kid in the playground at the last minute.

Time had run on. With our room card in hand we thanked Andres again; we´d kept him from his dinner companions for long enough. He needed to get back and suddenly the days excitement had caught up with Lisa and I. With a few brief words we wished each other good night and headed in our seperate directions.

Time to collapse. The vast bed in the middle of the room looked big enough for 5-aside football…maybe tomorrow night. Right now it´s just time for a little diary, a browse throught the 1 million TV channels and sleep.

Like I said at the beginning…what a day!