RIDIN OUTH
To Loli, who steered the ship successfully in my absence, without fearing the storms, nor boasting when overcoming them.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. —Robert Frost
ALASKA - TIERRA DEL FUEGO
RIDIN OUTH
HENRY VON WARTENBERG
BMW symbol
INDEX
ANCHORAGE GLENNALLEN KOIDERN WHITE HORSE HYDER VANCOUVER SEATTLE MC MINNVILLE GARBERVILLE SAN FRANCISCO SAN DIEGO EL ROSARIO PUERTO VALLARTA ACAPULCO ANTIGUA LA LIBERTAD CHOLUTECA MANAGUA MANUEL ANTONIO PANAMÁ MONDOMO TANGUA CUENCA MACARÁ LIMA ARICA SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA LA POMA LOS ALTOS VILLA GENERAL BELGRANO PUNTA ALTA GOBERNADOR GREGORES TOLHUIN USHUAIA
90 YEARS BMW MOTORRAD The celebration of BMW Motorrad’s 90th anniversary became a great opportunity to organize something special. Talking to Henry we both agreed it would be a good idea to celebrate our region’s anniversary in a very different way, either at an original place or with a trip. This is how landscapes and ideas started to materialize. Among the different options, we first envisaged the renowned Route 40 in Argentina, with such changing landscapes from North to South, that any rider would consider a privilege to cover it. We also considered Brazil, with some of the new BMW Motorrad models that are there assembled, for the celebration to have “Latin” components. “And what about the Panamericana Highway that covers the Americas?” was the big question we asked ourselves. It is, undoubtedly, the dream of thousands of enthusiastic riders, and which only a few –due to its length, the lack of time or simply to leave it as a challenge– can accomplish. Those who do, achieve it in different ways: by car, by motorcycle, by bicycle or even on foot. This is how the dream of fulfilling this goal was born and also the idea to record it in a book. The journey would be the best “in action” tribute coinciding with the arrival of the new F 800 GS (one of the double purpose BMW Motorrad GS motorcycle, ideal for this adventure) to our market, whose previous models had already accompanied Henry along his trips. We were both convinced that this was the challenge to undertake. And since the proof of the pudding is in the eating, we set out to work. Wolfgang von Goethe is credited with the following saying: “One not only travels to reach a destination but to enjoy the journey”, a phrase which perfectly applied to this adventure. The final destination, was in fact, an excuse to immerse in different landscapes and savour the road along places, cultures and climates as diverse as amazing. Henry would be the pilot, who, as in previous opportunities would ride on his own with no other companion than his motorcycle and his camera. Nonetheless, timing and distances weren’t in this case that simple, let alone logistics! There were many border lines to cross, a lot of paperwork to comply with and little room for errors in a trip of such magnitude. Since we were convinced this would be the best way to celebrate BMW Motorrad’s ninety years and the faithful GS in the Americas, we moved forward with the plan. The project had already matured, but how would we start? From South to North, or from North to South? After thorough analysis, and taking into account the different seasons, we agreed that the best
PROLOGUE 1
departing place would be Alaska. The motorcycle had to reach Anchorage and from there head South. That was when our dear friends from LAN gave us a helping hand to implement the first flight. Moreover, travelling in this direction added an interesting component provided there were no drawbacks on the road: Henry could reach the end of the journey with enough time to participate in the first Motorrad Days organized at Villa General Belgrano, in Argentina, also within the frame of the ninetieth anniversary. And so he did. As in every major project, circumstances sometimes put us to the test with small signs that inquire into how convinced we are of doing the things we do. This was no exception to the rule... With a more firm plan in mind we contacted some colleagues acquainted with the different regions and the world of motorcycles, who gave us advice and ideas. It is believed that a rough start sometimes foreshadows a smoother future; however, preparation must be adequate. At this point it is worth mentioning an interesting anecdote. During a private trip Henry had taken to New York, he decided –under our suggestion– to comment this project to our colleague Jorge Soriano at the BMW offices at Woodcliff Lake. Destiny had it that, on the way to Manhattan he got off the bus at the wrong place, and once he found out about his mistake he decided to walk in order not to be late to the meeting. Almost as a curse, he was not only late but had to stoically endure a heavy rain finding no shelter whatsoever. He was soaking wet when he finally reached the appointment. Undoubtedly, this was a symbol. The pouring rain that he had to endure on his way to the BMW offices was identical as the one that accompanied him during his departure in Alaska and his arrival in Ushuaia. A sort of baptism to this journey that was about to start! But we all know Henry to be a thoroughbred adventurer who does not shrink in the face of obstacles. He proved to be an excellent pilot not only during storms –and there were not quite a few– but also achieved what we had dreamt in less time than expected! His driving skills and his talent to capture the different places with his camera are compiled and treasured in this book, a tribute to the 90 years of BMW Motorrad. This is what we had planned and achieved: to reach our destination, but also to portray the road along the journey. Alejandro Echeagaray / Dan Christian Menges
FROM ALASKA TO TIERRA DEL FUEGO 55 DAYS OF ADVENTURES
For most motorcyclists, roads are powerful magnets. They represent the entry door to kilometers of adventures. There are some which apart from being attractive, enhance the possibility of dreaming: the “40” in Argentina, the “101” in the U.S or the reknowned “Troncal de la Sierra” (Highland’s Road) in Ecuador. But when it comes to travelling and dreaming, connecting Alaska with Tierra del Fuego ranks top of the list. It is something like the mother of all crossings. With miles of kilometers covered in a dozen countries, the moment had come to aim higher. Thanks to the support of BMW Argentina and the Motorrad group, September 14th, 2013 turned into a day I would always remember. With a persistent drizzle that would follow me for the next 10 days, I would set forth my F800GS in Anchorage towards Ushuaia. A year of meetings, negotiations, transactions and logistics bore its fruit. BMW Motorrad was not the only participant in the Alaska-Tierra del Fuego Project, for LAN Cargo (in charge of moving the motorcycle to the US) and ACA (Automobile Club Argentina) were also involved. As regards myself, I was about to register this trip in order to publish my 20th book. This was the main reason to face this journey on my own, for it gave me the freedom to stop as many times as required in order to photograph everything I felt like. The crossing was to be completed in 55 days, covering 500 kilometers a day. This meant an average of 10 hours on the motorcycle, almost always between 8 am and 6 pm. There were only a very few occasions in which I drove at night, for I had promised this to my daughters. The exceptions were the stretch San Francisco - Los Angeles up until San Diego, at night, but on a freeway, and the need to reach Manuel Antonio in Costa Rica to rest, under the pouring rain, after driving on a poorly marked mountain road. Two completely different stretches, both alike in greatness. What are the advantages of a freeway at night? I left Los Angeles during rush hour. Thousands of Americans were heading home in an orderly way, at a speed of 110 kilometers an hour, in mass like a giant train of 6 lanes. In the 90 minutes it took me, the tsunami of cars, motorcycles and trucks never stopped. The other stretch was a combination of pure adrenaline with a good dose of intuition because the vision was almost null and what awaited me around each turn (and there were plenty of them!) was completely unknown... Without any stopping option and profiting from the headlights of passing cars, I finally reached Manuel Antonio completely worn out, but
PROLOGUE 2 thrilled to be able to wake up there the following morning. All in all I crossed 14 countries. I visited Bolivia, benefiting from the closeness of its border with San Pedro de Atacama, to reach Laguna Verde. I chose a BMW F800GS for, it is the ideal motorcycle for trips that combine a good road rhythm and plenty of off road. Besides, this motorcycle has good autonomy, excellent driving position, low gravity center and great performance for long stretches. The 2013 model adds two important innovations: stability control (ASC) and three suspension levels (ESA). I tried all possible combinations, but because of my driving style, the one I enjoyed the most was the sport mode. I got to Argentina through Paso de Jama and made a gravel detour that ends in San Antonio de los Cobres. I wanted to cross the Abra del Acay again, the best of Route 40 and its highest stretch (almost 5000 meters above sea level). I started my descent towards Córdoba to reach Villa General Belgrano, where the Motorrad Days were being celebrated. Entering the premises was an unforgettable bonus track. “Gato” Barbery, a close friend and official anchorman of the event, greeted me with undeserved honors and Loli, my wife, turned that stop into a memorable moment, for she appeared as a surprise. Ushuaia was around the corner. The last three days went by very fast. Before turning west to catch Route 40, I covered the longest stretch of the journey: 1.138 kilometers between Punta Alta and Comodoro Rivadavia. I crossed Santa Cruz diagonally through very difficult gravel to reach Bajo Caracoles and then Gobernador Gregores. The following day, I headed towards Tierra del Fuego. The juggling to get gas in Rio Gallegos, due to a harsh blockage organized by Unions, obliged me to end my 55th day in Tolhuin. I was only 97 kilometers away from Ushuaia. With my family waiting for me on the other side of the Garibaldi path, I had to make a stop off schedule. It turned out to be for the best: it had been snowing intensely for three running and crossing Garibaldi at night was not a good idea. The following morning, the weather got worse. The seven degrees below zero could be felt, although I was very well equipped with a BMW Atlantis 4 suit; the 25.117 kilometers were covered, however, with an open helmet and Converse sneakers. I have no regrets. I enjoyed nature to the fullest, but with the protection of the best jacket and pair of trousers there are for a ride of such characteristics. A close helmet wouldn’t have allowed me to take as many spontaneous pictures as I did, and boots would have hindered me from exercising the inveterate climber I am throughout the crossing. At 10:30 am on day #56, I reached Ushuaia. When I was reunited with my family, my face burst with emotion. I have been very lucky throughout my life to do many things, but this particular journey will stay with me till the end of times. Only a BMW can achieve something like this! Henry von Wartenberg
HEADING NORTH TO HIT THE SOUTH LAN Cargo was in charge of flying me and my BMW F800GS from Buenos Aires to Anchorage.
ANCHORAGE, ALASKA. DAY 0 After landing in the city and having a good breakfast, I started with the customs paper work to liberate the motorcycle. Ron Edelen’s help was invaluable to complete every procedure. Towards the end of the day and after stopping by at BMW Motorrad Anchorage, the GS and I were all set.
TAKING OFF Anchorage, and Alaska in general, has the highest density in private hydroplanes in the world. A nice farewell postcard of this cosmopolitan and wild city.
DAY ONE. As from the first kilometers, the landscape was exuberant. That was a short day and I stopped to sleep in Glennallen, Alaska.
SPEEDING UP I left the Caribou Motor Inn early heading towards Tetlin Junction, famous crossroads in Alaska, and from there to the border with Yukon, Canada.
KOIDERN RIVER, CANADA. Alaska was momentarily left behind. As from here, every gas station becomes important, even though the supplier is somewhat doubtful.
BOOBY TRAPS They seemed real from a distance, and truth be said, they fulfilled their objective, for when I saw them I lowered the speed.
FOOTPRINTS ON ICE. I had briefly left Canada to enter once more the U.S and visit Hyder. Small town of big bears and more salmons than inhabitants.
DEASE LAKEHYDER, DAY 5
After sleeping in the last available room in Dease Lake, I rode down the 37 towards Meziadin Junction and in this way cross, through Stewart to Hyder, Alaska. The first thing I did upon arrival was to climb some hills and see the famous glaciers surrounding the town. To prevent bears from intruding, locals place nails to their doormats.
LAND OF BEARS
Alaska and Canada represent to me, coming from the Southern region, something like China to Marco Polo. They have the appeal and mystery of a faraway land. I had been in Anchorage a few years ago, on my way to the Denali Park and the Talkeetna Glacier. But this time, the road and the circumstances were different. The initial rhythm made me abandon that North American state very quickly, to enter its neighboring country through Yukon. I felt like a cowboy when I found the boundary post. I was by myself, no one around, just a few informational signs and a nice pergola with its center divided by a monolith and a line: on one side, Canada/Yukon and on the other, USA/Alaska. Everything surrounded by 360 degrees of nature. With the BMW “grazing” on one side, I sat down to bring into balance the first part of the trip. Despite the lousy weather, everything was positive! I headed South, to turn East later on, arriving at a coastal little town called Hyder, which can be reached through Stewart, British Columbia, but one needs to cross the border again to enter the Southern rim of Alaska. Hyder has only one entry and exit road. The rest is mountains, glaciers and bears. Without much choice around, I stayed at a lodge next to a bar. Imagining myself being in the Far West, I asked for a beer and decided to spend a couple of hours there. I greeted two or three locals, and asked the waitress for an “Alaskan White” and something to bite. She told me they had nothing to eat, and hurried me to drink my beer for they were closing in fifteen minutes… It was 6:45 p.m. and the day, according to her, was coming to its end. I returned to my room earlier than I had planned. The following day started with a pouring rain. I was looking at the downpour through my steamy window, when all of a sudden I saw a dark lump crossing the street. There wasn’t much light, but it was undoubtedly a huge bear. I grabbed a camera and got out in my underwear to photograph it. Due to the water that hit the lens, the low speed obturation and the little patience Yogu’s cousin was showing, the image was a disaster. Luckily, I had a better chance in the afternoon. Apart from the protection they get, one of the reasons of the number of bears in the area is that salmons abound. Not far from there, in Moricetown Canyon, people wait to catch them when they jump upstream. Just like bears do!
VANCOUVER, CANADA, DAY 8 First time in Vancouver, though not the last. I enjoyed a lot my short stay. Well guided by my friend Jess Browne via Facebook, I had a nice time at the Granville Island Public Market.
SEATTLE, USA, DAY 9 Once again escorted by a personal guide, this time live! My nephew Francisco and his mother Giulietta became generous hosts. In Seattle I took one of the five days off, touring the streets and its neighborhoods.
A STOP OFF SCHEDULE In McMinnville, Oregon you can find the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum. Among its attractions, the Spruce Goose, giant hydroplane built by Howard Hughes, can be seen.
GARBERVILLE, CALIFORNIA, DAY 12 This town, full of hippies, most of them walking dogs in the Street, gave me one of the best presents during the trip. I exited the town through its woods of millennial sequoias, as high as the sky itself.
HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM... I was so caught up looking at the cows balancing on the cliffs of Route 1 that I forgot about my speedometer. Official Salomon lectured me on driver education and fined me with a ticket of u$ 276, 50.
SAN FRANCISCOSAN DIEGO, DAY 14 One of the first longest stretches of the journey: 840 kms nonstop save for a brief pull-up on Venice Beach in Los Angeles. Two incredible things happened to me on that day: one of my cameras survived a fall at 120 kms per hour on the road, and I met an Argentinian driving across America on an old Dodge 1500.
TIJUANA, MÉXICO, DAY 16 With almost 7000 kms covered I was only arriving at the third country in my journey. I drove past the city to enter Baja California in search for quiet roads.
SAN DIEGO, USA-EL ROSARIO, Mร XICO, DAY 16. This ford in no way represents the drought of this stretch. It was just a drop of water in the desert. El Rosario is a small town, but turned out to be a great place to sleep and eat: Baja Cactus Hotel and Mamรก Espinosas.
ESTADOS UNIDOS
La Paz
MÉXICO
Mazatlán OCEÁNO PACÍFICO
GOLFO DE MÉXICO
Puerto Vallarta
MAZATLÁN-PUERTO VALLARTA, DÍA 19 Crossing “Baja” proved to be an unforgettable experience and a great choice: people there are very nice and the roads very safe. When reaching La Paz, its Southern extreme, I crossed on ferry towards Mazatlán to head to Acapulco. Getting there was very complicated due to the terrible storms that had hit the area, and the disaster around was so devastating that it overshadowed that stretch of the journey.
LOW SEASON. October seems not to be the moment for selling on Acapulco’s beaches.
TAPACHULA, MÉXICO-ANTIGUA, GUATEMALA, DAY 24 I left México and entered Guatemala. The border is somewhat special and one has to be very cautious. During the customs paperwork, I met other “beemers” on a similar journey as mine. The first thing I did was to buy a bag of rambutan, exotic and delicious fruit. The second was visit Antigua.
ANTIGUA, GUATEMALA-LA LIBERTAD, EL SALVADOR, DAY 25. I reached El Salvador with great expectations. The customs was easy in terms of paper work, but slow in action. It was very sad to witness reptile trafficking with authorities turning a blind eye to it. All in all, it is a beautiful country.
HAVE I ARRIVED IN HONOLULU? NO, THIS IS EL SALVADOR El Tunco beach is very close to La Libertad, 37 kms from San Salvador. Surf fans: start organizing a space in your agendas to visit it. The sand is black, but there are golden tanned girls and tremendous waves.
LA LIBERTAD, EL SALVADOR-CHOLUTECA, HONDURAS, DAY 26. A few kilometers every day, though it meant visiting one country after the other. I entered Honduras through El Amatillo, but it turned out to be the shortest stop in the trip. I slept in Choluteca and continued towards Nicaragua.
CHOLUTECA, HONDURAS-MANAGUA, NICARAGUA, DAY 27 After a long time without visiting Nicaragua, I had the impression that the country was torn between Sandino, Chávez and Ray Kroc (creator of McDonald’s). Devoid of any political standpoint, I saw great advances in infrastructure and a very strong national pacification.
GRANADA, THE GREAT SULTANA Founded in 1524 by the Spaniard Francisco Hernández de Córdoba, Granada’s Moorish and Andalusian architecture remains intact. When it comes to paying for meals, however, fees are from the XXI century.
MANAGUA, NICARAGUA-QUEPOS, COSTA RICA, DAY 28 What a pleasure returning to Quepos and Manuel Antonio is! After my initial shock due to the changes I saw, I devoted myself to enjoying the place. My arrival was somewhat uncomfortable (at night under the pouring rain), but after a good breakfast I was ready to move on.
SECOND HONEYMOON Returning to any place twenty years later is quite a shock. It happened to me in Nicaragua, a country I had first visited at the end of the guerilla, in full process towards its democratization. I found a breakthrough, at least in terms of its infrastructure and pacification. However, returning to Manuel Antonio was a complete blow of nostalgia. We had been there with Loli, my wife, on our honeymoon in 1995. Back then, we had been captivated by its virgin beaches, devoid of tourists and major buildings, save for a couple of cabins near the sea. One of them had been our romantic nest during those days.
Every morning, we used to swim across the brook that marked off the National Park, to enter Paradise, with the only company of lizards, iguanas and coatis. In the afternoon, entire families of monkeys showed up to eat fruit from the trees or steal anything they found interesting. Loli went topless, something the law of Costa Rica forbade, but no one seemed to care. We were Adam and Eve. Today, monkeys have evolved in Homo Turisticus. The brook still exists, but the place we used to walk dodging scullions has turned into a huge hotel, a paved roundabout and a bus stop. The access street has one bar next to another, and the sensation is that the motto “Pure Life” that the locals repeated has been replaced for “Pure Money”. All in all, it is still a place worth visiting. I hope we can repeat our honeymoon and bring our “offspring” along with us.
SANTIAGO, PANAMĂ -PANAMĂ CITY, DAY 30. Costa Rica and the first half of the journey were behind. The Miraflores lock divides the Americas, but joins the oceans. I visited it by recommendation of my dear friend Pety Bedoya. The video produced there was the most visited in Facebook.
THE GLASS HALF FULL
Arriving in Panama meant completing the first part of the journey and leaving behind a good lot. Mexico and Center America, mainly, two stretches I was a bit apprehensive about; the first one, due to its insecurity problems and drug dealing; the second one, for the number of borders and bureaucracy involved. I decided to cross Mexico through Baja California. It turned out to be a great choice for the calmness of its roads and its spectacular landscape. I ate at “Mamá Espinoza”, an ultra famous restaurant, mandatory stop for pilots racing “The Baja 1000”. I took a ferry to the continent from La Paz to Matzatlan and headed South along the coast towards Acapulco, my final destination. Some twenty kilometers before, the terrible storm that had hit the region weeks ago (leaving one hundred dead people behind and thousands evacuated) almost thwarted my plans. A huge bridge had been wiped out and the city was isolated. The GS honored its name and we forded the river with water covering up to the seat. Reaching Guatemala was a nightmare. Two robbery attempts on the border caused me to be on permanent guard, running short of patience as well. Especially with the dozens of “secretaries” who, with the aim of collecting a few dollars, convince travelers that they are the only entities authorized when it comes to customs paperwork. They trick them into obliging motorcycles to line up with trucks; a line which is usually endless. Their “services” are there offered to speed up the procedure. With the unprepared rider’s passport in their possession, they become lords and masters of the situation. Fortunately, they didn’t have me. You only need to have your papers in order to cross any border. And motorcycles never line up. In Panamá we had to overcome another obstacle: el Tapón de Darien (Darien’s stopper or gap), natural barrier with Colombia and the only swath of undeveloped road along the Pan American Highway. The options were five days on a sailboat from Colón to Cartagena or an hour by plane from El Tocúmen to Bogotá. The fares were quite similar, and thanks to the availability I found the day of my arrival, I decided to fly. The following day, I was already in Colombia with the motorcycle released, heading to Ecuador.
BACK TO THE ROAD. Once the Darien’s stopper had been overcome by air, I had to dodge another obstacle in Colombia. Between Cajamarca and Pasto, the road had been taken by a very violent group. The solution I found was to follow a track within the hills and in this way avoid the picket.
PASTO, COLOMBIA-QUITO, ECUADOR, DAY 35. I crossed Colombia along lost villages amidst hills and finally got to the border with Ecuador. The road was magnificent, just like everything else that came later on. El Troncal de la Sierra (Highland’s Road) turned out to be the best part of the journey.
FROM QUITO TO CUENCA, 483 AMAZING KILOMETERS. The flight from Panamá to Bogotá made me stop at Cuenca. The original plan had been to cross by ship to Cartagena and in that way I would have taken another road. Thank God for that change of plans! Cuenca is beyond description. Don’t miss it.
PANAMĂ IN CUENCA The popular PanamĂĄ hats come from Cuenca, and the city is also known for its architecture; for me it will be unforgettable for it is the cleanest place I have ever been to. Not a single paper can be found in the streets.
MACARA, ECUADOR-TRUJILLO, PERĂš, DAY 38 I drove from Cuenca along the Troncal de la Sierra until Macara, a village next to the Peruvian border. It was 6 p.m, and the police advised me not to cross. The road to Sullana at dusk is unsafe, I was told. I resumed my way the following day. A cautious rider is worth many more kilometers!
TRUJILLO-LIMA, DAY 39. After encountering other travelers, a funeral procession, an old shipwreck and a delicious “ceviche”, I finally arrived in Lima where my cousin “Don Pati” and his family awaited me. What a great time we had together!
NAZCA, PERĂš-ARICA, CHILE, DAY 41. I spent almost one thousand kilometers and 12 hours on my bike along a desert road. One of the longest days in the journey. I drove very near the beautiful Arequipa, but since I had visited it before I decided not to stop. I wanted to reach Chile.
OLD SEA WOLVES Take a picture of that animal for it is an endangered species! urged his card companion in the port of Arica. The bearded man was called “Fumón Castro” and he was certainly one of those rare characters you encounter once in a while. Arriving in Chile was like arriving home. I left Perú, stressed by the dangerous drivers on the road (I had to abruptly move to the shoulder about fifteen times to avoid vehicles coming in the opposite direction) and was in need of some peace and quiet. I drove past Tacna as the sun was setting and arrived at the border at night, exhausted but happy. I had been in Arica some years before on a trip from Cusco, and I knew that a good hotel, a good barman and a good chef awaited me. I had a good night’s sleep and the following morning I left towards the port. The contrast between the richness of its piers and the nothingness itself of the desert surrounding the city is astounding. Fish, sea food and mollusks still dripping sea water are classified by a group of weather-beaten skin and easy-smiling buccaneers. As “Fumón Castro” was gambling his fate for the eleventh time, Jimmy –my bike– and I made headway to Chuquicamata and San Pedro de Atacama.
ROCKS AND FISH. The Northern part of Chile is something unique. As we leave the oasis of its ports behind to drive into the desert, the landscape resembles the moon or Mars. Nothing a F800GS should worry about, unless we step on a nail.
CALAMA-SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA, DAY 43 San Pedro de Atacama is a clear demonstration that Chilean oasis are not only located in its ports. Despite the salt and the sand, the town is a blessing for travelers and a challenge for adventure lovers. With hotels for every budget (from u$18 to u$900 per night) and excellent places to eat, it is an indispensable stop. Within 50 kilometers there is a wide variety of things to do, including going to the beach in the middle of the desert.
LAGUNA VERDE, BOLIVIA. Since I was riding very close to it, I decided to stop and visit Laguna Verde (Green Pond). I didn’t do well. I had no problem in crossing the border but my motorcycle was another story. Customs obliged me to drive 180 extra kilometers to complete the paperwork. I managed to convince the officer to allow
me to see the pond quickly and come back (the distance is less than 5000 meters). Once there, I couldn’t get in either. As a National Park one needs to pay an entrance ticket, but only in Bolivian currency. Neither my dollars nor my Argentine pesos were worth anything. I took a picture from a distance and returned disappointed.
SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA, CHILE-LA POMA, ARGENTINA, DAY 44. A month and a half later, I returned to my country. The “Welcome!” the customs girl uttered when she handed me my papers is something I will never forget. Crossing El Abra del Acay again is something I won’t forget either. Although I knew the way, circumstances this time made it very special.
DODGING LEDGES. El Abra del Acay is one of the highest paths in Argentina. 5000 meters high that can be felt, but also enjoyed. After the descent, there are a few fords to check. They are not very deep, but the stones under the water are huge.
COVERING THE NORTH, GLIDING THE SOUTH. La Poma, Cachi, Cafayate, Molinos... I think I ate a dozen “empanadas” in every town. From Tafí del Valle I headed towards Los Altos, Catamarca. In the meantime, I consulted the map to plan what remained ahead.
A FIVE STAR STOP IN CATAMARCA, DAY 48. At “La Tirolesa” Ranch my friends Ezequiel Despontin and Mateo Scaraffía awaited me. The promise of a goatling turned out to be true, although a cat was the only animal I saw on the grill. These two relaxing days came in handy to gather strength to face what followed.
©BMW/RODRIGO VERGARA
BMW MOTORRAD DAYS IN CORDOBA Two moments impossible to forget: my wife waiting for me in Córdoba and the Motorrad Days in Villa General Belgrano. Too many emotions to sum up to “Gato” Barbery, dear friend and official host of BMW’s event.
TIGRE-PUNTA ALTA, DAY 52. From Córdoba I stopped at home, close to Buenos Aires and surprised my daughters who hadn’t seen me in two months. With Prussian discipline, the following day I moved on. We would have our family reunion in only a few days.
TWO OCEANS
The Pacific was definitely behind. Its coasts had accompanied me most of the journey. I was now on an old acquaintance: the Atlantic Ocean. I was raised swimming in its waters and had covered its beaches throughout Argentina. Going down the shore with Jimmy was something only natural and necessary. As important as it is visiting a friend we haven’t seen for a while and tell him we are back in the neighborhood. Days were going by very fast. From the warm welcome at the BMW Motorrad in Villa General Belgrano and the emotion of a quick reunion with my family, I hit back the road at breakneck pace. I covered 1.138 kilometers in just one day from Punta Alta to Comodoro Rivadavia. I crossed Santa Cruz through Las Heras to take Route 40 towards Bajo Caracoles and I reached Gobernador Gregores in the company of three Australians, also on motorcycles. We watched each others’ backs since there was a shortage in gas. We formed a line and made a commitment of riding the whole stretch together. We arrived without trouble and after a long wait to fill our almost dry tanks, we searched for a hotel. I entered the restaurant and targeted at a table at the back. When I was about to sit down, I heard someone calling me “¡Henry!” I turned around and there was someone standing, with open arms. “It’s me, Norberto”, he said. He turned out to be one of my virtual friends from the page I created in Facebook for the trip, and whom I was honored to meet personally. We Riders were a majority: three tables full of stories to share. The following day started very cold; the kind of weather that would accompany me the rest of the journey. Sleet, hail and wind plus a good snowfall put my equipment, once again, to the test. I returned to Route 3, crossed Río Gallegos juggling to get gas. And I reached the Magellan’s Strait: another of my favorite places. I had crossed it so many times, and I would cross it as many as I could. In fact, it is a moor, but its stories are so vast, and its coast so breathtaking that it is impossible not to marvel. Ushuaia was too close. For a moment, I dreamt I could make time stop...
PATAGONIA: SURPRISING AND WILD Maybe it was due to the fact that I had traveled these roads a thousand times, or that I felt the adrenaline of being closer to the end, but days were moving faster than expected. To extend the stretch I crossed Santa Cruz heading west. I crossed through Las Heras, amidst oil Wells and sublime landscapes, only ruined by the town’s garbage. I tried to fill the tank in Bajo Caracoles, but I only achieved it in Gobernador Gregores, where I also found a Facebook fan: Norberto.
JURASSIC PATAGONIAN PARK. Covering these roads of Santa Cruz is a ticket to the past. It is easy to imagine that around any bend a Tyrannosaurus Rex will bite us. In reality, gravel demands attentiveness in order not to get a puncture which will leave us on the side of the road.
KEEPING ME COMPANY. My lonely journey is coming to an end, and looking back I realize I was never alone. There has always been a companion on the other side of the road.
GOBERNADOR GREGORES-TOLHUIN, DAY 55 After driving around RĂo Gallegos begging for gas, I reached the Magellan’s Strait. The raft was about to depart so I immediately crossed. Anyway, my ambitious plan to cover Gregores-Ushuaia during the day was frustrated due to the bad weather. With 875 kilometers already covered, I had to stop only 100 kms away from my final goal. The following morning was one of the coldest. The ice on the windshield speaks for itself.
ANCHORAGE-USHUAIA: 25.117 KILOMETERS JOIN US. I AM HERE! THANKS, THANKS THANKS, THANKS, THANKS! This was the moment I had dreamt of during the 55 days and one morning the journey lasted. I say “we”, because this arrival is by no means a personal accomplishment. I couldn’t have done it without my family, always backing me up, the support of BMW Motorrad, and the encouragement of thousands of friends who held me during the ride; without them, I wouldn’t have seen the end of the road. And with Jimmy, I am indebted for life. He is a faithful representative of BMW, a brand that honors its name with its letters G and S: Gelände & Strasse. Thank you BRO!
THE END OF THE ROAD
I didn’t break any record, nor achieved any prowess worthy of attention, but how exciting my arrival in Ushuaia was! I had left Tolhuin with plenty of time to finally meet with my family, who had travelled from Buenos Aires to welcome me. “I’ll see you at half past ten under the sign that reads USHUAIA-LA QUIACA”. Despite the surly weather, and a couple of stops to take some pictures, I arrived on time. The truth is that it was extremely cold when I headed towards Garibaldi and in order to warm myself, I started singing La Marcha de San Lorenzo (San Lorenzo’s March). Some twenty times I had set out with Febo asoma (the sun rises) and some others I broke down with Cabral, soldado heroico (Cabral, heroic soldier)*. The fact is I was extremely susceptive and full of adrenaline inside ready to burst when I could finally utter the words I DID IT!! But you are never there, until you actually get there, and there was still a sideslip ahead of me in one of the last curves covered in snow, ice and dirty water. Hence, I decided to take it easy. At 10: 25 I stopped at the city’s entrance arch and hugged Jimmy. I took some selfies, and I deeply thanked for having finished in great shape and health. I drove downtown. I caught sight of them from a distance, and they saw me too. Loli, Mia and Amélie, mi wife and daughters, together with Raúl and Dolores, my parents in law, were jumping for joy (or for being cold). It is impossible to describe the feeling of personal achievement, of something accomplished, and especially the pride in not having let those who had trusted me down. Along the road, I had many times been haunted by the uncertainty of whether I would finish. I had even designed a B plan, which determined that in case of accident, I would wait to recover only to continue. What nonsense! It only helped me to take the idea of failure out of my head. Those who know me can account for my inner confidence, and so those insecurities lasted less than 100 pesos last at the supermarket (note: for foreign readers, 100 Argentine pesos equal u$10, and as this book is being written, this is our highest bill). Be that as it may, I finally arrived. It was pure bliss. After an endless family embrace, a man approached me. He was another virtual friend: Carlos, who was following me via Facebook,
and since had heard about my arrival, was keeping watch in his native town. He was the one in charge of taking the family portrait. I am deeply thankful. I am also profoundly indebted to BMW Argentina. They gave me an initial push and backed me up throughout the journey, but mostly, they trusted me. I hope I have been up to such responsibility. What followed was great. I spent the entire day touring the city with my girls. We stuffed ourselves with king crabs at Tía Elvira double shift, taking some walks in between to be worthy of the following banquet. I made a good decision and flew back home with my family, leaving Jimmy behind in Ushuaia for some days. A few weeks later, I went back to pick it up. The weather hadn’t improved at all, it had only gotten worse! Anyway, it couldn’t have been a better farewell. Together with my friend Claudio Scalise, we flew back to the end of the world. He had personal reasons related to a ranch, and I decided to add up a last stretch to the journey. The place was Moat Ranch, historical, emblematic and magic site. Neither the rain nor the cold ruined our visit. Besides, on our way, we stopped at Harberton Ranch. Tommy Bridges greeted us; he is a descendant of its founders. We had a nice talk and moved on. They drove on a truck, and I rode my bike dodging puddles. The afternoon went by very fast. We drove along the coast of the Beagle Canal, added a few pictures to my already bulky album and 17 hours later said goodbye to my friends. I had to start my journey back home. Since it was late, and was still raining, I decided to sleep at Tolhuin. The following morning greeted me with a new saying: When it rains… it snows! When I left the lodge the landscape was completely white and the temperature was -4º centigrade. I had no idea about the apparent temperature, but it wasn’t warm at all. There was no need for me to start singing Febo asoma (the sun rises). A few days later, having added 3.500 kilometers, we finally reached home. *Translator’s note: All National Songs.
HARBERTON AND MOAT, THE ICING ON THE CAKE. A few weeks after flying with my girls home, I returned to Tierra del Fuego with two friends. I had to pick my motorcycle up, and, in addition, I accompanied my buddies to Moat, which is really where the road ends. On our way we visited Tommy Bridges.
ICE AGE II One of the reasons I had for leaving the motorcycle behind was to pick it up once the weather got better. JAJAJA! How naïve of me... An extreme coldness wrapped me on my way to Magallanes, but I couldn’t care less. My girls were waiting for me at home.
LOGBOOK
Data collected on the 55 days + 1 morning of the journey.
14 COUNTRIES COVERED: USA, CANADA, MÉXICO, GUATEMALA, HONDURAS, EL SALVADOR, NICARAGUA, COSTA RICA, PANAMÁ, COLOMBIA, ECUADOR, PERÚ, CHILE AND ARGENTINA. I VISITED LAGUNA VERDE (GREEN POND) IN BOLIVIA FOR ITS CLOSENESS WITH SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA, THE #15 COUNTRY OF THE JOURNEY.
I TRAVELED 25.117 KILOMETERS FROM ANCHORAGE TO USHUAIA, PLUS 3.480 KMS TO RETURN TO BUENOS AIRES, AND IF I ADD THE NUMBER OF KILOMETERS COVERED PREVIOUS TO THE TRIP TO BREAK IN THE F800GS, THE COMPLETE PROJECT INVOLVED 30.116 KILOMETERS IN TWO MONTHS.
THE THREE LONGEST STRETCHES: NASCA-ARICA, 924 KMS; PUNTA ALTA-COMODORO
RIVADAVIA, 1.138 KMS; COMANDANTE PIEDRA BUENA-SAN ANTONIO OESTE,
1.250
KMS (RETURNING FROM USHUAIA). THE SHORTEST STRETCH: SANTIAGO-PANAMÁ CITY, 228 KMS OF HIGHWAY. I SPENT 1.406 LITRES OF GAS: 88 TANKS. I STOPPED 120 TIMES FOR GAS. I CHANGED 5 TIRES: 2 FRONT WHEELS, 3 REAR WHEELS. I HAD ONLY 2 PUNCTURES. BOTH ON THE #42 DAY, FROM ARICA TO CALAMA, IN CHILE.
THE GREATEST HEIGHT ABOVE SEA WAS AT EL ABRA DEL ACAY, SALTA, ARGENTINA AT
4.895 METERS.
THE LOWEST WAS AT SANTA CRUZ AT 60 METERS BELOW SEA LEVEL. I RODE BETWEEN 10 AND 12 HOURS PER DAY. I TOOK 5 DAYS OFF SPREAD OVER THE CROSSING. I STOPPED 3 TIMES FOR SERVICES, FOR IT WAS A BRAND NEW MOTORCYCLE WHEN I STARTED THE JOURNEY. I STOPPED FOR CHECK-UPS AT BMW MOTORRAD SAN DIEGO, USA (8.300 KMS), BMW AUTOGERMANA, BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA (15.151 KMS) AND
THE LAST ONE DURING MOTORRADS DAYS IN CÓRDOBA, ARGENTINA (21.006 KMS). I SLEPT IN 50 DIFFERENT PLACES, MOSTLY HOTELS AND INNS. I STAYED WITH FRIENDS AND RELATIVES IN SEATTLE, LIMA, CATAMARCA AND CÓRDOBA. ON MY WAY TO USHUAIA, I SLEPT IN TIGRE, AT HOME! I HAD 100 FRIED EGGS FOR BREAKFASTS, AN AVERAGE OF ALMOST 2 EVERY MORNING. THE BEST MEAL WAS IN EL SALVADOR: TWO MEDIUM SIZE LOBSTERS, SALAD, FRENCH
FRIES AND TWO COLD “CORONAS” FOR U$ 20, TIP INCLUDED.
THE CHEAPEST RATION: A BAG WITH 100 RAMBUTANS FOR 1 DOLLAR IN GUATEMALA, WHICH LASTED THREE DAYS. THE HIGHEST TEMPERATURE: 38ºC IN BAJA CALIFORNIA, MÉXICO. THE LOWEST:
-7ºC IN TOLHUIN, NEAR USHUAIA.
25 DAYS OF RAIN, 10 RUNNING DAYS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE JOURNEY. THROUGHOUT THE CROSSING I WORE A BMW
ATLANTIS 4 LEATHER SUIT, A
BELL 500 HELMET AND TWO PAIRS OF GLOVES. I ONLY WORE 1 PAIR OF GREEN LEATHER ALL STAR SNEAKERS DURING THE TRIP. TRAVEL LIGHT, TRAVEL HAPPY: THE REST OF THE BAGGAGE CONSISTED IN AN EXTRA PAIR OF HIKING SHOES (LIGHT AND COMFORTABLE) TO WEAR AFTER SHOWERING. A
PAIR OF HERENCIA ARGENTINA JEANS (WHICH I NEVER WASHED), 2 T-SHIRTS (WHICH I WASHED EVERY DAY), A NORTH FACE FEATHER JACKET AND 2 PAIRS OF SOCKS
I WORE ON THE COLDEST DAYS. I ALSO HAD A BMW THERMAL SHIRT AND A MERINO
WOOL COLLAR I HAD BOUGHT IN WHITE HORSE, CANADA, WHICH MADE MY JOURNEY EVEN MORE PLEASANT. THE LUGGAGE WAS LOADED IN A BMW GEPÄCKROLLE
2 BAG. BESIDES,
I ADAPTED A PELICAN BAG TO CARRY A MACBOOK PRO, A CANON 5D, A FUJI X10 AND
2 GO PRO, PLUS THE ACCESSORIES.
FOR OBVIOUS REASONS I HARDLY DID ANY SHOPPING DURING THE JOURNEY, EXCEPT
FOR 2 PENKNIVES IN ALASKA (I LOST ONE) AND 4 PANAMÁ HATS BOUGHT IN CUENCA, ECUADOR, BY COMMISSION AND RECOMMENDATION OF MY FRIEND PATRICIO BUTELER (ONE FOR HIM, ONE FOR ME, ONE FOR MY WIFE AND ONE FOR MY MOTHER IN LAW). I ROLLED THEM IN MY BAG AND THEY ARRIVED IN PERFECT STATE.
FACEBOOK DATA
Previous to the trip I created, with the help of my eldest daughter Mia, a Facebook page. TRAVESIA ALASKA-USHUAIA-BMW (Alaska-Ushuaia-BMW Crossing). I started from scratch, for I had no personal page. Below, the numbers of its evolution and development:
THE FIRST DAY I HAD ONLY ONE FOLLOWER: AMÉLIE, MY YOUNGEST DAUGHTER. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROSSING I HAD ALMOST
10.000 DAILY VISITORS, WITH A MAXIMUM OF 63.471 IN JUST ONE DAY.
THE HIGHEST PERCENTAGE WAS FROM ARGENTINA, BUT I HAD VISITORS FROM
45 OTHER
COUNTRIES SUCH AS INDONESIA, THE EMIRATES, ISRAEL AND SOUTH AFRICA.
54% OF THE FANS ARE MEN AND 46% WOMEN. 68% OF THE GENERAL VISITORS WERE MEN, 30% WOMEN AND A 2% OF UNSPECIFIED GENDER. THE AVERAGE AGE IS IN THE RANGE OF I UPLOADED
35 TO 44 YEARS OLD.
48 VIDEOS DURING THE TRIP.
EVERY VIDEO WAS SEEN BY AN AVERAGE OF AUDIENCE WAS “BYE SEATTLE”: I UPLOADED
4.000 PEOPLE. THE ONE WITH THE LARGEST
8.716 PEOPLE PLAYED IT.
390 PICTURES DURING THE TRIP.
3.000 CLICKS (PEOPLE CLICKING TO OPEN THE IMAGE). THE MOST POPULAR ONE WAS “VOLVIENDO AL PAGO” (THE ROAD HOME) WITH 7.796 CLICKS.
EVERY PICTURE HAD AN AVERAGE OF
ALMOST
2.000 FANS LIKED THE TRAVESIA (THE CROSSING) IN THEIR PAGES
AND IT CONTINUES TO RISE.
–ARE YOU TRAVELLING FAR? –ON MY WAY TO BUENOS AIRES, BUT I HAVE BEEN IN USHUAIA AND IN ALASKA BEFORE THAT. –YOU’VE BEEN IN ALASKA? ON YOUR MOTORCYCLE? –YES! –DON’T YOU GET BORED? This dialogue took place on Route 3, at the roundabout exiting Trelew. I stopped to fill the tank and right across the gas station I saw a shop selling cherries. Inside, there was this lady sitting on a stool, alone, surrounded by a single variety of fruit, and gazing outside through a small window. There weren’t any other options or the possibility to be distracted by anything else. Yet, to her, I was the bored one; I, who had covered fifteen countries. I left thinking for a while about the saleswoman and her little world surrounded by small boxes. Man is a creature of habit and I guess, for that woman, being locked in a small shop for hours, is the most common thing in the world. I resumed my journey, grateful for the possibility of moving in a range of action wider than three walls and a window. I know it sounds like a utopia, but travelling should be an obligation. A sort of militia, where instead of a gun (or a broom to clean the headquarters), an open ticket should be handed in together with a passport and a map. In thirty years on the road I came across the most varied people, who made of their journeys something unique and incredible. I was fifteen or sixteen years old when, in the middle of the Andes Mountains, on the road from Termas de Cacheuta to Uspallata, we encountered a guy who had come all the way down from Colombia on a wheel chair. Diego Baudrix, not only my uncle but the person where I first mirrored my future adventurer’s longings, had invited me. It was a trip of kayakers, and all of Diego’s friends, all of them older than me, engaged in a discussion on the “handicapped”. I place this word between inverted commas, because the person in question was far from being impaired, he was in perfect shape. He had voluntarily tied his feet to a wheel chair and he only opened the padlock to fulfill his basic needs. The rest of the day was spent climbing upwards or downwards, pushed by his arms. He carried a sort of canopy full of flags, a solar panel and a VHF radio. I also remember thinking, as opposed to the group’s opinion, that that man had, to me, steel balls. The purpose of his trip had been to prove that handicapped people could face great deeds despite their motor difficulties.
EPILOGUE
He showed me something else: one makes his own way. There are no limits or excuses when it comes to travelling your own road. That day, I firmly decided I would leave my own imprint. I had never had what it takes to be chained to a wheel chair, but I can account for thousands of kilometers covered throughout six continents, Antarctica included; I indulged myself in summiting the Aconcagua, the McKinley, the LanĂn and Mount Tarn (this last one of less height, but situated in the end of the world, and I climbed it in the deepest solitude). I crossed valleys, deserts and salt flats. I was such a privileged witness to so many extraordinary things, I am almost embarrassed to narrate. In the same way as Diego inspired my trips, I hope this book will inspire you, its readers. You don’t need to cover Alaska-Tierra del Fuego. Any getaway that brings us into direct contact with nature, as modest as this adventure may be, becomes fundamental for our education and our spirit. Any town we visit, even if it is located ten minutes away from home, will bring us encounters with other people and other realities. These different universes, in spite of their simplicity, can be amazing. Although this road trip finished very quickly, I get the feeling I always took the time to talk to the people who called my attention. I even went back to the places I had already left, to listen to other stories. In Catamarca, for example, I saw a backpacker coming out of nowhere, sitting on the side of the road with a guitar and holding a notebook between his legs. I drove on, but some time later, I returned with the excuse of being lost. In this way, I discovered that this Chilean from Santiago had been walking in between these two countries for the past year, playing his guitar, juggling with a unicycle and his wallet. From Ushuaia towards Buenos Aires, I drove past another traveler. Detouring in order to meet him was the last gift this trip was giving me. This Canadian, Pierre Paul Cayer had left Alaska two years before. He was pushing a cart with a sleeping bag, a couple of pots and pans to cook his feats only to start new ones. A 24-month-onfoot journey, along 30 thousand kilometers entails a welter of anecdotes. Hundreds of obstacles overcome day after day. Thirty million steps with a single purpose: arriving. Arriving only to depart to the next adventure. Even if this results in sitting on a sofa just to share the experiences and stories with others. In this book, I have tried to tell mine.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
No matter how lonely the adventure might be, there are always a lot of people behind offering their support and encouragement. I deeply thank BMW Argentina, especially Dan Christian Menges, who gave me the initial push in this project and helped me materialize it. I would also like to thank Julián Mallea, for trusting me with Jimmy without hesitation, and its president, Alejandro Echeagaray, for favoring our crazy plans. Thus, we join the global celebrations of the 90th anniversary of the brand. My gratitude to Lan Cargo and Lan Argentina, who thanks to Facundo Rocha’s management worked out the logistics to get to Anchorage. Asdrúbal Bobbiesi and Darío Mores took care of Jimmy as if it were a rock star. Thanks to Automóvil Club Argentino, especially my friend Abel Buzarquis, whose help was invaluable to achieve in time and form the documents required by customs. Julio Speroni, from Motoboxes Pilar, packed the motorcycle for a safe trip in the minimum space possible. Francisco Bartolomé, from JAB Comercio Exterior was in charge of its temporary exportation and Ron Edelen, from Perman Stoler in Anchorage, completed all the paper work in record time to release it shortly before Friday, 13th and the weekend for the American customs. The Motorcycles Shop, representative of BMW in Alaska, assembled the motorcycle off their working schedule and that same Friday afternoon they had it all ready. I want to acknowledge all of people I met during the journey, who made things a lot easier. Through Facebook hundreds of real and virtual friends, supported me day and night. It is impossible to make a complete list. To all of them, MANY THANKS. I also deeply thank my brothers from Club de Motonetas Picantes. I missed a few Tuesdays at La Anita restautant, but many of them helped me make it less noticeable. Last but not least, my deepest gratitude to my family: Loli, Mia and Amélie. You supported me against all odds! Without your confidence I wouldn’t even have packed. Raúl and Dolores, my parents in law, were always there ready to solve any problem at home. Every kilometer of this journey was completed thanks to all of you.
STAFF
ALASKA-TIERRA DEL FUEGO, RIDING SOUTH PRODUCED BY BMW ARGENTINA & TRIPLEVE EDITORS Photography, edition and texts HENRY VON WARTENBERG iphonehvw@gmail.com Design JUAN JOSÉ GÓMEZ estudiogmz@gmail.com Translation ANDREA SCHENONE andyschenone68@gmail.com Facebook TRAVESIA ALASKA-USHUAIA BMW
The Journey Bike / JIMMY (BMW F800GS 2013) Rider / HENRY VON WARTENBERG Logbook/ HENRY VON WARTENBERG Production / BMW GROUP ARGENTINA, BMW GROUP LATIN AMERICA AND THE CARIBBEAN Logistics / LAN CARGO, LAN AIRLINES
©HENRY VON WARTENBERG Printed by Platt Grupo Impresor in February 2014 Total or partial reproduction of this book, by any mechanical or digital means known or unknown, without the express written consent of the author is forbidden. Rights reserved.
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Von Wartenberg, Henry Alaska - Tierra del Fuego : riding south / Henry Von Wartenberg ; edición literaria a cargo de Henry Von Wartenberg. - 1a ed. Tigre : Tripleve Editores, 2014. 172 p. ; 30x25 cm. ISBN 978-987-21765-8-7
More information: www.henryvonwartenberg.com
1. Relatos de Viajes. I. Von Wartenberg, Henry, ed. lit. II. Título CDD 910.4