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Argentina - Buenos Aires // When Surf Travel Comes To An End

Killvan's Argentina. A tale of when the wheels of the surf trip can roll no further, and the city of Buenos Aires is the final full stop in South America.


It took about a year to drive from Alaska to Chile, longer if you think about it. At times it was as if it'd never end, especially while roaming lost in the hellish dunes of the Atacama desert, a place on Earth where the horizon is a dust smear that never seems to any get closer no matter how fast you drive.

Though it eventually did, in Santiago Chile. The Andean mountains brought the land to the sky, the waves brought the sea to life and it's here life on the road changed. The previous year was registered as a lifetime so any change was going to be profound. The crazy thing was, it was the first time travel was actually alone. No known friends, no side kicks riding shot gun... and no vehicle.

A vehicle is as good as your best mate while traveling. It keeps you warm and secure, it'll listen to your needs if you do the same. When the time comes to abandon a friend and take the road on solo the feeling is remarkable, stripping things back and starting again, like shaving your head. It's by choice so spare the sympathy, after all this is the pursuit of freedom and any second guesses were resolved long ago.

The bus was shiny, big and it'd take an adventurous path over one of the most impressive mountain ranges on Earth. It was driven by a strange old chap, Chilean, mid 50's, well groomed, he liked his job no doubt. And who wouldn't with views like this. Flying out of what was simply a huge hole in the side of a mountain had the glare intense, bright sun light filled the bus and was temporarily blinding. Chile was now a shadow and Argentina was laid out as a green carpet down below.

The highway was snaking at high altitude and far away on the horizon Buenos Aires sat in the East, the city was going to be the end of a road. Argentina was not pinned primarily as a surf destination, it was all about Buenos Aires. The beef, the women, the fact it's the second largest metro area in South America, not to mention the passionate porteños that make Buenos Aires what it is. How could it not be zereod in on.

It was a long haul, a struggle even. Not having the freedom of your own vehicle for the first time was stifling and it made the entry into the urban sprawl underwhelming. Condensation covered the bus interior and hid the out skirts of Buenos Aires until the bus reached its destination. With thirteen million or so porteños packed into this city, the feeling would be anything but lonely. It was the end of the road for surfing, though the beginning of the road for another dimension of travel.

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