Surf's up in Punta del Diablo

After spending the last 4 months in Patagonia, trekking, climbing, riding dust, winds, pampas to giant peak landscapes. Ocean, sunshine and surf was on my mind. I needed to get back into the ocean. Clean up some of that patagonia dust.
Not knowing much information on this little country nested between giant Argentina and Brazil, Uruguya was a mystery to me.
A friend of mine had sent an email checklist of a few little towns to check out. So I set off for the farther one north... Punta del Diablo.

Punta del Diablo " Devil's point or end" is a small fishing village situated 40 kms away from the Brazil border. In high season it can reach a tourist population of approx 20 to 25 thousand people! 99% tourists from Argentina and Brazil coming to enjoy the sun, beautiful beaches and surf. In low season, april - oct, the place turns into a ghost town of approx 500 locals. You get the beach, waves & sun... all to yourself. With several eatery joints open and only few hostels still running. Punta del Diablo turns into Diablo Tranquilo.

I rolled in town on still fairly busy time. Riding in the small pueblo along the wooden tin shacks, sandy road. Trying not to run into Mr. tong Argentina and miss watermelon size rack. I stopped to ask where I could find Hostel Diablo Tranquilo. They point out the way and not even 1/4 mile down the road, I was lost in a maze of mini beach casas and fisherman shacks.
Pulling in the Diablo Tranquilo, it's name stood for itself. Backpackers swinging on the porch hammocks and chill vibe tunes welcoming your presence. I knew right away I had found the perfect zone I was looking for the next few weeks while I needed to wait for my new passport. ( I had no more pages left in my passport after 2 1/2 years on the road). I unpacked my bike and instantly went looking around to rent a surfboard. I needed some ocean time.

Base camp was set. My tent in the back of the hostel under the shady tarp. Now I needed to buy a surfboard. No way I was going to rent everyday. Happen to be lucky and next door friend Diego had exactly what I needed. Killed the bank account and went to work at sea. Perfect meter to two meter waves were pumping during a good solid week. My days were spent in the water. - clean that patagonia dust!
Evenings stories were shared at night over few beers and wine with travel tails and tips. Diablo Tranquilo became a home away from home for few travelers. Some end up staying several months helping out in kitchen/ bar or at the reception. Others are on their way thru towards Brazil or Argentina. Another Yerba Mate is brewed, time to hit more surf. No more then a dozen surfers are out. Some days I would be in the water alone! The town turns into a ghost town after Semana Santa is over. ( April 4th) April brings some of the best swells so it's a good time to be here.
Weeks have passed by fast. It's getting closer to winter now so the ocean is colder and chill evenings. It's time to head north... I have my Brazil visa stamped in my freshly new passport. A stretch of 1000 kms to my next destination... Imbituba Brazil.


Hostel - Bar El Diablo Tranquilo, the perfect spot to chill.

Classic fisherman home in Punta del Diablo.

Home away from home...

Land of the Yerba Mate... little history...

The Yerba Mate tradition originated with the Guarani Indians living in remote parts of South America long before any of the Spanish settlers colonized it. These natives would hand-carve gourds from the Lagenaria vulgaris trees and use the crushed leaves to fill the hollowed out gourd. They would then use a widdled stick to drink the infusion.
Drinking yerba mate has evolved over the years to an actual art expressed in the extreme diversity in types of Mates and Bombillas. These range in style and price from hand carved, leather covered, as well as silver and gold plated mates. Many people express themselves with customized Mate gourds engraved with inscriptions, along with bombillas with their own initials. The possibilities are endless.
It has grown to be a popular social habit connecting tradition and strengthening the bond of companionship and fellowship between friends and family with the people living in Uruguay, Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil.
The Natural effects of this tea are far beyond those of any other herbal teas. The list of benefits continues to grow. Reports of new uses and discoveries of benefits are being reported everyday. We have even heard of this ritual being used to eliminate or ease the suffering of severe diseases such as; hepatitis, HIV/AIDS, cancer and arthritis.

Seguro!!!

Arriving at the Uruguyan border, I could almost smell the ocean breeze- (300 kms away!) I was looking forward to some beach time. Last time I surfed was in Pichilemu, Chile back in december and water was to cold for my taste. So I needed some warm water and surf. Enough Patagonia winds, bad roads and cold temps.
Passport stamped OUT of Argentina, stamp IN Uruguay. Now bike paperwork. I walked in the Aduana officina where two men were chatting and not really paying attention to my presence. Five minutes later, one of them asked me what I wanted. (Thanks for asking!) I tell them I need to enter my motorbike. I give the man my passport and bike papers. " Seguro!" he asked. Great... I give him my expired insurance papers. " Seguro" he says again. "This is my insurance from Canada" I tell him. But he didn't buy it.
So I asked if I could buy insurance here. The man takes off for 15 minutes, walking around, completely ignoring me, eventually coming back with a piece of paper and a phone number. He tries the number - line is busy - After trying over and over. The other man beside him tells him that it is the wrong number! He was misreading the numbers. So he tries another number, he speaks with another man at the end of the line then passes me the phone. The man on the phone asked me what I wanted. " Seguro" I told him. He tells me it would cost $150 for 10 days insurance!! " What!" Why would it be this expensive when they allow me to enter with my bike for a year in Uruguya! It just didn't make any sense. He then tells me he is on a cell phone and doesn't have time for me, "You want insurance or not?" I just hung up the phone. - Ya right.. for $150 - real joke! Gringo price!!!
I tried to work my way around getting the bike in then get insurance in the next town. No way, " No Seguro" No Moto... I heard that one before! The Aduana guy told me I could go in Uruguya no problem, but not my bike... So now my only option was to go back 20 kms to the last town in Argentina to see if I could buy insurance at a reasonable price. I now have my passport stamp OUT or Argentina, which means doing all the bike paper work once again and risking having the same stupid insurance problem for coming back in Argentina! I explained my situation to the immigration officer. He stamped my passport back in and told me I had to enter no later then 7pm tonight since my bike was already OUT of Argentina. If not It was going to be illegally in Argentina.
So off I go back to Colon. Asking around town for a Seguro office, no one seemed to know where it was. Eventually I found one. Closed!! - Great - it open at five. I go back at five o'clock, 15 minutes later I got insurance for less then $15 for 30 days. I guess the Seguro guy from Uruguya was ripping me off 200%.
So far along my journey, insurance had never been an issue. Never once I need to show any. If you get into an accident, it comes out of your pocket anyways, as a Gringo, they won't cover you and Insurance from Canada won't cover you once you leave USA. Your only insurance on the road... is your riding skills and stay away from trouble.
Now in Uruguya and Brazil, insurance are a must, you buy some at a Seguro office, you pay little $$ then off you go. who knows what it really covers?? It saves you a ticket!

Finally got my insurance sorted out, so back to the border. The Aduana officer was happy, I was happy, got my stamp, got my temporary bike import (good for one year in Uruguya!) It was now getting dark. Rode around to find a camp spot in Paysandu, Uruguya border town. Ended up sleeping on the a beach along the Rio Uruguya. Excited to be in a new country and now with my feet in the sand. The smell of the ocean was nearer. I feel asleep dreaming of surfing.....


Palm trees, usually means beach not too far!

Roads along the interior of Uruguya.



My friend Tiziana and I filling our faces in Uruguyan giant Ice cream.

Here in South America, Maxim magazine have slightly different cover shots! Maybe I need to change my field of photography or just get a job shooting for Maxim South America?


I was thinking of trading my bike for this one!

Epics along the road...

Everyday is an adventure while riding in South America. One day can be rinding perfect paved roads in sunshine, or riding in 150 kms winds, or heavy rain, cold or extremely hot, dirt roads that never end, or the most beautiful scenery you never want to end....
Some days, bad or good epics, no matter what... you will always remember them all.

Leaving Cordoba was smooth going along *tranquilo* traffic. I arrived at a construction area on the highway and got confused on the road I had to take to make my way east - towards Uruguay. I decided to pull out at a gas station so I could look at my map to see the highway # I'm supposed to take. Some trucker guy says something to me from distance, blabbing about a bag. At first I didn't quite get what he was telling me, until he described my yellow dry bag. My dry bag that holds some spare parts and tools. He's trying to tell me that another trucker has driven off with it??? I looked at him all puzzled until I realize that yes, my bag was messing!!! I did loose it along the construction pot hole road!!
So here I am riding full speed down the dirt road next to the highway trying to catch up to this trucker.
Several minutes later I approached the semi truck, breathing in all his dust and honking at him. I then passe him making sign to pull over. The guy looks at me with a big smile, " Mi bolsa!!!" He reached on the passenger seat and handed my yellow bag from his window.
" Gracias Senior, Gracias!!!" Happy to have retrieve my bag. I rode back to the gas station. Thinking about if the trucker thought he had scored or was taking my bag somewhere down the road.
I was pretty lucky to have it back. If I would of been on the right road and not pull out at the gas station.... I wouldn't of had my tool kit! It would of been "Gonzo!"
I strapped my dry bag back to my bike and rode off. While thinking about my funny epic, I miss the stupid turn off once again!!! So here I am making detours on some dirt road that fallows the highway thru homes and backyards. Finally, I saw the sign and I was back on track.

Approaching small towns, I often run into police checks. So far since Canada, everytime I had been stopped, police would look at my bike, ask me where I was from, maybe ask for my passport, but mostly just my bike papers - registration and temporary country import paper.
This time, Mr officer * Mauricio* asked me my insurance papers. ( I haven't had any bike insurance to date since I left Mexico in 2008!) Insurance from Canada wont cover much down here in South America. So here I am trying to explain Mr. Officer *Mauricio* my insurance wouldn't cover me even if i would have some. " Seguro" he kept telling me. (your insurance) I showed him my papers, some old expired insurance and told him it was still good, only the date was off since I couldn't get a new paper from Canada. The bike is mine, registered in Canada and papers match my name. I have passed thru every country so far, including in and out of Argentina over a dozen times! Never once I have been asked to show insurance, if a country insist on insurance, I would then buy some before entering the country. But never once I was told in Argentina was necessary.
For Officer Mauricio, it was very necessary. After 15 minutes of dealing next to my bike under the 30 degree blazing sun, Officer Mauricio asked me to join him inside the little brick police shack to deal with the issue. Another officer was inside. Now one of them flipping thru the pages of my full of stamps passport. The other, flipping thru a photocopy home made paper booklet, * National road rules of Argentina *. He then read me the rules in Spanish - in Argentina, insurance are mandatory for all vehicles traveling on national roads. Once again, trying to explain in my best spanish that when I cross the borders, I always ask if I need insurance since mine from Canada didn't cover me. Never I was told I did. But here, on this part of the country, only several hundred kms from Uruguayan border, after over 10 000 kms of riding in Argentina, I did need insurance! So what should I do now?? Mr. Officer * Mauricio* holding my passport and driver's license in his right hand, flapping it on his desk - " No seguro - No moto!" then puts my documents in his little drawer. You need to pay 450 pesos! or no moto.
"450 pesos!!" I'm pist, but doing my best at holding my frustration. Over an hour later of arguments, trying to deal with the issue with best spanish. Still no moto until I paid something. "I give you a discount" he says. "Pay 250 pesos, you get moto".
Their was nothing more to do then pay a stupid $60 ticket - cash! He hands me a ticket receipt (for my souvenir collection) got my passport and driver's license back. He then tells me "if you get stopped again, show them this, you will be fine!" - "Bueno" I said, and rode off.

Not even 50 kms down the road, another Mr. Officer *Juan* asked me the same thing, "Seguro" showed him my papers, explained my past issue with Mr. Officer Mauricio. " Muy bien" he says. "Gracias" - Thank god! ... I was back on the road. - Like they didn't just spoke together on radios! * watch for a gringo coming your way, maybe you can get a few bucks from him!

Now I'm riding down the highway, glad to not see anymore Mr. Officers when a bus comes passing by me with the door open, a young kid was standing in the door frame with my dam yellow dry bag!!! I don't know how, but it fell off again. The bus indicates to pull over, the young fellow runs up to me and hands me my dry bag. I couldn't believe it. I might be having bad luck loosing this bag - but for some reason it comes back!

I get to a small town where I stop to eat and relax for a while. Still frustrated about paying a ticket after so much time riding thru Argentina. Laughing about my mysterious yellow dry bag and how lucky I was to have it back after loosing it on a highway twice.
Back on the road again, I start to accelerate out of town and notice something strange with my steering. I look down at the front tire and realize it's going flat. Trying to slow down without loosing control at 70 kms hour. A car was coming straight at me realizing that I'm loosing control. So he tries to steer away from me. I do my best holding it together steering towards the side of the road, trying not to drop my bike flat in front of the coming car or crash into the telephone pole coming right at me. I put all my force and mind power holding on to the bars. Finally, all came to a stop.
Heartbeat pumping at 8000 rpm, pale as a ghost! I took several minutes to take deep breathes and let my heart rate back to normal. I rolled back towards town with my flat wobbly front tire on the side of the road. Lucky enough there was a *gomeria* - tire fixing place - 500 meters away. Talk about luck again!
I tell my near death story to Mr. Gomeria at *El Gordo* while helping taking off my front wheel. He didn't seem very amazed with my story.
Several minutes later my tire was fixed for less then $5 bucks, he put my wheel back on. Waved him goodbye and got back on the road - little slow at first... I rode into the colorful sky with the sun setting,- enough epics for a day I told myself. Time to look for a camping spot.

Helping Mr. Tire Fixer at the Gomeria.


Mr. Tire Fixer - the Expert - fix my tire in less then 5 minutes! Notice the white bucket on the table of fresh pig flesh! mmm Yummmi!


Sky along the way.

Roads along the way...

My bike still looks pretty good after a wash, over 60 000 kms on the clock!

Good old classic Argentinean car.

Argentina as the best gas stations in the world! I wish our own country Canada or USA could have the same...
WIFI, good espresso, good food, full service, showers, cheap gas, even sells wine! - what more can you ask for. OH and some of them yo can camp in the back!
Argentinean gas stations is what i will miss the most.

Must of been a soccer game that day! or just an Argentinean way to save labor money?

A visit at Casa de Che Guevara in Alta Gracia.

The route map.
In 1948, Guevara entered the University of Buenos Aires to study medicine. But in 1951, he took a year off from studies to embark on a trip traversing South America by motorcycle with his friend Alberto Granado, with the final goal of spending a few weeks volunteering at the San Pablo Leper colony in Peru, on the banks of the Amazon River. On the way to Machu Picchu high in the Andes, he was struck by the crushing poverty of the remote rural areas, where peasant farmers worked small plots of land owned by wealthy landlords.
Later on his journey, Guevara was especially impressed by the camaraderie among those living in a Leper Colony, stating "The highest forms of human solidarity and loyalty arise among such lonely and desperate people." Guevara used notes taken during this trip to write an account entitled The Motorcycle Diaries, which later became a New York Times best-seller and was adapted into a 2004 award-winning film of the same name.
By trip's end, he came to view Latin America not as collection of separate nations, but as a single entity requiring a continent-wide liberation strategy. His conception of a borderless, united Hispanic America sharing a common 'Latino' heritage was a theme that prominently recurred during his later revolutionary activities. Upon returning to Argentina, he completed his studies and received his medical degree in June 1953, making him officially "Dr. Ernesto Guevara." Guevara later remarked that through his travels of Latin America, he came in "close contact with poverty, hunger and disease" along with the "inability to treat a child because of lack of money" and "stupefaction provoked by the continual hunger and punishment" that leads a father to "accept the loss of a son as an unimportant accident." It was these experiences which Guevara cites as convincing him that in order to "help these people", he needed to leave the realm of medicine, and consider the political arena of armed struggle.

Che at age 22 - 1951.

The kitchen.

Front of the house in Alta Gracia near Cordoba.

Lot more simple packing then me... his only bag!

Nice tires!

The Motorcycle!
Guevara travelled 8,000 kilometres (5,000 mi) across South America on a 1939 Norton 500 cc, named *La Poderosa* -The Mighty One -

Earthquake madness...

Right place at the right time is right!
I arrived back to Bariloche after an epic ride up Carretera Austral, Chile. Lost most of my clothes while riding too fast on the ripio road. My side dry bag had been getting loose on the rack after a bungy snapped. Next thing you know, I have a weird smell coming from my bike. It was my patagonia organic clothes burning away on the muffler.
Arriving in Bariloche with one t-shirt, shopping was on my list, so I spent the day walking around to find a new t shirt.
It was nice to be back in * La Bolsa del Deporte* #1 hostel up to date! Felt like coming home, great coffee, best crepes with Dulce de Leche... yummi. I need to relax a few days after my epic journey of Patagonia winds and rough roads.
The next day was spent putting grease all over my new shirt while doing an oil change and welding repairs - once again my rack got killed on the Ripio. (bad road)
I heard the crazy news on tv about a major earthquake at 8.8 on scale! occurred off the coast of the Maule Region of Chile on February 27, at 03:34 in the morning. I couldn't believe I was there 2 days before! in Chile, riding from Island of Chiloe. It was a sad thing to see the damage of tsunami's hitting the coast line. I rode down that coast exactly 3 months before! what if it would of happen while I was sleeping in my tent, next to the ocean! at the exact target spot.
I just couldn't believe ... The same thing had happen to me in Thailand 2003 while I was camping on Chicken Island for xmas with a bunch of friends... year after, same day, exact same spot the Island got hit with a Tsunami.
Better be at the right place at the right time!

All tunned up, greased up. I was ready to hit the road northbound Ruta 40 towards Cordoba, over 1800 kms. One city I had yet been too, so why not check it out. The 3 day mission to get there was long. Long distance of flat roads across the Pampas. I felt like I was driving across Canada in the middle of the prairies for 3 days! - Same same but different.
Cordoba is a nice city. Beautiful architecture, fairly tranquilo for a city. Great place for too much ice cream And near by the house of * Che Guevara * - an Argentine Marxist revolutionary, physician, author, intellectual, guerrilla leader, diplomat, military theorist, and major figure of the Cuban Revolution.
A visiting to his house and to see the original motorcycle of the * Motorcycle Diaries * was a must do~

Down the Ripio road...