Somewhere in Uraguay there is a VERY large pile of Eucalyptus bark...

Traveled Concordia to la frontera at Colon - there was literally kilometers of trucks lined up at the border waiting for some magical paper allowing them to cross. I was greeted by an Aduana officer who couldn't figure out his job to save his life - even after he followed me through to the Uraguayan office asking inane questions (where was the paper I gave him 5 minutes ago...) - three times - before their jefe finally asked what his problem was...

While traveling south, cutting across most of the country, I kept seeing these monster trailers loaded with eucalyptus logs that had been stripped of bark - lots of them. During a short lunch six trucks rolled past. I'm guessing there is at least 20 tons of logs on each - all heading to the controversial new pulp mill on the river, so I followed one - Cowabunga Batman, that place is HUGE. Argentine picketers have determined international foreign policy and the border crossing nearest the plant remains closed as a result.

My little paper mill excursion cost me time - I missed the cut off for the five o'clock ferry by ten minutes.

I crossed through several districts of Uraguay and didn't encounter one military, police, or tax check point - how do they survive?

Uraguay has become a country motivated by cheap chinese mopeds - they are everywhere, in droves or flocks or herds.

I'm on the Buquebus now and 5 minutes out of Buenos Aires. The crossing was expensive - U$ 2,166 bongos, about U$S100.

Just over 2,000 miles this trip.

Gotta go... Buenas noches

Nick

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Back to Concordia - the Mesopatomia of Argentina (who knew?)

Did the grind back to Concordia - 660 km of medium to bad roads with construction along 60% of the route. They are building a true interstate system.
I'm convinced the cops in Entre Rios have a scam on - my GPS tells me when I'm crossing state lines so as I approached Entre Rios I dialed it back - sure enough, there is a check point just past the border and, true to form, I get signaled over for inspection. All the other checks today it's "where ya from" "where ya going", "have a good day" - at this check point the officers look at the bike, do a quick huddle, and a woman comes over; does she ask for license and title like and other document inspection? Nice try, Guess again... The first word out of her mouth is Seguro! She wants my proof of insurance, required by law, but which no foreigners have. When I reached into my wallet and pulled out my certificate she went bug-eyes, checked it against the bike, and then shouted over to her co-conspirators (in shock) - he has it! The jefe (boss) waved her off and she gave me my card, waved me off, turned around and stomped off. I smiled, cursed, and twisted throttle.
I'll say it again - I don't understand why they tollerate the police-state mentality on their roads.
BTW, Getting insurance took me, working with local friends making calls, two days. Then, when I got the policy in the mail several weeks later about 50% of the lines which had customer data were wrong and it took two trips and several faxed documents and several weeks more to correct the policy. Needless to say, when I renewed, I didn't shop the policy.
I'm back at the great parrilla I visited on the way north but changed hotels to one with a star (1) - likely issued in the 40's - but at least they had a room with something larger than a child's bed - the first place I checked into didn't, so I left .
Tomorrow I cross into Uruguay and run down the river to the old port of Colonia where I will catch the ferry to Buenos Aires. Its a longer day than staying in Argentina but Mr. Moto needs new papers and leaving the country is the easiest way to get them. I'm not looking forward to two international borders but when in Rome... play by their rules and smile (or leave, because it just doesn't pay to buck the system).
It's too bad I'm home tomorrow because I've just got all my moto-muscles in shape (well, almost; now I remember why I spent the $ on the custom seat, which I brought back to the USofA - stupid).
I'm also wondering why I've never seen Pamplona Chicken on a menu anywhere else? Try it!

Nick
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La Bonita to Posadas

Heading south. Route 2 was designed for motos - no traffic, rolling hills with swoopy curves. I took it as far as I could before cutting across the state for the night - the selection further south on that road was slim and none and I didn't want to be forced to ride into the cold night (violins please).
En route I stopped at this little wide spot in the road and stumbled into a brazilian barbecue place extrordinaire! All the various meats plus salads and veggies you can eat for $28 pesos including the beer - Tasty! Even better - the place was full of fun locals speaking german with brazilian accents. The owner sat down to chat as he was serving me explaining about his crazy customers - when he got my story he and every teenager around had to go out and look at the bike.
The final run into Posadas was uneventful and I'm back at the same comfortable hotel.
Tomorrow I divert into Uruguay.
Nick
via BlackBerry

Posada La Bonita in the jungle along the Argentina-Brazil Border

Traveled all of 130 km yesterday to the Brazilian border and then along the river looking for a little piece of paradise - I found it at a little group of cabins called La Bonita 18 km off the paved road. German suggested it and the locals could believe I found it.
I got lucky!
It is a winter school holiday now and they were booked full - the owner was on the property (rare) and insisted I take his cabin - he also has an older house on the property but the cabin has THE view. We shared a lunch and then I toured the property and discovered why he bought it - he owns a magnificent waterfall. I later heard the story about his country wide search until, after looking at 50 waterfalls, he discovered this one and found a way to buy it.
The posada is run like a micro resort with a wonderful family that oversees all operations and mom must have attended the regional culinary institute - spectacular food. I watched her make everything from the bread, to the soup, pasta, pasta filling (her mother made the ricotta cheese used in the ravioli filling), and the sauce from scratch, while one of the kids peeled apples that became manzana tarta for desert. Everything was served family style for all the guests. A real treat!
The cabins are rustic/artistic/functional and the upper property (previously clear cut) is just ok, but the placement of the cabins at the forest edge, combined with gracious hospitality really makes the place.
Later that night I learned that my cabin was 10 km away so we hopped in a 4X4 and headed out. The upper property has a small lodge and two cabins overlooking... the world.
In the morning I was served fresh juice, coffee con leche, and warm toast with homemade jams on my balcony. Then a chico offered me a trek on a trail used by ox carts directly through the jungle to the lower lodge - it was only three km so off we went - beautiful, but an enduro would have been challenged to travel it.
Back at the lodge I made the circuit of the falls again to get a foto and now I am heading out - it rained overnight and the weather is clear forever - the road south is calling...
If you get the opportunity to come here - do it.
Nick
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Puerto Iguazu to San Vincente

A beautiful start with a few rough patches.
Left Iguazu late morning after finding a little cafe that served a real breakfast and headed for the northern route around Misiones. It's paved for the first 30 km and then turns into dirt, dense red clay occasionally strewn with rocks to be correct. About 10 minutes in it starts to rain and my jungle ride turns into a jungle adventure - the red clay becomes red snot and the slightest incline a slippery slide. If you look closely at the fallen moto foto you'll see where just the slight grade change in the lane caused the wheels to start sliding sideways and me to get a facefull of mud before I even knew what was happening. Helmets are good things. Fortunately I had slowed way down so it was really only a little insulin rush and then putting things right. The shear bolt for the right bag did its shear thing but I carry extra - getting the bike picked up while standing in slime proved to be the most challenge - I had to stomp some branches into the mud to get traction. Five meters away was a running stream that I used to get cleaned up and I was off.
At the end of the mud road I ran into Brazil so I turned right and promptly hit a police check-point. They saw me and assumed that I was a crazy border-hopping brasilero. So after presenting every document I carry while standing in the rain they remained unconvinced - he made me show him my entry stamp in my passport and couldn't believe I had ridden up to gods country for no good reason - he then got on the radio and checked every border crossing and with every local who would talk to him. When I got pissy (and I did) he told my to calm my jets. When he couldn't get me for whatever I was off and headed south.
The country is jungle gone to agriculture and beautiful. On a sunday afternoon seemingly everybody was out doing something - primarily kids playing soccer and people out for strolls along the road - there are no cities and even the towns are small but with parks full of people just sitting and visiting.
Intermittently throughout the day I rode through patches of rain and twice got pelted with hail - fortunately I was never cold and infrequent rain is nothing. I pushed through San Pedro (sore ass syndrome after 4 days riding) and made it to San Vincente where I expected a pocket of civilization. Nyet! Still too close to Bolivia I guess - my hotel choices were bad and worse - it was a coin toss having picked the one with what appeared to be a working heater - nyet again, it just makes noise like a heater should, a light bulb makes more heat. The hotel keeper helped me clean the worst of the mud from my outer garments and built a fire to help them dry out. Dinner was a bust because the resto down the road was colder inside than out so I left. We scared up a burger, salad and beer locally and chatted for awhile. Turns out its forecast to freeze again tomorrow so I might just hop over the fence to the Uruguay River where I hear there is a real pseudo-resort - if I find it, and if they have heat, I might just honker down and do nothin' (kinda like now - this place rolled up the sidewalks hours ago.)
This section of the country is really friendly - I think I got more waves today than any day ever. Every stop the bike got lots of attention - I don't think they get many international travelers on this side of the state and certainly not many like me.
It also appears to be somewhat poorer and with a significant Brazilian influence on the language and peoples appearance.
Tomorrow I will likely play tourist.
Whatever bug was trying to invade me failed - I feel good but for normal wind burnt motorcycle face.
I'm going to take a sleeping pill and hope my heater shuts up and starts to act like a heater - then all would be right.
Nick
via BlackBerry

Puerto Iguazu

Drove the last 300 km today arriving Puerto Iguazu. I found all of my motorcycle muscles yesterday, and after 8 cold hours in the saddle I was ready to pass out when I reached Posadas - my hotel choices became primal - creatcher comforts - I chose the first hotel that actually had a thermostat and functioning heater. I cranked it up, consumed way too much hot water, did my shoulder stretching exercises (plus some) and laid down for a nap - I ended up turning the heat down when I woke up at 1:30 AM and went back to bed. I think I'm coming down with whatever you get when you push it while traveling - that or swine flu.
On the Concordia to Posadas leg I rolled through 6 police check-points and had to show documents at one. Today I rolled through 5 unscathed - although I did get pulled over by a cop for speeding, he actually chased me down for going 100 in a 60 kph construction zone (that was unmanned). I did the dumb as dirt routine and when that wasn't working I did the "but everybody speeds" shtick - that only worked when a double-decker bus rolled past us going about 150 and nearly blew us over. He laughed and scolded me. Its true, they all speed out in the middle of nowhere (between the various military, state, federal and tax authority check-points). I saw more naval base signs today than I ever did as I cruised the entire Atlantic coast.
I stopped into the village of San Ignacio this afternoon and saw the 500 year old Jesuit ruins. Pretty impressive. If you've never seen the foreign film "La Misión" you should made a point of special ordering it. Its a fantastic movie that also captures the grandeur of the region. The ruins today, like the church, are in a sad state now but they had some big plans.
When I pulled up to the site all the local boys vied to be my parking extortionist - I chose the youngest grimeyist kid whose territory was furthest from the entrance (probably only 9 years old) - and I gave him a few pesos in advance to watch the bike while I was gone - even though it could be seen for 50 meters in every direction. When I was leaving the older kids were chasing him away but he stood his ground from afar and watched the bike. When I got back there was a group of about 10 boys and they had a camera and were taking turns posing in front of the bike - I let 'em hop on and then bought the lot churipan (a bbq'd sausage in a roll) - after tipping the kid a few more pesos. It was fun.
Toward the end of the ride into Iguazu I was feeling every muscle and a few extra parts too - and had to stop every 30 minutes - just because.
There is a digital thermometer here - it read 11 when I arrived at 16:15 and 8 just a few minutes ago - the sun is setting and its downright cold. The banana trees are all wilting from having been frozen. Its not supposed to get this cold here.
As I was rolling into town a teenager on a moped pulled up next to me and tried to sell me tours - I told him to give me a tour of the towns lodging with heaters - I picked the second place he showed me and he left ten pesos happier.
I dumped the bags and scooted down the street to a resto with an open flame parilla keeping it warm where I watched the world go by for a few hours.
The plan is to circumnavigate the northern reaches of the province that will require a few hours of dirt riding before reaching a tropical resort where I figured to re-charge. Given recent weather I'm questioning the tropical part and my resolve to press on tomorrow - I might just have to kick it for a an extra day here. Maybe I will check out Paraguay; who everybody that I respects says the same thing - tread lightly over there.
. .. ... Stay tuned... .. .
Finally, no foto - no bandwidth.

Nick
via BlackBerry

Concordia, Entre Rios, Argentina

I hopped on Mr. Moto late this morning and headed north - destination Misiones on the northern frontier between Brazil and Paraguay .
I had planned on traveling earlier this week but a nasty COLD weather system rolled up from the antarctic - it snowed just outside the city and the wind was crazy. I used the time to get new tires, change the sprockets and oil and clean the air filter. Heaven forbid a bath - that happened last year. Today, even with all my gear, it felt like I was riding in the extreme south.
I left the city heading inland and then north across the river.
There is an international motorcycle traveler's web site that I checked last night; riders warned of the police along the state-line between Buenos Aires and Entre Rios. True to form, I was pulled over for speeding, radar they claimed, but when I gestured to see the device that became unimportant. It became an obvious for-profit event when the only english word the officer knew was "cash" - my only spanish became "no". Threats were implied; shrugs were offered - I pointed to his ticket pad; a fine was proposed - my speed times two (126 kph X 2 = $252); I became the dumbest human this side of Bolivia and showed him my near-empty wallet; voices were raised; stupidity followed by frustration ensued. Finally he gave up, shoved my documents at me, and told me to be gone. I hesitated until he nearly pushed me away. I thanked him and twisted throttle. Another day on the road - It's become a comical art form.
I'm having my favorite meal in the world accompanied by local wine at a small parrilla in a 200 year old building in rural Argentina. Its a place with 21 tables, all full & with people waiting, and only one waiter - he's busting his hump, I'm laughing (everything was perfect) and leaving a big tip.
They have these huge monster-ugly fish mounted on the wall - normally I associate fresh-water fish with bait; these I might have to come back and visit when its warm.
While walking back to the hotel in the middle of a formerly trolley and cobble-stoned street I started laughing out loud - the mixture of ancient and new architecture among crumbling distorted sidewalks, ladies-who-lunch strolling the park, couples just going out for dinner at 11:30 on a thursday night and a ratty-loud moped scooting along on its way to deliver ice cream - so typical, but only here.
Tomorrow I'm travel north to Posadas, a sub-tropical region famous for its waterfalls.

Nick
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