With all the odd jobs done we were back on the road going to Porvenir. We had decided that we would go from Porvenir across the Magallen Straits to Punta Arenas. I’d heard that Punta Arenas was a lovely city and full of great architecture. The route took us firstback to the border at San Sebastian……which, due to it being Easter, was farily busy….that and the fact that the guards on both sides were on a definite ‘go-slow’! It took absolutely ages to cross the border whereas last time it was extrememly quick.

With formalities completed we were eventually back on the gravel road which was in very good condition and enjoyable to ride. It made us have to concentrate a little and was much more enjoyable than the tar of the last few kms.

The day began to get a lot lot colder………even with our heated vests and heated grips and with all of our thermals on, body parts were still going numb. Then...,it started to snow heavily. The wet thick white snow was now sticking to the visors which steamed up instantly bringin visibility to around 10m…as we contantly battled to wipe the film of snow off……..this only succeeded in making it into a layer of ice! The wind also decided to attack us and started smacking us about….so much so that when we both stopped to take a photo I (Lisa) was promptly pushed over by a strong gust of wind and ended up stuck under the bike! This happened to me a couple of times and it was so strong that it almost pushed Simon off a few times aswell.

The gravel road was running alongside the sea and the views were stunning….when we could see….! This area is so very barren and anyone who lives here must have a hard life.

We arrived in Porvenir frozen to the bone and desperate for a hot drink, but nothing appeared to be open. After checking at the petrol station (petrol stations are usually better than most tourism offices) we found out where the ferry left for Punta Arenas and made off. Luckily there was a nice little café at the port and it was here that we hid for the few hours before the ferry was due to leave. We arrived at 3pm-ish and the ferry was due to leave at 6pm…..then 7pm….then 8pm……?? So…we waited. The cafe filled up with others also waiting. It started to get much colder outside..if that was at all possible! A little after 9pm the ferry started boarding and all ‘togged-up’ we gingerly went outside to start the bikes and ride on. And so the saga continued………The slow groaning turn of the starter-motor was not what we wanted to hear. A few minutes later and the battery on my bike (650) was begingin to pay the price. Without a jump-start we were going nowhere. Luckily there was British guy inside the café who had a jeep outside and even a set of jumper cable handy.
Unfortunatley by the time we got all this sorted the ferry had sailed!!

So…it was back into the café and with a few phone calls made and a recommendation made, we set off to Hotel Central. This had a small number of rooms and reminded us both of the rooms that our Granmothers used to have and so, so clean!! The bed was great, with loads of heavy, warm blankets and so after a hot shower and a bit of TV we sunk back into a wonderfully comfortable bed….and hoped that tomorrow was better!

The light streaming through the window shone icy white and woke up both of us at around 8:00am. The heavy warm blankets were going to be hard to push back…just a little longer?

Whilst Lisa started getting our kit together ready for loading I nervously made my way out to the bikes which had been nicely tucked up in the hotels single car garage. The last thing we needed were problems with the bikes. Not here, not now, this far South. I had everything imaginable crossed (which was making me wince) in the hope that the issues last night were only from the bitter cold.

The keys to either bike didn’t slide in easily, oh’ c’mon…play nice. The little green buttons were pressed and two healthy sounding BMW’s barked to life and sat idling happily. Fantastic!!!

Lisa didn’t need telling, I knew she’d be able to hear them from the room. With velcro vastened, zips zipped and every button we could find fastened we paid our $35 and said adios, before heading up the 5KM road to the dock.

We knew from last night the ferry would be leaving at 2:00pm and would start boarding around 1:00pm. It seemed prudent to get there early with the Easter weekend just starting. By 11:00 we’d worked out where to buy our tickets and even managed to park the bikes out of the biting wind. The last thing we needed was a repeat of last night’s problems.

Patchy clouds and strong winds had replaced the steel grey and gales of yesterday. The round-faced ticket lady looked two sizes too big for the small octagonal kiosk she’s somehow squeezed herself into. As we paid our $15 US each for the crossing, she enthusiastically threw into conversation how favourable the conditions were today and that we’d made the right choice to sail in the daylight.

I couldn’t help staring at the stringy red veins covering the end of the loading guys nose. This guy was the human incarnation of ‘Rudolph’. Years of being exposed to these harsh conditions daily had aged him way past his years and his face was bearing the brunt of the onslaught. With directions given we parked up towards the back of the wooden decked ferry and after no uncertain warning from Rudolph did our best to lash the kids down onto the deck. Our Red nosed friend had indicated that the ferry would roll ‘a little’ but after a quick look to see, I figured he was just trying to scare the tourist. Ohhhhh…how niave.

Some 2 ½ hours later we were finally coming into dock. We’d spent the entire time concentrating on not launching our stomach contents skyward. The Magallanes Straights truly deserve their threatening reputation. By all accounts today was an easy crossing and yet we’d been thrown around like a bobbing cork as soon as we’d left the relative protection of the port side. Every guide book you read suggests “…if you begin to feel nauseus at sea, concentrate on watching the horizon line.” Ha…they don’t tell you what to do if the sodding horizon line keeps disappearing above and below the window line. The sea swell was huge. Between the kids repeating the white chocolate they’s all been stuffing when boarding and the old guy to our left who’d obviously forgotten to empty his collostamy bag, the fact that we didn’t chuck was some kind of miracle. You have been warned!!!

The large green metal door of the bow was inched down, smacking the concrete portside resoundingly. The door grated loudly, as the ferry finally came to a complete halt and over-sized nylon ropes brought her to berth. We were off.

Onto the highway we were thankful for the clearly marked ‘centro’ sign and 10 minutes later we were cruising the wide, clean streets of Punta Arenas.
For a variety of reason’s Lisa and I were flagging. Our energy was at a low and necks, backs, hips and hands were aching. The dark blue grey clouds of yesterday had returned and we simply didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to ride 25 km North out of the city and battle the relentless wind whilst we pitched our tent on the stoney beach that our ‘Rough Guide’ book had listed as the only option for camping.

Our finances are looking hairier than a gorilla with a bad perm but ‘sod it’. We found a clean looking but over-priced hotel, parked the bikes in the underground security area, scared the crap out of the bell boy with our filthy salt laiden kit and collapsed onto the large clean bed in room 408. We needed to be warm and comfortable if only for a night. We needed to be realy clean, if only for a night and we needed to be out of our bike kit if only for a night.

We’ll work out how to pay tomorrow.

Today shouldn’t have been a long one with only 160 miles to Puerto Natales. God! We realy are our own worst enemies. We’d passed several large petrol stations as we’d cleared the outskirts of the city but planned vaguely to stop ‘at the next one’??? The next one didn’t happen and 100 miles down the road and with 303 miles on the trip meter, the big red GS, gurgled, spluttered, coughed and died. It was time to drain a few litres from Lisa’s left hand tank. 15 minutes later and Lisa was following suit. Both her main and right hand tank were dry. The last few windy days riding had taken a serious toll on our fuel consumption. Lisa was now carefully releasing fuel from her lef tank. We knew if she released all the fuel from her left tank into her main tank, I’d be screwed if I needed more. We have no way to drain Lisa’s main tank. This wasn’t fun and the bitter wind and numb fingers weren’t making the process any easier. We only have ourselves to blame.

You can imagine our relief when the sign read ‘Puerto Natales 46KM’.

By 5:30pm we’d located the main Esso station and ensured the kids had a good drink. Our relief was short lived…we’d been warned that Chille was expensive but still…it had been some time since we’d spent £53 on filling up the bikes with gas. Shit! We’re going to need to draw more money?

We’d seen a sign for camping Esmeralda cunningly located on Esmeralda street, but that would have to wait. The pencil beam sun shards piercing the clouds and illuminating the snow covered mountains was just too good a view to pass up. We needed to get a few photos at least. This more than made up for the ‘fanny’ of a ride we’d had from Punta Arenas. We ended up spending 20 miniutes just clicking the camera lens and gauping at the majestic views we’d been treated to.

Having recovered from the shock of our fill up and with the light fading we’d found the camp site and thrown up the tent. As the only guests we were at least spoilt for choice when it came to choosing our pitch.

With a few more photos taken of the dock and a bowl of sea food soup my Dad would have killed for for lunch, we’ve spent the afternoon just getting odd jobs done.

In a few minutes I’ll start the next article for ‘Mens Health Mag’ in South Africa.

Lisa writes:

Well, that went well…..! No work done, just a little diary…because the very friendly family from Israel, Milalyb (Michal) Ben-shach (father, Pinhas and mother, Joudith) touring here with their daughter, who is travelling in South America for 5 months, spent the night discussing different words with owner of hostel/campsite. Ha!! Fanny and funny! Sounds like completely different words to me….but not to an Israeli…so we explained the difference and the importance of not mixing them up! And for the Chilean guy….close and clothes!

We were also given a Hebrew prayer to carry with us which is a prayer of good will and luck and well-being.

……..just realised that its 6 months ago that Simon broke his neck……we still can’t believe how lucky he’s been. He has no residual problems…all the feeling in his left-hand side has returned and even the strong winds we have been suffering on the road have not caused major problems. A few days of soreness but hey….I get that as well! Someone is definitely looking after us………

Lisa managed to cook up a thick warm vegetable-chicken stew, excellent for fighting off the bitter chill that was already beginning to settle over the evening. The jagged teeth of the peaks high above our heads had threatened to peak through all afternoon but turned out to be nothing more than a tease. We’ve decided that if tomorrow clears we’ll attempt the 8 hour walk to the base of the towers. We’re both keen to see if our legs still work and the possibility of capturing a few really good images of the towers is pretty enticing.