Fin Del Mundo

We left Rio Gallegos determined to reach Ushuaia, but were worried about how two border crossings (into Chile and back to Argentina), a ferry crossing, and a long stretch of dirt road would impact our time, so we set out early.  More of the Big Empty, and our only companions on the road were the occasional Semi-Truck/Trailer, herds of Guanacos,  those ostrich-type birds that I keep forgetting to look up on the net, and the startling sight of pink flamingoes on the roadside ponds.  We were feeling cheated because we had not experienced the gruesome Patagonia winds that we had heard so much about...until today.  We encounter 65+mph wind by the time we reach the Chilean border, and the sight of two Euro/American bicyclists leaning forward, pushing their bikes up the road against the howling wind made us cringe.  Border crossings in this part of the world are a snap.

Soon after we entered Chile, we came to the sea crossing that enables us to Tierra Del Fuego.  What a great feeling to see a line of cars and trucks loading on the ferry as we drive up...bam!  Five minutes, and we are on the water, watching black and white dolphins and penguins escort us across the waters. 

Once on land and $50 poorer, we hit the road, which quickly turns to dirt and gravel for about 70 miles of washboard driving.  We grit our teeth at the thought of any car trouble so close to the end, but continue to think positive.  Aside from the ignition trouble, which seems to be temperature related, we have had no trouble with the Little Red Truck.  Being very cold this far south, the ignition issue has all but disappeared.  

Dirt road ends at the Argentine border for the last crossing.  We are the only migrants at the crossing so everything went smoothly, until they asked me where the Reciprosity Sticker was on my passport.  This is a fee that the Argentines charge in retaliation for the fee the USA charges foreiners entering our country...gotta love Homeland Security!  I don't have a sicker because I have never paid the fee.  I got away with it at the first Argentine crossing by thinking that I did pay it in 2010, so they looked it up on their computer and produced a reciept from 2010, for a certain Douglas William Carlson...good enough for me, I say, so a tired clerk said OK, gave me a copy, and let me through...not so fast this time, as the alert clerks notice that the name and passport number does not match up with mine.  Staring at another meaningless $130 fee at the tail end of the trip, I implement my only, but effective defense...play stupid, shrug a lot, and act confused. Yes! Outlasted, the strategy worked again, and the fatigued clerks waived me through.   

Gasing up a the next town, Rio Grande, we wait for 30 minutes in long lines at the station.  We look at each other and agree that this town is yet again another South American version of a Wyoming oil boomtown that we are glad we are leaving.

Thirty minutes later, we are excited to finally see the end of the desolate Patagonian plains, and we actually see..trees!  Beech tree forests and distant high mountains...back to the Andes!

We gradually climb in elevation are delighted with the change of environment...mountains, forest, alpine lakes the last 50 or so miles...then rain...then snow!  Yes, we left Utah in the winter, and then found it again the last driving day of the trip.  If our southern latitude were flipped north, we would be in Juneau, Alaska.  The weather and scenery are carbon copies of the Alaskan Panhandle.

We drive into Ushuaia about 6:30pm, a smalish port city, the most southerly located city in the world, or as they say here, Fin Del Mundo.  What a feeling of relief to finallly make it here...over 12,000 miles from our start in Utah.  After some difficulty finding a hotel room, we settle into comfortable digs and a good dinner.  The quest:  get rid of the truck and book airline tickets home.

Today, we try to sell the truck by aproaching an auto dealer, and the waiters and bartender of our lunch restaurant. Both are aware of the importation regulations that prohibit anyone from lawfully buying our truck and liscensing it in Argentina.  We finally, and sadly, accept the fact that we can't sell it.  But we also understand that if we abandon it, Jim may be cited by Customs the next time he enters Argentina.  Hmmm, what to do?  We go back to the auto dealer and cut a deal to leave the truck with him, using my iPad Translator to get us through the transaction. He will "keep" the truck at his parents place, and if he ever gets any cash for it, he will surely send it to Jim...surely.  This arrangement is really the safest way to dispose of the Little Red Truck with the least legal exposure for Jim.  Jim is sad to leave the LRT behind, with 24 years of history.  The hero of the trip is the LRT.  It performed beyond our wildest expectations...we just hope it learns to speak Spanish...it would also be nice if both of us did too.  Perhaps someday...

Tickets purchased, Jim leaves in the morning, me the following day...I just hope it stops snowing so I can get some pictures of these spectacular mountains tomorrow.  Homeward bound at last...