The road chose me

I organize to meet Seth are Parker, my buddies riding bikes from Alaska, for our final night of camping in the wild. I find them fishing at the beautiful Lake Bombilla, where we have a fantastic night laughing and reminiscing about the road traveled. We’ve figured out a few times that we were within a day or two of each other in Prudhoe Bay Alaska, and now we’re going to arrive in Ushuaia on the same day. Very crazy.

Seth hoping for the best

Seth and Parker grinding uphill

A warm sunny day greets me for the climb up and over the final mountain pass, where I continually stop for photos with the Jeep. Rolling down into town and posing for photos in front of the “Welcome” sign does not bring forth the emotions I thought it might. I feel like I’m in any other town along my journey. Ushuaia itself is absolutely beautiful, surrounded on three sides with snow-capped mountains and the island dotted ocean dominates the forth.

Sunshine and blue skies!

On the final mountain pass

I post up in the La Pista Del Andio Campground and await the arrival of Seth and Parker, which kicks off a celebration of immense proportions. Many times during the night a phrase like “This is biggest achievement of my life” has us pondering exactly what it all means.
In the morning there are a lot of sore heads and confused people, and we tread very gingerly for a while.

Climbing mountains, all in a days work

I’ve driven a total of 55,580km over 558 days. That’s an average of 95km/day over one year, seven months and nine days. It’s really beautiful here, so I think I’ll stick around for a few days and let it all soak in.

Dan and Jeep in Ushuaia, 55,580km later

This adventure is far from over

-Dan

Further south I seem to encounter more and more penguinos, first at Reserva Fauntistica Punta Tombo, then further south at Reserva Batural Cabo Dos Bahias. Watching the little guys waddle around never gets old, and they don’t seem to be bothered one little bit by our presence.

Hey! I'm walking here

Penguins to the horizon

I drive down an oceanside gravel road for the purpose of exploration and find myself at the nondescript little village of Camarones, where I spend the night in the Municipal Campground. In the morning I do a double take when I see the little Suzuki of Rossi and Trond, overlanders I bumped into a few times in Peru. They’ve been down to Ushuaia (they started in Vancouver, Canada) and are now heading North, uncertain of how far they will go. I’m overjoyed to see friends and we spend the entire day, night, and next morning catching up and throughly enjoying the company. They are also a little burnt out like me, and it’s amazing how having people I can relate to makes me feel a hundred percent better.

Just one of the guys

Trond, Rossi, Dan & new friends

Seeing Rossi and Trond is a great boost to my energy, and the information they share about the adventures I can look forward to fills my dreams at night.

I've got my eye on you

Wild camping with Rossi and Trond

Sunset in Camarones

-Dan

Turning my back on the Andes, I move East, more or less starting the journey to Buenos Aires in anticipation of Christmas with my family. I spend a couple of days in the stunning Parque National Sierra De Las Quijadas, full of beautiful rock formations and wildlife, before aiming for the big city of Córdoba.

Free campsite in Parque National Sierra De Las Quijadas

The views in the National Park

A local guy at a gas station admires my Jeep and tells me about a windy gravel road used by the WRC, just the place for me! The mountains to the south of Córdoba are extremely green and beautiful, and all the little towns and villages are bustling with friendly Argentines on tour for the weekend.

The WRC Jeep - maybe I should enter?

Los Gigantes mountains

It’s so peaceful and friendly here I decide to pass on the big city and checkout all the little towns instead.

River crossing, Jeep style

-Dan

(The WRC road is route 28 from Taninga to Tanti, just West of Córdoba. It’s good gravel with sharp hairpins and nice wide-open fast corners too.)

I spend a few beautiful sunny days in relaxing Mendoza, before venturing out into the mountains once again. Parque Provincial Aconcagua contains the enormous mountain of the same name, which at 6,962 meters is the tallest mountain on the continent, drawing hordes of serious mountain climbers. Passes to enter the park are expensive, and even now in the low season a 20-day climbing pass is USD$300. A group of foreigners I meet have paid USD$2750 each for an all-inclusive summit attempt, of course with no guarantees.

The stunning Inca Bridge, just near the park entrance

Hitting the trail

The surrounding mountains are spectacular in their own right, though my attention constantly focuses on the glacier capped Aconcagua, constantly visible while hiking the approach trail. I’m lost in my thoughts of a solo summit attempt, and seriously toy with it in my mind. Arriving at the Confluencia base camp (3,300m) is a little surreal, with permanent dome tent-like structures, kitchens, solar panels and even a volleyball court, it looks like just I’ve always pictured a serious mountain base camp.
Well, I guess it is.

The ever-visible Aconcagua

The sun is beating down and the wind howling through camp, making setting up my tent quite a chore and coating everything I own in a thick layer of sand – even the inside of my tent. After a cold, cloudy afternoon of hiking and mountain gazing I finish cooking dinner with numb hands and feet and crawl into my tent in the midst of driving snow and howling wind. For over an hour I curl up in my sleeping bag trying to warm up, my tent flapping furiously the entire time. I can’t imagine what the weather must be like higher up on the mountain, and don’t even want to think about it.

Confluencia base camp

It’s freezing in the morning when I set out for the seven hour round-trip hike to Plaza Francia (4,200m), another camp higher up the mountain. It’s an extremely beautiful day and after hiking to the toe of Glacier Horcones Inferior in sunshine, I turn back and battle a seriously cold head wind all the way back to camp, and down to the parking area.

Sunrise over Confluencia base camp

One cold night

I’m completely tired out when I arrive, and at my wits end from the relentless howling wind. It’s pretty clear in my mind I have no intention of battling this and much, much worse for 20 days.
I’m content just looking at the summit, I don’t need to try and go there.

Infront of mighty Aconcagua (6,962m)

-Dan