Hey everyone, it's Alexander.
The push south continues. Week 14 brought insane winds, exhaustion, ethanol-drenched fuel, and the harsh reality of riding long, fast stretches through Argentina’s desolate landscape.
It’s been a brutal week. I crossed into Argentina, covered thousands of kilometres, and now Ushuaia is only days away. But these last days are proving to be some of the toughest yet.
Monday: Into Argentina
Monday’s ride to the border felt like crossing through three or four different landscapes in a single day. Despite the overcast skies, the heat was relentless, and the wind hit me hard. The route started with stretches of logging and tree farming, reminiscent of New Brunswick, before giving way to mountainous terrain that felt like British Columbia—complete with ski resorts and rapids.
At one point, I ran into a group of protesters blocking the road, demanding respect and dignity—causes well worth standing for.
That delay set me back about half an hour, but thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long to get through the tunnel I had mistakenly thought was four kilometres long. Turns out, after some research, it’s actually 4.5 km and operates as a one-way passage—traffic has to take turns.
Despite it being a border-crossing day, which can be wildly unpredictable time-wise, leaving Chile went smoothly. Argentina, on the other hand, took a bit longer due to heavy traffic, but I got through without issue. The terrain was already elevated when the road turned hilly before flattening out again, becoming an endless straightaway. At speeds of 120, 130, 140 km/h, it was mind-numbing, yet there’s no room for mistakes at those speeds. Corners require full attention—slow down or risk losing control.
The stark contrast between landscapes was striking. On the high plateau, everything was dry and barren. Then, suddenly, I’d descend into a lush, green valley. I made good time and stopped in a small town for the night. So far, Argentina has been enjoyable, though one thing stood out immediately—everything here is significantly more expensive than in the previous countries I’ve traveled through.
Tuesday: Endless Straight Roads & Fuel Problems
Tuesday's ride was the same–straight line for two hours on the dry high plateau. Then I dropped back down and everything was green again. Apple trees, pear trees, grapevines, and some corn for another two hours and then back up to the plateau. There were lots of transport trucks which slowed me down – wish the highway would have been bigger and Hildy was operating at full capacity.
I found out what the problem with Hildy is. It’s the high amounts of ethanol in the fuel. How would you run on 12% corn syrup? It's really messing things up. Whenever I would try to pass a transport, she would start sputtering. I don’t like it, and feel for her, but there's not much I can do about it.
If you wondered why I named my motorcycle Hildy, well she’s named after Saint Hildegard of Bingen. She was a writer, composer, philosopher, medical writer and practitioner, and one of the best-known composers of sacred melodies, as well as the most recorded in modern history. And she’s German, so there you go.
I'm in a town called Rio Colorado, and yes, there’s a Colorado River that’s runs through it. When I rolled into Rio Colorado it was siesta time which I didn't clue into at the time. I thought the town was deserted, like that movie, The Andromeda Strain, from the 70s where the satellite crashes into the town killing everyone and leaving it desolate. I walked to the bank and got some cash and had a coffee. They were just opening up again and by the time I finished my coffee, the whole town came to life again. It was a strange sensation.
My exhaustion continues but the end is in sight and I’ve been working with Katy and our travel agent to start making plans to get Hildy and myself back home. I got to say, you know, as much as I've enjoyed this, the shine is starting to wear. It’s been three months and a day. What week are we in? Week 14? Damn. Yeah. I'm exhausted. I can stop for a day to get some rest, but that's not helping. So I'm going to get this done, and, we'll go from there.
Wednesday–Thursday: The Brutal Winds
I woke up on Wednesday feeling like I was in that movie, Groundhog Day. Go straight, go fast, go to sleep. Wake up. Go straight, go fast, go to sleep. Wake up, straight, fast. The winds kicked in really early today. Usually they come in between 2:30–3:30 pm. Today they started at noon. I can’t tell you how powerful they are and how much strength and focus it takes to keep the bike upright. It is incredible. It's only 1:30 pm now and I’m completed battered. I feel lucky I'm an hour and a half away from my target destination because there is absolutely no way I could handle this if it was a full day. It's just too much.
When I finally made it to Puerto Madryn, I promptly crashed at the hotel for an hour. There's was a coffee shop next door and I got some real espresso and walked about the town and had a lovely meal. When I put my head down for the night, I think I was out in seconds.
I woke up on Thursday morning and had breakfast at the hotel with some real coffee again. That Nescafe stuff is just killing me.
After three-and-a-half months in the same position, my legs are certainly feeling it. They need to move and I’ve been trying to walk as much as possible. Today, I walked the beach covering nine and a half miles. Maybe that's why they're aching, but they needed to walk. The weather was sunny and at 30℃ it was pretty hot, but while the beach was beautiful, the water was very cold. I am closer to Antarctica after all.
I got the bike washed, as she was very filthy, grabbed a SIM card for my phone and ate three meals today, which is the first in a long time. I’m back on the road tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to getting to Ushuaia. It’s been a long time coming.
Friday-Saturday: Endless Wind and A Close One
Friday’s ride from Puerto Madryn was relentless. The wind battered me for five-and-a-half straight hours. Absolutely brutal. I arrived in Comodoro Rivadavia, another port town and checked in for the night. Watching the news the next morning, I saw that a massive storm had hit behind me—Bahía Blanca was completely flooded and devastated.
After three coffees, I left Comodoro Rivadavia and rode to Puerto San Julián. The ride wasn’t as bad—seemed like I had gotten further from the worst of the wind and storm. I had an hour-long coastal stretch–cold, but nice to ride alongside the bright blue Atlantic. The winds picked up again in the afternoon, but I only had about an hour left to battle them. The temperature, though, dropped hard—down to 12℃ degrees. I broke out my winter gear and even my heated vest and long johns. Might not need them tomorrow, but there are high wind warnings and since Ushuaia is heading into winter, I’ll definitely be keeping them handy.
I stopped to refuel with that delightful 12% ethanol gas. As I pulled out, I wasn’t sure how far we’d get. Usually, the hesitation and stuttering don’t happen at high speeds, but today? I just hope I’m not blowing valves. But there’s no other choice. This is the best gas available, and unfortunately it’s garbage.
Oh yes, today, I almost got fucking killed. A car swerved straight into my lane, forcing me right to the very edge of the road. An inch more and I would have hit the gravel and been tossed in the air. And this was on a straightaway. I saw the car, then suddenly realized how close it was. I don’t think the driver even saw me. Absolute fucking idiots. I need to be extra careful in these final days.
Well, time for dinner, then another solid night’s sleep. The goal is within reach. Just need to keep everything in one piece.
Sunday: Fighting the Wind and Emus
If today wasn’t the toughest ride, it was damn close. Hours of brutal wind. I was literally riding at an angle. I remember riding through Kansas like that 13 years ago, but I was younger then, and on a much lighter bike.
The wind kept throwing me into the oncoming lane—then shifting direction and trying to push me into the gravel. And to make things extra fun, there were guanacos (wild relatives of llamas and alpacas) everywhere. They love to dart in front of vehicles. Emus too. Dumb as bricks. The roads are bloodstained with their carcasses. Meanwhile, the pavement is deteriorating fast, making an already treacherous ride even worse. Between the wind, the road, and the wildlife, it was absolute insanity. My entire body is still locked up from gripping the handlebars for dear life.
Tomorrow’s ride includes two border crossings—I go into Chile, take a ferry, and then re-enter Argentina. But you’ll have to wait for next week’s blog to hear how that unfolds because, truthfully? I have no idea what’s going to happen.
Signing off for this week. Remember, don't be compliant. Don't stay put. Don't sell your freedom for comfort. Stay savage.
MotoAgent out.
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