Lake Pesca on the way to Comodoro RivadaviaI never thought I would ever be sick with the flu and be constipated at the same time, but sure enough, Sean has pulled one off yet again. After being miserably bloated for three days, I finally have excrement coming from all orifices.
However, it is not only me that suffers from illness, my motorcycle has taken the fall with me. It was in Chile, that I heard a noise coming from the motor, which startled me, however, it went away and we continued onto Bariloche for Christmas. After leaving mass early, being that I did not want my pale face to vomit all over God´s living room...she may not like that on Christ´s birthday...I went back to the hotel for a long night´s sleep on Christmas Eve. In Argentina, a loud siren is wailed at midnight for all the kids to come out in the streets and light off many hours worth of fireworks. It was the night before Christmas, and all through the streets, screaming fireworks blowing and children nibbling on treats.
Christmas Day, we woke up and took off south where we found a campsite in San Luis. It was a very small town, with dirt streets connecting with Ruta 40 which passes through. The only shop open on Christmas, was a gas station, where a young lady was restocking goods. It was not really open per say, however, she let me in long enough to call my family and buy a few goods to cook at the campsite. It was on the ride back to the campsite, where the terrible clacking noise began. Looking at the bike later that afternoon, we focused in on the noise and decided it was the bearings in the transmission. These are the same bearings that I had replaced in Kansas City before I left! How could they have gone out on me in such a short amount of time?
I woke up in the middle of the night, terribly bloated and ended up vomiting outside of my tent. The next morning I woke up to the pile outside my tent door and one of my boots missing. A dog had come up to the smell of my vomit, disliked the second hand spaghetti, and took my boot instead. Luckily, I found it 100 yards down the stream still in one piece.
We looked and looked for a truck to take us to Comodoro Rivadavia, a town in southern Argentina on the Atlantic coast, only 1,500 kilometers from Ushuaia. It is a big oil town, with lots of mechanics, and we were hoping for a place to get the bike repaired. Hitch hiking with a 700 pound motorcycle is not very easy, and the heat was getting to me. So I asked my motorcycle for a major favor. I asked her to ride the 250 miles into Comodoro Rivadavia, and promised her a mechanic if she got us there. Sure enough, through miles of desert, past the marshes of Lake Pesca, we made it through the oil fields into Comodoro. By the time we stopped at the first stop light, I could hear here bearings churning...it was death to my ears.
Not finding a mechanic in town that could help us with our problem, we were forced to ship the bike to Buenos Aires for repairs. I found a company that will do is safely for $350, and it will get there on Wednesday. I am going to try out Dakar Motors in B. Aires for the mechanics, and hopefully, I will be headed back south again to Ushuaia in a few weeks.
For now, I am trying to settle the stomach with ice cream, and we are getting ready to push the bike a mile over to the truck company. I will be leaving on Saturday for Buenos Aires in order to meet up with my bike and find it a good doctor to bring here back. I have included a picture of the metal filings that I found on the transmission drain plug as proof. Frustrated, I sit here contemplating my entire trip and the fact that my limbs are still functioning even though my bowels may not be, I remember how lucky I truly am.
Metal filings from the bearings of my transmission...this is really bad for a motorcycle.
