It’s been a couple of hours riding a dusty rocky pass after processing into Argentina, when I go for my water and realise I’m not wearing my backpack.
Balls.
I quickly do the maths, 60ish km back to the Arg border, another ten to the Chilean side if it’s not there, plus the 20 extra we already did to get our permits reissued today, makes 160km extra for the day.
We’re already carrying extra fuel for this leg as it’s too far for one tank, when we filled the bladders I put 3lt extra in each one just in case…
So 6 lt extra x 25km per litre equals 150km. It’s almost enough. So I make a snap decision, skid to a stop, spin around and head back.
‘babe I’m going back, find some shade, I’ll be a couple of hours’
‘um… ok, do we have enough fuel!??’
‘not sure, work that out later, I have enough to get there and back’
I hit save waypoint on the GPS so I know where I turned around, and without thinking much more I’m gone.
Losing my waterpack is not an option, and it has a goretex jacket in it too, so I’m not abandoning it.
Some further thinking would have been wise though.
Around 25km later I realise all the border documents needed to exit argentina are in Sally’s bike. FUUUUUCK.
I stop for a moment to see if I have my passport at least. Yep. Not enough fuel or time to go back for the docs, hope they let me through without them. Keep going.
The road is winding mountain pass, with lots of stones in the surface, but loose gravel mostly, with some blind crests. I can remember the pinch points from the ride there so can take a few risks and carry more speed through the turns, which is good as the bike has no power so carrying corner speed is the only way to get somewhere fast.
Oh how I wish I had Betsy right now.
The 50/50 tyres we have are not super grippy, and there’s not enough power to turn the bike with the rear tyre so it’s not pretty, but I make good time to the Argentine border, where there’s no backpack.
‘no you can’t go through no man’s land without processing the bike, absolutely not’. FFS. It’s 11km, too far to walk.
He calls the Chilean side where they find a backpack that matches my description…
‘but what brand is it?’
I can’t remember, FFS how many people leave backpacks up here, we’re in the middle of frikkin nowhere!
Lucky for me, the Chilean guy tells the Argentine guy to get me to leave my passport there and let me through.
Win.
Arriving at the Chilean side, the customs guy holds up my pack and tells me to check that the contents are all there.
‘no need, I trust you’
He smiles and asks if I have enough petrol to go back?
‘maybe, but it’s ok, we can pool fuel and send one forward with a bladder’
‘we can get you some fuel’
I say thanks but I don’t have any Chilean pesos on me, just Argentine pesos…
‘its a gift, from one motorcyclist to the next’
He points to a KTM 1190 Adventure parked next to the office, ‘its mine he says’
I’m beaming, and in my broken Spanish I tell him I ride a KTM at home, and my brother has the exact same bike.
‘It’s a monster’ I say… ‘that motor is the devil, amazing’
Now he’s beaming, and tells me all about his 4000km round trip from home to work through the mountains. That’s not a typo.
Incredible.
He fills my tank, shakes my hand and wishes me well.
That’s the 4 or 5 litres we needed to get to the next fuel station. What luck!
I ride back to the Arg side, where they make me wait 10mins for my passport, before telling me I’m very lucky and to get outta here now.
As I take off again I forget to turn off the ABS and shoot the next corner off into the scrub. ABS is dangerous on gravel. At least it wasn’t off a cliff I muse.
Dean, be smart. Ride sensibly.
The return trip cost us two hours and four dents in my front rim. Obviously that advice I gave myself was somewhat ignored.
Good thing I love being on a mission huh!
I get back to my waypoint and no Sally… oh dear. I ride on a bit, before doubling back to see if I missed her off the road. Still nothing, so I keep going forward another kilometer to find her and Ben under the only tree for miles. They look relieved to see me, and I’m relieved to be back with company.
Ben was waiting for us not far from where I turned around, so he came back looking after 20mins, with the plan to come looking if I didn’t get back in a few hours. He’s a good man.
I’ve ridden remote places many times solo, and it’s a different beast. A fall, breakdown or even just a puncture are compounded when you’re by yourself. Plus it was already late in the day and gets freezing up there at night.
All these things were going through my mind, usually followed by ‘i wish Betsy was here’
It was 550km for the day, a lot of dirt and 4 frontiers crossed, the beer at dinner time was sooo sweet.