Karen n Ben's Journal

BB, On se prépare, Août 2004

Ca marche! Je viens d’acquérir un mini clavier pour le Palm (notre ordinateur de poche). Ce sera notre Remington de camping, gardant une trace écrite de notre aventure.

Nous venons de déménager chez Andy, la maison est vendue, et le départ approche.

Le tandem est prêt. J’ai rodé le moyeu a vitesse Rohloff sur mon vélo solo (la "brycyclette" faite maison), je dois finir les porte bagages, et les essais de pneus continuent.

Il nous faut également quelques pièces de rechange: plaquettes de freins, vis/écrous, rayons, et chaînes (en inox!).

Pour l’équipement, nous sommes presque prêts. Nous venons d’acheter un réchaud multi fuel (qui brûle tout, même du diesel, et même en haute altitude). Il me faut des chaussures (de vélo et sandales), et nous avons besoin d’un kit de secours 1^er soins et un filtre a eau.

Bientôt une simulation grandeur nature sur le tandem!

Le reste est plus formel: billets d’avion, assurance, argent …

BB, Bientot prets, Septembre 2004, J-40

Ca y est, le départ approche. Notre long voyage à tandem sur les routes du monde entier se prépare et le 24 Octobre nous nous envolerons pour l’Argentine. Pour commencer, nous traverserons les plaines de la Pampa Argentine et les hauts plateaux de l’Altiplano des Andes pour arriver jusqu’au Pérou, peut être même l’Equateur. La suite n’est pas encore précisément tracée, mais nous espérons atteindre la Californie pour l’été 2005. Apres ce premier continent, nous continuerons selon nos envies … Sûrement la Chine … mais dans quelle direction? Rejoindre l’Europe par la Mongolie et la Sibérie? Ou descendre jusqu’en Australie en passant par Bangkok? Nous avons beaucoup de trajets en tête, et nous déciderons au moment voulu.

Quant à la durée du voyage, de même on remettra cette décision a plus tard. Il n’y a rien de plus frustrant que de compter le temps qu’il reste!

Les raisons de ce voyage sont multiples. L’envie de voyager, de changer d’air en est une. C’est un voyage culturel, mais aussi social. Le voyage a vélo a en effet cette particularité de rapprocher les gens que nous côtoierons. Le monde est plein de diversité, et malgré des moyens de communication et de globalisation, nos sociétés modernes restent très loin de toutes ces différentes cultures et sociétés, ces différentes croyances et façons de penser … ces différentes façons de voir et vivre le monde.

L’effort physique est une autre motivation. Comme dirait un cycliste rencontré dans le Cantal, pour se lancer dans une telle aventure "il faut aimer se faire mal". Mais l’idée de traverser les plus hautes montagnes et les plus longs continents nous rend rêveuse: Comment imaginer le passage d’un col plus haut que le Mont-Blanc? Et de planter la tente dans un paysage vide infini?

Mais la raison principale, comme me le rappelle si bien Karen dans son premier journal, c’est l’amour. L’amour l’un pour l’autre et l’appréciation de la symbiose qui nous lie et la synergie qui nous fait avancer. Ce sera en effet notre vrai voyage de noce, celui qui nous fera vivre l’un pour l’autre.

Mais c’est aussi pour l’amour des autres. Nous ne sommes pas en mission humanitaire, mais nous savons l’importance de notre passage dans tous les villages lointains que nous traversons. C’est une preuve que nous ne les avons pas oublié.

Réciproquement, il nous faudra aussi beaucoup compter sur le support des habitants locaux, ainsi que leurs autorités, car nous n’aurons rien d’autre que nos mollets pour nous en sortir, quelque soit la situation. Il faudra oublier nos humeurs temporelles, ou du moins les garder pour nous. Nous savons que certains jours seront plus durs que d’autres, mais nous saurons les mettre derrière car ils ne nous ferons jamais oublier les autres moments, ceux qui resterons sur les photos et dans nos mémoires.

"Si les indiens croient en la danse de la pluie, c’est parce qu’ils n’arrêtent que lorsqu’il pleut"

Karen, 5th september 2004

About 6 weeks before we were due to leave, I read an article professing to reveal the secrets behind a happy and lasting marriage. There was talk of give and take, not sleeping on an argument and the value of making time for each other. All good tactics for avoiding what the UK was experiencing as the biggest increase in divorce rates in two decades (5,755 to 153,490).

There was not exactly any mention of undertaking an epic 18,000 mile tandem ride that would take in 4 continents and test matrimonial harmony and understanding to the absolute limits for a year and a half.

But then what else could give us so much time for each other?
Co-incidentally, the article stated that the longest and most happily married couples lived in North Yorkshire and although we are at the opposite end of the region, we should claim our part in this as a triumph for our county’s loving and patient married couples.
Yet as I read the article and watched most of South Yorkshire race past the train window, I couldn’t help wondering if we could love, honour and obey from the steep climbs of the Andean highway.
The physical challenge did not seem insurmountable. Since staggering over the London marathon finishing line, I knew there was a small reserve of willpower and strength within me to exploit. But patience? Consideration? Unity?
None of these qualities could be part of our preparation either. Mutual respect was nowhere in the guidebooks, serenity was not a required inoculation and perseverance was fully booked on the internet. We did not have a check anywhere on any list that our marriage was robust and re-inforced with Kevlar beads.
Yet we were a partnership. The project we had mentioned so many times during our marriage vows would soon be upon us and testing the happiness and longevity that we had started to lay the foundations of. After all, we were the couple-most-suited-to-a-pilot-stoker-outfit that I had come across. This trip would be our real 2-wheeled honeymoon…….

Karen, Starting to get nervous – 15th September 2004

For the last month of our preparation, I seemed to be consumed with a dull form of panic – if that feeling does exist. I knew that Ben was doing his research but still couldn’t decide for myself how much to learn beforehand and how much to leave to chance and discovery. The main thing I was nervous about was patience. Always having to be an ambassador. Even after the most gruelling days pedalling, we would need to keep our spirits up enough to be enthusiastic with the locals and answer the endless questions which I could already hear…..
“Where are you from?”
“How far are you going?”
“What do you think of (insert country of choice here)?”

All of this sounds extremely cynical but was a genuine worry for me because I knew I would be so keen to please and I knew I would take more responsibility for the social aspects of our trip, the contact with people, even when all we would want to do was crawl into our tent and shut the world out.

I worried about tropical diseases, ticks, snakes and intestinal worms. Again this may have been another reason “for” doing more reading and research. I worried about money and access to it. I worried about clean water and access to it. But most of all I worried about missing home.

I hadn’t lived closer than a 4 hour drive to my family in over nine years and yet there was still always something comforting about knowing where they were and knowing they knew where I was. I was a social moth rather than a social butterfly but yet always knew that I had plenty of friends to count on for help or even a beer and a chat. From now on, we would be relying on complete strangers to get us out of situations and I knew all too well that we would sometimes have to trust these strangers with our lives.

Having always been close to my family, I felt a pang of selfishness, asking them not to worry. You can’t always help seeing made up headlines flash past describing “mother travels 3,000 miles to appease tandem kidnappers” “tandem riders beaten by hurricane,” or “tandem riders rescue attempt after cliff-top drama.”
Selfish because it would be far easier for us to get in contact with them than vice versa. And selfish because why did we feel the need to give up perfectly good jobs and home and car and worldly possessions to travel the world?
“Don’t worry.” And yet I think I even worried one day that I might lose Ben in a crowded market, trip over a melon stand and be out-of-action for 2 weeks. And I would break my multi-band radio in the fall. And it would be raining.
It was funny to think that everyone focused on the physical element of the challenge. Their concerns were for the sport side of the trip. They were impressed about our planned mileage and terrain, wondering how we would train and how we would cover altitudes and city, desert and jungle cycling.

Yet the biggest challenge I knew, was the unknown……

Karen, Practice runs September 2004

So about one month before leaving, we began our practice runs; one weekend Leeds to Blackpool and back, one weekend Wakefield to the Peak District.

We improved on our Land speed record coming down from Heptonstall Moor, reaching 81 km/h. We also learnt how to use the white gas stove, perhaps our most extravagant purchase for the trip. At least Ben did. It looked slightly intimidating to me but did cook excellent noodles and mackerel on our arrival in the Peaks.

Even by the second trip I was starting to get used to the bike and the motion. My position was getting more comfortable as the pressure I applied was down on the pedals, more vertical than our original tandem. That was the luxury of custom-build. On the second trip I evacuated a big spider from our tent with my bare hands, trying not to be squeemish. I used my ingenuity a second time to evacuate the same spider without touching it by putting socks on my hands. I had been stung by a wasp whilst out running two days before our second journey which I was quite pleased about as it confirmed I didn't have an allergic reaction to stings. It did confirm that I had a low threashold for pain though.

Leaving party - 9th October 2004

Eight vaccinations, one Great North Run and hefty travel insurance package later, we had one of our last nights out in Leeds. We dodged bunny-eared hen parties and underdressed and over excited teenagers and gasped to think that anyone could ever be anything but hypothermic in a belt-sized dress and boob tube. We wondered how long it would be before we came across the complicated decision as to which drinking establishment to frequent. We decided that The Fudge Bar probably was aptly named and we drew comfort from the pavements decorated with a familiar homely assortment of kebab, vomit and unconsumed booze. We felt that above all we were leaving Leeds a happy city.

"Our work here is done," said Ben on the way home and it was true that we had been part of a prosperous, chilled out cosmopolite and we had enjoyed our 5years in Yorkshire's funky capital.

The tandem and all our soon-to-be-worldly belongings were on their way to Buenos Aires. We made some decisions about responsibilities. Mine would be: water, making sure supplies were plentiful, toilet paper, making sure supplies were plentiful, local negotiations, finances, security and first aid. Ben's would be: food preparation, tent preparation, technical repairs and maintenance and rolling up the inflatable mattresses every morning. I would take security any day over battling with those awkward blow up cushions. We held some last minute management meetings about the itinerary as Ben started to consider sentimental goals such as where we would be for our birthdays. There was also the consideration that it had slightly blown the budget to send the bike on ahead to Argentina and we had paid £600 to do so, the same price as both our flight tickets. But we decided to aim for Mexico for Ben's 30th, on 4th June and California for 15th August, Princess Anne's and my birthday.

Flight

Having said our goodbyes and arriving at the airport 3 hours early for our flight, we got off to a very good start. However, little did we know that a 45 minute changeover in Madrid would be far from enough time to catch our flight to Buenos Aires, especially when we were late and the plane left 5minutes early! So after about 2 hours of traipsing we finally got our voucher for a night's stay in the biggest hotel in Europe, Auditorium. The next morning we tried to remain positive about flying via Sau Paulo, again with a risky few minutes to change planes, to B.A. Also, we would arrive at 2am which, having not organised a hotel, we had tried to avoid. But both journeys went fine and the benches at B.A. Airport were not even too uncomfortable. We had wandered over to cargo from the terminal to try to recover the tandem but had to wait until 9am so made ourselves comfortable. I have always had an annoying gift of being able to sleep almost anywhere and managed to get practically 5 full hours of sleep. Ben wasn't so lucky and could feel the makings of a cold coming on. Mind you, if he were able to sleep, I think this would have put me off quite a lot and it's a bit selfish to say that I was relaxed enough to doze off because I knew Ben wouldn't be.

Part 1 Buenos Aires

Two escorts……….

Our first night in Buenos Aires and I continued this habit by falling asleep in the restaurant, and for good reason.

In the morning, I had an escort back through customs to try to find our tiny rucksack on the next flight from Madrid. I waited and waited and waited, watching all types of luggage float through on the carousel. I thought to myself that this would make the most repetitive Generation Game. There were still masses of people behind me in the hall when finally our little yellow bag drifted in. I was amazed and pleased that I had passed my first initiative test, but for Ben, waiting for well over one hour without really knowing what was going on was a different story. We agreed it would have been an ideal opportunity to trial our walkie talkies and we also agreed there and then that we would always go back to the last place that we were together if we got lost, that or a policia station. Hopefully, the two would not be the same.

We do rely a lot on each other. As I mentioned, I tend to become selectively narcoleptic so it is vital that one of us is keeping an eye out. It also often takes one of us to motivate the other. In return for my cheeky naps, I kept Ben patient at the customs office when he wanted to leave at midday with or without the tandem.

In total, it took about 6 hours and some helpful, and intrigued Argentinians, to get our vehicle back and rebuild it ready to leave. As always, it was the people that we hadn't paid or pre-arranged anything with that were the most helpful and gave up an entire afternoon to make sure we left safely. Ben nogotiated well in spanish and we decided (or rather a transport workers strike decided for us) that we would take the bike ourselves to the capital, 30km ride.

We had two escorts on this 30km ride. The first was a two-wheeled guardian angel, named Ruben who pulled up alongside us after 2 mile or so. Ruben had big sunglasses, sang when he spoke and extorted the benefits of being a "natural" cyclist, taking energy from the sun and the trees. He was interested to hear that we were cycling latin america an decided o accompany us along the road.

"Road" can only be used in the loosest of terms for our journey though as the road that we were edging along was the 3-laned highway into Buenos Aires, the only option for us to get to the city. At first, when everyone suggested this we had laughed and gone back to the map but in fact, the truth is that nothin else exists so we set off with Ruben helping to stop the traffic at intersections and trying to reassure me even though I wouldn't even let go of the handle bars to wave at traffic and Ben pointed out that the bike felt incredibly rigid. It could quite easily have been me.

At first, everything was nice and steady with the speed limit at 60 kmph ans most cars sticking to it. So in spite of little sleep, a long day at customs and a heavily-laden bike that we hadn't ridden in a month, I was only mildly uncomfortable. But it was only after the first toll (which we should probably never have jumped) that the motorway started to get suspiciously busier, not to mention faster. There are 3 million people in the capital and I think they were all out driving that day. Ruben, the refridgeration saleman stayed with us for about 10 miles but he left before quite a turning point for me. The motorway began to merge with another and we found ourselves stuck in the middle of seven lanes of furious traffic. I think I closed my eyes when I shouted to Ben that there was a split second we could cross safely. It started to occur to me that with the noise of the traffic, Ben could quite easily mistake "stop, don't go yet!" for "yes, it's fine to cross darling, there is only a juggernault with loose brakes hurtling towards us."

So I asked in my loudest screaming voice if we could drop off at the next junction into the scruffy streets below.

Luckily, two motorcycle police had already made the decision for us and flagged us to stop on the hard shoulder. After some doe-eyed explanantions about the tandem and quite frankly, blaming everything on Ruben, we were asked to follow them to the next exit. We were more than happy to do so but first they shook us both firmly by the hand and we did feel slightly naughty but smug with ourselves. So our brush with the police was a happy ending to a scary story.

There is an urban myth that during the 2003 common wealth games, an African cycling team was stopped, cycling single-file along the hard shoulder on the M62 motorway. They had stated that it looked like a nice straight road for training and I'd always thought of it as a crazy, nonsense story.....

Hotel $20/room/night
Things for breakfast $4
Reastaurant meal (very good) $21
Phonecall home (without mentioning the motorway incident) $5

Prices are lower than we expected.

Wednesday 27th October

For our first proper day we did a walking tour to take in the atmosphere of Buenos Aires. (This was after 12 hours sleep, of course).

We saw Evita's tomb, plaza del Mayo and San Telmo, probably our favourite spots, then had dinner with Xiemena and Santiago in a beautiful flat in Recoletta. Santi's parents are diplomaticos. We missed the eclipse of the moon but ate our first empanadas.....

Lunch $22
Wine for Xiemena $5
Postcards $5 for 4
Stamps home $4 each - clearly anything for tourists would be expensive.
Taxi was $ 5.20 but tried to give the driver a tip that he didn't really expect. He even tured off the meter after taking a wrong turn.
Bargain of the day - superpanchos $1 each!

Thursday 28th October

We decided to stay on nother four night in Benos Aires to give Ben time to cure his cold but we also decided to move on from Once and cycled to Palermo to look for a hotel.

Hotel familial $40/room/night
Zoo $6 each but we spent 3 hours there! Trying to identify animals native to South America that we could get attacked by....
Empanadas $4 for two

Friday 29 October 2004

Outing to Tigre by bus to check out the route we will take out of the capital. Trying to work out which bus to take was fun and in the end it was easier to stop every one and ask. Ben stil has a cold so we bought some chilli to make a soup bak at the hotel whih was fun. Tigre will be a nice first destination.

Bus $1.35
Vegetables for Soup $4

Sabado 30 October

We visited some more quarters of B.A., including Boca Juniors stadium and Caminito both in La Boca and walked back to Reiro after a coffee in San Telmo. There won't be any polo matches this weekend and Saturdays are very dozy with a lot of shops closed and most people seeming to be in parks. We took 500 pesos from the ATM as it would not give us 600 and spent some time on the internet. Then we made another soup back at the hotel. This is one of the advantages of a hotel familial as you can cook so we're spending hardly anything.

Part 2 Crossing the flat province

Monday 1st November

Last day in Buenos Aires 31/10.

After our last day in B.A. yesterday, we are finally "en route" and cycled 22 km today to Tigre, as planned. The weather is a lot better than the first time we visited and it is all the prettier for having cycled. We decided to put the tandem on the roof of a long boat to spend a nice quiet night on the river delta and fund that we were the only two guests, so it definitely was quiet. We relaxed with fanta on deckchairs on the edge of the river watching the boats and then had a spaghetti dinner with TV. Ben worked out better than me how to get a caliente shower by using two electric wires that passed a current through the water flow but somehow I preferred my cold but safe shower. We are both happy to be out of the capital although, yesterday, our 7 year anniversary on Hallowe'en, was a good last day in Buenos Aires.

We went with every other tourist to San Telmo Sunday antiques market to see some tango and to marvel at the stalls of Argentinian antiques. They even had some antique tango dancers which was an even better deal but my favourite item was a kind of long leather rope with two leather balls at each end used for spinning and the throwing to an animals feet to lassoo it to the ground. The gentleman explaining to us how it worked probably didn't realise that it looked suspiciously like a leather "meat and two veg,"but I did manage to contain my sniggering. In the morning we had had empanadas at a small hotel where the proprio had passed us the Sunday papers - my favourtie past time, even in Spanish, but as they started to wear off we were tempted to eat at Mitos de Argentino, complete with tango show. Mitos is completely for tourists and is pretty awful except that they give you a huge glass of wine and all of a sudden you can sing along to all the Spanish (tango) ballads, cheer when they ask each of the audience in turn where they come from and drool at what I would affectionately describe as the "past it" cabaret entertainers.

After a bit of an argument with the waitress about whether waiting 2 and 1/2 hours for overpriced food merited a tip, we took a leisurely walk back through Sam Telmo, stopping to listen to orchestres and bands, again with the haunting sound of the tango accordion.

One group of kids managed to break one stool and an accordion within minutes but they were excellent and very organised. Ben brought me a silver necklace for my lucky cross which was my highlight but I'm sure Ben's was finding a Museum of Doors which was free and had toilets.

On the way home we stumbled across an International festival in Palermo, solely for Argentinians. There was not a single mention of tango at all. We thought to ourselves that from Tigre onwards, Ben and I would try to be travellers, not tourists.

Panaderia $5
Supermercado $15
Boat $12
Camping $10
Fanta $5
Food $20

Tuesday 2nd November

Tigre to San Antonio de Areco

Today Ben and I survived the mother of all storms.

We left Tigre with no real event, taking pictures of the tandem on the top of the boat. We found out that between 8.30am and 10am the boats turn into river school buses so we were glad to get off the delta early. Some people live on the river but work in the capital which must be a bit of a hike but life has adapted to rivers rather than roads and there are no cars on the delta and the postie comes by boat.

After some friendly advice from an ex-cyclist policeman (it is amazing how many ex-cyclists we meet), we got ourselves on the ruta 8 and cycled to Pilar by midday. The heat had risen to about 30 degress by this point so I made a noisy request to stop for empanadas.

Luckily of all the shops that lined the route, we picked the nicest, revolutionary empanada maker in the province of Buenos Aires, Pablo. He took Ben out back to see his Norton motorbike, an exact replica of El Che's, in pieces but very shiny pieces at that. Pablo thought the tandem was excellent, especially as we were (broadly speaking) following Che Guevara's route across the Andes and he told Ben he had spent some time with guerillas in Colombia. Good - I thought - some contacts if we get stuck for a campsite up north.

We all left together (along with our 6 free empanadas) to meet his brother-in-law, Damian, who kept a bicycle repair shop. Luckily we didn't need any repairs but spent some time taking photos of the family with the tandem and the shop (with the tandem) and discussing our route to Cordoba. They advised us against Rosario and asked us to try to keep to the quieter roads which would be more "tranquilo."

It was a nice rest on a hot day with the family and we realised that everyone else seemed to be more worried about us than we were but soon we took off with Damian as an escort on his mountain bike, for Capilla del Senor. He followed us for a few miles and a scary moment where I could hear a lorry rattling along behind us on the gravel at the side of the road trying to avoid an overtaking car, but not doing a good job of avoiding us.

On long roads like ruta 8, the addresses are known in kilometer distances and we looked for two campsites at 76km and 80km. I started to feel that my only contribution to research, a list of campings in Argentina, was letting me down a bit when we couldn’t find either site. So we had to decide to continue in he heat or go back to an earlier hotel. Since "go back" is not in our cycling vocabulary (unless I drop my gloves on the road) we both agreed to continue what we thought was 20km to San Antonio de Areco. It was in fact a good 30 kilometers and it gave the weather time to change quite dramatically.

I think I was the first jinx by saying I hoped the clouds would block out the sun for a bit but then Ben made the following statements:

"Luckily the wind is blowing south so it'll go right over," as we watched huge lightening forks start to pierce the sky just a couple of miles ahead.

"I don't think it'll rain more than this," as we inadvertently put the tent up in the lowest, barest part of the municiple camping and it started to drizzle.

"Well it's not going to rain forever," as we watched two hours worth of torrential rain, and frozen hail, batter our tent, from the safety of a pizzeria porch.

Everything got pretty drenched although the waterproof paniers did very well and our clothes stayed surprisingly dry. We created a Glastonbury-style mud bath by our choice of plot and also thanks to a tent peg which had been blown off and had let in a great puddle of water into the tent. Ben, the hero, used his cycling pants to mop up the best part of the water and we rung out our blanket and slept on the plastic sheeting that we knew would come in useful.

Being out in a storm clearly makes it feel all the more dramatic than being indoors but this was rain, icy hail and lightening that shocked even two people used to notoriously bad weather in England. However, English weather tends to be a monotonous drizzle and nothing like going from 40 degree heat to frozen torrential rain in the time it takes to put up a tent!

Mileage: 61.89 miles

Annoyance of the day: 7 mosquito bites on one arse. Ben said they probably thought it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Wednesday 3rd November

In spite of initial weariness about leaving the bike and all our stuff at the municipal campsite, Ben was right to say that San Antonio de Areco is a small and very tranquil town that relies on tourists so certainly won't rifle through their paniers when they are out exploring the town.

We dodged the branches that had fallen in the night, some rather close to our tent, and after washing and moving the tent to a drier spot left by some more sensible campers, who had read their SAS survival guide, we took a peaceful tour of the town. It felt a little Wild West and although we would miss the Gaucho festival by a few days, we got a feel for it.

Extravagance of the day $40.50 for a meal of picada, bife de lomo, asado (BBQ) morcilla (black pudding) and a glass of red wine. Best tenderloin meal ever.

Thursday 4th November

San Antonio de Areco to Arricifes

The weather was pretty rubbish today all along ruta 8. It was a grey drizzle at best and wind and rain at worst. We decided to treat ourselves to a night in a hotel at Arricifes (40.80 miles) to dry off.

On arriving, a driver pulled up alongside with his son to ask us where we were from and to direct us to a hotel. He said that his brother was a journalist and would be interested in our story but we didn't think anything more of it and arrived at the hotel and settled down to watching a marathon Spanish "Los Simpsons."

But then there was a knock at the door and Mario arrived to do a short interview and take some pictures. He complemented Ben on his Spanish and was really pleased with our project, telling us to check the Pagina Diario de Arricifes for the article. Fame at last.

We had already had an article printed in the infamous Warminster Journal, scribed by Mr Sketchley himslf, just as we left and I showed this to Mario. After my lesson in updating out internet page with the picture in Buenos Aires, we had printed it out in case we wanted to try to get free stuff. We were mini celebrities after all. So this would be our scond claim to fame and I left a stamped envelope at the hotel and asked them to send the article home.

It's funny how news travels fast.

Ben's friend Rodrigo at the campsite in San Antonio had said his father had seen us on the road from his lorry. And whilst we were cycling from Pilar with Damian, a strawberry seller on the side of the road was practically screaming for us to stop since he had been given a card to pass on to us. It was from two young lads we had met with their email addresses. They had wanted to catch us but must have missed us on our detour to Pablo's.

So we are definitely not anonymous in this huge country.

Hotel with TV $35
Spaghetti at Shell petrol station in rain $14

BIRDS

There are some beautiful birds in Argentina. Only a few miles out of the capital and it's agglomeration, we watched humming birds around the tent and peroqueets and swallow-tails scooping up moths from the side of the road. There is a small version of an eagle which we need to look up on the internet along with a hawk-type bird. Because the countryside is so flat and only just punctuated with a few trees, it is ideal for bird-watching. We just need to learn more feathered varieties.

BEING SILLY

Homesickness is a funny thing and catches you at different times. After phoning home, I have to make an allowance of 4 kilometers of tears and even though I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, occasionally, something will remind me of home or family or friends and I'll have to stop what I'm doing, unless it's pedalling. But today I tried an ingenious trick to beat the sadness and the rain. I have remembered to bring my extremely stripey football socks which my team always admired on the pitch. They are green with white stripes and I wear them pulled right up to my knees for no other reason than they look very quirky and I do look slightly like an idiot in them. Funnily enough, people don't really notice the socks, since two crazy cyclists on a tandem is novelty enough but they definitely keep me happy.

Ben's favourite comment shouted at us from a lorry in Pergamino was "Hay gente loca en Argentina pero no como vosotros!!"

Friday 5th November - Guy Fawkes

Arricifes to Colon (via Pergamino)

64.09 miles today of route 8 with cross wind and a few near misses with lorries pretty much all the way there. However, we were pleased to wake up to fine weather and by the time we arrived in Colon our spirits were high and we were still telling hilarious jokes about passing through Colon, transit in Colon and how wide the roads were in Colon.

Our campsite is on a lake with plenty of mosquitos but no bites. I got locked in the showers and had to be rescued, luckily by Ben as my Spanish doesn't cover requests to pick locks. The town is a pretty sleepy factory town.

Camping $3 Bargain accommodation!
Supermarket $17 and $15
Coffee and chocolate at Pergamino $5.50, although I pretended the chocolate was free.

Satruday 6th November

Colon to Firmat 50.64 miles

Decision day today.

We set off on the ruta 8 pretty late at 11am but neither of us could explain the hours lost before actually cycling. A few miles out of Colon, we found our dream, a cycle path!

It appeared that since leavig Buenos Aires, the province of Santa Fe had invested slightly more in it's roads, giving cyclists a dream ride and allowing other vehicles at least a slight margin of error for their crazy overtaking.

However, to our dismay at a YPF garage, they informed us that our dream would only last another 1 km and also that the campsite we were expecting in another 20 km was flooded a coupled of years ago and had never been fully re-established. This shows the benefit of talking to the locals, just to confim the weeks of research and planning you can put in.

So back to Plan A and we decided to cross-country for a couple of days, for a break from the busy road 8, hoping to stay on a smaller road, the ruta 6 for as long as we could towards Cordoba. The ruta 9 which we may have to take could potentially be busier but at least the gamble meant a couple of days of changing scenery.

We passed the flooded campsite and although we skirted round, it looked like the whole area was pretty deserted. We watched a snake slither across the road and luckily it didn't feature in the SAS guide, ans made it to a hotel in Firmat a very non-descript town, still in agricultural heartland.

Hotel at Colon $35 (no TV - quite overpriced)
Food at Hughes YPF gas station $15.

INFRASTRUCTURE

Crossing the province of Buenos Aires was basically on flat, agricultural land with a long and extremely straight road carving through it. In fact, sometimes there is a horde of arrows and danger signs to indicate a slight kink in the road, usually from at least 1000m away.

The smaller road we took to Firmat was also paved and although we probably only saw 3 vehicles for each 2 km stretch, there were quite a few lengths where overtaking was prohibited by double yellow bands in the middle of the road. I couldn't think of anywhere where visibility could be better. Twice we measured as far as the eye could see on the road to be 10 kilometers, or 6 miles. But there must have been a reason to stop overtaking, although I wasn't sure who exactly would be policing it either. Quite often there would be a mirage on the road, making the horizon disappear with no difference between the road and the sky. Pretty spacious scenery really.

The towns are different again, though, for as spacious as the countryside is, the towns are organised grids of generally one-story buildings. It almost feels claustrophobic as they are so linear that it is difficult to see what is going on as you always seem to be at a corner. Go down one street and you can't see the end of the first.

If there is a central place, it is often only the size of one block so the market square could be fairly small and again, squared. Making it bigger or evn rectangular would mean sleepless nights for the town planners.

In saying all this, the buildings are charming and quite often have that Wild West feel about them, especially in Gaucho country. Looking down alleyways are leafy, tiled courtyards with dappled sunlight streaming through and elaborate arches and doorways leading to once glamourous halls.

Children can play out as there is very little traffic in the peublos and what there is is very slow. It is not uncommon for townspeople to get about on horseback or by bike but we are yet to see another tandem or even another cyclo-tourist.

Sunday 7th November - Suzanne's birthday

Firmat to Cruz Alta 57.89 miles

It was a very tough day for cycling today. Not a cloud in the sky but cross winds for 30 miles and a vicious headwind for another 28.

However, La Superclassico football match between old rivals Boca Juniors and River Plate was taking place so arriving at Cruz Alta amid shouting and roudiness was good fun. (score Boca 0-2 River).

As a bit of a treat for the wind, we booked into our most luxurious hotel yet with TV, lots of light and space, a separate shower room and fluffy white towels.

Hotel $50
Meal $35 (including street entertainment - see next paragraph)
Drinks at Arteaga - free. Nice locals - must have been River supporters
Panaderia and bananas $4.50
Agua $4
Supemercado $3
Telephone home $20!!

Very naughty phonecall home for 20 minutes but realised that we haven't left news for a while so ought to update the internet page soon. Missed Suzanne's birthday best wishes as she is delayed in London due to train crash in Reading - train crash on the news.

We had never seen so many young people in a town before and for a few hours on Sunday (and Friday/Saturday) night, Cruz Alta turns into Cruise Alta with bikes, cars, scooters, mopeds and pick-ups going backwards and forwards along the main stretch. We spent a happy hour, well-fed watching the wheelies. If we hadn't been so done in by the wind we might have joined them on the tandem machine.

Monday morning 8th November

Not being able to decide whether to stay on for another day or get back on the road, after a really good night's sleep we decided that unless we had to stop we would always try to continue. We did, after all, feel totally recovered afer our night of luxury.

Shortly after breakfast, we became minor celebrities in latin America again when the hotel owner aranged for a local TV station to come and interview us (with a video camera AND microphone).

I think I probably sounded like Brad Pitt's gypsy character in the film Snatch with my mumbling away in Spanish but we told her all about our travels and our plans. On the difficult questions, which was most of them, I looked straight at Ben hoping she would point the microphone at him. But I definitely got my name and age right, although she may have to dub the rest.

After they left, on a moped of course, carrying the camara, I wondered why we didn’t do an "action interview" live fom the side of the road. But maybe that would be our next paparazzi experience. I didn't let it go to my head, but most of the way to Justiano Posse I practiced speeches in Spanish, in case I would be asked to open supermarkets and such like.

Monday 8th November

Cruz Alta to Justiniano Posse 53.3 miles

Excellent stay in Cruz with a really nice family that we were quite sad to leave but then another equally as welcoming hotel in Posse. We started to feel pretty tired in the heat but kept a very consistent pace through Los Surgentes, Inriville, Monte Buey and then Justiniano Posse. Another interview, this time for the radio, in Inriville which we managed to pick up the photos for on the internet in Posse. Ben is getting very professional at these interviews.

Tuesday 9th November

J Possee to Ordonez 12 miles

This morning we woke up and packed up and did another TV interview, this time asking the journalist to send a copy home so it will be funny if it arrives. Each time we say that what we like most about Argentina is the people but this really is true as everyone is really welcoming and interested and always helpful.

With the threat of rain looming and starting to feel the need for a rest, we made an executive decision to stop at Ordonez, only 20 km down the road to refuel and make much-needed updates to our website.

So after unpacking in a small friendly hostel (which would later be home for us and the lorry drivers) and eating in the only restaurant open in the afternoon, back on the road, we set about sleeping and typing up journals.

Our jouirney was after allnot just about cycling but also about keeping and sharing a record of our experiences and adventures. We also have a responsibility to keep in contact with our families and friends as we are, after all, a lot harder to get in touch with.

At 7pm we were ready to go to possibly the slowest connection cyber café in Argentina. In two hours, I had sent 4 emails and Ben had uploaded a single photo for our home page. The journal would have to wait until another, slightly speedier internet opportunity.

Hostel $20
Meal $20 (only restaurant open at midday - but what a feast! With lorry driver portions)

Wednesday 10th November - Dia de la Tradicion

Ordonez to Ticino 37.9 miles

Today we left Ordonez under a thick blanket of cloud, trying to predict whether we were due rain or not. The newspaper certainly had a solitary picture of an umberella to describe today's weather. We have been trying to note patterns in the weather and so far a southerly wind seems to indicate rain, although in some areas there have been violent storms and hail, whilst 40 miles down the road, things can be very calm. In any case the weather held out for us until La Laguna, which was just over 20 miles, so we decided to gamble and on the advice of the petrol station owners, continue to Ticino.

La Laguna seemed a little like Ordonez; a small towm with grey scruffy buildings but what really urged us to continue was the restaurant we stopped at for coffees. The restaurant could not tell us if there was a hotel in the town and as first impressions could for a great deal, whilst travelling, instinct told us to risk rain and continue the 24 miles to a friendlier village.

It was definitely worth it as our second luxury hotel that we checked into, after arriving at Ticino was more like an appartment, with lots of space, a door leading out onto pleasant gardens, another huge bathroom and TV. If we know that we only have one option for accommodation in a town, we are not always too disappointed if it is a luxury option.

But the hotel won't be all that we remember from Ticino. It is a very friendly little village of 2500 population which is the only university village in latin America. The university is named after Blaise Pascal, namesake of my own university in France.

Monica the hotel owner, directed us to the village hall when we asked if they celebrated Dia de la Tradicion, as there was a festival for the school children taking place. We had missed the dancing but a teacher ushered us in to watch the final celebrations for about 300 children (and parents) dressed traditionally as Gauchos or peasants. We were introduced over the microphone and we had to go to the front of thehall for a round of applause. The directors of the school gave us a welcoming embrace (almost as if we were celebrities again) and we waited for the school day to finish. Feeling myself getting hotter and hotter, I suggested to Ben that we creep out the back but the children spotted us first and within seconds we were surrounded by tiny expectant faces, all asking where we were from, did all my ear-piercings hurt and did we know David Beckham?

I later found out that Ben had thought it hilarious to tell the children that I was a famous footballer in England, as the next thing was I was signing autographs on pieces of lined paper with a tiny drawing of the "Bicicletta Doble."

The kids were going quite crazy and after a while I looked up at Ben to see that I had drifted 10 metres down the hall with my group of "fans." Luckily the English teacher joined me to help with some translations and the kids stole a couple of cakes for us.We had been showing everyone the picture of the tandem on my t-shirt but it wasn’t long before they wanted to see the real thing so we set off for the hotel with a hardcore group of about 30 eager children.

They hadn't forgotten about my famous career though and wanted to know how many goals I scored per match, which side of the pitch I played on and was the pitch grass or synthetic. I started to panic slightly when they asked if I wanted to play on the village pitch, especially since my matches were usually Wednesday nights, but luckily, thanks to wearing my sandals, I got out of it due to having no "botillas." Then I only had to answer what make of football boots I had (no doubt increasing sales of Adidas in South America overnight) and funnier still, how many keepie-upies I could do.

Eventually I admitted to being in a 5-a-side team in a small league at work, but I think they were still impressed.

The children loved the bike and I tried to take a photo of Ben and the tandem surrounded by kids but again they spotted me (how do they do that?) and all grouped together for a posed photo within seconds. Then they wanted to see the photo on the camera, before going back to the bike again. Next we had to write our email address on lots more pieces of paper - without leaving anyone out and still answering questions about the GBP to peso exchange rate, English weather and how much of a problem robbers were.

A little boy brought his bike along which looked suspiciously like it had no brakes and could collapse at any minute. Ben performed some crowd-pleasing bunny hops and kerb jumps on it while I asked myslef who wa sthe biggest kid there. He modestly said later that he could have done better with some brakes but I was just pleased that the whole contraption hadn't fallen apart. I expect there will be a few children practicing their bike tricks this weekend though.

With the tandem away safely and most of the children departed, we were escorted to the Panaderia, owned by one of the parents from the schoool. She happily showed us the bakery with the bread mix being churned and a huge old-fashioned bread oven, along with its newer ad faster replacement. The bakery gave us free cakes and bread and we went back to the solice of our apartment.

In Argentina, families eat later than at home, at around 9pm. All films and general interest popular programmes start after this at around 11pm. Ben and I had a siesta and Ben volunteered to test the bidet to amuse us before we went to eat. In a small town, it is not always possible to eat any earlier, simply because the meal is not ready before 9pm. There tends to be one sitting and often one choice of asado (bar-be-que) or parilla (grilled mixed meat) which everyone will generally take. Just by looking at your neighbour you can tell what you are getting and when. In any case for carnivores, Argentina serves up the best meat I have tasted.

Hotel $50
Asado $20

Thursday 11th November

Ticino to Hernando 29.5 miles

We left Ticino after doing a live radio interview. I was surprised as we waited for the music to finish that the presenter said what time it was, to prove that it really was live and direct. Ticino has a radio station which transmits morning and evening 7 days a week so now we had done our first live radio interview, or at least Ben had as I was slightly put off by the "live" aspect. The radio gave us a book about the history of a Gaucho character which I promised to learn to improve my Spanish and we left happy after our stay in the small village.

The rest of the journey to Hernando passed without any particular event, except we had another excellent parilla meal on arriving and caught our first glimpse of the long-awaited sierras ........

The Sierras of Cordoba to the Salinas Grandes

Friday 12th November 2004

Hernando to Embalce (Sierras de Cordoba) 51 miles

After a productive stay in Hernando, the National Capital of the Peanut (!), we left for the Sierras with a newly updated website. It took 5 hours to put the journal and photos on karennben.com but we were really pleased with the results.

We had a good ride to Embalce via Rio Tercero and Almafuerte, although using three maps in one day got a little complicated. Not only that, but Embalce didn't appear on any of them, although it is super touristic. It is at almost 700m altitude on the edge of a huge lake and as we climbed, the lorries turned into tourist buses and coaches.
I was keen to camp but Ben found us our best deal hotel yet and we prepared a strange concoction of gnocci, mackerel, chilli and rubbery cheese for tea. Since pasta meals normally cost just over £1, it probably would've been cheaper and tastier to eat out but at least we made the effort. Tomorrow would be a better day for exploring, since we arrived under purple skies but at least our surroundings were changing.

Hotel $30 pesos
Bargain of the day $1 peso for 6 cakes, 4 aniseed buns and 2 facturas cakes.

Saturday 13th November

Embalce to Villa La Merced 34 miles

Today we rode 34 miles through Santa Rosa la Calamuchita and Villa General Belgrano to Lago Los Molinos and the Fiat Campsite. We are prepared for a rest day tomorrow Sunday which will do us some good because I have started to do dozy things like leaving a perfectly good pair of cycling shorts and a sports bra in the hotel in Ticino and erasing an entire day's worth of statistics from Ben's bike computer.
Our campsite is on the edge of the lake and is very calm with no tourists this time of year, just fishermen. The local shop told us that the village was originally very small but was brought by a holiday cabin company and turned into a more private resort. The campsite is friendly with a good restaurant but almost cold, hot water.
When we arrived at 5.30pm (again another late start that we couldn't really account for) we took a small picnic down to the lake and could see the peaks of the sierras on the opposite side, tipping 2500 metres. As the clouds reached the peaks, we could see rain falling but it stayed dry on our side as the clouds moved over us. Then all of a sudden, we watched ripples coming towards us over the lake as the wind changed direction and a chill breeze swept over us, cooling the air. The rain held out, at least until we had eaten our homemade ravioli, but it was eventually a wet night.

The whole area is very touristic. The lake at Embalce is 46 metres deep this time of year, with an extra 4 metres at the end of the summer (Jan/Feb) and the rainy season. We had happily cycled up and down for the entire journey and reached nearly 1000 metres at one point. At lunch a graphic designer who worked for La Voz newspaper of Cordoba took our photo for the local community news pages. This could be our biggest celebrity attempt ever. We ate at a YPF garage but provisions we had bought in Embalce. I realised, whilst we ate, how many cars in Argentina had been converted to run on gas. At least 2 out of 10 cars were filling up on gas, even the old bangers. I thought to myself that it was a shame that we had not made the same environmental investment in the UK. Service stations are never self-service and there is always an attendant to pump the fuel for you. Rather worryingly, a lot of customers smoke on the forecourts so I can only assume that petrol is non-combustible here.
We have both benefitted physically from the change in altitude and road surface but it will take a couple of days (and we were to find out, a cleaner chain) for us to get a perfect synergy. Occasionally today, when Ben was changing gear, I was still forcing on the pedals to get uphill. This obviously causes a bit of a "crunch." but the bike was doing well and I think Ben was pleased to be at last changing gears.

Camping $8 pesos YPF coffees $3.50 Local shop $12.50 Dinner $24

Sunday 14th November

REST DAY

No cycling, no journal, just parilla at the campsite at midday and a walk by the lake. Ben did the much-needed bike maintenance and we tried out the walkie talkies in the evening. I said I would be Wolfman and Ben wanted to be Mailman which I thought was a rubbish radio name so I agreed. Probably the only use we will get out of them is describing the journey to the toilet block but we are happy to have them in our equipment.

Monday 15th November

Villa La Merced to Carlos Paz 43 miles

So after a good day off, we left the campsite and the fishermen and rode straight into a 10% climb. We travelled through some pretty spectacular gorges before starting to race downhill towards Alta Gracia. At coffee break, I showed Ben my top tips for tandem stokers, ready to share my expertise with a friend, Grace, who was buying a tandem at home with her boyfriend. Then Ben added his own for the captain:

Tandem tips for Stoker / Tandem tips for Pilot

1) Take a good look at your captain before starting out: what are his calfs like? Could he be drunk? If you are not convinced, do not tandem.
Take a good look at your stoker before starting out: what are his/her calfs like? Could he be grumpy? If you are not convinced, do not tandem.

2) You should always trust your captain and he should always trust you.
You should always trust your stoker and he should always trust you.

3) Love you tandem and it will love you. Get comfy and put sweets in your bar bag and keep a book under the maps for long rides. Remember the captain can't see you.
Love your tandem and stoker and they will love you. You are in charge of all technical aspects but never ever mention weight distribution. However, remind the stoker of who is in charge. Try to catch him at least once in an obvious lazy position and use it for future reference.

4) If you are lucky enough to have a brake use it wisely and discretely or it may be removed.
Keep the team safe. Do not try stunts without the stoker's approval. In case of a crash it will always be your fault (even if the stoker made you lose balance).

5) Make sure the maps are on the stoker's handle bars. Your function is to navigate and if you are female you wil be expert at this. The captain will be busy steering and changing gear.
Let the stoker navigate and warn you of hazards which are not directly facing you. However, try and keep a discrete eye on the map (usually during wee breaks) or the stoker will get you lost.

6) You should have a bell or a horn to alert pedestrians of your proximity but also to tell the captain when the tandem is going too fast downhill.
Listen to the stoker and do not upset him. Remember a grumpy stoker is worse than no stoker at all. Try to warn him of hazards he can't see: holes, bumps.

7) If you get stuck in mud or sand, resist temptation to stop pedalling and instead try to consistently pedal the bike out of trouble (even if it was a steering error). Should a 180 degree turn be necessary, keep pedalling for the captain as he steers (again probably a steering error, not your map-reading).
During technical piloting, let the stoker power the bike so you can concentrate on steering and balance.

8) At 4pm everyday, the stoker is allowed a refreshment of their choice, usually icecream. If there is not a shop nearby, make a note of the credit due.
It may sometimes be necessary to motivate the stoker; use the carrot not the stick (icecream works well).

9) Practice riding with one hand so you can wave to people or indicate to a driver if they are discourteous.
Keep your hands on the bar. The stoker will be uncomfortable if they think you have one lose hand.

10) If you need a break, never say you are tired, always say you need a "wee" break.
Do not overdo it. Let the stoker get tired first! Also, only fart when over 15 mph or with strong cross wind

******
Alta Gracia is where the young El Che grew up and is the start of some very touristic parts of the Sierras. In fact to get to Carlos Paz from Cordoba there is now a motorway in place which must bring car-loads in the school holidays. We had to take the very last junction of the motorway but knowing that it was only 3 miles, we crawled carefully along the hard shoulder until the downhill into the town where the motorway speed limit was 60 kpm but we were obliged to do 70, just for the record.
We were amazed to see that we had arrived for 2pm and really felt the benefit of our dayoff. I for one didn't clock watch on my bike computer and only looked at it once or twice for the speed, rather than to see how many miles we had left (my usual preoccupation). So our training was starting to take effect.
We ate, found a campsite couldn't be bothered to wait for hot water to shower, did a mini tour of the lake and then got installed in an internet café for a while. Later Ben sewed some rather ingenious extra tent peg hooks into the tent to keep the sides away from the inner layer to stop it getting wet.

Camping $10 pesos (most expensive yet) Food $27 (good pasta) Internet $7 (about 90 mins each) Picnic $13
**Important note**
Reading back through the journal on the internet, I realised that our prices could be mistaken for dollars. But we are not really that extravagant and all the prices are pesos which work out at 4.5 to the GBP. So for example, the camping at $10 was approximately £2.30. I wouldn't want anyone to think we had spent £25 on that meal in San Antonio, it was only a tenner!

Tuesday 16th November

Carlos Paz to La Falda 38 miles

Ben did not sleep well last night due to a party in the campsite. The guy was nice about it and explained that it was a family party and he would've invited us if he had seen us come back but as we treasure our sleep we wouldn't have been much use. So feeling very salty, by the time we arrived at La Falda, we were looking for a quiet campsite that had hot water; two important pre-requisites.
The ride was good but we made the mistake of having half a break at Cosquin which meant that getting back on the bike again, we were more tired than we thought. We rose 250 metres to La Falda which sits at 934m a fairly busy town which has it's own lake. The campsite was on the edge of this lake and seemed perfect so we left our gear and cycled back into town to find some food. Again we had arrived during the most quiet part of the day but we managed to get fruit and vegetables for soup and some good bread and cakes. Alice, the campsite owner, had stoked up the wood burner for hot water and shouted for us when it was ready. She kept checking on us which I thought was a bit strange until I realised another family had to use the hot water too so it was altogether a bit of a circus. Alice caught me in the mens showers but when I explained that there was little to no water in the ladies, she didn't seem to mind. I must have looked quite desperate for a shower.
It was a very peaceful evening and as the sun went down we watched the Sierras opposite, that we had followed all day, change from green to orange to super-violet. Hundreds of fireflies gave us an impromptu fireworks display round the edge of the lake and Ben and I agreed that we appreciated being safe, warm, dry, fed, clean and watered. We each scored them differently though.
Then to our dismay, we woke up at 2am to the joyous tones of full blast 80s Argentinian rock opera, crashing through our idyllic setting. Goodness knows where these kids get their taste in music from but its scary stuff. At first, Ben thought it was coming from the campsite restaurant and when I said I was going for a wee, he told me to tell them to turn it down. I thought this was really funny as it was like volunteering Homer Simpson for international relations. In the past few hotels, I had been watching Los Simpsons to learn Spanish so now I tended to make people a bit nervous with my quite aggressive accent. Anyway, I didn't need to worry (or upset anyone) as the music was coming from the other edge of the lake from car stereos. Short of getting on the tandem and pedalling down there, which wouldn't exactly be the desired effect, we would have to wait until the Rock Opera decided to stop itself. So much for a peaceful night.

Wednesday 17th November

La Falda to Cruz del Eje 44.6 miles

Today was a good day to drop down from the Sierras. The long wedge of mountain we had been following started to come to a conclusion just after our lunchbreak and picnic under a stringy old tree. Today, we met Charles, really the first english-speaker since arriving. American-Argentinian, he has lived here for 9 years without returning to the US. He told us to get some good advice before setting off to cross the Andes as he knew of a party of German tourists, stranded in the snow, even though snow was unheard of this time of year. At 4000 metres, we supposed that anything was possible. He wished us luck and said that he would check our website for progress. I was really pleased to have spoken to another "estrangero." It is hard to explain, but it is quite comforting to speak to someone who is also a foreigner and I hoped we would see more travellers and tourists in the Andes if, for nothing more, at least to swap stories. But shorlty afterwards, I felt a little concerned and questioned whether we had enough mountain experience and enough mileage under our saddles to tackle the Andes. But Ben reassured me again and I thought to myself that we had enough common sense, drive and good humour to cross safely.
We crossed the Rio Seco, which as its name would suggest was completely dry and as the temperature soared we arrived at Cruz del Eje, or rather flew round the corner into the town, chased by a crazy dog. A man who said he had seen us two days before in Carlos Paz (I like it when that happens) directed us to a good hotel with the best selling point yet: a swimming pool. Everything needed recharging so we decided to go for the more luxurious sleeping option, rather than camping and inspite of the swimming pool and room service, the hotel was still only about £9 for both of us. So after dumping everything, we went for a dip and felt the water cool our tired skin. I did a few lengths keeping my mouth closed so as not to swallow any of my fellow swimmers; insects that would spoil my dinner. But I instantly felt a lot happier and put my earlier mood down to being tired and the heat. Sometimes it did happen to get a bit grumpy, even though we were living a dream on the tandem!
Hotel $39 (with pool)

TIME
I remembered an email Fred had sent asking how it felt to have so many months travelling ahead of us. However, I don't think our notion of time has changed much from before.
Each day we are on the hbike, concentrating on fairly short-term mileage and really only thinking about the next few days at the mosts. Our priorities are very short-term, ie. somewhere to sleep and something to eat and drink. It was just as a home, where we would be focusing on what we were doing that week. When we have a day off, we do look a bit further though and try to roughly plan the next week. Because we tend to phone home on Sundays, we like to say roughly where we will be the next time we call. Also, a day-off does give us a bit more time to research so we take the opportunity to read the guide book and make ourselves nervous about countries we don't yet know anything about. But this is the only time we are so forward-thinking
This may change as time goes on, just as I may not be able to remember eveything about every little town we pass through, as I can now. But for now, we think of cycling as our working day. For now, it looks like we will get to the end of the travel and think "goodness that was ten months to get to California - where did the time go?"
One big difference is the weekends, which don't really hold much importance for us as sometimes we stop, sometimes we don't. Sundays are special, as I mentioned, because we try to phone home, but weekend day is not a great deal different to any other. Having said that, it is often the case for an entire country to make little difference between the week days and Saturday or Sunday, such as we found in Morrocco. Even in Argentina, a Sunday night in a small town can come to life, just like any other night and shops are open, outside of the siesta, 7 days a week.
Having said all that, we do feel enormously liberated by time. At the end of the day, a few minutes of calm is massively refreshing and knowing that we can stop whenever we chose to means we can listen to our bodies and rest when we need to. We rarely find ourselves rushing and for someone who was a typical "blue-arsed fly" in Leeds, hopefully working to our own agenda will be a big change and a change for the better.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome to tandem ride knb1711 to Cruz del Eje. Your captain for this flight is Ben and the stoker is Karen. We will be reaching a maximum altitude of 1150 metres with a best average speed of 21 kmph and the local temperature around 35 degrees. We will be serving refreshments throughout the ride, generally water from your camelbacks, but we will need to stop to refuel. There is no in-ride film but please feel free to watch the Sierras fly past and to spot tiny farms and villages buried in the landscape.
Our estimated ride time is 3.5 hours although this will depend on wind direction and stoker effort.
For your own safety, please keep personal effects stowed away carefully and please ensure paniers are secured tightly to the tandem. Keep your helmet and gloves on your person, even if they do give you a strange suntan effect. You must keep your limbs within the tandem at all times, except waving to locals or indicating to drivers that they were discourteous. Should you need to exit the tandem, please remember to wait until the bike is stationary and unclip your pedals first.
There are no toilets on board but request stops can be made, with the pilot, at bushes and ditches.
We hope you enjoyyour ride with us today and will continue to travel knb tandem in the future. Please face the front and prepare for take-off....."

Thursday 18th November

Cruz del Eje to Dean Funes 44 miles

Today was a long straight ride through a very different landscape. The fairly lush and green sierras became a dry, arrid land of cactus plants and dried up rivers. It was a slow incline all the way back up to an altitude of 700 metres to get to Dean Funes so we made slow progress in the heat and against a nose wind.
Just outside Cruz del Eje, we saw 3 farmers on horseback grazing their cattle inside a portable electric fence and one cow was nursing a very new-born calf. These were almost the only people we saw on the road though and the villages were almost non-existant. The first one we passed consisted of an abandoned railway station with no roof but the second looked a little more promising for a water stop.
The previous night I had realised the importance of keeping hydrated, even in the evenings when we weren't necessarily cycling. It was the only night we hadn't bought extra water and after a coffee at tea-time and a fanta with our food (as there was no water in the restaurant) by night-time I was parched and woke up with a bad headache. Ben and I played Russian roulette with our water purification tablets and guessed that 20 minutes was enough to clean the tap water. I did feel slightly icky during the morning and vowed always to have a plentiful supply of drinkable water.
At the second village, one kiosk on the road sold only coke and beer, so the woman (looking slightly flustered) directed us to a shop off the road n the tiny village. They had bottled water, although we couldn't see a thing inside.
There was a gentlemen's club drinking aperitifs outside the shop (from the bottle), one on crutches, one with no teeth, one who grinned but didn't talk and two that were well underage. They gave Ben a little banter about money and being able to afford to travel and not work but it was all good-humoured. Often the best way for us to explain our budget is simply to say that we sold our car at home. We always try to explain that we have very few expenses, since we only have to pay for food, water and camping everyday. However, it's not hard to see how it must look in villages where children run about with no shoes on. In any case, the one on crutches said that Ben shouldn't take advice from a drunk old man anyway!
They cheered us off and went back to their refreshments in the midday heat. But it was definitely a strange village, it looked tiny with just a few houses, although there seemed to be hundreds of children coming out of the school for lunchbreak. Also, the children were the first we came across that stared at the bike, rather than shouting at us and cheering and waving. Everything seemed so much quieter and more timid, like it wasn't us that were the strangers.....
The campsite at Dean Funes was great and only $9 pesos with hot water that trading standards would have been happy with. It wasn't the easiest to find though. As soon as we got into the grids of the town the big signs seemed to disappear and even though a group of lads directed us to a bridge, we didn't quite find it and had to ask another group of youngsters, set off then stop and ask again. We normally arrive at our destination town at 3 or 4 pm, which is in the middle of the siesta or at least when the smaller shops have closed up until the evening. But finally, and we must have looked quite confused by this point, a young guy escorted us to a railway line and we realised that the "bridge" we were looking for was a path across the tracks and a ditch with a yellow handrail. Luckily the freight trains are very rare and very slow so they don't seem to pose any danger to the children who have to cross the "bridge" to get to the municipal swimming pool.
Although no-one else was camping, there was lots of activity with another children's festival going on in the park. Ben and I commented later that people always asked us about security with the bike and we always explained that at night we are in hotels or campsites and don't cycle after dark. Also, our general answer is that all countries have their risks. It seemed incredible that they would worry though as the towns and villages are so safe that children roam about at night by themselves and Ben watched a toddler playing on his bike until past 11pm in J. Possee. Parents and brothers and sisters can carry children on their bike handlebars or the backs of mopeds simply because there is very little traffic and we are the only cyclists to wear our cycle helmets religiously. Life in the small towns seems to be very safe for children, and visitors alike.
We went to eat lomitos in town; our new thing: beef sandwiches with lettuce, tomatoes, a slice of cured ham and a fried egg in. Then after dark we walked back, just as the children's festival was finishing. The guardian said he would keep our light on until we went to bed, so once inside the tent, Ben said" ok switch-off, " very quietly, then, when nothing happened "go on them," just as quietly and the lights went out. How clever! We spent the best night in the campsite with 9 hours sleep!
Camping $9 Lomitos $10

Friday 19th November - Robert's brithday!

Dean Funes to Quilio 26 miles

Today was a mini day as we stopped at Quilino, ready for an intrepid journey of 120km the following day. There was no possibility of doing part of the Salinas in two days so we would have to rest a bit and prepare for a longer ride.
On the road, we watched what we thought was a really slow bird flying across in front of us. Then moments later, we realised it was a huge flying cricket-type insect. For a few miles, plenty more had fallen victim to hi-speed windscreens so we were able to take a closer look.
When we got to Quilino, we found the campsite and were told we could camp for free since it was officially closed. We had parilla back at a restaurant on the road to celebrate. An old gentleman of 86, who was on his way to a conference in Cordoba, wanted to talk to Ben about a book he was writing called, Comos 3. Ben didn't necessarily agree with his views on religion but said that no-one was ever allowed to disagree with a man of 86 years. Next, we met the bee transporters from Dean Funes who had also stopped for food. We were starting to try to find out more about where others were going, rather than answer questions about our journey all the time.
Afetr a short siesta in the campsite, we pedalled back into the village to buy provisions for a pasta soup and for the next day. Considering, there were only 3 shops, this should have been carried out with military precision within 10 minutes, however the whole operation took around two hours, since the whole of the village seemed to have a question about the tandem. One shop keeper in particular, who incidentally had a whole fridge of skinned goats that he showed us, only let us buy water after we answered every conceivable question about our journey. Even then, every customer that arrived was told to ask us where we were going, so we still took ages just to buy 6 litres of mineral water. We had an audience too, of eager-faced children, who thought the horn was really funny, especially when it made the shopkeeper jump. When we could finally escape, with our shopping bags hanging off the handles, the kids chased us up the hill to the campsite, cheering and waving.
It was already starting to get dark so we had to wash, cook and eat very quickly. Ben had left some water from the source in a black bag in the sun, since there was no running water in the campsite, we used the shower attachment on the bag, hung it in a tree and managed to take a warm, "natural" shower. It was great and beat a lot of the agua caliente we were used to. It had warmed up really quickly in the sun. There is a lot to be said for a quick rinse at night really helping you to sleep after a hot day!

Saturday 20th November - The Big Crossing

Quilino to Recreo - 78 miles

This morning, we learnt an important technical lesson: Don't fix a puncture in the exact spot you got it.
Those pine needles are tiny but mighty and no sooner had Ben changed the inner tube but we rolled over another and heard a familiar hissing noise. Anyway thanks to the spare inner tubes, the two punctures were fixed quickly and we were only 30 minutes behind schedule, after waking at 6am, ready for the big ride.
It is much more pleasant to set-off early, especially now that the days are getting warmer and I think it's a habit we'll have to try to adopt to take advantage of less wind and less heat.
The Salinas are what is left when internal seas evaporate as the mountains around them rise. When seen from quite faraway, the salt residue makes a pure white horizon and we got our first glimpse after just 20km. Salinas Grandes had a little water in places close to the road, from the previous week's rain. This water helped to cool the wind slightly as it blew into us. However, very little vegetation grew, just scrubby bushes in the white and beige sand and on the side of the road, some scented yellow flowers.
There was a bar at the start of the salinas and one in the middle, in an abandoned petrol station, but that was it for almost 80 miles. We calculated that we got through 11 litres of water just for the journey alone, most of which we were able to carry on the bike, but we were glad for a break in the bars and especially for their fridges.
In the morning, ben pointed out three dead coral snakes on the road. They are easily recognisable from their red, white and black stripes and the SAS survival guide described them as "small-mouthed, reluctant to bite but deadly."
From now on, I would have to be a bit more chosey about the location of my loo breaks. We also saw a dead cow on the road nearby and wondered if it could've been a slow victim of the snakes. Gruesome. Having said that, sometimes taking a pee on the side of the road is preferable to some toilets. In the first bar, I was ushered through some living quarters into the bathroom and found a curiosity to look behind a drawn shower curtain. It revealed lots of lazy cockroaches and crickets also using the facilities.
After the first part of the salinas, we stopped at bar no. 2 for some respite from the wind. Even though the sun was scorching the road and our skin, the wind was blowing across us with such a strength, it felt like the bike was tipping over with some gusts. It made us crawl along at between 8 and 10 miles an hour, even though the road was perfectly flat and straight.
The bar was pretty deserted. Some gypsies were trying to attach a tow bracket to the bumper of a car, although the bumper itself was barely hanging on. As they left, the deserted forecourt was empty and from inside the shop, the wind rattled the windows and walls. But the man and woman who ran the shop were really friendly and asked us to look at any photos we had of where we lived. It was a good chance for me to get out my postcards, wedding photos, pictures of family and friends and of Ben's goddaughter Elise. In fact this was really a good boost of motivation for the last 20 miles of windy road and we set off again.
Hot, salty and tired, we arrived at the hotel and slept for three hours before going out to eat. It wasn't hard to decide what to do the following day.....

Hotel $35 Parilla $12 - cheapest yet!

Sunday 21st November

Recreo. Rest day

Today we phoned home, spent time in a cafe with the papers, ate parilla at midday and then went on internet, after our siesta. Our formula for a good rest day.

Starting in the Andes

Monday 22nd November 2004

Recreo to Frias 48 miles

This morning we left bright and early from the hotel at 7:15am and it was nice to feel the fresh morning air after a hot night in the hotel room (and I don't mean Ben there).
The journey however was uneventful. No birds, no dead snakes, or donkeys and not even any dangerous liaisons with lorries. We stopped at a shop in San Antonio de la Paz which Ben really liked. They had a dog called Simba (also the name of our landlord, Andy's, dog) a pretty garden and a painted white tyre cut into the shape of a swan. They also had pan negro which we deciced was cheaper and healthier than white bread.
We arrived at Frias at midday and ate Ravioles at a huge YPF garage, the reason being we had absolutely no change at all from a 100 peso note. Even the brown bread had been a stretch of our coins supply. Since we had spare energy, we sang old Bon Jovi, Nirvana and Chilli Pepper songs until I had tears in my eyes. There is sumething really funny about watching Ben sing guitar solos in a petrol station restaurant.
Considering Frias has no official campsite, we were lucky to be offered three separate camping options: the YPF station itself, a motorclub grouds or a sportsground. We opted for the sports ground since it was closest to the tow, first spending two hours each on internet; then food.
We met Jorge and Maria in Frias who were with their sons and who gave us some advice on changing our route to a more interesting road than the ruta 157 to go north. We would miss the thermal baths but from the internet, the hotel looked far too expensive and the best thermals at Rio Hondo were too much of a detour. Jorge had done a lot of mountain biking and he ad brakes and gears so we decided to trust him.
Just before bed, there was lightening, thunder and rain but by morning everything had dried through, including us and the tent.

Camping, free
Lunch $21
Supper $9

Tuesday 23rd November 2004

Frias to Los Altos 63 miles

This morning we set-off at 7.30am and were pleased to see lots of little fat caterpilars on the road after the rain. They looked like minature slinky toys with thick black bodies and a stripey yellow casing.
The road to Lavalle was cement and as bland as ever so after a break at our usual haunt, the YPF garage on the edge of Lavalle, we decided to turn off and follow Jorge's advice. Almost straight-away, we came across a bendy road with ups and downs through pleasant, shady little villages and even though we found the hosteria Jorge had told us about in Banado, we were in good spirits and decided to continue. What a change from the hot, straight cement road from earlier that morning. It occurred to me that for the past couple of days, Ben had been waking up at around 2p, when most of Argentina is doing the opposite. Whether it was the coffee, I didn't know but he lifted the mood again in the afternoon by telling jokes. At one point he sounded exactly like Ali G when he sees a hedgehog for the first time: "What the f*** was that?" he said as we both watched a 3ft iguana running across the road.
Then he asked if it could've been an aligator and I laughed even more. But he got his revenge when I asked if the lizard was an orange colour. Equally as stupid as I didn't realise I was looking through orange sunglasses. Hopefully, we won't come across anything dangerous, as with our Laurel and Hardy routine, it will take us forever to work out what animals are what.
At the hotel at Los Altos, the shower, which we both really needed, was a water tank which we had to fill and then plug in for hot water. Then another little tap let out the supply into a watering can type attachment. It worked really well and I used my newly purchased shampoo to clen myself and some clothes.
Another ingenious thing about the room was that a hole was cut out of the top of the corner of the bathroom wall to allow the blades on the ceiling fan to rotate. It was obviously a lot easier to take a chunk out of a structural wall than to move the electrical fitting for the ventilator over slightly.
I was naughty in the evening as I had a 90 minute siesta while Ben cleaned the bike chain and talked to Ariel, a civil enginerr also staying in the hotel. Later Ariel brought Ben some surgical rubber gloves to make tandem maintenance operations a lot cleaner. Ben had mosquito bites when he came back in and I felt even guiltier about my nap.
A storm was brewing by 9pm when we went to eat so we hurried up the dusty street to buy some fruit. The shopkeeper was literally buttoning down the hatches by screwing wooden slats over the doors with a 13mm spanner for the bolts. The lights went out on one half of the street and the wind kept blowing the the dust up until the rain came. We worried for our dinner but ate perfect spaghettis at Don Marios comedor.
Back at the hotel, we sat outside watching purple flashes in the night sky and a couple of two-inch cockroaches. Earlier, the ligtening had been impressive thin fingers of light spread across the whole sky. Los Altos is a friendly, cosy town, especially in a storm.
Hotel $20
Spaghetti and beef $11.50

Wednesday 24th November 2004

Los Altos to Juan B Alberdi 36 miles

We both had a hot, sticky night and it continued to rain so alitter of tiny puppies outside our window cried and whimpered for most of the night. We ought to get some earplugs. When we woke, there was no electricity and we hoped that the storm would hold off so we could get back on the bike. It looked like it would and after breakfast, once the water filled the hotel yard, we left Ariel and the owner and pushed through the wet streets up to the tarmac road.
We stopped after 10km though as a light drizzle had turned into rain and an old lady gave us huge coffees, bread, jam and the newspaper to read, all for 90p. I was convinced the weather would change and after an hour it did. We raced through lively villages, floods and fields of heavy tobacco plants. I asked Ben to stop and look at a huge toad who must have been hit by a lorry. I wanted to throw it at Ben but I was forbidden to pick it up. Even when I suggested that the SAS survival guide said it was good luck to throw toads, it was no use. We left it in a peculiar position on the road, almost looking like it was waving us off with its little scaley hands.
We wondered whether the cooler temperature would change people's habits for the siesta as certainly the villages along the road had looked more animated but we arrived at 3pm, only to find that Juan B Alberdi was very quiet after all.

Thursday 25th November - 1 month to Christmas

Juan B Alberdi to Monteros 32 miles

After a great night's sleep and a lie-in, we set-off at 10am, back along the ruta 38 to Concepcion. The road looked tropical, probably due to all the rain and humidity and the palm trees growing on the side of the road. We had seen floods on the news earlier but it was an easy ride through both lush green surroundings and busy towns. There were no weird and wonderful creatures on the road, just pigs and chickens but there was plenty to look at so the ride went very quickly. We were also cheered and waved at a lot and we got back into a habit of hearing a car horn and both lifting our arms to wave. We must look quite syncronised. Ben heard a cockerell crow and lifted his arm to wave at it. What a star. One man overtook us twice waving furiously and another with his sons pulled over just so he could overtake us again, honking and all three waving out the windows.
Since it was one month that we had been on the road, Ben thought it would be a good idea to call Ruben, from the autopista in Buenos Aires (day 1) to tell him we were in his home town of Concepcion. At first Ben spoke to his wife, but she knew who Ben was straight away and Ruben himself was really pleased to receive a call. He said to call again when we arrived in Salta as he had contacts and family there and he went on to say he would send us some energy. Ruben told Ben that he had seen us as Angels in Buenos Aires and funnily enough, I had described him as a guardian angel in my journal.
Although a short and easy day, at Monteros we decided to eat first before finding a hotel. Looking at the prices, Ben panicked to see that a lomito was only £3 and he proceeded to order half the menu, just to make sure he didn't go hungry: mixed egg salad, lomito, roquefort pizza and an arabic selection, including lamb sausage, stuffing, aubergines, stuffed tripe and mash. The waitress thought we were funny and I thought I could see them taking bets at the bar on whether we would finish everything. But we did, mainly because it was freshing to eat something a little different. We stayed a few hours while it rained, discussing the maps and people watching. In the Plaza, there is a huge cathedral with turquoise domes on top that, without the crosses on, could be arabic mosques.
After settling into the Hotel Congresso, which the waitress described as "not the best hotel, but the only one," we prepared to stay for an extra day if we needed to to sit out the rain. It was cheap and cheerful. One month into our trip and one month away from Christmas, I bought a new journal notepad, athough, it remains to be seen whether it will hold out until the 25th; especialy if this rain continues.....

Hotel $20
Mega meal $23 (supersize me)

Friday 26th November 2004

Rest day at Monteros

We slept well at the Hotel de Congresso but decided all the same to wait on an extra day in the hope of some better weather for our climb to Tafi del Vallee. It is always a strange feeling to make a decision but to then wonder whether it was the right one, so the best solution is not to wonder. Over breakfast at the quirky Cafe y Arte (Cafe Tocomano), the owner told us the roads could be a little dangerous in wet weather due to mud slides so as it started to rain, we felt a little reassured that we weren't just being lazy.
We looked on the internet to see if we could be steered towards either Paso de Jama (4400m) or Paso Sico (4092m) for our crossing to Chile. We read reports by cyclists who had done the journey and there looked to be pros and cons for both. Jama appeared to be higher but at Sico the frontier is not the pass and the road goes well over 4600 metres before reaching the descent. Jama is good tarmac road but Sico has more villages and therefore water opportunities. We would have to get some more advice although we were both leaning towards Sico.Quite frankly though, I was scared white by both options.
After a pasta lunch (in preparation for our road tomorrow) we stayed in the restaurant to watch Family Fortunes, "a hundred Argentinians said...."
The routine is always that Ben tells me what the question is and we guess our answers straight away, then all the responses from the families appear on "Our Survey Says....?"
As the answers flash up, they have less and less to do with Ben's translation, until by the time the families have got all the answers, we can usually work out what we should have been guessing at in the first place. It has got to be my favourite gameshow!

Saturday 27th November 2004

Rest day at Monteros

It rained all night and we woke up to more rain in the morning. Whatsmore, Ben had been waking up every two hours to poo and felt groggy in the morning so there was no question of leaving.
I read Alice in Wonderland while Ben slept but then in my usual sympathetic way, I announced that I was bored and went to the internet café. By this point though, it had brightened up dramatically which was very promising for the next day. I logged on and listened to music videos with the headphones (N.E.R.D., Kelis and Aphex Twin on yahoo's video library). I instantly felt much happier and positive and wrote some emails home.
After about an hour, I was pleased to see Ben appear and especially that he felt well enough for a lomito. We watched a very funny Robbie Williams impersonator on TV in the café. Robbie has been doing a much-publicised tour in Buenos Aires and Prince Harry will be here shortly to work on a polo ranch. The newspapers all translate the names of the royal family into Spanish though, so there is Prince Enrique, son of Carlos and grandson of the queen Isabel.Rather cheeky if you ask me.
In the evening, I made our first non-food purchase in a long while: a length of material for a head scarf. I was shocked that material cost 4GBP per metre so only bought enough for two scarves; Ben looks funny in his anyway.
Since we have been here, everyone asks if we are German. I think it is because of Ben's blond moustache and beard. Just before sunset, we could see the mountains for the first time as the clouds had lifted. It was quite cool to think that they had been there all along but hidden by a thick blanket of sky. It started to look hopeful that we could leave the next day.

Sunday 28th November

Monteros to El Mollar 36 miles

Leaving the hotel bright and early with the owner and his mate giving us some advice about the ride, we prepared to cycle up to Tafi del Vallee, a climb of about 1500 metres to 2000m.
I was apprehensive when we left, especially after two rest days and with the hotel people talking about altitude sickness but then even more so when two cyclists on mountain bikes overtook us quite hastily. Then Ben pointed out that at 2000 metres we wouldn't even notice any difference and he did feel a lot better than the previous day so we prepared for a slow but steady ride. A lot of Sunday cyclists were out and we stopped to talk to a headmaster, on a road bike, noticing that the highest peaks were covered in snow!
After crossing a river, the mountains were upon us pretty much straight away but the lush greenness of the valley did not stop and we followed trees, rivers and waterfalls galore. We had some shade from these same trees but even after the first few turns were dripping with sweat. I cycled with just my cycling pants for the first time, keeping my overshorts in the rucksack.
The road shoe-laced upwards and we felt ourselves riding deeper into the mountains. Unlike our trip across the Pyrenees, where it was mountain pass, then spectacular views, then another pass, there always seemed to be an uphill ahead and the panoramic view was of cliffs and mountains to every side of us. Still tropical as it had been in the valley, the trees had vines hanging from them and we watched striking butterflies on the edge of the road.
We arrived at El Indio slightly ahead of the 20km I had calculated. From the road, we saw the huge stone Indian caricature way up ahead of us and I wondered how long it would take to climb. But thanks to three hairpin chicanes and four screaming calf muscles, we arrived on top in no time. We were really pleased with the morning and we looked to be halfway through the climb.But this was just the start. We may have been almost half way in distance but we still had well over half the climb left in uphill. The afternoon was between 4 and 12% all the way. Even a bridge to avoid rockfalls, which was our only hope for a short stretch of flat, had been built on an incline.
At the Indian, we met three cyclists, one of whom Mario, was reluctant to go back down to Monteros as his father had forbidden him from "doing the Indian" as he had too much work to do. His friends tried to persuade him, probably keen for their Sunday lunch parilla. It was tempting for us to go back down too but after taking some energy from the Indian (advice from Ruben)we pushed on.
The afternoon was tough and hot. Normally, I break the afternoon down into bitesize 10km stretches to make the distance more manageable. As the afternoon wore on though, we started taking breaks every couple of miles and I found myself telling Ben that we only had three two mile stretches left.
A group of racing bikes overtook us but we caught them up, taking a break at the next waterfall. We filled two waterbottles and added a purification pastille. I got drenched in the process but it was refreshing. As the cyclists left, they old us three more hours of our pace to get to El Mollar. That seemed a bit short to me but true enough, the next time we saw them was a few kilometres outside the village, at 4pm (not far off 3 hours).
Overall, we did push the bike for a very short distance but it was more to work different muscles for a while. It is also like taking a break without taking a break when the road is as steep as it was. Finally, the trees thinned out and we stared to see Artesanal tourist shops, selling ceramics, ponchos and hats. We were probably very close. I started wishing that instead of selling local crafts, they sold energy drinks and flapjacks but a little further we stopped at one store with a well-stocked fridge. The owner told us we were pretty much at the top and true enough, we skirted round the last of our climbs and then found ourselves in the Tafi Valley.
With renewed energy, we decided to go to the Parque de Los Menhires but found it to look more like a private rockery than a vast expanse of archeological treasures. We found the one that looked most like a willy and took a photo of Ben next to it. We wandered slowly but more as a warm-down than out of interest in the rocks. Also, we didn't want to offend the guide there by doing a whistle-stop tour.
El Mollar in late November is quiet, bordering on ghostly. After a quick phone home, we decided to stop at Camping El Mollar for a peaceful night's sleep, with a view of Tafi, the other side of an immense reservoir. The only downside to the whole day was finding out that Ben's Gortex jacket had decided to go it alone at some point in the day and had escaped. We would have to find a new one before the Andes. But the high point was definitely our best hot shower yet. So far, every campsite since San Antonio de Areco had been deserted. Instead of connecting the hot water just for us, there is usually a wood burner or, as at El Mollar, we got to use the owners house for a luxury wash.
It has been quite strange to tour Argentina with pretty much no other tourists for company but at least it has meant we have never run out of accommodation. However, as I said to Mum on the phone that night, I was getting very keen for someinteraction with other travellers.

Monday 29th November

El Mollar to Tafi del Vallee 9 miles

We woke up slowly today and cycled the 9 miles round the reservoir to Tafi del Vallee. I had slept really uncomfortably due to cramp down my right calf that I couldn't get rid of. I tried massagin it out but the dull pain stayed and I had to just sleep it out. We had pretty heavy legs on the bike but it was a slow day anyway.
In the town, we went to tourist information and arrived with a great entrance, falling off the bike due to a kerb miscalculation. We went to eat pasta at twice the normal price but in a very decent restaurant. It was the sort of place where instead of bringing a plate of parmesan for us to dump on our pasta, they brought us a little dish that w had to sprinkle. But they were friendly in any case and gave us some homemade pate to try which tasted like Ben's Mum makes. Tafi is used to tourists and there are a lot of excursions organised from the town, but also a lot of the shopkeepers speak English too.
I really ate far too much again today and in the afternoon I was tired and slothish. I resolved to do some excercises in the evening and to stop trying to eat everything on the table. I had to try to keep my carbo-cravings under control, otherwise it was too much work for the waiters to keep fetching more and more bread.

Camping $6 peso
Food $26
Anorak for Ben $21 (temporary Gortex replacement)

Tuesday 30th November

Tafi del Vallee to Aimaicha del Vallee 33.6 miles

Today was a spectacular day and was really a reward for our Argentinian crossing so far. Getting up to leave at around 7.45am, we climbed patiently out of Tafi and up a long road snaking to the northwest. The clouds hung low over the valley and it was a crisp, fresh morning. The road started to pass through countryside that looked like Moors and with the chill air we could almost have been back in Yorkshire. We had views of Tafi (still asleep, except for children going off to school) and the reservoir behind us.
After 6 miles which was half the climb, we had gone up half the altitude, 500 metres and the 5% climb was consistent all the way. We passed a lonely farm where the sheep were getting a haircut with clippers rather than more modern shearers. Then, as we turned a bend, I whispered to Ben to look at two small grey and white owls sat on rocks on the side of the road. They must have been doing some last minute hunting under the cloak of clouds. One flew off but one stayed on its perch and its piercing eyes followed us up the road.
At eight miles, I got caught very short and now hold the record for the highest number two at 2670 metres. I'm sure Ben will take the title soon enough though.
Still slower, we pushed on, trying not to stop too often as we would get too cold. Finally, we came to and crossed El Infiernillo, which means place that is always cold. No cars that passed us beeped or even acknowledged us but Ben pointed out the drivers were probably concentrating on the road. I thought it may be just to add to the coldness of Infiernillo. Finally, we reached our target altitude of 3042 metres outside a lowly craft stall. There was a young lama there with the softest fur ever. We threatened him that if his owner wasn't there, he would've been straight in the paniers to keep us warm in the Andes. Then the lama farted which was very funny.
The air didn't feel thinner at all but Ben pointed out that the water bottles hissed as they were still at the pressure of Tafi. I could've stayed for longer gazing at the valley but we started to prepare for the downhill, putting on sleeves, jackets and trousers, to keep warm against the wind of the speedy descent.
Almost immediately, everything changed though. We rode down into a warm, sunny canyon of orange rocks and tiny scrubby bushes, dotted with cactus plants. The road deteriorated dramatically and we charged along, bumping about crazily, rather than the smooth, slow uphill on the other "Yorkshire" side. We were going down but we still had some work to do and soon took off all our layers again as we weren't quite at full descent yet. Round a bend we had a fantastic view of the Calchaquies valley and followed the bumpy road along huge orange sandy cliffs which formed the sides of the massive valley. In stark contrast to the Tafi valley and the tropical ground below the peaks, the vegetation consisted of more of the great cactus trees. They looked statuesque on the arid mountainside and the whole area is protected.
After a quick photo stop we continued with the sun on our faces but with the wind also starting to pick up and helping us to brake. Ben slowed to cross a bridge in a turn but then stopped the bike to show me a tarantula spidr walking calmly across the road. Instead of being an arachnaphobic black colour, it was bluish-grey with some orange on its uneasy legs. I asked Ben to pass me the camera but as soon as I spoke, the spider turned round and started to march towards us. Spiders have a strange sense of balance and look like someone on stilts as they approach.
"Looks like he's coming towards you," Ben said and he was.
He didn't move fast but since I couldn't remember if spiders could jump, I told Ben they could and laughing, we decided to take off again.
More bumpy downhill and we passed an astrophysics observatory, which must be ideally located due to the dry air. Then we came across a school in the middle of what seemed like nowhere and then started crashing down the hillside into Amaicha. At every turn, the wind tried to overturn us but Ben did a usual sterling job steering us down crazy zigzags. He told me later that his eyes were watering so much, he couldn't always see, but that is exactly what I prefer to hear when we're safe at the bottom.
We flew into the valley, welcomed by a sign that claimed "the best climate awaits you." Basically, Amaicha has 360 days of sun per year. For the 5000 inhabitants, that's a lot of sunshine to go round.
Today was really what we had come to Argentina for.

Camping $7.50
Lunch + dinner $16 + $18 (this was in the same restaurant on the main road as Amaicha is the first village with no coffee bar and no parilla!)

Wednesday 1st December

Amaicha del Vallee to Colalao del Vallee 27 miles

It didn't seem like the first day of December when we left this morning as we woke to bright sunshine and no wind. Ben said that the local dogs were barking in the night, not really at anything in particular, just each other. Argentina has got to be the noisiest place for dogs barking. In even the tiny villages, the hounds can start up their rowdiness in the night to keep you awake but no-one seems to mind.
While Ben packed the tent, I cleaned our water bottles with a stick and camp soap. The soap is one of the best things in our equipment as it makes foamy bubbles with only one tiny drop and cold water. With no intention of going too early after our climb yesterday, we went to the petrol station for a coffee. Ben bought a map of Boliviar which shows the half a dozen red main roads in the entire country. There will be a tyre change in Salta for sure. I started my journal for the morning so we were really taking our time.
Ben spotted a telephone and called home as it was the perfect time to call Thailand, which is 10 hours ahead. He hadn't been able to make the usual Sunday call from El Mollar as we had arrived so late. Ben's Dad gave him the news that his Mum was in hospital recovering from an operation to have a tumour removed from her intestine. It was diagnosed very early on which was very positive and the surgery had gone very well. She was recovering well in hospital and already walking around. I felt better that Ben was finding out while she was recovering but equally we were both shocked that it had all happened in such a short space of time. Cancer has no logic or reason.
Ben said he would call from Cafayate and we both agreed that hopefully we would be able to call Anne-Marie in the hospital.
As soon as Ben was ready, we got on the road as some drivers arriving at the petrol station has told us of two foreign cyclists approaching. We were impatient to meet them but also didn't want to get caught having a break 1 mile from the campsite so we took off. It was a welcome diversion as although Ben was being brave, I could tell he was still shaken.
We saw the cyclists approaching as we got towards our top speed downhill out of Amaicha, so we screeched to a halt on their side of the road. It was a German couple in their fifties doing a tour of Argentina on solo bikes. They had visited the deserted San Antonio de Los Cobres, which was on our way to the Andes crossing, on their route down from Salta. It reassured us that they had done the climb in 3 days and although they had noted some towns which did not exist, their journey had been pretty much what we were expecting of one of the last towns before Paso Sico. We told them that they weren't far from the campsite and a good meal and coffee and they told us that we should come across some French cyclists shortly that they had met in Cafayate.
The thing that struck us about the German cyclists was the amount of luggage they were carrying for a relatively short stay and equally they were surprised at how little we had. They had 4 huge ortlieb paniers each, which didn't look done up like ours; clearly a sign that they had nt had the same amount of rain as us. We wished them luck, pleased to have met other cyclo-tourists and determined to try to meet the French.
The ruins of Quilmes are 5km up a dusty, sandy track which tested our balance somewhat. The indigenous people resisted the Spanish invasion for about 120 years before eventually being kicked out and marched all the way to Buenos Aires......a long way, even by bike as we knew.
We paid $2 and went to look in the guestbook to see if we had missed the French cyclists. There were indeed two signatures from France from that morning, so we felt disappointed that we had probably missed them. Looking up at the ruins, I was expecting a hot, breathless climb to the top but infact we bounded up the hillside and it was the first time I noticed our fitness had improved since cycling. From the top, there is a great view of the valley. The hotel at Quilmes is an extortionate 100 pesos per night with an even more expensive breakfast at 18 pesos, but the restaurant itself is very reasonable so we decided to eat there. One of the lamas also wandered through the restaurant into the kitchen to eat.
After a lomito and omlette, we left a note for the French cyclists in the guestbook, just in case, and set off back down the wobbly road. But then, after only a kilometre or so, we saw a heavily-laden bike approaching. Hooray!
We met Seb and Virginie who were on route to Ushaia, the most southerly town in the world. Theyw ere happy tanned and energetic, also one month into their world tour. Travelling south from Sau Paulo to Iguazu Falls in Argentina, they had taken a bus across Paraguay to Salta and were travelling south through La Rioja to Patagonia. After the south, their itinerary was to pedal to Alaska so we agreed to stay in contact hoping that they should be able to catch us up further north one day. Virginie and I were probably equally as pleased to find another female and I for one, would have loved to have camped with them to talk more. Perhaps one day when we have been travelling for longer, Ben and I will allow ourselves a stop like that but for some reason, at the moment, we are always keen to continue when we can.
I think they were impressed with the tandem but Seb was even more impressed with the dog dazer, especially when we said how well it worked. They had been cycling with an australian couple and a dog had been following the group for four days, stopping when they stopped and sleeping close by. On the third day, when they tried to leave the dog, it turned on the australian and bit him on the hand. As a precaution, the australians had thought it best to go to Tucuman for a follow up rabies injection. We said that apart from on deaf dogs, the dazer works really well to calm down crazy mutts chasing the bike. If the dog is deaf, reach for the pump, although how early you can tell it has a hearing defect is a bit touch and go. Equally if the batteries run out it might be a couple of important seconds before you realise but both these points aside, we're pretty pleased to have it.
We told Seb and Virginie that they had swiss-style valleys, parillas, possibly some rain and definitely some mosquitoes waiting for them. They told us we had a dry, sunny valley but wine-tasting in Cafayate. And after an hour, we left them to the indigenous ruins and they left us to a short but windy ride to Colalao, with a small puncture to repair on the way.
Just before the village, we passed a policeman hitch-hiking. I wanted to tell him in Spanish that we had no space but then noticed he had a gun. Ben said the same.
In the pretty village of Colalao, Ben and I brought groceries for a picnic and waited for someone to return to the campsite. For $7 the facilities were new and ideal and we were entertained by a tiny puppy and kitten until the owner returned. The kitten climbed on the bike and the puppy stole our bag of buns both of which I found funnier than Ben but then I didn't have to chase after the puppy.
Ben said exactly what I had been thinking that day when we ate our picnic, wondering whether it wasn't coincidence that he was ill exactly when his mum was and in the same place. Tomorrow we would be able to have some more news but for tonight I would hold Ben all he wanted. I hoped we would meet up again with Virginie and Seb as there was a lot I forgot to ask them.

Thursday 2nd December

Colalao to Cafayate 21 miles

This morning we made the short ride to Cafayate before breakfast. The sun was already high but I hoped the morning air was crisp enough to keep those climbing up to Tafi cool.
Along the way, we had flocks of parrots flying over above us with flashing green and yellow bodies and wings. It was a surprise to see them in such an arid area; so much so that we missed the road slightly as Ben was watching them.
Cafayate wines are among the best in Argentina and the vineyards lie with the cactus plants, already heavy with grapes. The vines are allowed to grow to about a metre high, possibly so it is easier to pick the grapes by hand but maybe also as Ben pointed out, to allow air to circulate underneath them. The vines are well watered and there are trenches cut into the vineyards with plenty of water flowing through. We both planned a day off to do some wine tasting. We were, after all, now in Salta, our last province in Argentina.
We treated ourselves to a coffee in the main square in Cafayate. I haven't missed my "cup of tea" at all since we left but will have to mind not to get too attached to the coffee which is really good here. Even in an outback petrol station near Lavalle, the attendant had ground fresh coffee for my cafe con leche. A man approached asking to take Ben's photo as he was reading our maps. Only slightly suspicious, I thought to myself but it turned out Carlos worked in a map office. Straight away we asked for any more detailed maps of the Andes but although he didn't have any he directed us to a local artist who had made the journey by mountain bike before.
After some time on the internet for some news fom Thailand (and also to check Seb and Virginie's website) we decided to eat. I thought Ben was going crazy when he pulled up outside a huge white restaurant on the plaza with waiters with waistcoats and bowties. A quick look at the menu however and we saw it was still possible to buy a pasta meal for just over one pound. We felt obliged to sample the wine which was very reasonable. A lot of it we noticed was from 2004 so there must be a speedy process fom January to harvest and bottle it. There were Belgians and French at the restaurant and we started to feel a bit more anonymous in Cafayate due to the number of tourists and visitors there.
At the campsite, we caught up with two guys from S.A. De Areco who were at the campsite in Tafi and who we saw again in Quilmes. They were going to try to get to Boliviar too but had no passports. Ben told them that as Argentinians, with their identity cards they would be able to go through. It reminded me that I had read in the news that the idea of ID cards was to be introduced in Great Britain. Effectively, this would be good news for someone like me prone to losing their passport. Ben uses his everywhere in Argentina and its not like "big brother" at all as the address is about 6 years out of date anyway.
After all the local children had left, I went for a swim in the pool with the mountains as a backdrop. It was relaxing to have the whole thing to myself, and all for $7 with the camping.
As I mentioned, Cafayate is more touristic than anywhere we had been and the campsite was pretty full, certainly by our standards. There was a huge party of Argentinians who, in the morning, played about three different songs simultaneously. Nice wake-up call!
There was a dutch couple, another spanish couple from Tafi camping and later on two Germans arrived by motorbike. We only pass the time of day with Backpackers but the motorcyclists looked like potential Andes cruisers so we dared each other to try out our useless German conversational skills on them. In the end, it was down to me to accost the woman at the toilet block with 20 questions about their route. She looked quite tired so eventually we relented and agreed to hassle her the next day. Her companion had been on the road for four years, also travelling Europe and Asia by motorcycle.
We ate a fantastic meal at Baco which I would recommend for a nice atmosphere and food.

Camping $7 (with pool) Meals $26 and $31 (after today we are on an economy drive and are barred from eating in restaurants twice in a day; we were allowed today for wine tasting purposes)

Friday 3rd December

Rest day in Cafayate

This morning, Ben got the really good news that his Mum was fully recovered and would be home this weekend. She was doing really well and we decided to update the website in the afternoon so that she could read about the last couple of weeks. Hooray!
After coffee, we set off to see Sacha, the cycling artist in his workshop 2 km outside the centre of Cafayate. When we arrived he was very busy diverting water round a very cute garden. He explained that he only had water until 11.30am and we assumed it was a daily occurence until he told us that it was only pumped in twice a month.
He had done Paso Sico in the opposite direction (from Chile), advised by an experienced cyclist that it would be easier than Jama. But he also advised us on Boliviar too. He confirmed a lot of what we had found out so far but it did sound like we would have more chances at water than we thought; although he was impressed that we could easily carry 15 litres on the bike. We made notes on the map and then thanked him for his advice. We would still have some questions to ask in Salta and San Antonio but with every piece of information, we were growing in confidence about the passage.

The road to Salta

Saturday 4th December 2004

Cafayate to Coronel Moldes 84.24 miles

After almost two days rest at Cafayate, we did our top mileage today to get well over half way to Salta. We were nearly first up and out of the campsite, except for an Argentinian psycho-cyclist who told us he was pedalling 110 miles per day to get to Catamarca for the 8th Dec festivities. It was good weather and even though the wind tried to encourage us back to Cafayate, we took on the Quebrada de las Conchas.
The road is really good fun for cycling and once across the valley bed, the bright red and terracota earth starts to look like a Star Wars set. There are huge rock formations in the hills to either side and they all have names, depending on what they resemble, like: las Ventanas (windows), las Castillas (little castles) and the huge, imposing Garganta del Diablo (devil's throat). We spotted a few more that the Argentinian tourist board hadn't accounted for: the Buns, the Electric Toothbrush, the Manilow and the Table Saw (for Mr. Sketchley).
At Devil's Throat gorges, the devil himself made us attempt to cycle across a sandy path and then pushed us and the tandem over in the slippy mud (just out of view of a tourist bus). Apart from orange muddy knees and elbows, the tandem passengers were both ok. We bent the roadside paniers at the back slightly but the bags were still well attached and it would hold until we could find a vice at Salta to bend it back.
After the gorges, we came across Olivier, a solo French cyclist, coming up the hill towards us. He was en route south to Ushaia from the northern border of Equador. But more interestingly, Olivier had done Paso de Sico by bike two weeks prior with no problems. He confirmed the peaks, downhills and water stops for us and even said that he hadn't been too prepared at all, thinking at the Argentinian/Chile border that he was already in Salta. We spent an hour chatting on the side of the road and I asked Olivier if he was keeping a journal for his funny stories, one of which was about an American he had met who was walking from Ushaia to Alaska. The American is pushing all his belongings in front of him in a 3-wheeled cart. He walks about 24 kilometers per day and every time he stops in a village, he draws a big crowd. The thing is that the locals take him for a travelling salesman (the slowest kind) and always want to know what he's got for sale in his push cart. It reminded me of the carboot sale at Frome market where buyers are in your boot before you can even start to unpack.
Anyway, Olivier is not keeping a journal and does have artistic rights over that story but I hope he won't mind me including it here.
We parted company reluctantly, us with only half the kilometres left to do that Olivier had. Our last bit of road was fairly speedy too so we decided to continue a bit further than planned and buy soup ingredients and camp at the lake. On arriving, the owner told me it was only $2 pesos for both of us to camp. I was convinced he'd got it wrong and that it should be at least $2 pesos each: "No, 4 pesos por los dos," I insisted and we argued for a bit but in the end, he won and we only paid 50p for our lakeside spot. Ben made our usual pasta soup. Here is the recipe:

1) Get Karen to chop 4 large cooking tomatoes, 3 small onions and a green pepper if you can find one.
2) Boil some water on the diesel camping stove.
3) Add all the vegetables but keep stirring! Cook for 5-10 minutes (depending on hunger level).
4) Add whatever will fit of 5-minute pasta shapes and cook for 5-minutes!
5) Cover with cheese and serve! Yum

Camping $2
Groceries $7.75
Coffee at 100-goat farm $5
Water $3

Sunday 5th December 2004

Coronel Moldes to Salta 42.28 miles

Today we took it very steady, mainly for my benefit as I was very tired from the mileage we did yesterday. We stopped off in La Merced for a chicken and rice meal which was a good boost and I seemed to feel a lot better straight away. When in doubt - eat.
Sunday afternoon is a good time to arrive in the city of Salta as the roads are quieter but if you want a peaceful rest at the campsite on a Sunday afternoon, forget it. The municipal camping has the biggest swimming pool I have ever seen and the guards on the gate told us there were 5000 bathers there that afternoon. Ben put the tent up while I sat and stared in amazement. Whilst I wrote my journal, I got attacked by mozzies, even through my clothes. Tomorrow I would have to try something drastic to keep them at bay like wrapping myself in clingfilm. Today the clock went over 2000 kilometers - a milestone!
Chicken and rice $10
Camping $7
Pasta dinner $7.30
Groceries $17
Coffee $7,br> Phonecall $16

Crossing the Andes to Chile

Monday 6th December 2004

Reparations and Preparations in Salta

Today we bought the following:

New tyres (Michelin semis), cycling shorts, new weatherproof jacket (for Ben), big pink knickers (for Karen), new chains, chaincleaner, an extra sleeping bag, vitamins, suncream and insect repellant. We also found a tiny poncho for our niece and Ben's goddaughter, Elise.
At one point, we had to handover $400 in one shop, which Ben pointed out was about 6 days budget for two of us. A very strange feeling but we had replaced and topped up everything that we needed and we were especially happy with the tyres, ready for some different infrastructure.
In the morning, there were some English travellers on a expedition bus staying at the campsite so I was pleased to have a chat to them. The only thing was they weren't going to Paso Sico or Bolivia so I didn't have a lot of questions after that, being one-track minded at the moment.
We spent all day in town and had lomitos at lunch and chicken and beef at dinner. Having walked around Salta all day, we decided to get the bus back to the campsite. The driver was probably Argentina's worst and kept counting his change, looking up every now and then to swerve out of the way of other vehicles. At one point, we were racing between a moped, a car and lines of bikes on the inside, with a couple of inches between all of us. I felt pleased we hadn't come across him on the tandem.
I made us get off the bus two stops too early but I don't think either of us minded, since it seemed safer to walk. It started to drizzle very slightly and by the time we were at our local supermarket, it was raining heavily. We waited under their porch, thinking the rain would only be a shower but in fact it was part of another Mother of All Storms, with hail, thunderous thunder and lightening that cut out the electricty several times. We watched the novel way that people kept out the rain, cycling or walking barefoot, cycling in pants to keepall their other clothes dry and walking with two plastic bags on their feet. When the lights went out, school kids screamed and the supermarket owner quickly put a massive padlock on the grill so noone could pilfer his wares.
It all seemed a bit convenient that Ben had just bought a new waterproof but I fashioned one out of plastic bags and eventually we decided to brave the rain and splashed along the road back to the campsite.
Our tent was fine and inspite of the battering rain, everything was nice and dry. The English group however, had given up on their tents and were sleeping in the toilet block. With military precision, we turned our wet clothes inside out and left them at the bottom of the tent and inspite of the rain hitting the sides of the tent, we had a good night's sleep.

Tuesday 7th December 2004

Reparations and Preparations in Salta

This morning, Ben changed the Rholoff oil and swapped the old chains for new and fitted our two new "shit road" tyres. I did some washing and fixed a puncture - although not very expertly as it took me two attempts.
For lunch, Ben suggested we do a parilla BBQ. All campsites have grills that we haven't once made use of and I agreed it would be a shame not to do at least one. Ben always has good ideas like this, whereas I tend to shy away from anything remotely complicated. He is very good at keeping busy and keeping entertained too. Today had been a good example of our difference in productivity.
We bought some meat: a morcilla (black pudding), sausage and some cuts of beef.
At first we tried a wood fire, but the rain seemed to have soaked everything the night before. Ben added some of our cooking benzine but it only burnt off like Christmas pudding brandy. A quick trip to the kiosk for 25pence worth of charcoal gave us another option but still no flames. Ben decided to get some local expertise from Old Man McGyver and his bic lighter, at the front gate. The man, who Ben said used Indian magic to light the fire, got us a very impressive parilla going and Ben went back to the kiosk to get him a Salta beer which he opened straight away (again with Indian magic).
Ben is a better chef than a Ray Mears firestarter and our quid's worth of meat was delicious!
After the parilla came a walk into Salta via the bike shop to buy extended brake levers and another shop to buy card to wrap Elise's present. We queued at the postoffice for half an hour to send the bright pink parcel to France, only to be told that we would have to wait until Thursday morning between 8.30 and 10.30 to get it checked by customs. Grrr! Some things are complicated, even by Argentinian standards.
However, next we called at an agency that did excursions to Chile and even though we weren't paying customers, we got some great information from the tour organisers about Paso de Sico. We bought a beer and empanadas on the main square and two things occurred to me about Argentina.
Firstly, the people never look down on anyone. You are never too scruffily-dressed to eat in restaurants for example and shop keepers and restaurant owners always pass the time of day with people selling things or children asking for money in their establishments. Secondly, if you are lost, someone will always help you out. Be it a cleaner, a policeman, or a construction worker, you often don't need to ask.
As we were coming to the end of our first chapter of travels, I hoped thishospitality would continue throughout the Americas.

Wednesday 8th December 2004

Bank holiday - Fete de la Vierge

As it was a bank holiday, we did some visiting and went up the 1070 steps to Mount San Bernardo. There are great views of the city but we couldn't spot the campsite. We watched rain clouds teasing the city, after they had cancelled the procession for the Virgin's Day celebrations. At lunch I didn't feel myself at all so I ate some soup but cheered myself up reading family emails and stories on the internet. Ben put our sketch of what we thought the next two weeks would be like on our website too and in the afternoon, we ate some pasta to prepare for the next day's cycling. We were both getting a bit down in the rain in Salta and were keen to move on.

Thursday 9th December 2004

Salta to Campo Quijano 17 miles

In spite of being fully prepared, an early night's sleep and all our food packed for the next 36 hours, we woke up this morning to more rain. It fell from 4am to past 8am by which time we decided to go with plan B. We would go to customs, open the present for Elise, show the nice customs lady the contents, then wrap it all back up again, ready to send. Then we would look at the weather on the internet to see if it would vaguely improve over the next few days. Then we would call at tourist information to find there were no campings or hotels on the road to San Antonio de los Cobres, after Campo Quijano. Then we would go home and pack up, ready for a short ride to Campo Quijano.
So we did all of plan B and arrived just as it started to pour down in the small town of Campo Quijano. We probably missed a trick as we were told that the only hostal open was the poshest we've stayed in so far. So without double-checking (and because it was raining) we got a room for $50 pesos. We were after all, happy to be sleeping in a warm bed and especially happy to be back on the road.

Hotel $50
Pasta $17.30

Friday 10th December 2004

Campo Quijano to Puerta Tastil 38 miles

This morning I was very nervous as I had a spot of tourista first thing so didn't feel at my best for the start of our climb. All things considered, it was probably caused by nerves in the first place.
The dirt track road started just outside of Campo Quijano and followed a huge river bed with just a small channel of water running through it. After the rain, the road was pretty wet but our new tyres were gripping the ground brilliantly. It took some getting used to though and for a while I held my breath through some of the muddy bits, expecting to slide over like at Garganta del Diablo.
The only problem we had was the gears slipping. It had to be down to either the new chain or the oil change on the rholoff gear box as, even though it had happened a couple of times yesterday, pre-Salta we hadn't heard a peep out of the transmission. Ben changed the chain ring which was better but we would have to keep an eye on it. As we rose, the drizzle stopped and the road became drier, although this meant more bumpy gravel and stones. I was pleased to have my suspension seat post as normally Ben tells me about "petits bosses" or little bumps, as I can't always see the road. On the "ripio" gravel road, he would be forever warning me though.
The gravel road was 25 km long and ended at Chorillos which has a restaurant, although not a very open one.We ate some bread and honey and then continued. The road was lined with trees and took us up to Ing. Maury at 2359m. From here the train line (Tren de las Nubes) and the road level out slightly and go up a wide valley which is an oasis of green. The mountains are coloured from purple and granite grey to orange, red and purple again. As we pushed on, we were amazed at the scenery. We were accompanied for a short while by workers cycling back to work but they didnt really understand my questions about how many trains there were through the summer, December to March. I tried shouting a bit louder from the bike but that didn't work either. Other than the cyclists, there were some young shepherds out with goats and a few sheep but generally, the area was very empty and I wondered if they chose to live up here or had to.
Along the valley, we had a good tailwind which seemed like a reward and helped us to push our average speed up to about 10 miles per hour. It made such a difference and would've been perfect cycling if it weren't for our painful calf muscles. Two days after going up the 1070 steps in Salta and we were still walking like John Wayne. We couldn't believe after 2000km and no sports injuries, that a tourist attraction could be so lethal!
We were both fine with the steady increase in altitude but when we were a few miles from Puerta Tastil (2670m) I felt that it had been a long enough day for me. In Salta, they had told us that there were some ruins (and a museum) in Puerta Tastil. We thought this would be a good place to camp but as we came out of the valley, we saw an adobe mud-brick farm in front of us.
"Surely not," I thought but thankfully a sign up ahead directed us to Puerta Tastil, 1km down a track. As it turned out, the mud farm probably had more life in it than the real Puerta Tastil which is not a lot more than an abandoned train station and some ruins (but no museum). We tried not to be disappointed and since we had almost enough water, Ben made some spectacular pasta and we decided to camp there. We just hoped we could refuel our 4 litres of water at Santa Rosa de Tastil in the morning. Our ascent that day has been 1225 metres, not bad work at all.
After our pasta, we both had a burst of renewed energy and Ben decided to try to get water out of a catus. Looking around, there wasn't a lot else to do for entertainment so I said I would help. We selected a victim. Ben had his penknife but the spines were so long and dangerous, I suggested the most effective method of getting to the middle would be to "hoof" it. So with feet and rocks we toppled it over but then we both felt quite sad and tried to put it straight back. That didn't work so we said sorry and carried on hacking at it with a rock. Ben pulled out some flesh with his knife once we had revealed the interior and squeezed it until a drop of water fell. It tasted very sour but at least the cactus hadn't died in vain. Well not really anyway.....

Spent $0

Saturday 11th December 2004

Puerta Tastil to Las Cuevas 21.6 miles

In the night, my dry throat got drier and I was tempted to run off with our remaining two litres of water and drink them in secret. But since Ben didn't mind that I woke him up and even gave me some good advice to breath through my nose, I just had a sip and in fact it was enough to quench my thirst until morning.
We had a good eleven hours rest in the tent and slept for a lot of it which was good recuperation. Our calf muscles were still aching but were nearly mended and after finishing our fruit juice and bread and honey we set off with 2 litres of water and some biscuits and plenty of nougat. I was not too relaxed about the water and resolved to fill up at the next stream. The Germans that we had met in Amaicha had told us that Coca-Cola was a lot easier to find than water on the way to San Antonio de Los Cobres. I wondered if it was possible to filter coca-cola back to water.
Then three miles down the road we could see another little oasis marked by trees and a larger building just visible through them. It looked like we would be saved. We arrived at Alfacito, a tiny village not even on the map, where we were amazed to see a pension advertising tea, coffee and homemade bread. I dashed inside, hoping to try my luck at water, only to find they sold 2 litre bottles of agua mineral. We were saved! Outside, as we filled up bottles, a minibus pulled up and without getting out, the passengers leant over the driver to take a photo of the little church opposite. Two more tour buses passed and waved along with two cars. I like Saturdays as there are more sightseers on the roads. Considering what a valuable resource water was to us, I still managed to spill some while filling up the water bottles. It reminded me of a scene from The Three Amigos.
Feeling much happier and relaxed, we took off to climb nearly 400 metres to Santa Rosa de Tastil. We spotted a llama on the way with lighter fur which could have been a vicuna. By the time we arrived at Santa Rosa, my dry throat had gone but my nose was ow blocked and my ears had popped on the way up.
At the shop/restaurant, we were told milanese would be another 30 minutes so we waited outside with the fluffy llama sellers, looking forward to a good meal with rice. I went to the museum where the woman showed me the musical rocks. Since I was getting a lot better at Spanish, I asked her if all the artefacts, including a dead body, were found around the local area. She replied that there were 8 volunteers that looked after the museum, mostly from San Antonio de Los Cobres. So I hadn't quite asked what I wanted to but at least it was a question.
We ate our food and asked for rice and empanadas to take-away - which was my idea. Then Ben had a large coffee and I knew he had a trick up his sleeve. A few minutes later, he asked for my toilet roll and disappeared to have a 3000 metre poo, taking the title. At least he had ruined his chances of getting 3400 metres which I would surely beat him to later.
Altogether, we bought 8 empanadas, 2 rice and milanese dinners, 2 portions of rice to go, a 2 litre bottle of soda water, 1 coke and 1 coffee - all for the handsome price of £2.60.
After an old man with brown teeth told us it wasn't going to rain, it started to drizzle. There were a couple of lightening forks and thunder started to rumble. Yet there were still blue skies in some parts of the valley. The weather looked temperamental here but we set off across the valley where the mountains on either side looked like huge piles of orange rubble. The rain didn't really bother us but three sets of rampant dogs did, barking and chasing the bike. Still, I got chance to prove that the dog dazer works at 3000 metres and one scruffy mutt even turned and ran the opposite direction when I discretely "dazed" him. The dog dazer is one piece of equipment I would recommend to anyone considering cycling quite slowly past angry dogs.
At the next village, Las Cuevas, we stopped at a shop where the owner told us about Tren de Las Nubes. It still does trips to the Polvorillo viaduct but only once per week on Saturdays and not during the current rainy season. The trips are generally for tourists and the commercial train, which continued on to Chile hasn't run for about 6-7 years which has had an effect on the tiny communities which run along its tracks.
We bought some goats cheese, then with the entire village population under 14 years old cheering us on, we cycled two miles up the road to camp. We watched the first sunset in a long time.

Water $5
Bargain food $11
Shop $8.20

Sunday 12th December 2004

Las Cuevas to San Antonio de Los Cobres 28 miles

After a very tough night with a storm all around us, we woke up this morning to see snow on the peaks behind us. I had slept through the storm while Ben listened to the thunder cracking around the tent but then woke as soon as it had finished and struggled to get back to sleep again. The sky was beautiful in the night and for a few clouds, was completely clear with no light pollution around to spoil the effect of the stars.
I did feel better in the morning though, especially when I took back the title for highest poop at 3440 metres. We had to put the chain back on the smallest chain ring for the climb to Abra Munano, which would take us up to 4000 metres. We averaged about 4 miles an hour but we seemed to be making good progress and were starting to celebrate when we got to 2 miles from the top.
We spotted a road climbing steeply up a hill to the left which didn't seem to be on the map. Then to our dismay, we watched a lorry overtake us and continue up the rally-like road, dropping his gears to struggle up the hill. So it looked like we had a bit more work to do after all! The only consolation was that we could see the road.....and the top.
Often in the valleys, our own eyes would deceive us and with no horizon to help us judge, a nice downhill round a mountain often became a hill before we even reached it. So finally, after another patient climb, we reached the summit of 4080 metres on our trusty tandem. As we reached the top, a Movitrek expedition bus went past us with an open roof and the passengers were waving, cheering and taking photos of us. All of a sudden I welled up with emotion and still pedalling, although I waved, I must have a very soppy expression on their photos. It was a moving moment and Ben said later that it had got him too.
At the top, a woman tried to sell me a piece of wool embroidered with a llama while I tried to work out where important things like the ground and the road were. We didn't hang about at the top though as there was a pretty fierce wind and we had a downhill to do (for the first time in 4 days).
The road drops down to Munano on tarmac for 8kms but, as we expected, there is nothing at Muano, just an old train station. Then there is 20km of dirt track to San Antonio de Los Cobres.
As we hit the bumpy track, more lightening and thunder started up and as a troop of llamas ran across the valley behind us, it started to hail, spiteful lumps of ice that pinched our ears and thighs. It didn't seem like the best time to ask for a wee break so we continued with a slight downhill on the track.
At some places, we had the choice of a corrugated, bumpy effect on the road, caused by wind, and deep sand which caused us to swerve quite crazily. I told Ben I opted for the bumps, sacrificing a headache for at least some control on the bike and he did his best to keep us out of the sand. We would have to get used to this road surface for the next six days of cycling though and would need strong resolve, and strong backsides.
I had a small tantrum at about 4 miles from San Antonio which was not really about anything at all and finally we started to swerve and rattle down into the strange looking town.
San Antonio de Los Cobres is all one-storey, a mixture of mud and stone buildings with no greenery or trees to speak of. It is an indigenous population and the people are friendly enough. In the comedor, a full plate of meat, rice, potatoes and carrots was put in front of us and I waited patiently for the food to take effect, feeling the worst I had all day. Then we found a hotel which although it looked half built, had fresh rooms and a smart shower. I couldn't understand a word the tiny Indian lady said so I just kept nodding and smiling. We must have really smelt bad as she went and sorted out hot water for us straight away! That's a tip I would have to remember for a hot shower.
Clean and warm, I felt much, much better. At 3700 metres, the sun shines fiercely and my first look in a mirror for a few days revealed nice, bright red cheeks. At the same time, it is cold and windy and the people walk about with their faces wrapped up against the elements, huddled together in the streets. We didn't know how to take these people, nor what they thought of us. Our dinner was expensive but the hotel and bakery were very cheap. As Ben pointed out, people here were very autonomous and we would have to learn their rules a little or at least try to blend in.

Monday 13th December 2004

San Antonio de Los Cobres - Get Well Karen Day

Our hotel (Hotel Belgrano) is probably the quietest so far, so I had a great night's sleep and felt better by the morning. We found out we could use internet at the town hall, later in the day after the school kids had finished with it. Ben called home, we did a few chores, then set about trying to find some paracetemols. We were directed to the hospital which has a dispensary attached and met up with a "cyclist" that had driven past us on the road in a jeep yesterday. For a few minutes, everything was a little confusing and we followed him up and down a corridor a few times before we were ushered in to see a local doctor. I seemed to be jumping the queue, and even though the queue was only another man, he looked none too pleased with me. The doctor gave me a prescription for cold tablets and a 3-day treatment of antibiotics, which was all free. I did stress it wasn't La Puna (altitude sickness) as I didn't want to end up with coca leaves. I am not totally convinced that this ancient remedy works as people always recommend them to us then say: "or you could always trying to suck on a stone for the same effect."
Coca must do something though as almost the entire male population of the Andes has a bulge in their right cheek where they have a handul of leaves stuffed. It was used by miners before to curb hunger and fatigue so some men must still be addicted to it from their mining days. I told Ben that I was yet to see any women chewing it so it was obviously not a sensible thing to do! Personally I found a chewing gum worked better than a few leaves. But I'm sure it does have an effect on hunger as at lunchtime we were the only ones eating in a pretty full restaurant.
So by the end of the day, considering the size and location of S.A, 3700 metres high in the Andes, reached only by dirt track road, we were managing to find everything we needed.

Tuesday 14th December 2004

San Antonio de Los Cobres - Get Well Ben Day

Our plan had been to go to the Polvorillo Viaduct this morning by bike, without the bags. However, after eating a greasy meal last night, Ben had a dodgy stomach this morning so we stuck to a short walk of 8km, then an afternoon of maps and guidebooks. I did our accounts too and worked out we had spent just over 4000 pesos since arriving 50 days ago. Our budget was for 4500 so we were well under, even with our Salta shopping trip for tyres and Ben's jacket. There were also a few "luxury" hotels in our expenditure too so we hadn't done too badly at all. Maybe we should've re-forecasted the figures when we realised Argentina was cheaper than we accounted for.
The BIG ANDES CROSSING is getting nearer and no matter how many times I look at our plan, I still find it hard to imagine. I just hope we enjoy it and arrive safely at the other side. If we don't enjoy it, we've got about 2500 kilometres of mountains and high altitude that we may need to re-plan. Days off definitely make me nervous!

Wednesday 15th December 2004

S.A. To La Polvorilla Viaduct to S.A. 24.86 miles

Today was a fantastic day as we were back on the bike, both feeling fit and rested.We cycled out of S.A. And took the small track (after 4 miles) to the Polvorilla, a 65 metre railway viaduct spanning two hills at 4200 metres high, quite an engineering achievement.
We had left the bags at the hotel and made good progress in the climb. I am even getting a lot more used to the swervy, sandy bits of road. We stopped off at the termas hot springs that Lito, a taxi driver, had told us about. The source is a bubbling laguna with ducks on and all around is a kind of lunar landscape as white and yellow (sulphur) deposits have left the ground crunchy and loose.There are old ruins of what were once baths and we thought it a shame that they had become abandoned. We found out later, however, that arsenic was detected in the area about 25 years ago, so that answered our question as to why they were no longer exploited.
After the hot spings is a climb of 9km, past a mine and a miner's graveyard to skirt round to the Polvorilla. Reaching the top, we were amazed to see the train go right past the road. But this was in fact a gas transporter that runs every two or five days, depending on who you asked. We had missed our ideal photo opportunity with the train on the viaduct by about 3 minutes but at least we got the driver to wave and blow his horn. We thought this was better than the viaduct itself. We dropped down, though to take some photos but didn't go right to the viaduct itself. The road continues under it to Susques but we went back up and took a fork to the ruta 51. We wanted to do a triangle to go back to S.A. Rather than taking the same road. The reason was to check out our potential campsite for the next day and leave two cartons of juice and water there. We nearly lost the bottles on the way down though as we rattled down the hill and dropped to 4000 metres. We found a spot to camp just after a busy junction with the small road to Santa Rosa de Los Pastos Grandes. There is another mine here with lorries going back and forth but our camp spot looked good and would help us to stay at 4000 metres without venturing too far from the town, just in case. We would have to wait to see if our hiding place was successful although there was a fresh water stream there too as a plan B.
It took less than an hour to bump back to S.A. And I was pleased to feel a little more reassured about the road and the journey. The distance wae had done today would get us to Olacapato on day 2 with just a little more climb.
When we arrived back at the town, a man offered uslodging at Hostal de los Andes. We explained that we were already in a hotel but agreed to eat there. We were ushered into a small room with two tables where we ate one of our best meals in Argentina. Firstly, unidentified meatballs with rice and a tomato and pea sauce, then vegetable soup, watermelon, followed by a delicious cup of tea.
We had excellent company too from the owner who made us laugh telling us to take the railway line and the Polvorillo viaduct on the bike from S.A. as it was a less steep climb. When we asked what we would do if the train came while we were on the viaduct bridge, the owner demonstrated by standing back against the wall and breathing in. Still trying to convince us, on a photo he showed us three ledges which were obviously put there for heavily-laden tandem riders to use whilst the train went past!
The owner, Catalino Octavio Tapia, is very positive about Argentina and especially the Andes and the natural resources there. It was good to talk to him about the mines and the summers (very cold) and the opportunities for tourism and sustainable development. He is even experimenting with a small vegetable garden that he showed us. Quite an experiment with the dry, cold but sunny environment.
Just for the record, Catalino swatted a fly which landed directly in my soup. The first time I've had a fly in my soup.....waiter!

On the way to the gendarmerie to see the customs police, to let the border control know we were coming and to check it wasn't snowing up there, we met a Swiss couple, Phillippe and Rosie. We agreed to meet them for dinner, pleased to have some french-speaking company.
It was a great evening, full of stories and jokes about travelling and cycling and I completely forgot where we were for the entire time. We said we would call by if we came home via Switzerland and I hoped we would see them again to see if Phillippe had progressed his ideas on cycling holidays and eco-tourism in the Andes and the region.
Ben was especially chuffed that they complimented him on his well-ironed shirt. Goodness knows how he got that sort of compliment with his packing! A good evening and we owe Phillipppe and Rosie a pizza!

Thursday 16th December 2004

San Antonio de los Cobres to Chorillos 9.39 miles

Today so far so good.
We woke up feeling great after a good night's sleep with no aches from our tour yesterday and my cold a lot better. I still cough a bit and have gone through a few paks of tissues but nothing major and most importantly, my ears have finally stopped ringing.
We caught up with Phillippe and Rosie in the town buying our groceries (bread, cake and nougat bars with lots of calories). They should've left at 8.30am but for a flat tyre so we waited while they called home and then waved them off.
We left the hotel at midday with everything packed carefully and a total of 15 litres of water on the bike. We went to eat at our favourite hostal and had pasta for the road and a mate for Argentina. Ben and I have left it a long time to try mate here and in fact we really liked it. Catalino gave us a rock with gold and silver in it when we left and we set off for our karennben campsite at around 3pm.
We were heavy with the luggage that we didn't have on our trial run and once I saw my speedo drop to 3m.p.h but thats a tandem for you and we still arrived on schedule at 4.30pm. The water and juice was still there, just where we left it so we were pretty much all set for our Andes Crossing. We took a walk up 100 metres of the cliff opposite to see the rest of the valley and the road for tomorrow. Even at only 9 miles from S.A. the scenery is quite spectacular with huge, lazy mountains filling the view.
When we got down from the hill, we ate some bread and marmite in the last bit of sunshine near the tent. As soon as the sun went down, the temperature dropped pretty much 12 degrees to 11. We spotted a motorbike arriving from Paso Sico which looked more heavily-laden than the local bikes and when a second appeared, we eagerly ran to the road to greet two Dutch bikers, Claire and Leo. They had left San Pedro de Atacama at 11am and were arriving chez nous at 7.30pm so they were quite amazed (as I was) that the 350km journey would have to take us 5-6 days. Claire was impressed by Ben's airhorn which is as loud as a lorry and we asked them how to get two sheepskin saddles made in San Pedro. We swapped stories for an hour and tried to ignore how cold it was getting. We felt a little guilty when we waved them off as we got straight into our cosy tent knowing that they still had to find a place to stay in San Antonio that accommodated motorbikes. But there again, we still had to face Paso Sico........

Friday 17th December 2004

Chorillos to Olacapato 29 miles

In the night we bothgot up to pee and have a sneaky look at the stars which were just like at Las Cuevas and we could see entire galaxies, not just individual stars. There was a little traffic in the night up until this point but when we got back in the tent we both went back to sleep pretty much straight away (22.30 right through to 0650). The minimum temperature was -2 degreesC.

**Live Reporting**
Well here we are at midday at 4560 metres at Alto Chorillos after leaving at 9am (a bit of a lie-in) and pedalling/pushing for 12km. Ben is better at pushig than I am as I tend to just nudge the back of the bike a bit and still get very out of breath. But we made it!! We crossed the railway line after 10km at 4440m. Probably eight lorries have passed us, 1 ambulance, about 4 pickups, 1 lizard, lots of llamas........but no cyclists!

After Alto Chorillo, the road goes down into a sandy valley and crosses the trainline at Tocomar 4450 metres. Then further, the valley opens out and the floor is green, nourished by more hot water springs, which appear on the right. A lot of the valley is lined with a white mineral deposit but tiny tadpoles can live in the streams which really are very warm.
After the termas, the valley opens out more and the push for Olacapato starts. The mossy vegetation is replaced by sand, sand and more sand. We perservered but the road is very tough and at one point I asked Ben to stop just so my head would stop rattling down the bumpy corrugated road for a few seconds. If it wasn't bumpy, it was sandy and we swerved through, just managing to keep upright. I became official lorry-waver as Ben had to grip tight to the handlebars to save us from careering over. And a sterling job he did too.
Olacapato appears like an oasis 29 miles from our campsite. A slightly ridiculous sign sends you the long way round to approach the town but it is unmissable in any case.
The senora who does food and lodging had gone to S.A., rather inconveniently for us, so we went to try our luck at a tiny shop. Ben filled our water bottles from the kitchen and then called out choices of groceries: a tin of peas, sardines and chocolate for me. I was busy showing the shopkeeper photos of our families and pictures from home and looking suitably exhausted, so when Ben asked what I wanted to do, she said we could camp at the shop, no problem. Since it would mean leaving with full water in the morning, and it was already 5pm, we decided it was a good idea to stay. Ben made pasta and peas and sardines which made me feel 100% again. Then for an extra boost, he made some tea and I took some to the woman, with a little sachet of sugar (and a plaster for her cut finger). She would have to heat up a massive stove just for a cupof tea.so she was really pleased. She even stopped asking me if I missed Italy!
After tidying up, a policeman came for a chat and asked a lot of good questions about the tandem and life at home. He told us Catua was 40km, with a bit of a hill, and to try to avoid the afternoon wind which would slow us down. So after a tough day, by the time it got dark, we were tired but on schedule.

Saturday 18th December 2004

Last day in Argentina
Olacapato to Catua and Gendarmeria Argentina 40.57 miles

We had a fantastic night's sleep in silent Olacapato, outside the shop, next to a huge satellite dish. We left at 8am with the sun coming up but a chill in the air. I gave the shopkeeper's daughter, Miriam, a set of playing cards to say thankyou for the camping. Each card had a different photo from around the world and it seemed nice to leave them with Miriam in the middle of the Andes.
The road to Cauchari is 8km of sand and gravel but it seemed to pass quickly and on arriving at the miniscule village, we were faced with the option of the salar road or going via Catua to Paso Sico. With hindsight, leaving Olacapato with full food and water did set us up for crossing the salar to get to the customs post. Even though we don't know this road, with the majority of it passing through a salar, it could be a good guess that it is pretty flat. We however, decided to stick to our original plan and go to Catua. We took north, knowing that the village was at about 4000 metres and knowing that we had a few little hills (sierranitas) to cross but not knowing that there was also a mighty hill at 4350 metres to go over first!
For a good few miles out of Cauchari, the road was fairly solid. We passed the Salar of Cauchari on the right which had blown across the road in some places, leaving a nice smooth, compressed salt surface. We could see our hills ahead and as we approached the road deteriorated to deep gravel so we pushed up and looked back for a last glimpse of the huge and quite magnificent valley.
The mountains have a violet hue to them but the whole scenery is blurred by wind, sand and heat, giving the hills a soft edge to them. Then the bright white stretches of ancient salt lakes line the bottom of the valley, where llamas and troops of vicunas scatter about. Occassionally, you can see the dust trail of a lorry or pick-up but otherwise things can be still for hours. Distances and directions do not mean a lot either and 10 kilometres can be half a days work on the bumpy "ripio" roads. The mountains and changing horizons give strange perspectives too and the speedo is the best indication of an ascent or a downhill. The Andes is like nothing I have ever seen or imagined.

The road to Catua rose gently up after our hills, through a valley with termas running through it and friendly llamas who even came over to look at the bike and us. Vicunas are wild and tend to be a soft beige colour, a cross between a llama and a deer, whereas llamas are whites, black or browns, have a huge amount of fur and are domesticated. Some of the llamas were shawn and had very comic faces with skinny bodies.
We continued with every turn making us think that we would eventually start to descend but instead, around every corner, another incline. Even when we were sure we were high enough, a bright yellow sign proudly displayed a car going "up," telling us merrily that we had a little more work to do yet. Finally, we reached Alto Arizaro at 4350 metres and another sign told us we still had 14km to go to Catua. For asmall village, it was taking some work to get to. However, we both felt good and a lot better than the same time yesterday.
We swooped downhill and finally got to Catua at 14.15, only to find there was not a cafe, but it did have a little shop. We bought as much chocolate-flavoured food and food-flavoured food as our remaining pesos could afford. Then we filled up with water and entertained the children simply by looking very strange to them.
We were preparing to leave when a young man told us the comedor had prepared us some food. He told Ben it was asado and we panicked slightly as we had only left ourselves with 7 pesos to our name; the least we could afford was a meat feast. But we followed anyway and were invited into a kitchen to eat as guests with a doctor, two stone merchants, a councillor and an old gentleman. And for our last meal in Argentina, it was excellent!
All the meat was piled in the middle of the table and everyone shared while Jose told us about the azul onyx and other stones in the region. When they asked if we had children, I did the usual "there's no space on the bike joke," and they all laughed. We had to keep an eye on the time though as we still had 20km to go before our stop. Before we left, Jose gave us the biggest piece of meat on the table to take with us and we took photos outside, promising to send them to them (in about a year's time!). The councillor fetched his camera too and for a few minutes there was a lot of silliness until they waved us off.
So for us, Catua had definitely been worth it in the end.
The next two hours to get to the customs station passed in a bit of a daze. It was 16km which started well but then, as the surroundings opened out, a strong head wind kicked up, making the last part of the journey pretty difficult. The road is really tough and we fell over with the bike twice but finally made it to the police post. A young soldier greeted us and when we innocently asked if we could camp, he said there was too much wind and ushered us through to living quarters that the police in S.A. had told us about. Even though we expected it, we thought it best not to let on and I even tasted the water, pretending not to know that it was salty. This was probably taking thingsa bit far though as it was quite yuk. So we did our best at looking over the moon and when the young soldier left to get our exit stamps, ready to leave Argentina in the morning, we had a hot (salty) shower and Ben fried up our Catua beef in the kitchen with some pasta, which was wicked as ever.
When the soldier returned with our passports, his dog took an interest in us. I thought he was a nice, friendly dog but the guy explained that he was just looking for drugs.
We made some tea on the stove and before we went to bed, I admired my nice clean fingernails. We knew we had a climb the next day, but so far, still so good.....

Sunday 19th December 2004

Gendarmeria Argentina to Laco Mines 23.60 miles

We woke up late today at 7am but were packed and ready to go at 8am when four lorries arrived at the customs post, travelling to Potosi, Bolivia. We were slightly concerned about asking for drinking water when we saw that the police only had a ontainer in the kitchen, but when the guard rinsed our bottles out before filling them up, we guessed he probably had enough and I even asked for my 2 litre coke bottle to be filled.
I explained that we had asked about paying the night before and the young guard had said the room was free but we could contribute if we wanted to and give him a few pesos. This morning though, there was no question of paying and the customs guard wouldn't accept our last pesos. All this could have been because I had asked in earshot of the lorry drivers but in any case, it was very generous.
The lorry drivers went past us at 9am after we had travelled 4 miles. This is honestly our pace in the Andes! A further 3, and we finally arrived at Paso Sico. The frontier is just like photos on the internet we had seen, except that the photos (ours included) cannot quite capture the feeling of being surrounded by mountains when you are stood looking at the Welcome to Chile sign.The pass is at 4100 and we had a few cheers, then rode on, knowing we still had a big climb ahead.
We pedalled well in the morning and from Sico, arrived at what must have been an ancient volcano with the road skirting round the edge. Quite beautiful. Then up and over into another volcano until we could finally see our first pass rising in front. Some of the uphill was over 10% so we pushed for a short while. A concerned lorry driver passing us very slowly on his way down, gave us a thumbs up to check we were ok. Since he was going in the opposite direction, he wouldn't be able to give us a cheeky lift so we just waved and smiled, as if we had every intention of pushing our bike up a huge volcano in the middle of nowhere in the Andes. He continued with his air brakes puffing down the steep hill.
We cycled the rest of the climb to the pass, in total 8 miles from Paso Sico, passing silvery pyramids of sand and more pink and grey mountains. We could see nothing behind our pass and it looked like when we reached the top, we would get a view of the whole of Chile right up to the Pacific ocean! Ben and I are probably the only people not to consider Chile a narrow country after today's cycling.
Finally, we got to the top and could see the valley we would drop down into. We ate some of our nougat and made an orange drink, ready for the downhill which took us from 4450 metres down into a vast valley with a white salar on one side and vicunas chasing across a mountain desert on the other. We could see the Chilean carabineros border post up ahead but it seemed to take forever to cycle there as the road was a complete straight line up through the opposite side of the valley, and then on past the police. I imagined the customs officials spotting us coming up the hill and going outside to greet us but then realising that they had time to watch TV, do some paperwork, have a nap and then wash up, all in the time it took us to climb up 200 metres to the post.
We presented our passports, signed at immigration to say we had no fresh food or animal products and filled up with another 4 litres of water. Chile is paranoid about keeping out diseases such as foot and mouth disease and dengue fever so the land frontiers are well protected, although I did manage to sneak in the Leeds United bottle of honey we still had. The guards offered us to camp at the post and have a meal with them but as it was only 3pm and our second pass was in sight, we decided to continue. The guard gave us threes oranges and an apple, obviously from Chile, and we set off again.
For the next 90 minutes, we edged up the hill against a tough wind. This was pretty much the only part of the day where we pushed for a good stretch as the hill rose straight up dramatically, past the customs post to the summit at over 4500 metres. Three pick-ups went past, one stopping to say hello and give us a bottle of soda water.
And then finally, finally, we had done our last pass and stood at the top to get a GPS reading with the wind trying to blow away the last of our energy. We were beat. The altimeter read 4575 and the GPS 4602 metres. We could see the mines in the distance, so there was only one thing to do, hold on to the handlebars and drop down. Ben steered us through some sand but the road was pretty good and we passed a van and two tourist hire cars, going up, trying to carefully negotiate the road so as to get their deposit back.
We only descended about 150 metres to the mines but we felt that we wouldn't have problems sleeping at that altitude (4400) after nearly a week at over 4000 metres. So we decided to try our luck and ask if we could stay there, armed with the dog dazer, of course, just in case.
There were three men (but no dogs) at the mine, one of whom was the guard, Alejandro. They said that not only could we stay there but furthermore that we didn't even need to pitch the tent as there ws a dorm with bunks we could use. And a toilet, although the water wasn't connected. One of the Chileans asked us about la puna and before he kept insisting, I felt fine but the more he talked about altitude sickness, I started to doubt myself and felt a little dizzy. But Ben and I made a wonderful cup of tea in the kitchen and I felt instantly back to normal again.
The two guys left and it was just us and the young guradian for the night. He looks after the mine one month on, then one month back at his home town. In the winter, May to August, it can get very cold and tough and he was once stranded for 42 days when the road was cutoff by snow. The mine isn't working currently as Argentina, who owns the iron ore, cannot afford to extract it. Apparently, that may change shortly though, as a Japanese company is interested in buying it. So, until then, Alejandro maintains the site.
When we asked if we could cook, Alejandro gave us ready-made spaghetti and potatoes to use so we really felt like royal visitors. Ben made another fantastic meal, followed by more tea and after talking to Alejandro about life in the mine and the Andes, we went to bed (aboutt 4 hours before the guardian).
And who told us "no hay nada," there's nothing at Paso Sico?

Monday 20th December 2004

Laco Mines to camping (nr. Socaire) 54.2 miles

Neither of us had any problems sleeping at 4400 metres after all. The worst we experienced was getting out of breath when we tried to talk and do anything else at the same time, like walking. We left Alejandro with two Christmas nougat bars, the best we could do as a thankyou present, and set off at 8am for what we thought would be the home stretch. Socaire was 100km away, so it wasn't a question of IF we could get there, but for WHAT TIME?
However, as always, it wouldn't be quite so easy.
About 10 miles from the mines, we came to Laguna Tuyaito, where we could make out lots of pink flamingos feeding. The mountains reflected in the peaceful water and it was a beautiful view. We saw a lot more vicunas this side of the border too, but no pumas. Since Las Cuevas, the locals have been scaring us with stories of pumas attacking. Alejandro said he had seen them, during the day, but although we kept our eyes peeled, we didn't spot any.
One of the men at the mines had told us it was all downhill to Socaire and even the carabineros had told us that we had done our last climb yesterday. But Alejandro was closer to the mark when he said we had 50km of up and down and then 50km of down. What it actually feels like is 50km of climbing up and round a huge volcano and then 50km of wobbly valley until a final hill drops down into the Atacama.
Even though the scenery round the volcanos is really wonderful and laguna Aguas Calientes, even more pretty than Tuyaito, we had to work really hard all day and even 16km from Socaire, there is still a 4km stretch of pure sand to negotiate. Luckily, we only fell off once, and even then I used it as an opportunity to have a rest on the road (with my feet in the air). During another swervy moment, Ben accused me of unclipping my shoes from the pedals and I got a bit cross and said a swear word, then felt guilty straight away then went back to feeling tired, so to keep up my energy levels, I started to think about my Top 5 Paso Sico moments:

Top 5 Paso Sico Crossing Moments - Karen
1) The pink flamingos on Laguna Tuyaito
2) Missing the Polvorillo train by 3 minutes
3) Meeting the locals at Catua
4) Meeting Claire and Leo and Phillippe and Rosie
5) Sleeping at 4400m at the mines with a cup of tea

Top 5 Paso Sico Crossing Moments - Ben
1) The tour bus cheering us on at our first 4000m pass
2) The storm of hail and lightening on the way to S.A.
3) The last day in Argentina
4) The pink flamingos at laguna Tuyaito
5) Flying downhill on ripio at 44 k.p.h.

Apart from a couple of short, sharp downhills, where we held on to the handlebars with our legs flying out behind us, we stayed up above 4000 metres well into the day. Eight kilometres from Socaire, with great views of the Atacama desert below, we assessed our water situation and decided we could afford a last Andean night of camping before dropping back down into civilisation in the morning.

Tuesday 21st December 2004

Camping to San Pedro de Atacama 98 km (my counter broke today - so no mileage)

After a good night's sleep at our last campsite in the Andes, we set off this morning to do our last 7 km of dirt track road. We came crashing down the side of the hill quite nicely until Ben put the brakes on after some clunking and we got off to inspect the damage. A stone caught under the mud guard had ripped it off so Ben took the whole piece away and tidied the broken arms. Then he tried the front wheel again but there was still something strange and he spotted that the front wheel had come loose on the fork. Ben tells me that when the tandem was built he insisted on lawyer's lips to hold the wheel in place, otherwise we would have come down the mountain to Socaire, but without the bike, or any teeth!
With everything tightened and looking a lot safer, we continued rattling until we got to joy of joys, the perfect tarmac of Socaire. Smoother than a baby's bottom!
Because of the straw-thatched roof of the church and the big, round friendly faces of the Chileans, our first village looked strangely Tahitian, with the Atacama desert far below looking like a tropical sea.
We stopped at a bakery and had coffee, eggs and freshly made bread. What a treat. It came to $1700 so we politely asked the lady to explain the prices, saying we were still thinking Argentinian pesos. She told us all the costs but we were none the wiser, really. We filtered water and set off again.
The beautiful tarmac drops into a fantastic downhill, straight towards the Atacama desert. My speedo went haywire, probably after our mini accident earlier, but I could tell by my streaming eyes that we were bombing down the mountain. Rather stupidly, I tried to do my usual nose-blowing whilst we were in full flow, only to find that most of my nostril contents ended up flying back onto my cheeks. Anyway, I could tell that somewhere at the end of today, we had a hot shower waiting for us at the end of the run, so I didn't mind getting grubby.
We saw the smoking volcano that Alejandro had told us about with a small cloud of activity above it.
I suggested to Ben that we stop in Toconao for the night, to try to make our stay in Atacama stretch out but also to make our day of cycling a bit shorter. The first thing we did on arriving in this little oasis village was to find a restaurant. We happily ate rice, chicken and avocado salad and watched an awful Chilean soap opera with lots of over-dramatic characters. The cost of the meal came to $6500, another slight shock.
We had changed a hundred pesos in Salta to cover us for when we arrived in Chile, but still expecting it to last our first day or two. But here in Chile, we had bought breakfast and lunch and didn't have a lot left for anything else. There was only one thing for it, we would have to do another 40km to San Pedro de Atacama, in the searing heat - not our favourite thing to do when we are already pretty beat, but without enough money, we clearly couldn’t stay in Toconao.
We made a good pace and my only complaint was a sore rash on the top of my thigh which had appeared the day before, and wasn't about to let me have a comfortable ride.
By 17.30, we were at Chilean immigration, on the edge of the village. We were just about finished off, after racing a coach to get in the queue before them, but we queued patiently for our entry stamp and then endured a few jokes about the tandem at customs. Again there were more posters about foot and mouth which has been detected in Bolivia and dengue which exists in Argentina, Peru and Bolivia but not Chile. Luckily, as we had done the formalities at El Laco at the border, we passed through relatively quickly. We just had to explain how we had left Argentina on 19th, stamped out on 18th but not actually arriving in Chile officially, until today, 21st December. We had been cauht in an Andean No Man's Land.
We arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, the backpackers "haven," right in the middle of a busy children's fair. Luckily, we were also right in front of the tourist information. Unluckily we found out that there was no way to take money out on visa cards (of which we have four!).
I changed our last Argentinian pesos and we bought beer, bread, cheese and chocolate and then went to find an extortionately priced campsite. In the morning, we would have to change our emergency dollars, spend one day drinking water and eating my spare sandals and then set off for Calama, and the bank. We decided that we might have to postpone our Christmas until Bolivia, especially as I had quite a long present wish-list. Even if we couldn't stay in San Pedro as long as we hoped, we didn't mind about not doing the geysers and lagunas tours as we had already seen plenty of beauty spots on our intrepid crossing anyway.
San Pedro looked a bit trendy for us too. On arriving, I even shyly took off my JT Racing sunglasses, partly because I couldn’t see anything but also because, great as they are for covering your entire face in the desert, they do look a bit out of place amongst the backpackers' fashionable accessories.

Still we were happy to have arrived and happy to have completed Day 13 of our epic Andean adventure, by crossing the entire Salar of Atacama in one day, the driest (and most expensive) place on earth.

Camping $6000!
Coffee and eggs $1700!
Lunch $6500!
Groceries $4000!

Wednesday 22nd December 2004

Rest day - San Pedro de Atacama

This morning we had a nice lie-in then Ben made us coffee with our primus stove which has a new DIY camping fork element after Ben left the metal flame guard in Olacapato, after cleaning it. Then, we sat very still for an hour or so, so as not to spend any money, whilst a Chilean family provided some free entertainment by overloading their roofbox.
Later in the morning, we found a great map of the altiplano, wrote some family emails and went to eat a really good meal in a very "San Pedro" style restaurant, a cross between Mexico and Ibiza, which I have decided now sums up this little town. We also found out we would have to plan for our 2-day ride to Calama well to make sure we didn't get too hot and thirsty.
In the afternoon, we tried to find some metal to replace our fork flame dissipator, but in the end Ben had the idea of making a replacement out of a tin can of peas, which worked fantastically.
We also went to the book exchange but it wasn't very inspiring. I ended up exchanging Classic Alice in Wonderland for some sleezy Cuban filth. A bit of a strange swap.

Lunch $10000!
Camping $6000!
Book $500 + my book!
Groceries $10000!
Map $3000!

N.b. In spite of all my cynicism, we have had a really good stay in San Pedro de Atacama, a very tasty meal and even found some tinsel to decorate the tandem for Christmas!

Thursday 23rd December 2004

San Pedro to a crater in the desert 41 miles

Luckily we didn't pay too much attention to the advice at the mountain bike hire place in our camping. He told us it was 150km to Calama (it is actually 103) and he told us that there is a small hill, then down, then flat. The small hill is actually a climb of 1000 metres which took us pretty much until 3pm the next day to complete. We knew this from our topographic map, but I would hate to think what sort of advice those renting Trek bikes from him are getting.
On the way down, we were quite disappointed by the wind which blew violently across a dusty, volcanic plain and slowed us down dramatically. We decided, just after 5pm, that we would have to camp and found a crater on the side of the road to pitch the tent in. We would have to continue bright and early tomorrow morning.
It had been a great day of cycling with great views, once again, of the salar of Atacama, but as we became more and more tired, we planned for a more and more expensive hotel stay in Calama for Christmas!

Spent $0

Christmas Eve 2004

To Calama 19 miles

After waking up in our desert crater, we sped down the road to Calama and without the wind, did the journey in just shy of 90 minutes. Furthermore, it was great fun and we really felt we were chasing Christmas.
Calama looked like it could be bigger than we thought as we appoached. It stood out as a green area amongst the lunar landscape of the Atacama desert; a green line of trees which we could see from miles away. Then slowly, buildings, the airport and the roads started to appear and we arrived in the colourful little city of Calama.The tourist office babysat the tandem for us while we went to withdraw some money ($150,000!) and phone Ben's parents. The we set about looking for a Christmas hotel.
The first that the tourist office recommended, was already full. Ben said it was because I looked like a gypsy with my headscarf on so I made him ask at the next hotel. There was plenty of space but at $42,000 with a swimming pool and free internet access, I wasn't surprised. I tried another half dozen rooms for $8-10,000 until we reached Hotel San Juan, a quiet, huge room, with TV, stereo and a clean bathroom, plus breakfast for $22,000. It was a little expensive but we decided to splash out for a few days on some Christmas comfort.
Next we went to eat and then did a tour of the markets and shopping centres. We each bought a new Christmas t-shirt which was quite exciting as we first had to tell someone that we wanted to buy it, then take a ticket to a cashier to pay, then queue again at another counter to collect our t-shirts. Complicated but fun.
Lastly, we went to buy goodies like crisps, beer, yogurts, fruit and chocolate, to fill the fridge at the hotel. All the shops told us they would be open for Christmas day too so there's a strong work ethic in the city. It has never rained here so it would be a sunny Christmas. None of the buildings have gutters and most of them are painted bright blues, yellows and pinks so we would have a bright sunny Christmas after all.

Hotel $22,000!
Lunch $3400!
Groceries $10000!

Christmas Day 2004

Calama, Atacama Desert, Chile

This morning we woke up to a Happy Christmas phonecall from the Sketchley family, wishing us (quite loudly) a good day. Everyone had got the presents which I had bought before leaving - very organised!
We had breakfast at the hotel. And in Chile, like England, the breakfast is savoury so we had a coffee and a ham and melted cheese sandwich. Then we watched some US tosh films before going out to eat. Ben wanted to do a Chinese buffet so we had to go on internet for a while to build up an apetite. Obviously, at Christmas, all-you-can-eat, really must mean all-you-can-eat. The buffet was very good and we even treated ourselves to a bottle of Chilean wine. In the afternoon, we wandered around the market for a bit, then back at the hotel, I caught up on weeks worth of typing on my journal and we watched some more American tosh. A very relaxing, well-fed and "Chiled" out Christmas.

Click here for Part 2 of the journal

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