It was tht time…4:30 pm was creeping up on us fast. Considering the audience of top BMW Latin America exec´s we were about to present to it´s no surprise we were nervous, and yeah, we were.

The 75 minutes of our time had flown by, we´d hoped we´d done OK? The round of applause and 30 minutes of excited question that followed told us we had. I´m not sure who´d enjoyed the show more Lisa and I or the BMW guys watching. Never one to fail to surprise, Andreas was about to bowl us over…again. With the show wrapped up we were handied two ´rather´large but surprisingly light boxes. Andreas was just grinning. “A thank you from BMW” Andreas offered by way of explanation. We were still unsure as to what we were being handed. With the boxes cut open all was revealed. We were the proud owners of two new BMW System 5 helmets and two new pairs of GS M-X gloves. Words were failing us and thank you just didn’t´seem to cover it. “Well…try them on! If you not sure…they go on yoru head” Andreas commented with a wry smile. Our old helmets were way past their ´sell by date´. 3-years of sweat, dirt and other unpleasanties cakes inside. This was fantastic.

…and so to Andreas, Mariano, Alan and all the other BMW delegates that took an interest in our journey…thankyou…and more.

With an evening rounded off with room service and cable TV…Mmm, not a bad day?

With tickets checked and coffee downed, we´d found our boarding gate and slumped heavily in our seats. We were both asleep before the plane even left the runway. The cooler air of Buenos Aires at 10:30 am was a pretty good ´slap in face´. Even we were awake before we certainly were now.

We were flying back to Rio Gallegos from the regional airport, but with our flight not leaving untill 2:30 pm we´d have chance to spend a little more time with Javier and Sandra. The afternoon of gossip, story swapping and mutual insults went by to fast. And by 2:00 pm we´d said another teary farewell and were catching a lift with Javier to the airport.

That extra coffe and last minute remembered story, quickly told has cost us. We were late! Shit, where´s the International departure? Our names were already being called over the tannoy as we checked in and typically our gate was at the other end of the airport. “Up for a run”, I asked Lisa trying to make light of it all. “shut up and run you bastard”, Lisa darted back. We arrived at our gate red faced and out of breath. All this was a little different to our journey North a few days earlier?

Strong side winds had made for an ´intersting´ landing but by 6:30 pm we touched down and were once again having to acclimatise to a grey drissleing sky and freezing temperatures. On the up side our bikes and kit is all still here.
took us still asleep. …..they didn’t know and were so pleased to see us again. Had lunch and then off again. Arrived back to Rio Gallegos…cold and grey…at around 6:30pm Straight to hotel. Bikes are OK and so is all our kit.

With the enforced stay over we´ve also moved to another ´cheaper´ hotel. It´s not ´cheap-cheap´, but it´s half the price of the Rico, so money saved.

…we´ve just done a kit check and packed most of our stuff. Tomorrow we´ll get an early start and hit the road before 8:00 am…we´ll see?

With not much between Rio G and Rio Grande except for wind swept scrub, we needed to be in Rio Grande by nightfall. We were going to have to get a move on and get through the two border cossings as quickly as possible. Chile owns the small corrider of land on the East coast we needed to cross in order to reach Ushuaia back in Argentina. Oh, the joy of International border crossings?

Well, the ´quickly´ thing just wasn´t go to happen and within minutes of Leaving the relative protection of Rio G we were feeling the brute force of Patagonian high winds. Staying upright on the bikes was becoming more of a mission by the passing minute and by the time we´d reached the Chilean border we were exhuasted, nervous and more than a bit impressed with ourselves for having made it this far. The rain was coming down with such force that even with bike kit on, it was stinging when it hit. With Lisa inside with the passports I did battle with parking the bikes, trying desperatly to find a position and place where I could leave them parked and not have them blown over. This alone took 15 minutes and even then I wasn´t sure they´d be upright on our return. Bearing in mind we´re talking about two 300 kg bikes loaded up with kit and fuel, which on their side stand and leaning were still being moved around like paper cut-outs. I´d heard about this kind of wind strength, but hearing about it and seeing are two different things. It had been a while since we´d been intimated by riding conditions.

With our exit and entry paperwork complete we slowly donned our still water laiden jackets. The older border guard we´d spoken to earlier was looking concerned. “You must stay here…this is not good, stay untill it is better”, he suggested in English, politely but sincerley. We didn´t need much convincing. “How long can this last” we asked? The raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders wasn´t the reassuring answer we´d hoped for.

Two hours later and the dark mauve skies had reverted back to steely grey and the wind had subsided substantially. We were still going to have to be on our guard and take this steadily. On the upside our kit had dried out and even our riding boots felt less like swimming pools. On the down side we knew that the high winds were going to make our short crossing of the notoriously rough ´Magallen Straits´all that much more…interesting! Ah, British understatement?

The queue of cars at the the ferry dock were the same ones we´d seen leave the border a few hours back. The ferry worker was waiving us to the front of the long line. A perk of bike riding. Car drivers looked on enviously as we queue jumped. We wondered if they knew our envious thoughts re their CD players, warm air heaters and relative safety. Mmm?

The flat bedded ferry was being pounded by the waves and strong swell wipped up and made stronger by the wind. We watched nervously as the skipper battled to steady the vessel enough for the dockside crew to secure the massive mooring ropes. The heavy metal boarding ramp was groaning and screeching as it clashed against the concrete of the dock. “At what point do they decide it´s too rough to cross and postpone “? We both wondered.

We took our time and rode steadily onto the still swaying ferry, slowly following the huge trucks that had been loaded first. The Orange clad ferry workers had offered us heavy duty tie down ratchet straps and left us to our own devices. We did our best to find anchor points.

The crossing was a short one…30 minutes and the tie down´s had been a great idea. We were both glad to have reached the other side. We waited by the bikes, expecting someone to approach us for the ferry fare? Didn´t happen. We´ve only just found out from talking with Sebastian (our new host) that you´re meant to find the small onboard office and pay inside, hell we didn´t know there was an inside. Anyway, we´d had no problems, hadn´t paid and ridden off hassle free.???

It was reassuring to be back on solid ground. The new tar off the ferry was only a tease and 5 km´s later the slick mud, interspersed with heavy ripio we´d heard so much about began. The conditions hadn´t been that bad but we were already battling with visibilty as faster cars and trucks heading south came past kicking up a brown sticky vapour, covering our visor and impossible to wipe clear….This is ´still´ going to be a long day! And so it continued.

We´d been seeing signs for the small Chillian border town of San Sebastian for what seemed like an age. By the time we reached it we were desperate to stop. Feezing and tired we slumped from the bikes and trudged heavy footed int the small café, surprised and disappointed that the small heater in the corner wasn´t on. Coffe, Coffee. Slowly numb bits, came back to life. We´d been warned that Chile was expensive but wow!!! 2 coffee´s and two toasted sandwiches for 42 Pesos…owch! (8 pounds 40p or 100 SA Rand or $15!) Yeah…we wont be staying here long.

With more paperwork complete we were back in Argentina and thankfully on the last leg of todays trip heading down to Rio Grande. The strong winds of this morning had picked up and returned as we rode closer to the coast. Tired, red eyed and cold it was now pitch black as we passed sign for the city limit. Now all we had to do was find somewhere to camp. We heard from other travellers about ´The Club Nautico´a rowing club right on the coast that had offered sanctuay to other nutty bikers en-route South. Our only problem was we had no idea where it was and I´d forgotten to load the GPS co-ordinate in the Garmin…shit, shit and shit.!!!

The centre of town was much bigger than we´d imagined and with the help of some good directions we´d left the bright lights behind us, picked up the stret we´d been looking for, for the last 30 minutes. The Club Nautico hall was in darkness. The small handwriten sign on the window read “ for Sebastian call this number”. We had no idea who Sebastian was’ “Call him anyway”, Lisa had shouted from her bike over the noise of the wind. The soaking wet Nokia in my pocket wasn´t coming on…nothing…nada.

At last a car had pulled up opposite. The treasurer from the fishing club opposite had pulled up in order to get some last minute work done. With our plight explained he´d invited us in and out of the rain and phoned Sebastian on our behalf. The warm coffee whilst we waited for Sebastian to show was a massive bonus. The sliding violent braking of a quad bike being power-slid outside was Sebastian´s way of announcing himself and with brief intro´s made he´d opened up the hall, switched on the lights and swung open the large metal doors half way down the hall. We didn´t need an invitation. We wheeled the bikes inside, happy and relieved they´d be safe with us.

OK, I´m falling asleep and Lisa´s already upstairs in bed. Here´s the run-down. There´s a heated room upstaris where we´ve thrown down our sleeping bags. Sebastian through together a stew in the small kitchen here and we downed it with a bottle of cheap red wine…absolute bliss. All our wet and cold bits…aren´t…and we´ll see Sebastain tomorrow before we head South. We´re pretty excited. After all by tomorrow night we should be camped up in Ushuaia, the most Southerly town in the world. We seem to have been talking about this for so long.

It took us all of 15 minutes to get dressed. We looked and felt like the sodding Michelin Man. Layers upon layers. We´d learnt from yesterdays experience. We hadn’t got togged up like this since Norway. Every bit of clothing we had was on us. “I can’t sodding walk in this! How the hell am I going to be able to ride in it”, Lisa blurted with a grin. Thermal tops were layered with T-shirts, which were coverd with wind stopper riding gear, which in turn was covered by heated jacket and then finally goretex riding suit. God help us if we need the loo fast.

We followed Sebastian on his quad out of town. Thankfull for his in-town short cuts. With a wave adios we were off. In spite of the cold the idea that we were now only 150 miles away from Ushuaia and from reaching one of our ´big goals´ was exciting. We seemed to have been talking for so long about getting to Ushuaia, to think this was it. Before long we´d actually be ridng into the´most Southerly Town in the World´, we were buzzing.

The grey cold view out over the windswept ocean came and went and before long the the plains had opened up with only the occasional random forestation breaking the beating we were taking from the relentless wind.

80 miles out from Ushuaia and we´d briefly swapped the decent tar of the Routa 3 for slippery mud track. No sooner had we mentally prepared ourselves for another hour of mud, rock and ripio then we were back on shiny newly laiden tar. Wow, great.

Niavely we ‘ooohed and ahhed´over the castor sugar topping that was dusting the firey red upper branches of the tree line. 20 minutes later and our eager cooing had turned to base expletives. As we climbed the winding road higher into the mountains our problems were only starting. Thick snow was now settling 3-4 km´s on and it was getting worse. The heavy trucks carrying goods in and out of Ushuaia had compacted the road slush into treacherous hard packed ice. Things were getting silly…and more than a bit scary. The only vehicles now on the road were the trucks. Worringly now, even the trucks coming towards us had snow chains on. “Bloody hell what´s ahead of us”? Not much was being said between us, but we both knew we were thining it. I didn´t want to voice my concerns, that would somehow make them real.

We were crawling along in 1st gear, our problem was that we were on tight bends creeping along but in contrast the huge trucks had sped up. If one of those guys looses it for a second, we´re hamburger meat on the side of the road. An hour later and thngs hadn´t improved we managed to cover another 8-10km. With Lisa´s 3rd slip and my umpteenth close call we needed to stop. The snow was still coming down hard and fingers and toes were frozen. Each time one of the bikes went over, we´d have to unload completely, tank bags, roll bags on the back. We´d slip and slide around in the snow and ice attempting to right the overturned bike as it slid further horizontally as we lifted. After Lisa´s last fall the long we spied a long bolt lying in the snow, we were pretty sure wasn´t there prior. Shit…on closer inspection it turned out to be one of her sub-frame bolts. Great, time to lie down in the freezing snow and try to get the nuts and bolts back in. 20 minutes later and we were good to go.

We nervously continued, now down hill. Both feet stuck out, sliding along the hard packed ice. Front wheels locked up with the slightest touch of the brakes and then would judder as the ABS went bolistic. On our slow downhill descent we´d passed two cars that had fallen foul of the ice. Wheels were now spinning furiously. Both cars had slid half off the road and had little chance of getting back on without help. We were having problems of our own.

5 Km further on and at last we again had traction. The snow and ice had cleared and we could once again pick up our speed. Long fast bend after long fast bend. After the frustration of the snow and ice this was a complete surprise. New grippy tarmac and open hillsides to our left and right, all lit with the firey red forestation in all it´s autumnal beauty.

The large brown, wood carved sign simply read “Welcome to Ushuaia, the most Southerly town in the World”. We´d made it! After all the miles, countries, high, lows and hospital visits we were finally here. We´d come so far since leaving Nordkap, Norway, the most Northely point we could ride to. We were both hit with a sudden waive of relief and emotions. We just had to pull over share our excitement and of course take a few photos.

We rode through town slowly trying to take it all in. We needed to heat up. Coffee really can be medicinal. The parked up bikes were already drawing attention as we sat inside sipping the freshly brewed warm black juice. Sensation was slowly returning to numb fingers and colour returning to wind beaten faces. The light outside was already softening in the last few hours of the day. We needed to get a move on, find somewhere to camp and get ourselves sorted. An hour later we´d ridden the rough but easy navigational dirt track into the park Nacional Tierra del Fuego. The snow had now turned to rain. Passing the first ´pay for use´ campsite we´d continued on for another 5 km and had finally made our new home right next to the the river.

We´ll see what happens tomorrow, right now we´ve been in the tent for 3 hours, under a barrage of heavy and constant rain. We´re on our fourth cup of instant hot chocolate.

The air seemed alive with birds of prey, swooping low over our heads, seemingly undeterred by our presence or that of the bikes. We watched as they flew low over the nearby water, skimming the water with claws outstretched, waiting for an unsuspecting fish, which they´d pluck from the water.

We´d managed to walk for around 3 hours before being forced back to the tent by more heavy rain. No wonder there´s so many birds of prey here, the water is alive with fish and on land neither of us have ever seen so many rabbits…thousands of the furry little bliters.

Check out the pictures for a better idea. Right now my fingers are too cold to type and the ´puters batteries are running low.

By the time we´d got outside and onto the bikes we were knackered. We´d just spent 20 minutes in the confines of the tent, wriggling around like spastics on speed trying to pull ourselves into the countless layers of kit we were now wearing. The 500 metres back to the track was awash. Thank god we´d managed to get the new Coni´TKC80´s back on in Rio G.

We´d taken a slow ride down the final 5 km of of the Ruta 3, now just a single lane dirt track, before it finally opened up into a broad platformed area big enough for 50 or so cars. The famous énd of the world´ sign lay just beyond. We excitedly chatted of where to position the bikes. It was only now beginning to sink in that we were actually here…fucking hell it´s cold!!!

With the bikes parked up in front of the sign, the camera lens clicked. The tourists that had arrived on the mini bus 5 minutes ago, supposedly for the same photos we were now posing for, seemed more interested in the bikes and the freezing bikers than anything else. We did our best to answer 20 minutes of “where from, haw far, how mnay miles, aren´t you cold”, Questions, as we could until the weather, rain and bitting cold got the better of us.

We´d seen a small log´style café way back up the track when we´d first entered the park, yeah we needed to be back there now. The rain was coming down way too hard for us to walk in and enjoy and we couldn´t face spending anymore time in the tent.

And so the afternoon panned out. Our wet riding gear slowly dried out in front of the fire, whilst Lisa and I chatted over coffee about all that had happened over the last few years, bringing us here to the end of the world. We´ve seen, lived and experienced things over the last few years that once would have seemed utterly imposible to imagine. If we can do this anyone can, just don´t wait too long to make your dreams a reality. Don´t wait for a more convenient time or unitll you have enough money…making your dreams a reality is never convenient or without sacrifice and your sure as hell never have enough money, so don´t put it off too long…just a thought!

By late afternoon we’d simply had enough of the freezing rain and after a good deal of umming and ahhing, made a quick decision to pack up and high tail it back up to Rio Grande. Compared to the cold dark of the freezing night we’d just ridden up in, the hall of the club Nautico looked like heaven. O to be warm again.