Jan 17th 2020
Today was working out to be a day of two parts. It ended in three parts, but I will come to that later. I left Salta about 9, a bit later than planned. First part of the route ran through small towns. I am amazed how many police roadblocks they have here. I went through six in total today, two of them in less than a kilometre. I also got stopped at one for the first time. The cop asked for papers, so I gave him my V5 and international driving licence. I think he was more curious than anything else. Then I turned off onto RP (Ruta Provincial) 33, which wound uphill through what looked like rain forest. It was certainly wet, riding through cloud up a steep switchback tar road. After about ten km, it changed to dirt, or rather, mud. I seem to be seeing lots of mud lately. Though this mud was on a stone bed, so it wasn’t too bad. Halfway up two busses had collided, which held up proceedings for a while. I had the heated grips on, and was satrting to get wet through my supposedly waterproof Oxford jacket. It was slow going, the fog making it difficult to overtake. Then suddenly, the plant life disappeared. I was literally spat out of a cloud into a desert landscape, on tarmac, brand new tarmac.
The road sloped gently downwards, giving the impression that I was heading for the seaside. I stopped briefly to take in the view, and met a guy, Daniel, on a 10 day bike trip with his daughter, on a Super Tenere. I met them again in Cachi, looking for a filling station. I already had one programmed into my phone, so they followed me there. Then they invited me for lunch, insisting on paying for it. Lovely people here; apart from Gustavo, I haven’t had anything but warmth from all the Argentinians I have met.
Daniel and his daughter
Then back into the dirty of Ruta 40, the last stretch of dirt in the North. And La Cuaranta had been saving this bit especially for me. The weather was hot, but not unbearably so, the scenery, stunning. Huge valleys,, flat alluvial plains, the towering mass of the Andes to the right. Later, crenellated sandstone ramparts and knife edge ridges, interspersed with the occasional oasis of green where an estancia had been set up. The road surface varied from packed clay to gravel; some ripio, but mostly straight and flat enough to get to that wonderful velocity where it seems to disappear, even though you can see it rolling away underneath the bike. There were quite a few patches of loose gravel and deep sand, but the bike was running beautifully.I haven’t really talked about the bike much. I bought it second hand, as I wanted one that had had had the known teething problems fixed (steering bearing, oil weeping from cylinder head) that I had seen talked about in forums. Am I happy with the bike? Most definitely. It handles beautifully, seems built like a tank (the broken rack, fitted by the previous owner, was third party). It’s economical, very comfortable, and seems capable of handling virtually anything. Today I had complete confidence in it’s ability to cope with whatever the road threw at it. About 25 km out of Cachi, I came across a Swiss guy on a giant BMW, with a puncture.. He asked me to help him get it on the centre stand, which made me wonder how he would lift the bike if he dropped it. He couldn’t find the puncture in his tubeless tyre. He had a foot pump, so I let him use my electric one. The tyre wouldn’t inflate, and where the air was going was a mystery that remained unsolved. He set off for Cachi with a flat rear. Hope he made it ok.
Beemer with a flat
Great roads, if a bit sandy
As I rode, I realised I was probably going a bit fast. But on the right, a massive wall of black cloud was spinning over the mountains, and it was becoming yet again a race with the weather. Plus I was having the time of my life. The bike was running beautifully, the Mitas E-07 tyres are superb in anything except mud. I was just thinking that I shouldn’t push it too much when I came to a detour. An arroyo had a huge gaping hole it it. Bizarrely, the detour ran through the garden of the first house I had seen for 30km or so. The road then went back into the arroyo, through thick sand. I dropped a gear, and where the track rejoined the main road, choose an exit that hasn’t been churned up by cars. It was in fact a hole full of sand. The front wheel dug in, then hit a huge angled ridge buried beneath powder-soft sand. The bars were wrenched from my hands, and I came off quite spectacularly. I think I had the video camera running, so that will be an interesting watch I guess. Aware that I was in an arroyo that got fed by rain water from the direction where multiple storms were currently dropping huge amounts of water, and that I wss in the line of fire of a potential flash flood, I panicked and lifted the bike without unloading it first. I badly wrenched my right knee. What a twat, I told myself. I got back on the bike, tried to start it. The start switch was broken, it had been pulled out of it’s housing by the fall. A car arrived, but just hooted at me to get out of the way. I indicated I was stuck, whereby the car drove round me to the right to get past, and roared off. Knob. I got a screwdriver out and prised the starter switch back into it’s housing. It didn’t work. Then another car arrived, and stopped. It was a Canadian called Pierre, and his wife. I asked him if he could try push starting me. Credit to him, he got me going fast enough, and the bike started easily.
Where I came off. I thought I took a pic of the bike, but can’t find it.
About 10km later, the dirt ended. I arrived in Cafayate about 7pm, and foundb a mechanic from iOverlander, to hopefully get the starter switch fixed. But the bike had fixed itself. The starter now worked. While stopped there, two Uruguayan guys on identical clean, shiny Honda’s stopped and asked if I knew of any accommodation. Apparently rooms were scarce. One of them asked why me and the bike were so dirty. I pointed to the Ruta 40 sticker on his immaculate Honda. Meanwhile hordes of other bikers roamed around in packs looking for rooms. All sported Ruta 40 stickers. I guess I shoukd get one so I fit in. One guy stopped me and demanded to know where the Yamaha dealer was. Probably an absurd question, I would be very surprised if there was one here. Not just that, but what a rude bastard. He rode off in a huff when I shrugged my shoulders. Tarmac tomorrow, and I am unexpectedly glad. My knee is really sore, A bonus, though. The chemist sold me some pills for my knee that I have never heard of, and also changed some dollars for me at a good rate. Bedtime.Tomorrow is another day. Another day on La Cuaranta.
