Dates: November 4th – 16th 2019

I’m writing this several months after the event from Australia. It’s a strange time as we watch to see how the coronavirus pandemic unfolds and way the world undergoes some incredible changes. Some friends that I met on the road continue their adventures but the vast majority have repatriated themselves back to their home countries to sit it out and wait for a semblance for normality to return.

My travels seem almost a distant memory even though it’s been less than two weeks since I left my temporary home in Argentina. But there’s a joy in reliving the experience as I mentally recreate the events and write about during in my self-isolation. Jolene, my Land Rover and travel companion, continues on her path – the ship carrying her will imminently arrive in South Africa. I fear it may be some time before I can join her there but she will wait for me in a warehouse in Durban and I will wait until the world is ready for me to join her again and tackle my next continent in my quest to drive around the earth.

Arrival in Ushuaia:

Arriving in Ushuaia was surreal. Mostly because it was arbitrarily the ‘end point’ of my initial trip – the most southern point of South America after driving essentially from the top of North America. I laugh now thinking about my initial plans – it was to be a four-month trip and I would drive every day to keep the pace required to make it in that time. Having been on the road almost a year at this point in my story, I couldn’t have been more wrong about how it would play out.

Not only was I already planning to spend at least five more months in Argentina in Buenos Aires post my arrival in Ushuaia, I had now already planned to extend the trip into Africa and had begun preparations for that leg with friends I had met overlanding in Colombia. And beyond Africa, the idea for the time being seems to have settled that Spain will be home for a period before crossing Europe through the ‘Stans into Mongolia, through Russia to the easternmost side of Eurasia before shipping back to Canada. I seem to have clarity that far out; beyond I’m less sure.

So, while Ushuaia was merely another stop, a waypoint, another minor challenge completed; it was nevertheless an exciting accomplishment and I was giddy with excitement as I pulled through the symbolic entrance of the town and was met with the view of the port city - the Beagle Channel to one side and the mountains towering behind.

Realistically, I was probably more excited to be catching up with my friend Fabrizio, my Italian friend that I’d met earlier that year. We first connected over a few beers in Santa Marta on Colombia’s north coast. We had both taken separate sail boats from Panama to Colombia along the same route and at more or less the same time. But while I had enjoyed a relaxing and enjoyable passage, his hadn’t ended so well. His boat began taking on water one afternoon, the passengers and crew had started bailing water but eventually couldn’t keep pace with the water ingress and a distress call was made. They were eventually rescued by an oil tanker in the dark of night. Fabri was famously known to end his recount of the story saying: “my a***hole was puckered up so tight, you couldn’t have put a pin up it” in his thick Italian accent.

After our first meeting we would cross paths multiple times through Colombia, meeting again randomly on the streets of Bogota and then once more in the mountainous colonial town of San Gil. Each time we grew closer and we stayed in touch. While circumstances to date hadn’t been on our side but we had made a commitment to road trip together at some stage. Our meeting in Ushuaia was that chance as we happened to time his return from an Antarctic cruise with my escape from the salt flats of Bolivia and car problems of Patagonia.

So shortly after arriving into town, we met at the hotel he had booked for us, shared a giant hug (before the times of social distancing – the situation in which I write this) and headed off for a celebratory beer - a local (and excellent) brew called the Beagle Roja.

Like many days before, work had tainted this particular day. I don’t write much about having to make a living from the road but I can assure that it takes a significant amount of my time. In this instance, I’d been negotiating the sale of one of our businesses for the past couple weeks and we were getting to the pointy end of final terms. It was on me to break a stalemate between two stakeholders in the deal. So rather than celebrating with an afternoon of stories and drinks with Fabrizio, we had one beer together and I then excused myself and went to my car – ‘the mobile office’ - to make phone calls and see if I could bring the deal to a close.

It took several hours, conferring between parties in Australia and the US but eventually I found middle ground and we had a final agreement. The negotiation had kept me on edge for the past two weeks (since Puerto Natales) but also, more generally, it had been one of my more significant roles during entire trip and the thought of relinquishing it gave me the drive to push it to conclusion. So with terms set, the company was to be sold, my life would become easier and there would be money coming in.

My first night in Ushuaia was a celebration for three things – the arrival in Ushuaia and southernmost point of the journey, the company sale and third, but most importantly, being reunited with my good friend Fabri. Being in Argentina, this was of course celebrated with Malbec and steaks. I was a meaningful and memorable night and one of my happiest.

Enjoying my first beer with Fabri after my arrival in Ushuaia

When I met Fabri, he had just returned from an Antarctic cruise and would talk at length about the penguin colonies, the beautiful blue colours of the ice and taking plunges into the freezing cold waters from the boat

Each time we crossed back into Argentina from Chile - which I did many times - I was thankful for the noticeably better food and wine (sorry to my Chilean friends but it’s true)

Fin del Mundo:

The end of the actual road is a little further south than the town of Ushuaia. The end of Ruta 3 terminates in Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego so the next morning that’s where we went to finish off the final 30-minutes of driving, winding our way through the freezing rain that was on the cusp of becoming snow. Fabrizio enlisted a friend of his to join; Tim from Melbourne, an 18-year old friend and roommate from his cruise.

If one is so inclined, there are many more southern places you can go to including a series of islands south of the Beagle Channel. And if you hike south from Ushuaia you risk accidentally crossing the border illegally into Chile through the forest. I didn’t need to go any further on foot. I’m an overlander and my car is my transport. The end of the road was symbolic enough for me. We found the sign that signified the southernmost point in the road, took some photos and I savoured the accomplishment of having arrived here all the way from Alaska.

I felt like it should be more special. At the time, I reflected on it and never before has the expression ‘it’s about the journey, not the destination’ been so true. I pointed at this target because of what it would take me past, not because of where I would arrive. So really, it was just a waypoint and a marker on a bigger journey. A necessary stopping point and the adventures continues. On the negative side, it started to hit home how much time has elapsed. When you’re traveling with a timeline of over two years, it initially feels like the dream will never end. But marker had me one step closer to the end of my journey and that point tempered some of the positivity that came with the accomplishment of the arrival.

The final stretch of Ruta 3 headed towards the ‘fin del mundo’ (end of the world)

She hadn’t made it easy on me but Jolene had made the distance and I was proud to have nursed the temperamental Land Rover all of this way

While the sign said a touch under 18,000km, running the journey through Google Maps puts it more around 28,000km of roads. By this time, my odometer had registered more than 50,000km since beginning around a year ago

The end of the road: My days of driving south were behind me. It also is not lost on me that the title of the blog - The Long Drive South - has become redundant since this is no longer the endpoint to my adventure.

Looking south towards the Beagle Channel (via drone)

Martial Mountain Range:

Ushuaia is bounded between the Martial Mountain Range to the north and the Beagle Channel to the south. It seemed remiss of us not to explore the foothills of the mountains above the town and take advantage of the views over the channel looking south towards Antarctica. Intermittent blue skies let the sun through as we battled the fierce Patagonian wind and followed a trail alongside a creek to a nice vantage point nestled under several peaks and a glacier. I almost lost the drone to the strong wind trying to capture some aerial shots but luckily I can add that the tally of my drone’s nine lives – I’ve almost lost or crashed it so many times now it’s only a matter of time before it meets with catastrophe.

The Martial Mountains just outside the town of Ushuaia

Fabrizio (Turin, Italy) and Tim (Melbourne, Australia)

Ushuaia can be seen mid-frame on the ocean’s edge

Headed north again:

My mechanical issues through Patagonia had left me behind schedule with Fabrizio killing time in Ushuaia so he was keen to hit the road. And I wasn’t arguing, the sooner we hit the road, the sooner we’d be in Buenos Aires – my real dream and a place to rest, enjoy and settle for a while.

Somewhere during my time down in Ushuaia, I received a couple more pieces of good news - firstly, that one of our wines had received a gold medal back home in Australia; and secondly that another company that I’ve been working with for the past six years received an expression of interest to sell to large American competitor. I’d served on the board of this business for some time (since before they had a product in market) and in the coming months we would go on to complete the sale process. At this point in time, I felt very vindicated for my life choices and that things couldn’t be going better. I was travelling the world having the time of my life and at the same time was managing to achieve a level of success with my business portfolio - I was having my cake and eating it too.

Leaving required a few more obligatory pictures of the southernmost city in the world. I was tickled to see that someone had noticed my Canadian plates overnight and left us a message in the grime of the rear quarter panel of the car saying “Good luck guys”. With some of the luck I’d had the past couple months, it was very welcome. And with that, we’d begun our road trip and headed out of town through the mountains and back towards to the empty plains of Tierra del Fuego.

I probably wasn’t allowed to drive up onto the monument but I couldn’t resist. We hastily took the photo and made haste northwards

Beginning of our first day’s drive together

Fabri had been pining for an opportunity to drive with me for the better part of a year. I was honoured that we eventually had the chance to travel together

A random message left for me by a stranger was a nice surprise to wake up to as we set off

Another example of photography failing to capture the beauty of what we witnessed with our eyes. The contrast between the snow and rock of this mountain was unreal

A lookout on the drive out of Ushuaia. I had to fight hard to resist driving down this trail to see where it led, but we had places to be

Again, I can’t help but feel the photograph only partially captures the beauty of this scene

Fabri and I had both had enough of the cold. Each kilometre we drove north was one kilometre closer to summer in Buenos Aires

Porvenir:

We hastily cross across the island of Tierra del Fuego and skip passed the few points of interest – really not much more than the occasional estancia (ranch / station). As we cross the border again, I think that’s it’s my fourth time entering into Chile as we criss-cross back and forth from Argentina, but I’ve lost track of the number of times and for whatever reason can bring myself to go back and count. No food is allowed into Chile across the land border so Fabri and I casually munch on ham and cheese sandwiches while they process our paperwork. As is typical of Patagonia, the wind is incessant and we help an elderly adventurer lift up his heavy motorbike - a BMW R12000 - that has been toppled by the wind outside of the aduana (customs).

The rush is all for nought when I realise that I’ve misread the ferry timetable and we’ve raced to catch a ferry that leaves three hours later than I had figured. Fortuitously it buys us some quiet time to take in the port town of Porvenir, wander along the docks and beaches and find a cosy spot for a couple drinks and some food before our ferry takes us across the channel back to the mainland to Punta Arenas.

We were in good spirits by the time we boarded the ferry to Punta Arenas. We felt like naughty students as we were reprimanded for bringing a couple beers onto the ferry and took great amusement by the fact that Fabrizio’s ticket for the ferry had transcribed his name as Single Milano (his marital status and birth place respectively rather than his first and last name).

The ferry delivered us to Punta Arenas on the mainland as I rejoined the route I’d taken south to get to Ushuaia. I’d made a promise to Fabrizio that I was amenable to backtracking the route that had seen me to meeting to him. Despite repeating several towns and places, it still beat the east coast of the continent up to Buenos Aires which is particularly sparse along that coast.

My last car ferry: these had become commonplace ever since crossing into Chilean Patagonia more than a month before

Our host at the Isla Magdalena bed and breakfast was a pleasure and wished us well I left him behind for the second time

Punta Arenas:

Opting to spend a little time exploring Punta Arenas before that day’s drive north, we parked adjacent to the Plaza de Armas in Punta Arenas and wandered into the main square to take some photos. A crowd was gathering and chanting as part of the ongoing political demonstrations that had been igniting around the region since mid-October. The demonstrators were only ten metres from the car but all seemed peaceful and we observed with interest as they picketed next to us in front of a government building.

Quite suddenly we saw a bunch of people running into our line of sight rolling some truck tires. It was unusual enough to raise an eyebrow and not long after I saw they were dousing the tires with accelerant and about to set fire to them. I told Fabri to get his camera out and that we were about to witness something.

The mob of maybe 20 university-aged Chileans set fire to the tires in the middle of the intersection right off the main square. Perhaps in the space of ten seconds or so, two police trucks showed up with water cannons, initially focusing their efforts on putting out the fire. They then accelerated down the street as the protestors scattered, blasting them with water cannons.

The excitement died down as quickly as it started but left behind a large contingent of guards and armoured vehicles. Having seen first-hand a fairly impressive show of civil disobedience, we figured that there was no point unnecessarily hanging about – we’d seen the town and had some distance to cover so we cleared the area.

Parked next to the a small and peaceful protest

The Chilean police and one of their armoured trucks

Armoured truck with their water cannon trained on the protestors

The truck following the protestors as they scattered and blasting them with the water cannon

Besides the water cannon incident, the public distaste for the government was clear in every corner of the city and anti-establishment graffiti was tagged throughout. The demonstrations had been going in the country since the day I had left Santiago and we witnessed sporadic events of the Chilean discontent as we travelled the country. All told, the protests would involve millions of citizens, claim dozens of lives and result in more than 11,000 injuries with tens of thousands detained.

As we headed out of the city, we stopped in for a brief moment at a beachside sculpture and chatted for a few moments to a Land Rover owner who had noticed my car and stopped to talk. I’d been telling Fabri about both the solidarity of the Land Rover community as well as how notoriously unreliable Land Rovers were. Both points were reinforced when the guy told me that he had a Series II Defender but that it was in the shop, to which I replied ‘of course it is’. Fabrizio thought this exchange was hilarious. For me, I was quietly happy that I was managing Fabri’s expectations – I figured there was a good chance that we’d break down again before I delivered him to Buenos Aires and I wanted him to be mentally prepared for that.

Centre frame it says “Piñera basura” which refers to Chilean President Sebastián Piñera, and ‘basura’ means trash

While not pointed at the current government, this mask covered a bronze statue with a translation that reads: “In memory of the indigenous peoples assassinated by the Chilean state and the landowners in the era or the mercenary Popper, McLennan, Bra… — While not pointed at the current government, this mask covered a bronze statue with a translation that reads: “In memory of the indigenous peoples assassinated by the Chilean state and the landowners in the era or the mercenary Popper, McLennan, Braun Menendez”, a reference to genocide perpetrated by Julius Popper against the indigenous Selk'nam people during the late 19th century

Chile no puede mas: ‘Chile can’t take it any more’

Return to Torres del Paine:

As we make our way north I realise how good Fabrizio is as a travel companion. The conversation is interesting but never forced - there are quiet times in the car but never uncomfortable. He is flexible about my need to work on the road. He has a genuine excitement to be in the car and road tripping together. He shares costs without hesitation and in fact is probably most aligned person I’ve travelled with to date in terms of mentality to travel spending as me - that we can splurge when called for but to generally be sensible with our money - the perfect combination. I look back very fondly on this time together and I really landed on my feet by finding him to share the journey north together.

We overnight in Puerto Natales and meet up with my friend Robert I’d met the last time I was in town. I’d promised to bring him some Beagle beer from Ushuaia and I was determined to fulfil that promise. His insights into the lands of Tierra del Fuego were amazingly useful and helped me greatly so I wanted to return the favour, however small.

Back in the area of Torres del Paine, we heed the recommendations passed onto us which is that a hike up to Base las Torres is the one thing a time-constrained visitor must do. As we head into the park, we aren’t in a particular rush though in retrospect we should have been. Arriving at the ranger station, we are told we’re too late to start the hike. Pleading in Spanish that we’ll be quick and will catch up to the last group, we are told by the slightly kinder second ranger that if we boot it over there, we should be ok. We didn’t have to be told twice as we raced on to the start of the hike, avoiding further encounters with rangers at the risk of being told we couldn’t go.

My second time in Torres del Paine had kinder weather and the blue skies gave us stunning views of the torres (towers) from many angles

This is how I remember Fabrizio in large part - hidden behind his telescopic lens

Right before we were told if we didn’t get to the trail in a few minutes, we wouldn’t be allowed to hike that day

Amazing how much difference clear skies can make. My previous time in Torres del Paine didn’t allow much visibility and all of these views were obscured by cloud

Base de las Torres:

The Base las Torres hike is pleasant although it was longer than I had initially thought, taking a total of four hour up and four hours back. Blundstones (Australian work boots) were a bad choice but they are my ‘go everywhere shoes’ and I rarely find a need to wear anything else whether I’m hiking a volcano, going to high-end restaurant or anything in between. The weather is spectacular for the hike and I reluctantly admit to my sister some time later that it was a hundred times better to hike in the clear weather than seeing Torres del Paine by car in the grey cloud cover.

A cheery Fabrizio as we set off for Base las Torres

I didn’t have a chance to explore many of the attractions that this sign was suggesting - perhaps I’ve left enough to go back one day and give it the time it deserves

Staying in the park of Torres del Paine itself is possible but horrendously expensive. We didn’t see the value given we had the freedom of our own vehicle and could stay in the nearby town of Puerto Natales with many more amenities and a fraction of… — Staying in the park of Torres del Paine itself is possible but horrendously expensive. We didn’t see the value given we had the freedom of our own vehicle and could stay in the nearby town of Puerto Natales with many more amenities and a fraction of the price

The trail splits at multiple times with one path for hikers and the other for those on horseback. Although we never saw anyone actually riding horses that day

I took several hundred photos this day. It proved an excellent place to continue to practice using my new (used) Cannon 5D MKIII

About three hours into our four hour ascent, the dirt ground became snow-covered

When we got to the top, we cracked a bottle of Argentinian Malbec. It wasn’t an idea I was fully behind when we started out but it proved to be a great motivator for the final hour of the hike up (and make the first hour of the hike down a bit more fun on the slippery snow). The viewpoint under the towers was mostly empty owing in part to being shoulder season and also to our very late start on the trail. I’ve heard stories of other visitors crawling over each other to find a place to rest after the difficult hike up and that it’s impossible to get a photo without other hikers in the frame. For us, we more or less had the whole place to ourselves.

Fabri enjoying our prize for reaching the top

Crossing back into Argentina … again:

Social media can be a wonderful thing when it reunites friends. I happened to stumble upon a post from an old travel companion, Gabe from California, in the evening after the hike. Gabe and I had travelled together almost a year earlier, meeting in Belize and crossing the border together into Guatemala and hiking up the Mount Acatenango volcano. We parted ways when he went to study Spanish at Lago de Atitlan in Guatemala while I rushed to deliver my friend Hadyn to an airport in Honduras to catch his flight back to Australia.

Gabe and his friend Jack were a day’s drive north in El Calafate and this became our new goal as Fabrizio and I retraced my steps across the border to the isolated gas station on the Argentinean side and then on to Calafate. Unlike the drive down, the car was working perfectly so the previous concerns about making it from one gas station to the next had more or less vanished.

Leaving Torres del Paine (Chile) and back into Argentina towards El Calafate

Positivity is a great characteristic in a travel companion

Fabrizio would take photos of the scenery, I would take photos of my car

A remote Chile / Argentina border crossing

These scarecrows were definitely scary but I don’t know their purpose (presumably not to scare crows, perhaps to scare tourists)

I’d passed through this region before and knew that this necessary little gas station was operational, thus easing any concerns about the cross through the pampa back to El Calafate

Perito Moreno:

I’d passed through El Calafate and Perito Moreno not long ago with my Mum and sister but keeping my promise to Fabrizio, we followed the same interesting route north. Following our rendezvous with Gabe and Jack, the glacier outside of town called Perito Moreno was the obvious destination for the day. Even though I was seeing it for a second time, again I was blessed with better weather and the glacier on a sunny day with blue skies made it all the more impressive.

What’s more, the warmer weather seemed to increase the rate of the glacial carving, perhaps logically as the sun and warmer air melted the ice. We’d spend hours leaning on the railings and waiting for the next giant clump of ice to drop into the lake below. We were even lucky enough to see a Pampas Fox on the drive in.

The last time we were here, it was half raining / snowing. Blue skies proved much more pleasant

Perito Moreno Glacier has an average height of 74m above the surface (the ice wall you see here). What’s more impressive is that the average total thickness, if you include the ice below the surface, is 170m.

There’s no occasion a little wine won’t improve

El Calafate:

We stumble across a rodeo in El Calafate as a stroke of luck – something that I had always wanted to see but wouldn’t have actively sought out. I loved the local dress and the Argentinean slant on what I assume is more generally an American tradition. The horses don’t seem innately unhappy to be carrying the riders and it’s a little distressing to watch them being whipped into bucking. Without knowing much about rodeos, it is interesting to observe that there are competing interests – the angriest horse puts on the best show but makes it hard to say on the required eight seconds, while the most sedate horse is dull to watch but will let the rider stay on the required time. I guess it’s more art than sport where the gauchos are simultaneously trying to balance the two competing objectives.

And of course we were savouring the fact that we were suddenly back on the Argentine side which meant great steak and wine again.

El Chalten:

At some point during all this, we collectively decide to push on to El Chalten together. Again, it’s somewhere I’ve been before but, as with Torres del Paine, I missed a couple of the hikes as the family wasn’t really geared up for longer exertions so there was a chance to make up for what I had missed.

We take over a room in a hostel for a few days and the talkative hostel owner Roberto is constantly trying to wrap us up in conversation but talks of nothing. He gives us advice, starts conversations and then inanely concludes every conversation by saying that whatever we are talking about is ‘muy importante’ (very important).

The days there are spent driving along the river and hiking. We explore the area up near Rio Cañadon de las Toros, see waterfalls and drive the spectacular unpaved roads outside of town. The hike up to Lago Capri is the highlight which provides an amazing view from the lake underneath the Cerro Fitz Roy.

On one of our drives, I eye off the river crossing that looks difficult but not impossible. I decide to walk the river to see if it can be driven. I’ve been looking out for a really good water crossing for a while now but keep coming up short - either not exciting enough or not possible. This particular crossing would have been an amazing feat but as I try to walk the river to ensure I won’t drown the car, the water (which is snow melt from the mountains above) is too cold and I end up coming back to the shore as quickly as possible and rushing to empty my Wellington boots of the glacial river water.

One of many lookouts to the many waterfalls of the area

View from the Lago Capri hike of the previous day’s drive up the river

Jack, myself, Gabe and Fabrizio at Lago Capri under Cerro Fitzroy

One of the evenings in Chalten, two German girls show up from the hostel next door and it turned out they were from Fabrizio’s Antarctica cruise so they join us for drinks. I guess we were all due for a break from wholesome treks and fresh air, so without any real planning we ended up emptying our supplies of wine, beer and spirits. It was enough to disorient me enough to later fall out of my top bunk – something I was not used to and evidently a bit of a trap.

The next morning with a hungover group, it called for a more relaxed style of day so fishing was put forward as the best way to spend it. We drove up the river and settled on a lovely sunny spot on the banks of the river for the afternoon, conveniently close to the entrance to Glaciar Huemul where they sold beer. Only one fish was caught that day – a small trout – but I don’t think that stopped anyone from enjoying it immensely and was the perfect recipe for day where no one was overly interested in exerting themselves.

On the way out, I decide that I need a good shot with the car in the water so I drove it into the river right at the spot we’d been fishing all day. I’d had plenty of time to eyeball the bottom as I fished and it looked solid enough. I park it reasonably deep and posed to get some good shots. Unfortunately the seals aren’t what I thought they’d be and the water seeped in to soak through the carpets and threatened the valuables that filled my rear drawers. Thankfully nothing was damaged and it didn’t appear to have caused any mischief with the electronics. There isn’t much I love more than driving in water but it’s a dangerous game.

For some unknown reason, there’s nothing more fun to me than driving into a river

The cost of my childish obsession with river crossings was that the carpets soaked through, also saturating several of our possessions including Gabe’s book and my box of spare parts

Crossing the Pampa:

As we part ways with Jack and Gabe, we focus in on our goal - Buenos Aires. It’s time to leave the mountains, the desert, the pampa and the sparseness. We’re ready for civilisation and culture again and both of us love the Argentinian way of life – the food, wine, late nights, siestas all of which combine to make Buenos Aires a paradise.

Fabrizio has been itching to get behind the wheel and I give him that opportunity. It’s not my habit to pass over the driving – I like to feel the car, listen to her, note the gear changes happen at the right time, feel if it’s taking more accelerator than usual to climb a hill and watch the gauges. But Fabri is too excited to have a go and I share his pleasure a he takes the wheel for a while. It’s great traveling with him because he truly wants to be on this adventure we’re on together and makes it known. He loves the car, the concept of driving as the mode of travel, the risk of break downs, the different set of challenges it all brings. As he drives, he lets me talk about motors and fuel economy and listens with a grin. His smile as we drive says everything.

We cross sealed and unsealed roads road up the famous Ruta 40 and the scenery changes mildly despite the vast distances we cover. The Patagonian wind generally comes from the north-west and it’s a god-send that we no longer have any more drives head on into it where the engine temperature creeps up noticeably and the fuel economy measurably drops. There’s the occasional animal and we stop several times to photograph armadillos and skunks.

As the end of a long day comes to an end, we pull in for fuel in Bajo Carcoles. The town is comically small and consists of a fuel pump, small hotel, police station, hostel and some other structures one has to assume are the residences of the dozen or so people that live there. While simple, it has everything we need – a hot shower, heater, two single beds and a woman who works at the hotel which serves several functions – the gas station cashier, hotel, restaurant, general store and seller of various random trinkets (knives, toys, souvenirs). She makes us steaks and chips and we make ourselves at home, selecting a bottle of red as an accompaniment.

As we cross north and east across the long and slender country and make our daily progress towards the capital, we fall into a routine. We fill up with gas each morning and breakfast comes in whatever form is available. We drive all morning until we are hungry and then time a stop at a service station for gas and buy or make some salami and cheese sandwiches – ‘sandwichitos’ - and wash it down with a can of Patagonia beer. We drive all afternoon listening to a different genre of music each day and go in and out of conversation. For the most part Fabri stays awake the whole time to keep me company regardless or whether we’re talking or not. We drive into the evening until after dark and look for a town or city that can simultaneously provides gas, a bed and a decent meal – usually steak and a Malbec.

Cops pull us over at checkpoints regularly but they aren’t the corrupt types of countries further north and we always enjoy the exchanges while they do their job and conduct a brief search of the car and check the paperwork. Half the time, after telling them about our adventure, most would joke that they’d love to jump in and join us.

The occasional skunk draws our attention from the otherwise empty plains

The hotel / service station / restaurant / general store of Bajo Caracoles

Fabri making himself at home. Given his profession, he is appointed the ‘Food and Beverage Director’ of the journey

Another lunch stop and a moment to take in the Argentinian countryside

Tandil:

When we’re finally within a few hours drive of Buenos Aires and nearing the end of a very long day (my first 1,000km+ day), Fabri consults his lonely planet and we choose Tandil as our chosen rest spot for the evening. The decision is made solely on the fact that Fabri has read it has a deli-style restaurant with a vast selection of cured meats and cheese. We both love our food and this is more than enough of a reason to select Tandil for the evening.

We aren’t disappointed and it proved to be one of my favourite Argentinian cities. Epocha de Quesos, the cured meat and cheese restaurant, was charming and the delicious artisan food whets our appetite for what lies in store for us in Buenos Aires. We settled there for a couple days to take some time out from the long days of driving that preceded.

Our hotel overlooked the main plaza and provided easy access to galleries and restaurants. For my part, I had to work and progress the due diligence for the company I was selling and we found a balance of work and play between us over several lazy days in Tandil.

Epocha de Quesos: The first gourmet food we’d found since leaving Ushuaia

I can’t describe our excitement as we walked into the building and be greeted with this selection of cheeses and cured meats. 14-hours on the road is more than enough to build an appetite and thirst for wine

While I don’t always cherish having to work from the road, more often than not it beats having to work from the office back home

The sun setting is a natural alarm clock: time for a beer

Arriving in Buenos Aires:

Arriving in Buenos Aires was very significant to both of us in different ways. We had both been travelling through South America for almost a year and for both of us, this was essentially the last stop. It was time for rest, to take stock of what we’d seen and done, who we’d met and the experiences we’d both had over the incredible year that brought us both to this point.

For his part, this would be Fabrizio’s final stop before returning to Italy. His trade is restaurants and he’s very good at what he does, having worked as Restaurant Director and Wine Director at some of the world’s best restaurants and resorts including the Ritz-Carlton, Wynn and Rosewood Hotels across Europe and Asia. My understanding was that if you had one Michelin star and needed a second, you brought him in to take your restaurant to the next level. His sabbatical had come to an end and he would return to Italy for some time with family before pursuing his next opportunity. Little did he know at the time, the coronavirus would destroy his chances of finding work in Asia and subsequently have him locked down in northern Italy for some time.

For me, I’d been dreaming about living in Buenos Aires for ten years now and it had been my goal for the trip from the beginning. I pulled into the city almost exactly a year after I began in Vancouver in mid-November of 2018. Once upon a time as a backpacker in 2010, I’d fallen in love with the Autonomous City of Buenos Aires and promised to return shortly to make a life there. It wasn’t to be back then but this was my chance to fulfil that dream and make Buenos Aires my home for up to six months before my overland trip across Africa began. I didn’t realise at the time that coronavirus would cut that short and I would return to my place of birth in Perth, Australia to wait out the global crisis caused by the virus.

To plot the most direct driving route from Vancouver to Anchorage, down to Ushuaia and up to Buenos Aires was just shy of 28,000km – but in my meanderings through the continents, I’d covered almost double this distance and the odometer was registering a little more than 50,000km to see me into the city. The year in which I covered that distance was the best year of my life.

Fabrizio and I would spend about a week together sharing an apartment before I’d eventually take him to the airport to return to Italy. In that time, we got our bearings in the city and played tourist but more importantly spoiled ourselves rotten with food and wine, eating at some of the best steak restaurants in the world, enjoying degustation menus and sampling as many local Argentinian delicacies as we could get our hands on.

It was sad to say goodbye as he returned home and I set about making my life in the nation’s capital. But Fabri was ready to go home and work again. And I was ready for a new chapter and to take some time out from the road. I found myself a parking space for the car, which I wouldn’t need for the most part, and a lovely apartment next to the country’s best steak restaurant and I began to reach out to my many Argentinian friends that lived in BA that I’d met along my travels. While my time there would be cut short as covid-19 swept the world and I would return to Australia to be with family, Buenos Aires would become my home for almost the next five months and very joyful chapter of my life.