Countdown to Ushuaia

Gary retightened his steering column at a Goodyear shop on the edge of town. The mechanics went well beyond the call of duty, creating a locking washer and coating the nut with silicone. David retightened his chain, still getting mysteriously loose on its own. Alex topped off his oil.

The ripio began again after 40 miles (only 60 to go!), but we hardly noticed. The landscape went through a gradual and wonderful transformation from open valleys of grazing land between low hills to high mountains carpeted with forests and azure lakes in deep canyons. Pure white snow topped the highest peaks. The sun poured through gaps in the fluffy clouds warming the air and lifting our hearts.

No other stretch of road had been more inspiring on the whole trip. It felt so good to be travelling through such a magical place on two wheels, no roof or doors to block the view, the pure air rushing through our helmets infusing our lungs with vitality and life. We passed a German couple on bicycles who had come all the way from Ecuador and congratulated them on their effort. But as we sped off down the road, we were glad our two wheels had a motor between them.

We pulled over at a particularly inspiring overlook and stretched our tired bodies on the soft clover. The sun shone down upon us at our little improptu rest stop and it was almost enough to just know we were so close. Not that the spot was the most beautiful we'd seen, but we still shot at least a whole roll of film and numerous digitals, trying to capture the joy and pride that had to have been clearly evident on our faces. 30 minutes to go.

A short light rain began to fall turning the final miles into a final effort to beat the elements and conquer the long road to the end of the world. Heavy construction equipment preparing the road for asphalt and vehicles racing through the mountain roads on their way north created an obstacle course that mandated our concentration, but our minds raced with a myriad memories of the last three and a half months and 14,000 miles.

All of a sudden, without any warning or sign to announce our arrival, the city of Ushuaia appeared around a bend in the road. For a moment we rolled in disbelief, wondering if this could actually be the place. It was! We made it!

We hadn´t a clue as to where to go or where the Las Hayas Hotel was, so we did what came most naturally. We headed for the center of town. Down the street, left, right, down the hill, and before us lay the port.

We pulled up alongside the water, leaned our bikes over onto their kickstands, turned off the ignition, and dismounted. Both feet firmly and definitively on the ground in Ushuaia, Argentina, we glanced around us.

Directly before us was the city, a bustling little town glowing with a bright future. To the north, east, and west rose the most beautiful mountains, white snowy caps above a band of green forest. To the south, the Beagle Channel and the remote, unpopulated island archipelago of Tierra del Fuego, and beyond those mountainous islands, 700 miles further south, the continent of Antarctica. And above it all, the sun shone gloriously down.

We´d driven our motorcycles as far south as possible in the entire world. There just wasn´t anywhere further to go. And here is where we stop.

Miles - 183

till the next one...