It is tough to leave the comfort of El Gualicho but I need to get north. I was unable to find a rear tire in Puerto Madryn so what rubber that remains will need to get me to the next destination. The 400+ miles to Bahia Blanca passes by effortlessly as I continue to distance myself from the impending winter. The air temperature is finally warming and I no longer need the electric vest. Bahia Blanca is not very appealing and unable to find fuel I press on to Azul. I will visit La Posta where Jorge and his wife have been hosting riders traveling South America for almost 20 years.
I reach the bottom of the SE’s reserve before finally finding fuel. “No hay” is a popular refrain at petrol stations in Argentina and can complicate the simplest of travel plans. 650 miles after leaving Puerto Madryn I arrive at La Posta. My longest mileage day of the trip so far (I think). Jorge opens the gate and I ride through an entrance resembling that of a castle. I’m greeted by Kurt, a Swiss moto traveler who arrived before me. I walk into the garage where everyone is gathered and my eyes are drawn to a mural of names and artwork that envelop the walls. I have entered a time capsule of moto travel. The other travelers invite me to sit and I absorb volleys of German and Espanol as I field the queries of my route through the south. Sipping the wine I picked up at the market I exchange my buzz from the road for that of Mendoza nectar. I will sleep well tonight.
The following morning I walk around the yard noting the “wonderland” I missed in the darkness of the previous night. Jorge has created a small sanctuary for the travelers who stay here. I find a rear tire at the local KTM shop and it’s a load off to once again have good tires. Volkmar and Gudrun from Germany are the sole overlanders at La Posta and have been traveling in South America with their Westfalia for almost 5 years. I enjoy listening to their stories and they share lots of good route information with me. La Posta receives a number of riders during my stay and I’m happy to reconnect with some friends I met in Ushuaia. The time passes quickly as we take in asadas and help each other with bike maintenance.
Again the shorter days and colder temperatures prompt me to keep moving north so I say my goodbyes and point the bike toward Buenos Aires. But not before I leave my “mark” on the wall.
