My battery is flat again the following morning and I convince the owner of the hostal to give me a jump. His wife seems displeased that her husband didn’t use the opportunity to bleed me for more money. Tired of being cold and wanting to escape the cash vortex of Rio Gallegos I get on the bike and point it northward on ruta 3. It’s cold and I opt not to run my electric vest hoping to alleviate some of the drag on the bike’s stator. I make Puerto San Julian while the sun is still up and decide to call it quits not wanting to chance the need for driving lights after dark. Finding reasonably priced accommodations in these little coastal towns seems futile so I opt for one of the hosterias close to the ocean.
The bike fires up the following morning in spite of sub freezing temps and a frost. The previous day’s high RPM blast appears to have recharged the battery. It’s still quite cold and again I don’t run my electric vest, just in case. I arrive at Comodoro Rivadavia and seek a reprieve from the cold blast of ruta 3. I acknowledge what appears to be a disparity in my northerly progress and the relative increase in warmth I experience. In fact, it seems to be getting colder. Again I seek out reasonable lodging and again I’m denied.
A judicious police officer informs me that it is not acceptable to park my moto on the sidewalk in front of the hosteria so I’m shown a parking garage that will accommodate my bike, for a small fee of course. I walk through the city to find some dinner and don’t find anything particularly appealing about the industrial town. I check the bike one last time before turning in when I notice it. My tires are in BAD shape. The front is particularly bad. I mentally recalculate the miles since checking them last and I seem to have some missing data. I can’t explain how I’ve let them get this bad. I resolve to hit the tire shops in the morning.
After several tire shops I am unable to find a 21″ tire I can use. Wanting to get Comodoro Rivadavia in my rear view mirror I take a chance that enough rubber remains to get me to Puerto Madryn. The idea makes sense until I hit a 20 mile stretch of corrugated asphalt that does a ginsu number on both tires. The front finally fails ~150 miles into the day and 50 yards from a sole gas station. I’m thankful for the timing and coast to a stop in the parking lot to survey the damage.
I don’t think I’ll be able to patch this one. A steady flow of traffic enters the station as it offers the only services for 200 miles. I figure this bodes well for my options. Within minutes of arriving I talk to a flat bed truck driver heading south who offers to pick me up when he returns north in the evening. I figure this is a good safety net in the event I’m unable to find another option. The afternoon passes quickly and I’m bemused by the lack of trucks passing through. The few I see are either too small or full. My dream of someone driving by with a fresh stash of 21″ tires goes unfulfilled as well.
Finally a empty flat bed semi pulls in. The driver is returning north to his home in Bahia Blanca from a run he had in the south. He’s accompanied by his pregnant wife and seems more keen on getting home than bothering with me and my bike but the opportunity to defray some fuel cost appeals to him. We get the bike loaded without much difficulty and are on our way. He agrees to drop me in Puerto Madryn 130 miles away.
It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden in a semi and I note with curiosity that the truck is quite spacious and comfortable. The time flies as I labor through my butchered Espanol and we share our experiences from the road as a trucker and a motorbiker. Puerto Madryn looks deserted at 1AM. I check into the first hostal I find open which turns out to be a safe haven for drunken Brasilian tourists. I switch to El Gualicho the next day based on a friend’s recommendation and it turns out to be one of the best hostals I’ve stayed in.
Again I’m unable to find a new 21″ tire but do find a suitable used tire in good shape. Works for me. With a new to me front tire and the weather improving I take the opportunity to ride out to Peninsula Valdez to see the sea lions. People come here from all over the world in hopes of seeing a killer whale intentionally beach itself to snatch one of these tasty morsels off the beach. I’m told it’s unlikely I will see an attack this time of year but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying a day of flogging the SE on the sandy hard pack of the peninsula. It’s too late in the season to see the Magellanic penguins at Punto Tumbo as well. If it’s too cold for the penguins what am I doing here? I will relax in Puerto Madryn for a few days as I prepare for my return to civilization. I think I need a haircut.
