Argentina At Last

We deliberately chose not to cross into Argentina on our way down Chile for two reasons. One was to take the time to thoroughly explore  the length of this excessively long thin country and the other was to avoid the faff of border crossings.

The first reason was sound as we did get to see a huge amount of Chile’s 2500 mile length and we did some of it by ship which was splendid as you saw. But the border crossing between these two countries was easy, at least at San Sebastián where we finally entered Argentina in Tierra Del Fuego. 

It was an hour long drive from our wild camp near the Penguin Sanctuary but we had to stop at the intersection where the paved highway took over from the gravel we had been traveling. That was where we met Ricardo huddling in the bicycle refuge trying to hitch a ride in this desolate place.

Layne warmed him up with coffee while I spent a cold 45 minutes reflating our tires to proper pressure for pavement. To make dirt roads more comfortable I reduce the tire pressures by half which takes a voile of minutes. If we did this often I’d get a more powerful compressor but we don’t usually drive far enough on dirt to make airing down desirable. We dropped our passenger off while we stopped for lunch. 

I have a policy of never transporting a rider across a border as obviously I don’t know who they are or what they are carrying. If they get through okay I’m happy to continue the ride but Ricardo was long gone by the time we came to cross. 

We waited in the parking lot for lunch service to start at 12:30 and it was as good as the reviews even though it doesn’t look like fine dining. 

First course was chicken soup with rice and piles of vegetables, carrots squash and beans. It was delicious. 

Home grown lamb chops were next and we each got a pile which was intimidating. The flavor was outstanding, not Haney but tender and well salted and we ate the lot. 

Embarrassing of course as we planned to save some for dinner (Rusty got his share back aboard GANNET2) and I had a Napoleon and coffee to finish me off. 

Our waiter, Sebastian went to school in England where he grew up and spoke fluent English to us and his father’s language to the other customers. We had a lot in common taking about our mixed heritages. 

Well that was a properly cultural goodbye to Chile a country I loved exploring. 

Onward and upward. The first thing we had to was check out of Chile. That took more time in line than they did stamping our passports and canceling GANNET2’s import permit. Then I went to SAG, the agriculture office and got Rusty’s permit stamped and with that done and a receipt in hand for the Argentines we walked back to Rusty waiting in the van and we drove off into No Man’s Land. The line of parked cars with their occupants inside the Chilean border offices: 

We drove four miles to the actual frontier where Argentina began, shown below where the asphalt changes. 

On the other side we were welcomed to our 13th Latin American country. 

So we stopped for the obligatory photos of course. We had six more miles to drive until we arrived at the Argentine border control offices. 

And what an interesting six miles they were. We found ourselves back to Peruvian style dodging massive potholes and riding the shoulder sometimes to do so. Welcome indeed to Argentina. 

At last the border. And this one was over in minutes. We parked, walked in struggling against the wind and we got it all done, including a stamp on Rusty’s Chilean permit in five minutes. No indicted our fridge or tour vegetables or anything. 

San Sebastián in Argentina is basically the border post and a fast station on the highway. From here driving north the road runs out at the top of Tierra Del Fuego. To go to mainland Argentina you have to cross into Chile here and drive north to the ferry, cross to the mainland and cross another border into Argentina. We’ll be doing that in early January I hope. 

I figured out to buy gas trying not to flip out that he was putting diesel into my gasoline powered van. No vabs foen here run on gasoline so I have to make sure that’s clear. Plus I don’t know what the word is for gas here -nafta it turns out- and you ask for super which is low grade where ultra is premium. Every border requires you learn the local culture all over again. Sigh. 

We picked up these hitch hikers and took them to Rio Grande where we planned to stop the night. He’s Mexican and she’s Canadian and they are flying back to warm sunny Jalisco for Christmas. I almost envied them. 

Our first few miles in Argentina. 

The campground in Rio Grand turned out to be a driveway to a house so we decided to press on. As we had lost no food at the border we had no need to shop so we went south. By the time we got back to the highway the hitch hikers were gone so we started looking for a wild camp pretty soon. The Falklands are not Argentine but they push that line here even though they have trouble managing their own economy. 

They remember their dead from the war of 1982 that had the beneficial effect of causing the military dictatorship to collapse after their invasion failed. Nine hundred people died in misery for nothing. 

An iOverlander spot outside the city worked for us even though there was no hot shower…

We were parked under a shrine to what I at first thought was a pet cemetery… oops. It’s actually one of many places of pilgrimage dedicated to Difunta Correa. 

She was the wife of a conscript who was forced to go to war in 1840 and she went looking for him with their newborn baby. She died of thirst but her baby survived and was rescued which was deemed a miracle by everyone except the Catholic Church. 

So people pray to her and thank her for her intercession by putting up plaques and dropping off two liter soda bottles filled with water. But with no lids on the bottles for some reason. 

Apparently there are shrines like this one all over Argentina Paraguay and Brazil so next time I’ll know when I see one. 

And sure enough in the morning a pilgrim with a water bottle showed up. 

It was a sunny windy spot but GANNET2 is well insulated and quiet inside. 

There were about 125 miles to go to Ushuaia. 

If you are too busy for tomorrow’s post I wish you a Merry Christmas today. Our plans are  for a quiet wild camp on the Beagle Chanhek far from the possibility of fireworks to give Rusty his own version of a merry Christmas.