http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/ USA, Mexico and beyond... en-us I followed the coast, back on the Pan American Highway, known here in Chile as highway 1, and the blacktop sliced a path through the desert. As the sun rose in the sky, I rode down the Pan American, desert to my right, and the ocean, under a blanket of gentle mist, sat to my right. I followed the blissfully smooth blacktop along, past outcrops of rock, jutting into the ocean, and forever southwards. I was hoping to get over halfway to Santiago on the first day, aiming to make it to Bahia Dos Ingleses before sunset. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004430.php Riding into Pucon was a surprise to say the least. After hours of riding through valleys and alongside lakes, we turned a corner, and found ourselves in the middle of Villarica Swiss Alpine town. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004448.php We enjoyed yet another spectacular ride on the Routa 40, Che’s highway, through the Argentine Lake district to El Bolson, and after one wrong turn, we found the hostel that we had booked from Bariloche. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004449.php The Glacier, one of the only advancing glaciers in the world, was extremely impressive, and made the three days of hell we had endured to get here so worthwhile. The boat chugged up and down in front of the glacier, and we were lucky enough to see a house-sized block of ice fall from it into the lake http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004450.php We left early in the morning, a touch over 3,000 kms to cover before we got to Buenos Aires. We rode out of Ushuaia under a grey sky. I was happy to leave the place behind. I had found it expensive, ugly and miserable. We had gone there for one purpose only, to touch a point on a map, and to be honest, I was wishing we had skipped it. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004451.php We were dreading entering the city. The GPS wasn’t working anymore, so we couldn’t rely on that, and the map we had as a back up had next to no detail of the city centre. Fortunately, the Gods were smiling on us that day, and we didn’t miss a beat. We rode straight into the city centre, into the oldest part of the city, San Telmo, and directly to our hostel. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004452.php We mooched around the city, and were amazed at how busy the place was. We had known that it was a popular destination, and that this was the busiest time of year, but we had no idea that the place would be as packed as it was. We already knew that Argentineans liked to go out late at night, and here in Mar Del Plata, the place started buzzing around 11pm, when the early birds would go out for dinner. Clubs didn’t even open til midnight, and the revelry continued until well into the morning of the next day. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004460.php We spent the next few days exploring more of the city, we hung out with Adrian, visited my distant cousins, and ate more meat than advisable. Luis was a perfect host, with many friends, who took it in turns to come to his house to eat Asada with his British guests. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004475.php The city had a slightly oppressive feel to it, and try as I may, I couldn’t get excited about it. After being in Buenos Aires, which had turned out to be one of our favourite cities, Cordoba was definitely a step down, to say the least. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004604.php We headed out of town, our third attempt to get out of Cordoba, we passed Capilla del Monte, and rode north toward Salta. The rain had had a serious effect on much of the road we travelled, sections were washed away and replaced with brick red mud, others under a good few inches of water. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004605.php I had wanted to visit the falls at Iguazu since I’d lived in St Martin and heard stories of how amazing the spectacle was to behold from travellers I had met there. It was sure to be one of the highlights of the trip. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004606.php We noticed immediately the difference between Brazil and the other South American countries we had visited. There were far less jalopies on the road, and no more grazing cows or wandering horses by the side of the pavement. The roads were in pretty poor shape, yet there was a tollbooth almost every 150kms. Everything cost us double. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004609.php The only thing that eased the pain of having to pay to ride on potholed, single lane highways, was that the symbol for a motorbike on each of the toll booth price lists was an old Harley Davidson FXR. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004610.php We were put in a dorm with no fan, no air con and no windows, and were told that the rate quoted on the Internet was incorrect and had now gone up. We took the grumpy reception staff to task, and soon found that almost every guest in the hostel had a gripe about something or other, and soon there were a dozen disgruntled guests behind me voicing their complaints, which must have proved to much for the receptionists, who after telling us to go forth and multiply, promptly walked out of the building, leaving a group of dazed and confused travellers in their wake. We looked at each other, exchanged looks that said “ oh well, its South America”… http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004615.php We booked ourselves on a trip to see the largest favella in Rio, Rocinha. We wouldn’t usually for the organised group tour, but an unguided stroll through a Favella of some 250,000 inhabitants, policed and run by machine gun toting drug lords and narcos didn’t hold much appeal either. http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/tstories/shell/004616.php