After some emotional farewells at Heathrow airport we set off on our "Gran Viaje Trans-Continental!" As we climbed out of London we knew that we were about to catch our last glimpses of the UK for the next few months. It was perhaps fitting that as we gazed out of the window of the plane fireworks were bursting over the capital. A fanfare of blasts and colour wishing us well on our way. The flight from Heathrow to Charles De Gaulle went off without a hitch and it seemed that no sooner had we taken off that we were landing in Paris. "This travelling lark is easy!" I thought to myself.... I was in for a rude awakening!
The real marathon leg of the journey was the trip from Paris to Buenos Aires - although all it involved was sitting. Not really much to report about the flight except that I got chatting with an elderly Argentinian chap who was very friendly and helped qualm my fears about South American hospitality! The only other note in my diary that is worth mentioning is this sentence - "We are due to land at Pistarini at 9am - which I think is about 12pm UK time. Either way I am knackered and not looking forward to catching this last connection to Ushuaia!" As it turned out my apprehension was prescient. After passing through passport control and immigration without a hitch we strolled through to baggage claim - then something happened that I have never experienced in the entire time I´ve been travelling on planes - the first bags that we see are mine, Blenks and Rich´s! Then we see Blenka´s bike.... excellent. Now we wait for mine and Rich´s.... and we wait..... then wait a bit more..... we top this off with a little bit more waiting. Then the conveyor belt stops and the doors are shut. Hang On Senor there must be some mistake. ¿Donde Esta Mi Bicicleta? Apparently still in France.... The plane had reached it´s freight capacity and we would have to travel on without them. Air France will be forwarding them onto us here in Ushuaia. Not to big a problem really as we get to enjoy this beautiful city - but I digress.
So now with just Blenk´s bike - but fortunately all our luggage we start trying to get to the other side of the city to Jorge Newbury Airfield to catch out connection. This is a forty minute drive at the best of times. After sorting out our baggage with Air France we were left with barely an hour to make hour connection - the leisurely three hours originally built into our itinerary had been massively eaten into. Cue "El Conductor Loco" (The crazy driver) - those of you who have travelled abroad before know how crazy regular cab drivers are so this should give you some flavour of exactl how "Loco" this dude was! After telling the minibus driver of our predicament (and paying a small premium on our fare to go straight away rather than wait to fill up the bus) we were off. The man drove like a demon, weaving in and out of traffic, forcing other cars out of the way, squeezing into gaps literally too small for the minibus to fit into. What was meant to be a forty minute journey took only half an hour - a whit knuckle ride but the driver had done it. We arrived in time to catch our connection to Ushuaia.
We have arrived! Viva Argentina! Viva Las Idiotas!
The real marathon leg of the journey was the trip from Paris to Buenos Aires - although all it involved was sitting. Not really much to report about the flight except that I got chatting with an elderly Argentinian chap who was very friendly and helped qualm my fears about South American hospitality! The only other note in my diary that is worth mentioning is this sentence - "We are due to land at Pistarini at 9am - which I think is about 12pm UK time. Either way I am knackered and not looking forward to catching this last connection to Ushuaia!" As it turned out my apprehension was prescient. After passing through passport control and immigration without a hitch we strolled through to baggage claim - then something happened that I have never experienced in the entire time I´ve been travelling on planes - the first bags that we see are mine, Blenks and Rich´s! Then we see Blenka´s bike.... excellent. Now we wait for mine and Rich´s.... and we wait..... then wait a bit more..... we top this off with a little bit more waiting. Then the conveyor belt stops and the doors are shut. Hang On Senor there must be some mistake. ¿Donde Esta Mi Bicicleta? Apparently still in France.... The plane had reached it´s freight capacity and we would have to travel on without them. Air France will be forwarding them onto us here in Ushuaia. Not to big a problem really as we get to enjoy this beautiful city - but I digress.
So now with just Blenk´s bike - but fortunately all our luggage we start trying to get to the other side of the city to Jorge Newbury Airfield to catch out connection. This is a forty minute drive at the best of times. After sorting out our baggage with Air France we were left with barely an hour to make hour connection - the leisurely three hours originally built into our itinerary had been massively eaten into. Cue "El Conductor Loco" (The crazy driver) - those of you who have travelled abroad before know how crazy regular cab drivers are so this should give you some flavour of exactl how "Loco" this dude was! After telling the minibus driver of our predicament (and paying a small premium on our fare to go straight away rather than wait to fill up the bus) we were off. The man drove like a demon, weaving in and out of traffic, forcing other cars out of the way, squeezing into gaps literally too small for the minibus to fit into. What was meant to be a forty minute journey took only half an hour - a whit knuckle ride but the driver had done it. We arrived in time to catch our connection to Ushuaia.
We have arrived! Viva Argentina! Viva Las Idiotas!
