Julie and I had spent nine months travelling south since we left Prudhoe Bay on Alaska’s shores of the Arctic Ocean.  Since that time we had passed through Alaska, Canada and the continental United States, through Mexico and Central America, shipped Tramp to South America and driven the entire length of the continent to arrive at the end of the road, the southernmost point you can drive on the continent.  After a celebration moment and a beautiful night in Tierra del Fuego National Park we turned the compass to the north and started heading the other way.

There is something special about achieving a goal that you foolishly conjured up more than 20 years ago.  To drive the Americas from north to south, to pass through 17 countries along the way, enjoy countless adventures, take millions of photos and have one beautiful granddaughter while we’re at it is a dream come true for Julie and I.

But we ran out of road at Ushuaia Argentina and now must head north.  Our plan was to drive up the eastern coast of Argentina and pass into Uruguay where we will ship Tramp from Montevideo to Europe.  While Tramp enjoys his Atlantic cruise we will head home to see family and friends….and especially baby Abby.

But to do that means we need to cover about 3,400 kilometres in only a couple of weeks, doable but a bit of a rush to be honest.  We would have preferred to linger a bit longer along the way but winter is coming and we are on a mission for Montevideo.

Our first northbound day was going well, retracing our steps along the only road on the island of Tierra del Fuego and we seamlessly passed into Chile before camping for the night.  On the rough gravel road just before we stopped for the night we noticed a new and very bad noise coming from Tramp’s front left paw.  It wasn’t hard to see the problem – the large shock had broken loose from its top mounting and oil was spewing everywhere.  This is not good at any time but given our extreme remote location in an endlessly flat and townless part of Chilean Tierra del Fuego we knew that some challenges lay ahead.

 

And so they did.  With our rattling left front shock rattling our nerves we made it to the ferry and enjoyed another trip across the Straits of Magellan.  We couldn’t help but talk again about this amazing explorer in the 16^th century with his rudimentary navigation tools, large canvas sails and a lifetime of sailing experience manage to weave his way through the labyrinth of islands to find this shortcut, thereby avoiding Cape Horn and providing safe passage for ships of all kinds for the next 300 years.  Amazing stuff.

We uneventfully left Chile for the third time and entered Argentina for the third time, using our tried and tested technique of having some ‘sacrificial fruit’ that we offer to be confiscated, thereby avoiding a more detailed search.  We crossed more of the endless flat Patagonia steppe covered in golden grass with herds of sheep and the ubiquitous guanacos roaming about.  The key word here is endless.

Eventually we limped into the major town of Rio Gallegos which fortuitously hosted a Ford dealership.  After some time at the dealership we came to a point that was not surprising, especially since we knew that the Ford F250 is not sold in either Chile or Argentina.  They did not have the damaged shock in stock and a couple of phone calls said that it would need to be imported from the US and take 90 days.  I don’t think so.

The ‘good’ news is that by universal agreement we could continue our drive north with a slower, much more spongey and clang-clang clanging ride until we could order the part and have it Fedexed to us somewhere.  This is the best we could hope for and by late afternoon we headed north again, camping in an open sheep paddock near the gate of a local estancia, the smell of California sage brush all around us.

They say National Route 40 running along the western side of Argentina is the loneliest road in the country but National Road 3, which we were now following northward, is a very strong rival for that crown.  The road stretches relentlessly north across the same endless tuffy grass plains with rarely a break on the horizon.  Sheep, guanacos and rheas are the only life across this land, the occasional transport truck the only other vehicle.  Argentina is a very large country and the distances are immense, made more so by the vast nothingness.  What this road lacked in variety it made up for in consistency.

At the town of Puerto San Julian we pulled in for supplies, lunch with views of the coastline, and wifi.  We now had two major problems with Tramp – one, the broken motor on the hydraulic system which we were still manually operating, and two, the broken shock absorber on his front left tire.   Neither of these problems were stopping us but they both required phone calls and emails to try to organise a fix.  The logistics for all this, especially with our looming plans to ship Tramp to Europe, were somewhat daunting.

Ever northward we continued until we found a large quarry pit on the side of the road which provided privacy from the road and perfect shelter from the relentless wind.  We smiled at the memories of a similar large gravel pit up in Labrador Canada last year where we were surrounded by howling wolves who didn’t approve of our presence.  No wolves tonight, just the wind as a poor substitute.

But the scale of Argentina continued to confound us.  The next day was more of the same, scrubland stretching as far as can be seen, an occasional scrawny herd of sheep, not much else.  National Route 3 snaked its way along the coast for a couple of hours and we enjoyed the variety of a few coastal towns and long rocky beaches.  Then it was inland again and the flat Patagonian steppe re-ran on continuous loop.

And as always, the wind, stronger today, impossible to walk without a stagger.  Julie and I learned the hard way that we couldn’t open both our doors at the same time or everything would get sucked out of the truck.   We camped that night in a small gravel pit, our speciality, which provided questionable protection from the wind but beautiful sweeping views of the same damn landscape.

The next day in the town of Trelew we pulled into another Ford dealer in our never-ending quest to find a Ford-compatible gas cap and to get further advice or repairs on our busted shock absorber.  And as always, our arrival caused quite a scene.  We pulled into their large service garage and immediately all activity stopped.  Sales people, service managers, technicians, office staff and even customers came out to look at this mighty beast that had just graced their presence.

Most people had never seen a Ford passenger vehicle this big and the cameras immediately came out.  A technician told me the largest Ford passenger vehicle they have in Argentina is a V6 3.8 litre engine.  Tramp is a V8 6.2 litre.  One guy asked me to open the bonnet and when I revealed the engine there was a noticeable gasp amongst the crowd.  It’s like a cross between the Incredible Hulk and George Clooney walking into the room.

An hour later we had a Ford-compatible gas cap which hopefully won’t set off the warning lights again plus had an interim fix on our clanging shock absorber.  Everyone was so keen to help us, marvel at our truck and talk about our journey we felt a bit guilty about finally leaving.

But leave we did and camped that night in the small town of Puerto Piramides on the amazing Peninsula Valdes.  But that’s another story.