Motorcycle Explorer October 2014 Issue 2 | Page 19

Whilst the wind willfully flexed her gusting strength reminding us who called the shots , we were soon rewarded with days comprising warm autumnal breezes peaking at around 27 degrees Celsius – uncharacteristically high for March . This , coupled with aesthetically arranged clouds under vast blue skies made the bland Ruta 3 we were zooming down a lot more bearable . The calmer conditions provided some much needed ‘ time out ’ on the bikes to enjoy our surroundings ; rheas by the roadside , timid flightless birds resembling an ostrich with creamy brown plumage ; vultures circling above , which I hoped wasn ’ t a bad omen and guanacos grazing in the open , Andean llama-type creatures wearing a sandy coloured pelt . We even saw the odd armadillo waddling along the roadside and stumbled across some stunning spots in which to wild camp . A good start by and large .

As a relatively new rider , I won ’ t play down that the start of our two-wheeled journey necessitated a transitional period . In addition to keeping my wits about me in strong winds , on bad roads and sometimes frenetic city traffic – there ’ s a certain ‘ catching on ’ that ’ s required . Shedding excess weight from the panniers , assuming a certain disregard for the Highway Code when appropriate and devising a failsafe system of shared organisation when motorcycling as a couple , were just a starter for ten .

" I would say just about anything to prevent some jobsworth rummaging through my stuff like he ’ s on some mission at a jumble sale "

Other scenarios dictated a little more impromptu flair . Upon a border crossing en route to Tierra del Fuego , some semi-looking roadside officials tasked with confiscating our fresh fruit hailed us into a patrol area . Be calm , smile and imitate an English Rose , or on second thoughts , better make that a Scottish Heather as it ’ s a notable anniversary of the Falklands War this year . A man in high-visibility clothing pointed to my pannier and brusquely remarked , “ What in there , any fruit ? Apple , orange ?” Mmn , yes to the apples and bananas too . I smiled politely and replied , “ No oranges , just pasta and rice ”. In need of further convincing , the man gestured to look inside each pannier . I was yearning to get back on the road and didn ’ t fancy relinquishing my lunch ; it was a long shot but I emphasised that alongside my clothes , my underwear lay in one pannier and sanitary items in the other . It worked like a charm . The guy ’ s face gave me a startled look of instant recognition to these choice words and I was sent swiftly on my way . My banished banana and outlawed apple left a sweetly smug taste in my mouth . I ’ ve since packed the top layers of my panniers with said items . I would say just about anything to prevent some jobsworth rummaging through my stuff like he ’ s on some mission at a jumble sale .

Initially , the road from Montevideo had taken us down to : Colonia , Buenos Aires , Bahia Blanca , Tornquist , San Antonio and Puerto Madryn . Aside from our insightful stay in Buenos Aires , all the others were pretty uneventful dusty towns and settlements but had at least provided some much needed overnight rest . Puerto Madryn , however , was not what we expected . It boasted a monied seafront of modern properties overlooking sparkling blue ocean punctuated by the odd five star hotel . It was a dazzling jewel in an iron crown , which after boundless voids of featurelessly flat landscape , we thought we ’ d hit the jackpot . After waving madly to a group of local bikers sat enjoying the coastal view , we made a mental note to return to say a proper ‘ Hola ’ after our seafront recce . Are we glad we did !