19. The British Club

Thursday, 10 January 2019

Rio Gallegos, Argentina

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gunfire at 0200hrs.

Or is it fireworks?

Or is it a car backfiring?

Either way, it’s enough to wake Touring Taurean from his already disturbed sleep. Had been woken at 0100hrs by people talking outside my window. Windows are paper thin. You can hear a pin drop outside.

Not the best night’s sleep to have before a 600km drive to Rio Gallegos.

Dead calm in the harbour. Its mirror like surface reflecting the blue sky and clouds. First police checkpoint of the day as I drive out of Ushuaia. Policeman makes a flashing motion with his fist. Lights. Not stopped for a document check unlike other cars in front. It’s like driving through the Alps or the Rockies. Snow capped peaks, forests lining the road and a wide open valley. These roads are not Toyota Hilux diesel roads. These roads are Jaguar F-type, 3.0l Supercharged roads. Wow. Stunning scenery at the end of the Andes. Cross the Gabriel Pass and the mountains transform into flat lands. Big sky country. Just like America. Good quality fast roads. And no speed traps. Unlike Europe. Nothing between Ushuaia and Tolhuin. Nothing between Tolhuin and Rio Grande. Mrs Stuttgart had warned to fill up with fuel at every fuel station. I understand why now. They are very far apart. Fill up at Rio Grande, notable for its extensive public street lighting. Never seen anything like it. So many street lights and architectural feature lighting. Plenty of Falkland Island memorials.

Plenty of police check points all along the route. Some manned. Some not. Generally, as you enter/exit a settlement or regional boundary.

Arrive at the border post at San Sebastian. Not been through a proper border control with a car since driving to Istanbul and back in 1997 (yet another blog to do!). It’s the same old rigmarole of getting anything and everything stamped. Border guard wants a slip of paper. I don’t have a slip of paper. Hells bells. The ship must have forgotten to give me the slip of paper when they processed passports for us to arrive in Ushuaia port. Concerned of Nottingham. Guard points to an office and motions that I should go there. Ah. I see. Slip of paper is from there. Phew. Takes a few minutes to have passport stamped in cubicle 1, which is immigration. Cubicle 2 is customs. Hire car papers stamped. Very friendly official speaks good English and asks where I’m going to. Explain. He’s impressed and recommends some very nice lakes to visit in El Calafate. Have encountered nothing but friendliness from all Argentinians I’ve met.

Have to cross into Chile for a while, take a ferry and then cross back into Argentina to get to Rio Gallegos.

Cross the Argentine border and the road turns into a gravel dirt road. For 15km. Slow going. Chilean border crossing. There are two buses in line. Hells bells. Mrs Stuttgart advised getting ahead of buses at border posts as they take ages to process.  They’re all having to get off with their luggage and go through airport style X-ray and body scanners. But. Those driving cars don’t. Cubicle 1 is immigration. Cubicle 2 is customs. Car hire forms stamped. Cubicle 3 is agriculture and such checks to make sure you’re not bring anything in that might damage the environment etc. More forms to fill. There’s a bit of a queue for cubicle 3. It’s the French bus load. Time for payback. Queue jump. It’s taken one hour to go through the two border crossings. Better than the 8hrs it took crossing from Romania to Bulgaria in 1997. And that border crossing is a book’s worth in itself!

Car is given a cursory check by customs and then as the two buses are blocking the exit, am directed to enter Chile via the exit channel.

Good fast roads but it’s chucking it down with rain. Stunning cloud formations though. Ferry to catch at Bahia Azul. Arrive and there’s a long queue. Four buses, a number of lorries and a long line of cars. Fortunately squeeze on and actually find myself at the front end of the ferry. Which means first off. Which means beating the four busloads. Which means getting to the next border crossing in front of the buses. Thinking ahead. Be ahead of the curve.

Next border crossing takes minutes. Both Chilean and Argentinian officials are all in the same hall. Quick and easy. The Chilean customs woman has a nifty set up behind her cubicle. Comfy leather chair. Coffee table. Kettle and TV. For those quiet moments at the border.

Road between border and Rio Gallegos has plenty of signs, ‘Zona de Baches’. Wonder what a baches is. Discover what a baches is at 90mph. It’s a pothole. Not really potholes though. More…parts of the road missing! It’s literally a road’s width by about 5m long part of the road just missing. Not conducive to high speeds. Made really good time averaging 100km/hr. Fill up at Rio Gallegos. It’s the first fuel station I’ve passed since Rio Grande. And that was 400km away!

Rio Gallegos is a dump. Don’t go. Only staying a night as it’s the only place to stay a night enroute to El Calafate. Good Hotel Patagonia though. Bizarrely, there’s plenty of youths about with stupid hairstyles. Must be an art college nearby.

Its one redeeming feature is The British Club, on the main street. Weird place to have a British Club you may think. But. In its day. Rio Gallegos was a transit point to the Falkland Islands. At the turn of the last century plenty of British came to Rio Gallegos. Many stayed and set up sheep farming, as their ancestors continue today. After dinner in the British Restaurant, yet another meat fest, chat with various British Club members. Many are fifth generation and continue to sheep farm roughly 20,000hectares. They all speak English but have that slight non English accent, reminiscent of a Gibraltarian. Consider themselves Argentinian though. Small British Museum adjacent the bar and a comfy lounge area. Slice of Blighty in deepest Argentina.

Buy some water from the supermarket. Check out girl speaks English. Very pleased to meet me. Asks where I’m from. To which she replies, “England is a lovely place.”

Yes. It is.