Twisting Throttle does Antarctica.......... 26 Dec 09 - 21 Jan 10

This is the intended route below. Ushuaia, Argentina, is where most boats leave from to get down to the Ice.

27 Dec: Arrival in Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego

It's time to look for a boat to get to Antarctica. This is the best one I could afford .....

We leave at dawn once the captain has sobered up. I found him in gaol in Ushuaia after being drunk & disorderly. I negotiated my passage and he agreed to lash the bike on the for'ard deck.

But first there was a small question of trying one of those all-you-can-eat Argentinian barbecues.

It is impolite and offensive when in another culture to 'deflower' a national dish with one's own traditions. Therefore, while I would normally have piled this plate high with salad, organic veges and anything green, in this case I didn't.

This is where the road ends in Argentina, 15 kms south of Ushuaia and is the furthest south you can ride on Ruta 3 also known as the Pan-American highway. Mostly long-distance riders doing the Alaska-Tierra del Fuego ride pose in front of these signs with their bike. Next time I'll remember to bring one.

Dec 29: The boat sets sail for the Falklands. It was a long drag out through the Beagle Channel from Ushuaia.

Dec 30: The boat approaches West Falkland with the intention of mooring off an island called Saunders Is, where there is the odd penguin and albatross apparently.

Well I'm here but where are all these birds? Hang on can you hear all that squawking? Let's take a look around that headland.

In order to get among the penguin rookery I had to disguise myself as a traditional kiwi icon so the penguins wouldn't be suspicious.

Lugging around the camera gear was hard work, in order to bring you these pictures.

Dec 31: The boat arrives at Stanley, capital of the Falklands.

Next stop.. South Georgia where I understand there may be a penguin or two.

This is the coastline of South Georgia:

And it was important that Twisting Throttle blended in with the flora and fauna.

I started a public reading of my American book and soon a crowd gathered.

The natives who wished to purchase a copy were asked to form an orderly queue.

The word went out and soon numbers began to swell.

The animals came from far and wide, across land and from the sea.

Not everyone found the book riveting.

The sick and infirm struggled to get there.

Once the book reading was over the crowd began to disperse.

Until there was just one. Brian.

It was time to see what else South Georgia had to offer. The captain set sail for the only settlement, Grytviken, temporary population 10, and final resting place of Ernest Shackleton, Moto Guzzi rider.

Finally we arrived in a sheltered bay and the derelict whaling station of Grytviken was nestled at the head of the bay. Our captain wanted to put ashore for repairs before tackling the Scotia Sea down to Antarctica.

Our ship, the Petrel, was run ashore and the captain and his crewman, Cyril, set about some running repairs. While this took place I decided to explore Grytviken.

I walked up to the cemetery which had Shackleton's grave.

The Petrel had no lifeboat. The Captain felt we should have one especially crossing the Scotia Sea to Elephant Is. Recalling Shackleton's epic voyage in the James Caird we all agreed to have a whip-round and purchase this one which luckily we found for sale on South Georgia's Ebay.

So with our ship patched up and our lifeboat needs secured, we set sail along the coast of South Georgia again.

By and by we came to an inlet and the captain, Cyril and I decided to pop in to have a look.

We discovered that Mother Nature is a cruel parent. Not all creatures are created in her image and many are what could be termed "unbeautiful". This what I mean:

Here is a picture of Harold and Joyce King. The Kings are lucky to be beautiful penguins with stunning plumage, standing tall and they have many friends, also pictured.

Similarly, Ted and Patricia King, in a coincidence of surname, are also enjoying life in the rookery to the full. They are likewise beautiful penguins and want for nothing.

In fact the whole King family enjoy a lovely life with family barbecues and outings.

But then on the other side of the beauty spectrum is Kevin. Nature dealt him a cosmetic blow. He has no friends, is regularly taunted by skuas and he has taken to just standing about knowing no-one in the King family will ever notice him.

Then there is Colin. He inherited a gene which means he has an excess of plumage and is known among the rookery as Colin the Were-Penguin. Like Kevin he has been ostracised by the King penguins.

But one day another were-penguin, Zoe, arrived in the colony. To Colin's delight, she also suffered from the same plumage-gene deficiency.

But as time went on Zoe developed a full plumage and became the pin up penguin of the Weres.

The other wildlife were amazed. Suddenly the ugly ducklings of the rookery were blossoming. They were no longer viewed as the "untouchables". Zoe and her fellow penguinettes attracted some male wildlife attention.

However many elders in the colony were still unimpressed. For example, Gavin (pictured below) couldn't understand why anyone would find a King Penguin in any way as attractive as seals.

Even the overseas visitors, such as Mac Rooney from Ireland, felt a pang of jealously that these over-plumed upstarts were wanting equal status with the beautiful and exotic penguin species such as himself .

But the younger generation who had not grown up with the prejudices of their seniors, were prepared to treat all penguins as equals. Simon the seal pup, no stranger to 'standing out' from the crowd himself, urged Colin and the other untouchables to fight to turn the tide of prejudice.

Suddenly a joie de vivre swept over the whole beach and all seals and penguins suddenly saw through a generation of bias and belittlement. No longer were the youngsters prepared to tolerate a hierarchy based on beauty. Love was in the air.

And it swept the whole ecosystem. Even the adults embraced the revolution started by Colin and Zoe.

Colin, buoyed by the tide of support, appealed to the whole rookery for an end to this ugly apartheid based on plumage.

Some of the Kings were initially not prepared to listen. But Colin persisted.

He campaigned for equality, tolerance and harmony for all penguins, regardless of beauty.

All the were-penguins came out in support and marched through the colony holding their heads high. "Were-penguins.. we're penguins too" was their cry. Initially the King clan turned away in disgust.

Finally there was a showdown between Harold & Joyce, spokespenguins for the community, and Colin. The Kings listened to Colin's point of view and eventually saw through Colin's external ugliness to a shining heart within.

And finally, with the endorsement of the Kings, the whole colony embraced the untouchables. From that day forward beauty and ugliness co-existed in the rookery. All penguins were equal. Colin married Zoe and lived with the Kings happily ever after until they all died through avian cholera which unfortunately swept the colony a month later.

But all this wildlife study was well and good. It was time to push on with the quest to get Twisting Throttle to Antarctica. We set sail from South Georgia heading out into the tempestuous Scotia Sea towards the Antarctic Circle and beyond.

This is Elephant Is where Shackleton was marooned and began his epic sea voyage to South Georgia 100 years ago. We are heading there now.

Many of you have been emailing to say that this trip looks like a holiday cruise in the Med. So much that you know. Take a look at the following pictures snapped outside my below-decks cabin port hole this morning:

Global motorcycle travellers like Twisting Throttle laugh in the face of this danger. When you have eaten biscuits and gravy in a West Virginian backwoods diner nothing worries you any more as you have been to hell already. Most of time I was perched on the bow of the Petrel as it crashed into the swells and troughs, freezing salt spray covering my helmet visor, my face a mask of grim acceptance of the polar elements, the lone rider vs the lonely vicious ocean.

On the other hand some of the time I was also here:

By and by we reached Elephant Is. This remote unforgiving lump of rock near mainland Antarctica was where Shackleton's 21 men spent 105 days huddled under an upturned lifeboat eating penguins, not knowing if Shackleton had made it to South Georgia.

Virtually all of Elephant Is is inaccessible.

But they finally found a small rocky beach of sorts just above the high tide mark. If you look carefully in the middle of the picture there is a small black shape on a rock which is not a penguin.

That in fact is a monument erected to the skipper of the Chilean tug which eventually transported Shackleton back to Elephant Is to pick up his men.

And behind me is the beach where Shackleton's men spent those hellish few months back in 1916.

And in a spooky coincidence as we were putting back to sea in our lifeboat we saw the same ghost penguin reportedly last seen on Elephant Is the day Shackleton's men were rescued. The ghost penguin is a well-documented seafaring omen which purports to bring good luck to any sailors who cast their eyes on it.

But it was time to get cracking for mainland Antarctica to land Twisting Throttle after this long journey.

Tabular icebergs heralded the approach of 60 degrees south.

And then as the shore neared the ice became more sculptured.

Until finally.. landfall. The only downside is the Suzuki DL1000 is back home in the garage. But, even though bike-less, Twisting Throttle makes Antarctica. Another 'A' - 'A' continent conquered.

Many people think Antarctica is a cold place. This is not true. It has a Hawaiian feel to it, albeit just a little whiter.

I had a huge appetite wandering around on Antarctica. What would Shackleton's men have done?

But enough of the posing, enjoy the following pictures of today's milestone landing:

By now I was sick of penguins. The skipper promised to land at an island which he believed would be penguin-free.

It was a promising start:

And even the skuas showed what they thought of penguins:

But then as I sat down to study a map of the possible biking roads:

And it got worse:

The natives were either inquisitive:

A bit stand-offish:

Finding out at an early age that penguins can't fly:

Busy regurgitating:

Singing karaoke:

Being lectured about staying in the nest:

Pretending to be the Giant Mutant Penguin:

OK, that's it. I've had enough. No roads, no diners, no roadhouses, no gas stations... there have got to be better places for long-distance motorcyclists. Sorry folks but I'm going home. It was a good try but Twisting Throttle didn't do Antarctica. It was just too cold.

But there was the small matter of rounding Cape Horn on the way back.

The Cape loomed out of the murk. But look at the sea - just like a millpond. What were all those round-the-world sailors complaining about?

Then this is what happened half an hour after that last photo.

Sludder.