2.17.2018
The next morning we’d planned to ride together and take the road that looped Lago Gral Carrera, hitting Puerto Rio Tranquilo and Puerto Guadal, then to Chile Chico for the crossing back into Argentina again.
The road was great, running through the national park of Cerro Castillo, just a superb ride.
At one of the photo stops, I noticed an oil stain on the side of my rear tire and then saw where oil had begun to leak from the right side of my final drive. A sick feeling hit me, as I’ve begun to expect something to happen to the bike every time I swing a leg over it. Unreasonable, yet unstoppable, as I’ve had more than enough issues and the final drive on BMW’s have a history of failures, especially on bikes past 60,000 miles. Luckily it was from the right side seal and not the left, so it meant the drive bearing might not be failing...
My excitement over the last few days from nearing the region of my final destination, Ushuaia, was short lived and I resigned myself to another bike failure. I told Charlie I had to turn for Puerto Ibañez and the shorter ferry to Chile Chico since I couldn't chance a final drive failure somewhere on the long, remote gravel roads south of the lake.
My mind was tormented on the oil leak and "what if's" the rest of the way to Puerto Ibañez, where the winds had become extreme. Making turns in the town weren’t easy with the howling gusts. Passing the police checkpoint showed the flags shredded and almost stiff from the wind, an indicator of the climate. Gingerly parking at the ferry ramp building, seeing the ferry was a nice sight and it sat stable in the heavy wind. Inside the shelter of the office, we were told we could get on a standby list for the 8 pm ferry as it was full that day. We signed up, then had to wait 7 hours in the tiny community.
Finding lunch killed a little time at the local cafe with the rest of it was spent watching the waves and listening to the howling wind and creaking roof of the ferry waiting area until around 7 when tvehicles began arriving. Charlie was nervous we wouldn’t make the boat but I felt confident that they could squeeze a couple of bikes into such a large vessel. We stood outside the office and the security guard waved us up to get a numbered ticket, a good sign. In a few, we were inside the ferry terminal and the smiling agent accepted our credit cards and rewarded us with tickets for the ferry. It was hugely expensive for the two hour ride, almost $10 US!
After loading onto the ship, we headed up to the top deck to enjoy the ride across as the light faded, the blasting winds making it chilly as the sun set. I met a German photographer using a self made dual stereo camera system to view his travels on a 3D television. We had a good chat about his backpacking around the region, and despite my efforts to joke, he responded with just a stare. Ah, the German sense of humor.
The trip was spent on the top deck, enjoying the serene scenes and less so the cold winds. The sun came and went as did different clouds and spats of rain. Very relaxing and enjoyable to not have to think and focus on riding precipitous gravel roads on the BMW.
The ferry touched ground about 10:30 that evening and we pulled off, agreeing that was the best $10 ferry ride in existence and began looking for a hostel that Kevin Chow had texted Charlie about. We found it and got into a shared room, meeting Kevin afterward. He was on his way back north from Ushuaia and it was good to meet him in person and exchange information. Always good to meet other moto travelers and share the love.
The next morning Kevin left a bit before us, having shot some photos and exchanged stickers.
After packing for the road and crossing the Argentinian border, I looked at the leakage which had left a couple of splatters on my tire and rim though it was only a short ride from the ferry the night before. Today I would find out if the leak was an indicator of final drive failure, since we had to cross the border, then get to Gobernador Gregores roughly 300 miles south.
Make it or break it, I was sick of worrying about issues on the road. My goal so close and yet so far. We gassed up and I found a quart of GL-5 rated 80-90W to carry with me in hopes of refilling the final drive as it leaked out. I carried tools to service the final drive several times if necessary, and figured if the leak was bad at least I could stop, pull the wheel, drain and refill on the roadside if need be.
My friend Hank had messaged me and said the final drive bearing was probably okay since the leak was on the outside of the wheel rather than the inside. He said the oil may have been overfilled and burped through the right side seal, despite a separate burp valve on the drive. I felt a little better and could do little but watch it closely. We headed for the Chilean exit station, then only a few minutes for the process, before a discussion with the border guard for a while.
Into Argentina at last, it was a few kilometers before the entry station appeared, very professional and easy, though I always get nervous. At the inspection point before leaving, I proudly awaited the moment to show proof of the hard-to-find Argentinian insurance, ready to whip it out with the sound of a Ninja swoosh, but alas they didn't even ask…
Leaving Perito Moreno and turning south, the vistas of the incredible wide landscape were taken in. It reminded me much of Wyoming, vast rolling plains, hills and plateaus with distant mountain peaks. Buffeted by winds and following big sweeper curves, I tried to stay around 60 mph, hoping to keep internal pressures in the final drive a bit lower, at least I imagined.
The immense landscapes were occasionally dotted with the flightless rheas, a surprise frankly, with occasional herds of guanaco, sometimes on the roadside and sometimes distant. They are skittish like deer, even a drop in engine rpm triggering a herd run, as they gracefully cleared the fences on the roadside.
The only gas available south of Perito Moreno is in Bajo Caracoles, and if they’re empty, there is none until reaching Gobernador Gregores. My big GSA tanker had no problems with the distance we needed to make, but Charlie’s smaller standard tank required a top off in Bajo.
The pumps were old and coated in stickers from countless travelers. The place is a gold mine for the unfriendly owner, who takes his time coming to pump gas for the line of overlander vehicles and rental RV’s. But again, if this is his life 24/7 I can’t blame him. There were significantly more oil drips and splatters on my rear wheel and tire, but I had no way to gauge how much of the limited amount of oil in the drive had seeped out, being a sealed unit that has to be drained to see.
As protocol required, I searched the hundreds of travel stickers on the pumps and poles to find a spot for my “Moto Foto Adventures” decal to leave my mark, eventually locating a spot amongst what seemed like a thousand. Incredibly, some months later Michnus and Elsebie whom I’d met in Cuenca, sent me a photo of my sticker on the pump. How the hell they found it I’ll never know!
Headed on for Gobernador, I couldn’t stop thinking about the leak, at one point beginning to feel more vibration than normal followed by whiffs of a metallic burning smell. My heart sank, as that would indicate metal failure and a burning drive. I pulled over off the road but couldn't see any obvious failure. Charlie pulled in behind me and ran up, saying he had smelled a metal-on-metal burning smell. I put my hand on the final drive and it was warm but not burning hot, nor could I smell anything out of the ordinary.
I ran back to his bike to compare how the final drive felt and was relieved to feel the same temperature as mine. Neither of us could explain the smell and frankly the paranoid head game was getting old.
For the last 30 miles I went as fast as reasonable to make Gobernador Gregores. Reaching the town I immediately filled with gas, a habit I have gotten into in order to assure I have a full tank in the morning just in case... A great hostel was found and it felt like home. I was too tired to deal with doing anything to the bike and waited for morning.
With the design of the final drive there is no way to check fill level other than to remove the rear wheel and drain the entire unit, then refill with the specified amount. BMW has specified 2 different quantities, originally 230cc’s but then reduced to 180cc. This change came after reports of blowing seals from overpressure with 230. Hank says 160cc and advised me to do the same.
Having had the final drive fluid changed just before leaving Osorno at a BMW shop specifically with a rental fleet of the same model as mine, I’d assume they would use the proper spec of oil volume, but after my blown main seal in Cuenca, most likely from being overfilled at the BMW dealer in Colombia a week prior to the incident, I wondered. If they had indeed overfilled the final drive, the symptoms I was having would suggest it.
The only way to know how much was leaking was to measure how much drained out. I calibrated a plastic soda bottle with my 60cc syringe, marking 60cc, 120cc and 180cc's with a sharpie to get an idea of how much had leaked in the previous day’s 285 mile stretch. I put the bike on the center stand and checked for wheel play or grunchy sounds or roughness, but felt and heard nothing, a very good sign.
Upon draining the drive, I was surprised to see about 190-200cc’s of oil, despite all the leaks and drips for a few days. Actually, it was far more than a relief. It appeared it had been overfilled, probably to 230cc's, having lost oil down to 190cc. If so, the burp valve designed specifically for this overpressure issue hadn’t worked and it had blown out through the right side seal instead. Either way, it hadn’t damaged the bearing and I could easily make 300 miles a day if the leak continued at this rate.
I completely drained and refilled with 180cc, with new crush washers, then removed the right side seal cap, looking for any damage. I then cleaned the hell out of it and wiped residual oil off the drive, rim and tire. Any new leaks would be easy to spot.
The relief was huge. The last thing I needed was a final drive failure in the desolate stretches of Patagonia and my nerves were already raw. Who knows why it happened, maybe just the age of the seal and preparing to fail, maybe just a piece of grit that managed to work it's way into the seal rim, or as mentioned possibly overfilled at the shop. I have no idea.
A couple more hours were spent on the bike dealing with details, putting Locktite on a few pesky bolts, swapping out yet another burnt out parking lamp, as well as a burnt out H7 high beam bulb after staring at the dash warning for weeks. My Clearwater LED flood lights had not worked since Peru and I suspected the dimming switch design. I swapped in my second spare air filter after the sand storms of Peru and took care of a few more details forgotten on tired evenings, again going over the bike to look for loose bolts.
Later that evening I heard a bike arrive and soon met the rider, Tom from Canada. He was on a new Honda Africa Twin coming from Canada south, connecting with a MotoAventura tour group in Osorno. He had signed on with the group as he didn’t want to ride the last section to Ushuaia solo in the heavy winds and gravel. He had split off coming north was now heading back to ship home from Santiago, Chile.
That night at a fantastic parilla, I asked him his opinion on the Honda Africa Twin and he was generally happy with it, saying it was easier in the gravel than his previous Suzuki V-Strom but not as adept on the tarmac. He’d only had one real issue, when on muddy gravel roads a rock had wedged between the front tire and low fender, momentarily locking up the front wheel before shattering the fender and breaking the wheel loose again just before causing a crash at high speed. His initial thought was he could just toss the broken fender until he realized it held the brake lines and there was no option. The chase truck helped him duct tape and wire the fender back together so he could continue until Punta Arenas where a local mechanic fiberglassed it solid enough to ride home. He said he did not have the aftermarket fender riser but would certainly be getting one. The only other issue was running any oil weight different than 10w-30 that made the bike hard to shift and oil consumption went up significantly. Apparently finding 10W-30 hadn’t been easy in South America.
