ROARR - Rythm of a Road Rallies

Great Game and Great Arc

Two Fools and Their Mistress

Patagonia Tales

Coleque to Rio Mata – Of all the Drives I have done, this remains the most foolish and as close to Death I have come. Not because of any near accident or highwaymen: I just underestimated the environment and the changing weather across the Argentine pampas.

This is the tale of two fools and their Mistress.

Jim and I left Coihaique, Chile, late afternoon with the sun still shining bright above the Alfa, and proceeded to chase the sun east across the Argentine border and in so doing enjoyed whipping up long tails of bellowing dust behind us.

We had a clear plan of taking rest at the border town; a well defined town on an international map. The run to the border caused us no problem, simply the road remained unremarkable quite for the entire journey, making us doubt if we were on the right road! When our eyes caught sight of the border sign rising out of the long rolling barren landscape - ‘Malvinas belong to Argentina’, - we both knew then, with some trepidation, this was the right road to the Argentine, possibly the Wrong road for two Englishmen.

The sign aside, the border guards posted to this desolate post - as desolate as their poor father soldiers had been posted 25 years past onto bleak islands of the Atlantic - made us as welcome as they would any Foreigner, rather than as Englishmen ready to squabbling over islands(!)

We were, I am sure, the first car of the day, if not all week! And this showed in their agreeable smiles, even if bemused no end over an old Alfa Romeo with no roof, and her confusing accompanying paperwork. Forms past back and forth, pleasurable gestures flowed between us all until eventually Jim and I were free to be on our way to drive deeper in the Big Lands and risk being seen no more.

This inhospitable road over the Andes travels at over 3000ft. There are no high peaks; on the contrary a vista of wonderful rolling countryside of burnt yellow ferns from the ever present wind keeps this backdrop bare.

As I have said Alta Rio Mayo may have a presence on international maps, and in so doing gives an illusion of a reasonable expectation from this Dot. I do not think it had more than four buildings, two locked, two derelicts.

Jim and I had not seen a single car or a single person since the border and would not until the early hours of the following morning.

Fortunately the daylight remained high and 75 km further on the next town on our international map of the Argentina, Centro Rio Mayo (again a Dot is a better explanation, town’s and Dot’s have the same status) we both hoped would see the end of this day’s drive. The further on we travelled along the repio the point of no return was before long reached.

The falling light was one concern, an Alfa with dying oil pressure and little oil another. The Cold entrapping us to play on our Minds, and then the heater sputtered dust and Died first.

As the sun fell away and the Lamps of Heaven came out Jim spoke for us both ‘This is not ideal terrain for an open broken car on our own.’ I could only mumble back, more talking to myself, that he had stated no more than the obvious, and if this is all he could say, best not said. I do not think he heard me for he was pulling the blanket closer to stop his shivering, and to do so drew his neck into his round shoulders and continued to gaze over the top of his glasses into the distant dark beyond.
Centro Rio Mayo offered no rest to two extremely weary drivers, even if there was life here at this Dot. There was no understanding to our predicament, no hotel, no fuel, no restaurant, not even the local Mate (very common Argentine hot brew) on offer, only the frightening stares of the Locals at Outsiders in an eerie open car.

And so we carried on. Slow 75km toil across Patagonia to the next Dot of Rio Mayo. As the sun fell the temperature followed very rapidly. The wind was still and the night cloudless. However, soon it was bitterly Cold. It was dismal looking out into the blackness of the pampas, and we both knew home was a long, long way away. As the hours passed and the temperature fell to below freeing both Jim and I, without saying as much to each other, a night under these stars would be the end of us.

We stopped once to pull on more clothing to try to stop shivering, including three pairs of Socks each. But still my hands and feet froze solid and all I could do was watch the falling pressure gauge which seemed to be exceptionally clear in the darkness as if to make fun of an edgy driver. Then on repio that had never given any trouble, I saw, and can still see, this smooth half shaped solid rugby ball lying in wait and taking advantage of our weak lights to smash into our sump guard. It flicked the sump guard away and lifted high the frontage of the car, cracking the sump once protected. To listen in blackness to this Bolder bounce all along the under part of the car, finally leaping and bouncing away all along the repio behind, the Devil - with laughter from his work in the seconds it takes – flash’s brutally to you the forthcoming consequences.

Yet nothing was said, for there seemed little point in saying what we felt to add further gloom to this pitiable moment. The damage was done to finish us. Oil was now spilling out and the gauge fell further and the Cold seem ever more biting. A desolate loneliness settled upon us.

With Gods faith we carried on and hoped we may at least be able to limp home.

The only beauty was the Heavens. I have never seen such a wonderful night of stars. Before the Rock changed our sentiment and our emotions became fearful, we had even slowed, turned off our lights and stared high at one of nature’s most beautiful sights. It’s a pity that modern living draws a net curtain over such a breathtaking outlook.

We did limp into Rio Mayo in the very early morning, for fortune had smiled on us.

I will just add that the following day I woke refreshed to reflect on the foolhardiness of our drive, our great good luck, and the appalling dangers that can jump at the unprepared. The wet dirt streets of Rio were iced over and the red Alfa covered in White frost.

To find a hotel to do justice to the start of the Patagonia Rally in Buenos Aries has been elusive. There is the Alvear Palace, considered by many as the Argentine Finest; however it lacks presence, so lacks charisma as it sits at the end of a long terrace. A great hotel I would not want anyone to doubt, and in the fashion of a period palace, but as I say lacks presence and without gardens. You would have expected me to have done better.

And Jim & I have done so! (With a little help from our new man in Buenos Aries.)

The Palacio Duhau, built in 1934, is the defining architecture of the French. Soft stone and colonnades, high slate roofs, ironwork and crystal chandeliers all recalling the Belle Époque, the Beautiful Era before the 1st World War. And then the gardens....I will say no more for it will be one of the great delights of the rally. An ideal palace to prepare for our Expedition to the Big Lands of Patagonia.

And she is dancing like a whore! The pleading stare in her eyes, the indifferent look of the male as he dismisses her brazen gestures away. Then with a change in this Unrestrainable dance - pulls her tight to tease, showing contempt, nonetheless they dance together; the Slow Brooding tango.

Buenos Aries is Tango, and they tango here like no other city. A dance born from Slavery, from the Slums and from the Brothels’; out of Africa and out of Spain.

There are two types of clubs. Clubs where you solicit a Partner, or Partners, to fuse together in tango and allow the night to pass away in dance. Or the clubs where you can go to watch those that can tango. The working class San Telmo has many of both. Or visit the old docks of Le Boca to see street tango or pay a visit to any number of her clubs.

Jim has been in Buenos Aries for the past month, learning tango and organising the rally team. Hotels are shaping up in all different shapes and sizes. Insurance for our cars is now prearranged for both Argentina and Chile. Jim has put in order the shipping team, so well organised the Landy was out of docks in 4 hours. Our support team in Buenos Aries is shaping up well.
Jim is now finally away from Buenos Aries driving the expedition Land Rover. First drive is the cost road, followed by the hinterlands, before deciding on the final route across the Big Lands to Tierra del Fuego. Onto the Beautiful Lands to recce the how and where to drive the Pacific coast north to Valparaiso and onto Santiago.

0ne of the mysteries of the road has been solved. At odd intervals along the road you will see small Dog Kennels with flags, crosses, looking like shrines for the Dead of the Road. Apparently they are shrines to their equivalent of Robin Hood. This is a Character you lived in the North robbing the rich and gave to the poor.

People place cigarettes, wine and such or just water in the shrine. There is sometimes a picture likeness of Him in situ. We even watched families gather and picnic around the kennels in merriment and we supposed wrongly in bereavement.

For those on the Patagonia Rally, you too will drive the road from Coihaique to Rio Mayo.