HASTA AL FONDO

After three days passed between authentications of signatures and hopes died before being born, finally we get back in control of the motorbikes and so early in the morning, after being passed by the official importer KTM, we take the Pan-American Sur. The Pacific Ocean accompanies us to Pisco where we deviate for Ayacucho. The Carrettera of the Sierra in a beating of eye, goes up to the Pass Abra Apacecha with its 4750 Mt. Our body suffers, here they call it Soroce: it is mountain sickness for the abrupt change of altitude. The injection motorbikes does not resent of it differently to the carburetor ones. It is night when we park looking for a hotel in the Plaza of Armas, in Peru every town has its own.

The next day we do the tourists, the halt is obliged to acclimate us to the altitude, Ayacucho for years has been isolated from the rest of the country because of the armed movement Sendero Luminoso. Today you breathe an alive and dynamics town. We go towards Abancay by loaded motorbikes, we know that the goal is ambitious but we must try. We goes up and by now we will travel between the 3000 and 5000 Mt until in Chile.

The landscape makes you feel in another world; snow-covered mountain in distance. Obviously the Peru of the capital is far for those who live here. We pierce and it could not be different because we are in off road. People greet us as if we were aliens; only few motorcyclists pass here.

In the evening we are at Andahuaylas, we look for a hotel and like for enchantment, we find a restored one. In the evening there will be a concert for the inauguration, with buffet with a private invitation; naturally we play the game! During the public concert in front of the hotel, the presenter makes reference to Italian hosts who are traveling by motorbike. Everybody look at us and applaud; we had the suspect that the thing was emphasized to give value to the event.

In the morning, always in off road, we go up over 4000 Mt. We are like free dogs, a stop for a photograph, another one for speaking with local people and we go to eat dust.
The other ones are ahead, I do a returning and I find a young family on the edge of the road, I stop myself and the boy asks me if I have some water for his daughter. The water and the gasoline are the most important things for a motor-cyclist. I offer him a bottle ( look at the photo, how he tightens it) and the baby who is two years old, drink it like it was milk from the breasts. Evidently, she is thirsty, I give her also a chocolate then I leave. We find the asphalt at Abancay, it is the afternoon when we arrive to Urubamba, the Kike awaits us at home .

He is a solar character and he has been the narrowest collaborator of Franco Acerbis for many years. Thanks to him I could know the Kike four years ago traveling in this part of world. The following morning, we take the train at Ollantaytambo and we reach Machu Picchu, the Incan town that the Spanish did not find ever. Also its discoverer Hiram Bingham made hard work to find it, in fact it wasn't visible from above because of the vegetation that covered it. Among the seven wonders of the world it is a popular destination also in this period of low season.

Antonello's motorbike had carburation problems at high altitudes. Now everything seems to be ok. A thread of copper like a hair, one of the many that compose the normal electric wires used for civilian plant was in the hole of the jet .Now the motorbike is perfect; certainty once back at sea level we will have to repair it.

It is evening and with Kike we sit down at table with a map in the hand, and we track two itineraries for the next two days, one will carry us to visit the saline of Mars, a working bathtubs for fall where salt water evaporate so only the final product remains. Then it is bagged and sold both as cooking salt that for industrial workmanship. The strange thing is that the salt water gushes out from a source to over 3000 Mt; it is an incredible thing but that's the nature.

Kike gives us another useful information: that is more ambitious: we should arrive at the Canyon of the Colca, the deepest one of the world, from a road that only few people use. He has a travel agency and therefore it is necessary to trust him. We wake up early in the morning.
It's seven o'clock and we leave; we arrive at Sicuani at the distributor where we fill up with petrol. They tell us that the road where we want to travel is blocked near Yaury Town for a protest of the population because of the scarcity of water. My experience suggest to continue. Ermanno is convinced that we will cross.

At any rate the landscape is charming, there are lagoons, snow-covered tops and we are above the 4000 Mt. the motorcycles go ahead, the track is hard. If the motorbike do not break itself today, it will not do it more. Near Yaury Town everyone scream "camino está cerrado". We continue and unavoidably we arrive at the bridge where the passage is prohibited due to a mountain of land. Many people reach us saying that you cannot cross over. Ermanno and I do a duet. He says that we understand the protest and I pull out of the videocamera and I pretend to be a television journalist of a national channel. We ask to interview the head that guides the protest, a man moves for us and gives the go and allow us to pass. We continue and thank. Now we should go out, the other part of the town is garrisoned from women. It seems a joke but if the images do not confirm it, no one would believe that Ermanno and I had played ball with these women for ten minutes. Then we had the possibility to surpass the roadblock.

Can you imagine a match with the boots? We enter in the canyon that the Kike recommended to us: rocks in both sides, the altimeter does not come down ever under the 4000 Mt, we are near 5000 Mt and we have the luck to see also the snow: it is adventure in the adventure.

Last Km before arriving at Chivay, a town in the nothing, but it is the longed-for goal for tourists who want to visit the Canyon of the Colca where the attraction is also the flight of the Condor. We are very tired and I sleep on the table where we are dining.

The following morning we reach the Mirador in order to admire the Condors. Many people arrived at five o' clock in the morning. We do not know why but four condors arrived .We are very dusty after many days in off road and with wet boots we reach Arequipa, surpassing a 4785 Mt Pass.

A greeting from Arequipa. Greetings . Giampiero

Hello
I am writing from Los Vilos, a small town on the Pacific Ocean. Joaquin, the owner of the hotel Conquistator is a special person, intelligent, witty and above all available. He greets us with an excellent Carbent, pretzels and cheese from goat : best choice.
We were greeted at Arequipa, the white city, one of the most important universities of South America. I found it very changed after 14 years, we selfishly would like that everything could remain unchanged, but the world changes. The chaos not changed in Desaguadero border ,between Peru and Bolivia, due to a protest at the frontier. it is closed and everyone entered here.

There are many strident voices, car horns, people screaming and bicycles moving out of control. Nada! but for us there are so many surprises! Herman and I come across the Peruvian bureaucracy, the man in front of me weighs about 150 pounds and without courtesy he closes our passports by saying that the visa expired two days ago . What? I comment: Do I remain in this office? He gets angry and I understand that everything would be resolved with money but I will not do after what happened in Lima: the request for additional $ 500, I threatened to make a complaint and everything settled.

I raise my voice and one says that we have to pay for additional days. $ 17 and we go, but it is not all. At the Customs we find the same attitude but now we are ok. We signed other papers that we do not know what they are, then Bolivian area and in a moment we are in Bolivia. It's night and we decide to stay here: there are no alternatives and with $ 2 we forget an heavy day.

The sun greets us with all its intensity over the Bolivian Plateau. It is a beautiful day. We stop at the Tawainaco site, a civilization that developed by the Titicaca many centuries before the Incas, then it fell into oblivion after the waters of the lake retreated.

We reached El Alto and we dive into the chaos of La Paz. The city has changed : progress and cement advance as a common planetary evil. The following day when we go down south, everything is normal. Only the asphalt makes the difference until you get to Challapata, where we buy gasoline. hereafter we will be in off road together with the world.

We take the road to Salina Mendoza, north of Uyuni, and soon I realize that things are not going well: it is not the same road I crossed years earlier. We cross the railroad to Uyuni, the village south of the salar. Our doubts became certainties. We cross to the west and a shepherd tells me that this is the right direction. At Quillacas we find the track. They are building the new road. It is night when we arrive at Salina, even at night I remember all the references, how wonderful!

There is a new hotel, the owner is very nice, all the Bolivian people are polite.
I try to scan the salar : the mirage effect deceives me.It's the third time for me that I enter into the white 12000 km/q esplanade but it's the same emotion.

Now it is difficult to find the route to the Incahuasi Island. I try and inevitably we stop to take pictures. When we cross the main runway I understand that we are too far South and that we must go back to the North. After 15 minutes we see the island that is famous for Cactus Coralles. Now we have to reach San Juan. The track is hard and it's raining. At the Sol Magnana everything is the same as years before. We have time for the maintenance of motorcycles. Tomorrow will be the hardest day of the trip.
We get up at six o'clock and with our loaded motorcycles we go south-west to Ciguana. We arrive at the military control and two young boys protect themselves behind the bar and record our passing. We cross a track with lots of hard stones then we cross again the main runway that from Olluage, Chile, leads to Uyunj. The volcano Olluage has an active fumarole and it becomes our reference point for photograph. We take the road to the lagoons, the Cnepa, the Hodionta. Everything is surreal, there are many flamingos and it is strange to see these unusual scenes at over 4000 mt.

Near the Stone Trees we meet a group of young Israelis who are tenants of the Laguna Colorada. It is a special night and despite efforts, I am surprised that I can find the track and remember all the references without GPS. At the contrary the motorcycle is not surprise. It is superb in any situation, full of low-octane gasoline and with tole ondulè I try to give gas, I look at the speedometer. I does not reveal the speed otherwise I would not be believed but my traveling companions are witnesses. We go to sleep knowing that the day after will be the last full day of adventure: the goal is San Pedro of Atacama.
We wake up slowly, we take some photos of the lagoon and we climb back in the saddle until we arrive at the Customs of Apacecha. 80 Km from the border, a sign marks 5020 Mt but we got up to 530.
Now we go to the desert of Dali: the peculiarities of nature have been associated to the bizarre Spanish painter. We go to the Green Luguna, rich in minerals, especially copper, make it an emerald green and in the distance there is Lincancabur, the extinct volcano.

We pass the border and 45 km later we are in San Pedro Atacama. We went down over 2000 meters in few kilometers.
San Pedro Atacama is a trend place that it is similar to Kathmandu during Seventies; swank people that I call "hipsters" like the " sons of flowers ". There is a strong dissonance: life is expensive, you can't find a hotel that costs less than $ 70 per person.
The following morning, after an oil and filter change for the engine, we drive up the Pan-American Highway.At night we sleep beside Pacific Ocean at Antofogasta.
We go down South. The Pan-American is quite busy. The wind is our enemy: on both sides it is blowing violently, it is a preview of what we will find in Patagonia. We stop at Serana at the KTM dealer: it is superb stuff, worthy of the Chilean tradition for the motorbike. Here, two years ago, the Six Days took place.
Tomorrow, surpassed Santiago, we will go down to the Patagonia.

From Los Vilos , Greetings by Giampiero.

Hello
 I am writing from El Calafate, in Argentina, the starting point for the excursion to Glaciar Perito Moreno. We said goodbye to Vigna Mar where Eva, known on the web, helped us: one of her friends, a mechanical, changes our tires.

It was necessary for who had used the piece, I did not need. The Enduro 3 still has margin. At Vigna Mar, I meet an old acquaintance of the motorcycle panorama, Paolo Rossi, who is here to organize a South American Bike Tour. He and Herman did not meet themselves for many years. The world is small.

The morning looks good, after a long coastline, we take the Ruta 5, but it is a mere illusion, because the rain will accompany us up to Temuco for about 800 km .
The day after we arrived in Port Montt, we unfortunately must spend here the night because the ferry that was fixed for today will leave tomorrow. We can only be tourists.
That evening we eat in a typical restaurant near the Pacific Ocean. Everything is characteristic: the owner and construction.

Here as in the U.S. as many buildings are made of wood, but evidently who built had problems with the level: there is no room on the same plane. In a corner there is a measure while to the opposite side it is 30 - 40 cm lower. I go to the bathroom while I'm about to fall, in "derepata" I remained standing. Different countries different customs.

At the ferry we meet Helmut, a German man who goes by motorcycle. He goes down South but he has a lot of time and he stops before us. Saying ferry is saying a great word, in reality it is a small and dated boat. We leave port Montt in time. We sleep on the airplane-style seats.

When we land in Chaiten the following day, everything seems gloomy. The omonymous volcano, few years ago after a long slumber, awoke pouring tons of ash that is now everywhere. The inhabitants do not have intentional to renounce to live here. the government had promised to reconstruct the country more far away but the idea was not successful and for the intransigence of the population the government has thought to isolate the community. There is neither light nor water; a bed sheet hanging to a window says “the government denies light and water, we are here only for the homeland”.

Chaiten is the gateway to Patagonia, we go down to South through the Carrettera Austrul, an immense work desired by the General Pinochet, with the intention of connecting this strip of land to the rest of the country. The vegetation is varied: lagoons, lakes, snow-capped peaks in the distance, all in off road. In a few years I believe that everything will be asphalted.

At night when we arrive at Puerto Ibanez on the General Lake, named Carrera by Chileans and Buenos Aires by the Argentine side, we understand how will be the rest of the trip. The wind that beats these lands is inexorable and it will take us up to Ushuaia.
The boat ride takes about 4 hours. I know a couple of Brazilians.

We laugh a lot when we discover that he is of Italian origin. Landed in Chile Chico, we head towards Argentine Border. After a few miles we are on Route 40, the legendary road that runs from northern Argentina to Ushuaia. It is a track, but here like in Chile there are works in progress and it will be soon paved.

In Argentina nine out of ten people are Italian as origin. Someone had a grandmother or a mother then you understand that the bond with our land is indissoluble. Sometimes I felt tenderness for this Italian feeling which we often forget. I've heard various urban legends about Route 40; it is very difficult also because of the wind that blows 90 km / h as someone says but if so we could fly.

Personally I have never come down below 80 'km / h but sometimes I have driven over 100 without problems. This morning I was close to 140 . I think 690 is a complete motorcycle. At Bajo Caracoles, a point wrote on Route 40 we find four houses, a petrol station and a spartan hotel with all comfort, a mini market where you can find everything like the ones in our small towns fifty years ago.

In the morning we opt for a trip to Cuave de Las Manos by motorcycle. of course. There are caves where are represented hunting scenes, animals, people and many strange hands on the rock. The man that painted the scenes put the palm of the hand on the surface bringing the colors out. The date refers 7000/9000 years ago.

We load the bikes and put gasoline, which is essential as water then we continue in the direction of El Calafate. After various misadventures, as a puncture and the posting of a battery cable for the many vibrations due to the track, we reach Tres Lagos village. Unlike the night before we find a newly built housing. We need it because we are dirty and tired. It is difficult to eat.

Thanks to two ladies who offers us a lift by car, we arrive to a family-run inn, frequented by workers who are building the new pavement of Route 40. Between smoke of cigarettes, beer, wine, some drunk people, we live a special evening. It seems the last frontier country and it is so. There is nothing, only the wind blowing strong and noisy.

The Road to El Calafate is all paved, the Rio La Leona and the nearby Lake Argentino offer scenarios that the click of the camera can hardly escape . P olice control confirmed that we are in town. We must organize ourselves for the trip to Glaciar Perito Moreno. In this part of the world it's 9 o'clock p.m. and it is still lightly. We lose the sense of time.

El Calafate an Hasta luego. Giampiero

Hi
I Start with a little of romance, almost with reverence; Herman and I do not hesitate to stop and turn off the engine, the road sign says Garibaldi Paso, nothing to do with the Hero of Two Worlds, but it was a set of ideals and tenacity; we are a bit like this: tenacious to the end .

We thought we had left the Chilean Patagonia and entering through the Tierra del Fuego we did not think to find the chill wind that blows from both the Atlantic as the Pacific side and the snow. After the pass, we stop at an inn for a break and we ask for a hot chocolate but it is not in list at this time because it is not winter. It snows so we replicate. The waiter shows us a picture of the place with a yard and more snow. This is winter for them so, in silence, we have chosen a Patagonian cordero, namely lamb.

We left El Calafate and we reach the attractive Perito Moreno crossing vast acres of land used as pasture. At the entrance of the park a guanaco, ilama-like animal, offers pampering to everyone as usual and it does not seem real.
The Glaciar Perito Moreno is one of the highlights of the planet, unusual for the establishment and maintenance, with a front face of five kilometers and more than 60 feet thick, it divides Argentine Lake in two. The currents of the Pacific maintain its natural cycle. The winds carry moisture that clashing with the Andean chain turn into snow freezes on the lake that keeps the unchanged thickness.

After a walk we approach the Glaciar and we go on a catamaran to visit the front. The hope of every tourist is seize the moment of detachment of some part of the wall. It is our lucky day: a deafening noise followed by a block that falls in water, gives us emotions.

The next day we go down south through the Ruta 3 and we travel in off the final part of Route 40 that will take us back to Chile. In the evening we arrive in Punta Arenas, I have time to change oil and filters and even though we are close to the goal, it is morally imperative to respect the bike.
We ferry the Strait of Magellan entering in theTierra del Fuego, one of the provinces of Argentine Patagonia. The chronicles say that the name was given by the Portuguese explorer because of the fires he saw from the ship.

Actually he never got to the ground and he really saw only smoke, but he evenly called it the Land of the Smoke. Later the Emperor Charles V, great communicator, named it Tierra del Fuego: there is no smoke without fire; bizarre theory.

The Argentine province of Tierra del Fuego is divided from the mainland by the Chilean territory, then Argentine man who walks the Ruta 3 is forced to come to Chile and to go off over one hundred kilometers before returning to the Argentine side and find asphalt. It is a kind of Chilean joke that does not hold the honor of having the southern extremity of the continent. I notice in the distance the Argentine frontier and I open the cavalry of 690. It is the last tract in off, the odometer marks more than 14, then the asphalt. It's the end of the playground.

With the view of the Atlantic Ocean we arrive in Rio Grande, where we stay.
Only a few hours separate us from Ushuaia. We proceed slowly and we never thought to find other emotions such as Lake Fagnano. When we enter the city we attack the cartel Benvienidos for the snapshots. It's cold, the cold wind nettles our face but it seems normal. it was what we wanted, it is difficult to describe the emotions, each of us live them in a personal way. I look at the bike, much belongs to HER.

The following days are needed to arrange shipment of the bikes and, taking advantage of Sunday, we grant us a catamaran trip on the Bingle Strait. There are small islands populated by sea lions, cormorants and penguins here and there.
We close the door of the container with the bikes stowed. HASTA AL FONDO is a reality, more than 10,000 km separate us from the departure but this is another story. Greetings from FIN DEL MUNDO or rather the southernmost city on the planet. Giampiero

Considerations

It is impossible not drawing conclusions after about 11000 km on wheels, which 6500 are off, four crossed countries , four KTM bike for the trip.
Many people do not believe me but I only had two breakage of bags door frames due to some fall and to the bottom of the track.
690 is surprising because of the great endurance saddle-tank on which the entire weight of all suitcases rests. Only changed oil, filters and tires. But I have departed from Lima with a pair Enduro3 and I arrived to Ushuaia, even if my lower back was like a bar of soap.

The gasoline we used was of varying quality, from 80 to 97 octane For the 690, it was sufficient to place the device mapping to 0 as for the 990.

We traveled over 20 with 690 and in Bolivia we have never fallen below this value also due to the altitude and the gasoline of poor quality. The 990 was average. We have chosen to travel with an extra tank, especially in Bolivia and sometimes also in Chile, on the Austral Carrettera and on the Ruta 40 in Argentina..

The maximum altitude we reached was about 5050 Mt in Bolivia near Apacheca Border. I traveled as dozers without GPS across the Andes.
I conclude that, as always, the 690 is a complete motorcycle that helps you for lightness and dynamism also if the road is difficult.
We really travelled in off-road for many Km. I thank all those who have contributed to the success of this trip: KTM Acerbis, Motorex, Regina Chains, Gemici, Code Architects, Giramoto and of course those who have followed the journey from the web.

mail!