Today turned out to be the best days riding of the whole trip. It started with leaving the spot where I had the best nights sleep; I slept for about 9 hours solid. I felt refreshed, and ready for a bit of dirt. I made some mate tea while I packed up, then set off. The road started off as gravel, a bit loose in places, interspersed with stretches where it was so well packed it was almost like tarmac. I flew along, feeling very confident in the bike, knowing it was getting serviced in the next few days. It had been thrashed a bit up north, and the oil definitely needed changing. I crossed a few short sandy bits, standing up, and leaning slightly forward, giving it plenty of throttle. The rear fish-tailed a bit, but I had by now regained the confidence I’d had thirty years earlier, tempered with a bit more common sense. I found I was enjoying it. In Botswana, where most of the roads where I grew up were sand, my old XR500 had fishtailed far more than the Himalayan. I then passed a few km of brand new asphalt, with piles of dirt showing that work was obviously just about to start resurfacing the entire road, sad signs of yet another great road being flattened and sanitised for the masses. But not quite yet. On it’s way past Aluminé and Pilolil, Ruta Provincial (RP) 23 follows the Aluminé River southwards. Interesting rock formations, a few steep hairpins, but mostly following the river valley, the road makes it’s way south to join RN40 at Justin de los Andes.
Alumine River, hairpins in the distance
Beautiful scenery
The weather was great, the scenery sublime, the road not too difficult, but hard enough to be interesting, though there were some large trucks chucking up huge amounts of dust on one stretch. Further south a few homesteads and small farms started appearing.
I rejoined Ruta 40 at Justin de los Andes. Initially my plan had been to stop here for lunch, but the sight of hordes of tourists put me off. What I saw of the town looked very pretty, in a twee Swiss-chalet sort of way. Since I’d started the trip, I had felt a complete antipathy to crowds, noise, traffic; civilisation in general. In fact, this antipathy had started before I left home. The whole point of the trip was to get out in the wilds, see some scenery, push the envelope a bit; to see if I could actually do it, after years of thinking about it and imagining myself out there. And I’d found out I could, and that civilisation held no interest any more, at least, not on this trip. I could go to a coffee shop or a nice restaurant any time I liked, but I only had two months for this.
After Justin de los Andes, I rode on the the best bit of Ruta 40 so far, excluding the 700km of dirt up north. Sweeping curves through a landscape that looks like all the best bits of Scotland with a bit of northern Italy thrown in, the smell of pine in the air on a sunny summer’s day (temperature was 23 degrees). The road passes many lakes. I videoed some of it, but didn’t stop to take many photos, partly because I knew I would be exploring this area with Jackie in 3 weeks, and also because I wanted to get the bike serviced in Villa la Angostura, and wanted to get there for the evening business hours. I knew Itchy Boots had got her bike serviced in Villa la Angostura, but she never answered my message asking exactly where. I had already discovered that there was a place you could rent Royal Enfields, so that seemed the obvious place to start. Just before Villa la Angostura, I pulled over at one of the scenic viewpoints by the lake. I chatted to a couple on a BMW, who offered me some mate tea. It looked like Scotland on steroids. The lake was huge, and the mountains round it fitted the scale. Then I set off for Villa la Angostura. First stop was the campsite, Unquehué camping y Dormis, which was conveniently situated next to a supermarket. It was, however, quite full. My worries about noise were somewhat allayed when I was told that they had a strict noise curfew at midnight. The price, at ARS700, was the same as I’d spent on a hostel in La Quiaca, so I knew I was in a tourist hot-spot.
Lago Espejo Grande, RN40
Lago Nahuel Huapi, just north of Villa la Angostura
While putting up the tent, I snapped a pole. On the ground on the next pitch, I could see a couple of broken fibreglass tent poles, so I asked the occupants, two young guys from Buenos Aires, if I could have one of the broken poles. They said they were from a previous occupant. Luckily, the metal collar on one end of the poles, used to fit another section into, was exactly the right size, so the repair was quick and simple. While I was putting the tent up, the sun was getting in my eyes, so I put my Boca Juniors baseball cap on. “No, no….” the guys both moaned, and I realised they were River Plate supporters. They ribbed me about my hat for the rest of the evening, until they both collapsed from drinking too much wine.
After putting up the tent, I headed to town. With the help of a local biker, I found the shop that rented out Royal Enfields. Termi, who works there, told me that a guy called Marcello serviced all their bikes. He jumped on his little dirt bike and showed me the way. It is actually an approved RE service centre. Marcello asked a few questions: how many miles, how much had I been abusing the bike, how much oil was it using. He seemed impressed it had only used a litre of oil after being thrashed down desert highways in high heat for days on end. I arranged to drop the bike off the next morning at 10am. Marcello told me it would be ready by 1800, so I was committed to another night in this campsite that cost as much as some decent hostels in more remote parts of the country. I headed back to the campsite, picked up some shopping, and cooked spaghetti bolognaise. They sell bolognaise sauce in small Tetrapaks here in Argentina, and it was about to become my staple for the rest of the trip. I had a few drinks with my neighbours, who were getting thoroughly pissed, extolling the virtues of Argentinian red wine before eventually collapsing. The whole campsite seemed to partying hard, with music blaring from different directions. Drunks staggered around tripping over guy ropes, shouting at each other. I was wondering if I would get any sleep when, exactly at midnight, all the noise suddenly stopped.
I left Chos Malal around 9am, an early start for me; I was finding it very difficult on this trip to get going early. Of course, in a campsite it’s a bit easier, as you get woken by the sun, noise etc fairly early. Fabian was up before me, and by 8am was heading off for some fishing, his little bike packed with his massive bag containing all his gear perched on the back. I packed up, and rode down Ruta 40 to La Lajas. The road was starting to look more interesting, with hills on both sides of the road. After about 40km, I came across another shrine beside the road. This looked far neater and better built than the shrines I had been seeing for Gauchito Gil, so I decided to investigate. It turned out to be a shrine to Difunta Correa (Deceased Correa) , another semi-pagan saint-like figure. According to legend, in 1840 a woman tried to reach her sick husband, who had been abandoned by the Montenaras (partisans) in the deserts of San Juan, north of Mendoza. She died when her supplies ran out. A few days later, some gauchos came across her dead body. Feeding from her still full breasts was a baby. The gauchos took the baby with them. Some time later, they erected a shrine to the deceased mother, Deolinda Correa. The shrine to her in Vallecito is still visited by pilgrims. Her devout followers believe her to perform miracles and intercede for the living. They leave offerings of water, which can be seen in the photo. The Catholic Church refused Deolinda Correa sainthood, as she only performed one miracle, and the Vatican requires two.
I left Ruta 40 at Las Lajas, heading on RN 242 towards Pino Hachacdo, on the border with Chile. Just before Pino Hachado, I turned off onto RP23, the road Matias from the Chill Inn in Mendoza had recommended to me. I could immediately tell why he liked it so much. The road follows the Rio Latran, heading south. It’s a dirt road, not in great condition, with ruts and rocks, but it’s one of those roads you don’t want to rush anyway. The scenery was fantastic, hills on my left, the river meandering along on my right. Araucaria trees commonly known as monkey puzzle trees, decorated both sides of the road, and there was absolutely no traffic. I liked it so much that I decided to stop early and enjoy the scenery. iOverlander mentioned a track leading down to the river to a nice place to camp, so I kept my eye out for it. I’m not sure if it was the track mentioned, but after about 20km, a small track led down to a ford in the river. In the distance on the far side I could see a small farm. I didn’t cross the river, instead turning right and following the river for about a km until I found a beautiful spot to camp, under some arauacaria trees.
Camp
After stripping off my bike gear, and setting up camp, I walked down to the river. It was by now about 2pm, and pretty hot, so I found a pool, stripped off, and went for a swim. Absolute bliss! The water, which I presume is glacial melt, was freezing, but very invigorating. I washed some dirty clothes and lazed around inthe sun by the river for a while. I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around, taking pics, drinking tea, and did a bit of work on the bike.
There was no phone signal, so I sent a few messages to Jackie on the Garmin InReach. I then got out my Lixada wood stove, for he first time on the trip. I found that the cones from araucaria trees made the perfect fuel for the stove, so spent a while collecting them. Soon, the kettle was on the go, and I made some mate tea. The Lixada stove is a brilliant bit of kit. It cost me £12 from eBay, and will burn twigs, pine cones etc.
Cooking dinner
As it started getting dark, I cooked a meal on the fire of pilchards with pasta. It was actually pretty disgusting. I cleansed my palate with a small bottle of cheap whisky, and sat by the fire until my cones ran out. It was quiet save for the sound of the river, some strange bird calls, and the inevitable occasional dog bark in the distance. I sat in the starlight thinking about what I wanted from the trip. The original plan of riding Ruta 40 end to end was now not really an option, unless I backtracked to Las Lajas. And, of course, I’d missed about 30km of Ruta 40 on the very first day, when I had taken an unnumbered road after leaving the start of RN40 at La Quica. And for a week, Ruta 40 had been a bit of a drag most of the time. Endless tarmac straights, intense heat, long boring plains, with the Andes just a movie in my peripheral vision, way off on the right. South of Gobernador Costa, I knew from cyclists I had met that it would once again be miles and miles of boring tarmac. I wanted more dirt. Of course, I was now getting into the cooler areas, but, as far as I knew, I had only another 80km or so of tarmac on the rest of Ruta 40. And what is Ruta 40 anyway, beyond the myth? It’s a road that was conceived by a bureuacrat in an office in 1936. It’s exact route is constantly in flux, as they tarmac it and deviate it to feed new mining towns. In the end, it’s just a number. And my lucky number has. always been 7
It didn’t take me long to convince myself. Fuck RN 40. I’m off to Chile to ride CH-7- Otherwise known as the Carreterra Austral.
I left El Sosneado about 10 am, after a decent sleep interrupted by trucks and dogs barking at 6am. The road was ok, quite a few twisties, great scenery, different types of rocks: mostly desert with the occassional green oasis-like village. A vast improvement over the past few days. The temperature had dropped considerably, and for the first time in a week I wasn’t sweating almost quicker than I could drink water.
Then, after passing Barancas, I hit an unexpected bit of dirt. My excitement at a bit of change was tempered by the fact that, initially, it was the worst bit of road I had been on yet. Deep rutted gravel which tended to grab the front wheel. It was like riding on a bed of marbles, the bike sliding around, getting caught in ruts that would peter out into thick gravel, with the occasional pothole thrown in for good measure. After 20km or so of appallingly bad gravel, it turned into a harder surface, with heavy corrugations. When I could get some speed up, it wasn’t too bad, but in areas where the road had been churned up into a mess of ruts where the road had been wet recently, I had to slow down. For the first time on the trip. I found that in some stretches, the bike was taking such a battering that it seemed the very act of shaking itself to bits was using all the engine power, and in places I struggled to accelerate. I saw very little traffic, save for one guy who pulled over when I had stopped for a break after over an hour of battering, to see if I was still ok. He told me I had another 60km of dirt before I would hit tarmac near
Rio Colorado
I ran into two Scandinavian cyclists just finishing their lunch and stopped and chatted with them for a while. They had been riding around the world for 18 months. If some bikers think they are hardcore, believe me, they have nothing on many of the cyclists I met during the trip. These people don’t have the luxury of reaching a town every night. If the weather turns, they either have to set up camp wherever they are, or just keep peddling. Most of them can cover 80-100km a day, on any surface, some of them even more. I met one guy later on in Chile who was averaging 120km a day.
One of the cyclists (apologies, I have forgotten their names) saw me taking some snus (Swedish chewing tobacco) out of my pocket, and became quite animated. He hadn’t seen any snus since they had been in Thailand. I gave him a full tin, took a pic, and then it started raining.
Cyclists
I now had about 40km of dirt left. It started pelting down. At first it just hardened the road a bit and kept the dust from other vehicles down. But it wasn’t long before it got slippery, and the rain was so hard that I could hardly see where I was going. I had to slow down to about 30kph, as aprt from the road being very slippery, I could hardly see. Rain had got inside my visor, and I could feel my crotch getting wet. I stupidly put on my waterproof over-tousers before leaving the cyclists. I started getting cold, and put the heated grips on. For the second day in a row, a vehicle that had caught me up from behind slowed and kept station behind me. The last 20 or so kilometres seemed to take forever, Just as the rain stopped, I hit tarmac again, and the car overtook me with a honk and a wave.
Temperature had been dropping steadily all day from 32 when I set off to 19 in the storm. When I arrived in Chos Malal I had to join a queue to get fuel, and the temperature had gone back up to 33. These queues for fuel are a regular fixture in Argentina. Although I was now sweating again, I wanted to camp, so I headed for the municipal campsite, which turned out to be much cooler than the town. After cooking some pasta with tuna, Fabian turned up. He is a 63 year old dude who goes fly fishing by motorcycle. On his little 250cc Chinese Skua 250 dirt bike, he goes fishing all over the Andes. On his bike, in addition to his fishing and camping gear, he carries wine and a huge cooler full of ice, plus a soda syphon.
Chos Malal campsite
Fabian
We spent the evening communicating using Google Translate, becoming far more fluent as the evening progressed. Fabian would put some red wine in our glasses, then fill them with the soda syphon, the trick being to down it before the froth subsided. I contributed a cheap half-bottle of whisky. Fabian gave me a Boca Juniors baseball cap, which caused endless amusement for the rest of my trip when I ran into River Plate supporters. It was around 1am before we went to bed. It was a great end to an interesting day; 384km, of which about 110km were dirt.
Today I only left Mendoza at 12:15. I bought a foot-pump to replace the highly rated but good for only two inflations Motopressor pump. In fact I feel a bit guilty for the Swiss guys tyre woes a few days ago, as my pump probably didn’t help matters.. So I bought a small foot-pump from a motorcycle dealers this morning.
As it was late, and was forecast to be 40 degrees today, I decided to keep it a fairly short day. Plus I spent an hour talking to Matias, proprietor of the Chill Inn where I stayed last night. Our chat just confirmed something that, to be honest, I have been thinking about for a few days.
First, though, today’s ride. The first bit was motorway. And very hot, 40 degrees, as advertised. I really needed to get further south, to better climes. My new phone kept shutting down due to overheating. But I could see a thunderstorm on the horizon, and, although I didn’t hit any rain, a cooling blast cooled me and the bike down for a while. Temperature dropped to 33. Then it got hot again. The bike seemed to prefer 5000 rpm instead of it’s normal 5200, so I let it cruise how it wanted. I guess around 55mph? All the while, for 80km or so, a car kept station behind me.
Another straight 80km or so through a scrubland landscape, and then I could see 2 huge storms ahead.
A long way to nowhere-after the storm
At first I though I would go between them, but then the road veered 30 degrees and I was heading straight into blackness. I got hit with really hard rain just as I approached the most interesting scenery for miles (not forgetting the constant movie of the Andes on the right). It was the Rio Diamante, and lots of very wet curves, the first curves I had seen since leaving Mendoza. The rain was so hard it stung through my riding suit. And then, back up onto the plain, and back into sunshine. .A few minutes later, the car behind me whooshed past and shrunk into the vanishing point, with a wave from both of us. I had had the feeling this car was acting as some sort of shepherd, and him accelerating past me after the storms confirmed this in my mind. Thanks dude, whoever you are!
I decided to stay at El Sosneado, renting a cabin at Cabina Veronica, recommended by a traveller on iOverlander. It is a wonderful little place. It’s run by a farmer and his wife. The guy was in full Gaucho dress, working on a battered truck in the front garden. They couldn’t speak any English, but by now I was getting pretty fluent with Google Translate, ie, I could type fast, and then hand my phone over for reply. They showed me to the cabin, which was pretty basic, but had a bed, a stove and a shower. I took a walk into the village to buy some supplies from the only shop, chatting briefly with some climbers on their way to climb something. For the first time on the trip, I cooked my own dinner.
Cabin Veronica
KM 3000
Back to the trip. The bike is suffering, I think. As mentioned earlier, cruising revs have dropped. She is using a fair bit of oil: I put half a litre in her this evening, almost finishing the litre I picked up in Buenos Aires. I don’t think this bike is built for thrashing at constant high revs, day in, day out. Twice today I pulled over in rare shade to let her cool down. I am not sure I am built for it either, tbh. To finish Ruta 40 and get back to Bariloche, where Jackie is meeting me on the 12th of next month, was perhaps asking too much. If I could cruise at 85mph it would be a different matter. I have only taken maybe 50 photos on the trip; most days seem to be about making miles, or running from weather. While I can and have ground out miles, I had started by this stage to wonder what I was doing. Why did I need to finish Ruta 40? For a tick in a box? As far as I knew, thee was only another 70km of dirt left. Apparently it is very tough dirt, but most of the trip will be spent with the throttle pinned, on tarmac, with the Andes movie playing on the right. This bike likes dirt, and so do I. So I am heading for Las Lajas tomorrow, still on Ruta 40, but then I am bailing out. Since I have been in Argentina, and people asked where I was going, all the local bikers have told me of is of great detours to explore along it’s length. I’ve missed several already, driven by a ticking clock. Their eyes glaze over when talk of going the entire road is mentioned. In the end, I guess Ruta 40 is just a line drawn on a map by a road planner in 1936; it is just a number, albeit one that has acquired an almost mythical status. But the fridge magnet shops are here already, and the majority of it has already been paved. Most of the tarmac I have been on today is brand new. Sosneado has a huge tat shop, just because it is 3000km up Ruta 40. I just bought my second fridge magnet of the trip. The northen, dirt end of Ruta 40 was completely unspoiled, challenging, a true adventure. The long desert tarmac stretches were actually very intimidating, so quite an adventure too., in it’s own way. Ruta 40 must have been very challenging when it was nearly all dirt; the northern part certainly was. But this is a once in a lifetime trip, so I want the most from it.
Matias summed it up best by saying Ruta 40 is the best road in the world to take you into close proximity to some of the best roads in the world. So that is where I am headed. Back to the dirt. No more need for 10 hour days every day; time to enjoy the landscape, take some pics, camp in some beautiful spots. The Carreterra Austral beckons, another great road, albeit without as much history (General Peron, the famous Eva’s husband, commissioned it).
I guess I would have been the first person to do the length of Ruta 40 on a Himalayan. I will leave that to someone else. Las Lajas will not actually be the end of Ruta 40 for me though. I will still have to visit it periodically on my revised plan. I just will not be tied to it anymore.
Jan 18 started with Google Maps sending me to a river crossing that actually wasn’t on Ruta 40 anyway. Initially, the road was quite close to the mountains, and ended up following the eastern bank of the Rio Santa Maria, from just south of Tolombon until Santa Maria. Inexplicably, Google maps took me off RN40, which has a bridge, and 18km on RP39 to a ford across the Rio Santa Maria, and then back towards RN40. The river was obviously too deep, but I was just about to have a wade anyway, to check it out, when a gaucho rode up on his horse. He wagged his finger at me, and told me to backtrack 18km, to the bridge on RN40. He then went across the river on his horse, and it was past the horses knees. I took his point, and headed back the way I had come, to Santa Maria. Shortly after leaving Santa Maria, my phone fell from the mount, hit the road, and, and disintegrated. I was now without GPS, and had to use my map, which unfortunately is just a tourist map of Ruta 40, and not very detailed. Signage is pretty scarce here. The only indication you have that you are on RN40 for sure are the kilometre markers, taunting you every km. Only 3300 km to go. The landscape was desert, the temperature 34 degrees. I finished my hydration pac of 2 litres in the first couple of hours, and would stop 3 times during the day to refill it, in addition to pouring several 2 litre bottles of water over my head. About every 100k’s or so, there would be a fork in the road. When it was obvious which was the right way to go, there would be a sign. If there were more than two choices, often there would be no sign. As a consequence I rode about 20km on the wrong road, heading east, before the position of the sun told me I was going the wrong way. (The compass on the bike keeps telling me to calibrate it. Repeatedly).
Scenery was spectacular, if very distant at times. The temperature increased, the road continued through desert. Miles and miles of watching a movie of the Andes in my peripheral vision, then the road would snake back into the landscape for a while. Temperature was now 38 degrees, so stopping unless there was shade was not really an option. I was heading for Chilecito, where I hoped to buy a phone. In Belen, I stopped for fuel and bought a fridge magnet. Jackie and myself have a habit of finding the tackiest fridge magnets we can find while travelling. I then fortuitously decided to top off the tank in Londres, and buy more water. From there, the road had straight stretches of up to 30km at a time, a corner, then another 30km or so in a straight line. There was no shade, so nowhere to stop. Around 5pm, I reached the outskirts of Chilecito, passing two huge suburbs of identical cubes. .
Chilecito turned out to be a very weird and not very friendly industrial town in the middle of nowhere.I stayed in the only hotel in the centre, Hotel Waminatag,which also turned out to be the best value for money, at 700 pesos, of anywhere since La Quiaca. I guess no-one stays in Chilecito unless they really have to. I was so impressed I forgot to take any photos. The hotel was in a block of shops, and I parked the bike right outside the hotel entrance in a corridor. The room was basic, but it had aircon and a shower. I was sweating from virtually every pore in my body. After checking in, and showering in my clothes to give them a wash, I walked into the town. Everyone I saw looked really pissed off. I bought a dual-sim Samsung phone in a depatment store, then went in search of food. It seems Chilecito only has fast food. All the restaurants seem to specialise in greasy fast food. There were a few tents set up in the square, serving beer and pretty vile looking milanesa’s , empenadas and kebabs. I ended up eating yet another milanesa in a tent in the main square, which was so greasy that, in spite of being starving, I couldn’t finish it. I ended up getting a bar of chocolate on the way back to the hotel. I am learning that food in Argentina is actually not very good, unless you really like steak, and don’t care much for vegetables.
The next day, after breakfasting on the ubiquitous toast and jam, I set off for Mendoza. It was already really hot when I left Chilecito. Initially, the road was amazing, winding through mountains.
Then some long straight bits, across vast plains below the Andes. I got to San Juan about 3pm. My new phone had shut itself down due to the heat, so I put it in a fridge in a gas station for 10 minutes to revive it. One road, with virtually no corners, was like a roller coaster, there were so many storm culverts. As I sucked the last bit of water from my hydration pack, for the first time on the trip, I felt slightly uneasy. It’s like the feeling you get flying a single engined aircraft over water; you are completely dependent on the machinery. If the bike breaks, I’m still a long way from civilization. My pump is broken, so if I get a puncture, I’m up the proverbial creek. I’ve not seen a car for over an hour, and it’s now 40 degrees, I have very little water, and there’s no shade from horizon to horizon. I can feel the heat from the engine on my legs, but, unless I thrash it a bit, it’ll take me forever. The Himalayan is not fast. The only water I have left is a litre of hot water in a plastic bottle, that’s hopefully still under the bungee net behind me. The tarmac was now so bad it was almost like riding off-road, the surface was in such disrepair. The bike still likes about 5200rpm, even in the heat. I stopped at every opportunity of shade, which wasn’t that often. After a couple of hours of nothingness, I spotted a tree in the distance. Shade! I pulled over under a large tree on the right hand side of the road. Under the tree was what appeared to be a shrine. It was painted red, with red stones surrounding it. I took off my jacket, took a sip of hot water from the bottle on the back of the bike, and had a look at the shrine. Inside a red painted box was a statue of what I took to be Jesus, but later found out was actually Gauchito Gil, unofficial patron saint of outlaws. There were also cigarette ends, an empty wine bottle, and several burnt out candles. I found one candle that still had a bit of life in it, so lit it and said a prayer, just in case my lack of faith is misplaced. I’m wearing a St Christopher, given to me by my step-son before the trip, ad I have a gremlin bell on my bike. A prayer surely can’t do any harm.
Shrine to Gauchito Gil
Long way to nowhere
After thirty minutes or so, I continued. I’d not gone more than 5 km before I came across a roadhouse. I stopped there, drank a Gatorade and 2 litres of water, and poured another 2 litres over my head, to the amusement of other customers. One dude travelling with his grilfreind insisted on taking pictures. A waitress came out to my bike and asked for stickers, so I stuck a Wataweet MC sticker on the window before continuing towards Mendoza. The bike attracts a lot of attention, especially out in the countryside.
Roadhouse
Wataweet woz here
I arrived in Mendoza just before sunset. I was sweating like the proverbial pig as I followed the phone to a recommendation from iOverlander. The Chill In looked pretty cool, and even had a pool. They had no parking for my bike, so I had to ride it a few blocks to another hostel they owned to park it in their yard, then walk back to my hostel. Mattias, the dude behind reception, told me I should get off Ruta 40 and explore some side roads. “Ruta 40 is not a road to ride, it’s road to get you to more interesting roads” he informed me. He recommended Ruta 23. I filed the number away for reference, then drank many beers in the hostels restaurant.
I am not sure how many miles I covered, but it was 464km in a meaningful direction. It’s starting to become a bit of an endurance test, and I miss dirt. Tomorrow is promising to be another hot one, but I can’t leave until after the shops open. I need to buy a pump.
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.
I ended up finding a welder on Google, and a very good one he was to. Its a small setup called Welder Salta, owned by Gustavo, who employs a master welder, Walter. Walter can apparently weld anything: aluminium, titanium, alloys. They have a huge Miller welder bought from the States. While refitting the frame, Walter noticed one of the threads was very stiff, so he retapped all the threads. It’s great seeing a true craftsman at work.
Walter at work
Meanwhile Gustavo called Nico, a motorcycle guy he knew. After Walter had finished a most excellent job, it was round to Nico’s for the throttle, plus a look at the chain, which hasn’t been running evenly at idle on the side stand. Oh, and a squeaky back brake. The chain was just mud, and a rusty split link. Nico took the chain off, cleaned it, soaked it in WD40, then put it back on the bike with a new split link, and lubed it. The throttle had a small piece of plastic in it, no doubt from when I fitted the heated grips. Nico lubed the cable too, fixed the squeaky brake, and his assistant Marcelo noticed that one of the bolts on the tail tidy was gone, so fitted new bolts. So a very constructive day. Nico worked on the speedometer too, but it’s still intermittent. It needs a new cable.
Nico
In the evening I visited an electronics shop to see if they could fix a microphone. Turned out they could, but it would take several hours, not the hour they told me. Plus, they don’t actually close at 8pm, as they said. The guy who fixed it (hopefully) was simultaneously fixing 2 phones, working on my microphone, and taking part in two different chats on two different computers. Eventually, at ten past nine, it was done. Not tried it yet.
With running around, I’ve not actually seen much of Salta. Strangely, I am not particularly bothered. Cities and towns were never a target for this trip. It’s isolation, remoteness, and scenery that I wanted. Strange, but I have felt no urge on this trip to immerse myself in local culture, or go to tourist attractions. Perhaps my job as a pilot has made me somewhat jaded when it comes to exploring built-up areas. I did take time for a wander around though. It rained quite heavily in the afternoon.
Iglesia San Francisco
Dinner was at the same place as last night. Cutlets with mashed potatoes. We shall see. Today’s mileage- 17km
Tomorrow I head back to La Cuaranta, Ruta 40. I am really looking forward to getting back on the road.
A bit more adventure than I was looking for today. I set off for La Poma and the Abra del Acay pass at about 8am. The forecast wasn’t good but the weather looked ok. There had obviously been a fair bit of rain: the 10km stretch of tarmac before the turn off to Ruta 40 had large patches of mud that had been washed across the road. The road to the pass was ok, though still wet from the rain the day before. I could see that two vehicles had passed before me. The road wound upwards, some hairpins being a bit tricky due to ruts, where water had evidently been flowing across the road. The views were pretty spectacular, but, once again, the stupid side-stand design on the Himalayan precluded the idea of stopping very often for photographs.
About halfway up the pass the road turned to mud. Slippery, greasy and with virtually no grip. I toyed with the idea of turning round but it would not have been possible. It was first gear all the way to the top, feet down, bike squirming all over the place. I was aware that dropping the bike in mud on a steep slope would not be fun. I came across the two vehicles whose tracks I had seen earlier, both of them stuck. I couldn’t stop to help, there was no way I could have parked the bike. Occasional dryer bits gave me false optimism. It was too muddy to stop anywhere for pictures, and I was getting concerned about the wheels caking up with mud. About halfway up, I passed two cyclists, pushing their bikes. I gave them a wave, amazed again at the hardcore nature of cycling this part of Ruta 40. These cyclists have my utmost respect.
Eventually I reached the top, took the obligatory snap and noticed that the weather was turning. I was getting another altitude headache, hardly surprising at 4995m I guess, so stuffed another wad of coca leaves in my mouth before continuing. It looked like another storm was brewing. This place seems to make it’s own weather. The temperature had dropped to 5 degrees, and I seemed to be close the snow line. Ahead looked clear though. I started down the other side, the road in slightly better condition, though still with large stretches of mud.
Top of Abra del Acay
I guess I was most of the way down the pass when I came across a landslide, the road completely covered in a 30 degree slope of mud. Behind me, up the pass, the cute little cumulus cloud that had been there when I set off was now a full-blown thunderstorm. I did a quick evaluation: going back up was not an attractive option, I had a tent, about 3 days food and a water filter. If the worst came to the worst, I could find a sheltered spot and pitch the tent. I walked across the landslide, about 200 metres across. The other side looked ok. I unloaded the bike, rode it across, then came back for the luggage. I had just picked up the panniers when two 4×4’s turned up. The first was driven by Manuel, with his passenger Nasaren (not sure if that is spelled correctly) I asked them if they could take my luggage across, and they said they would take it all the way to La Poma if I wanted. Excellent! The tail rack on the bike (after market) had snapped in one place on my abortive attempt the day before, so a bit of respite would do it no harm. I still don’t know why it snapped as there was little weight on it.
A few km further on the road disappeared. It had been totally washed away in two places. Manuel thought a river crossing further on might be a problem too. No option but to go back over the pass . Shit. So I set off back over the pass in front. It was as bad as the way up from the other side, and got much worse when it started hailing heavily. The road was now a total morass. Probably the most taxing bit of riding I have ever done. I had the heated grips on, but was still getting cold hands. Rain ran down my neck,
Eventually I reached the bottom again and waited for Manuel and Nasaren. They took a while as they had picked up two German cyclists I had seen earlier.
Landslide
End of the road
Manuel
There was no option now but to go to La Poma via Salta, along RN51, which turned out to be one of the most spectacular roads I have ever been on. New tarmac, with the occasional dirt culvert thrown in to keep you in your toes. After airing up the tyres and switching the ABS back, on I settled into enjoying the sweeping curves, bizarre rock formations, giant cactus and weird colours, from red to yellow to brownish green. Then my throttle stopped working. The heated grip had come unstuck, and inspection and disassembly by the roadside showed the throttle tube was jamned in the housing. I fiddled about with it, squirted some chain lube in, and it seemed ok. So I reassembled it and set off again. It worked fine for about 50km, then jammed at idle again. This time I removed the heated grip and left it off. I could feel it sticking occasionally, but by pushing it into the housing, I could free it up. Just before Salta, my phone decided to update it’s software. Then I found I didn’t have a signal, so couldn’t get Google Maps working again. It was getting hot, 32 degrees, and very humid. A big change from freezing my ass off a few hours earlier. I asked two guys on a scooter for directions, and eventually arrived in the outskirts of Salta. I pulled into a gas station to cool down and get Google Maps working again, then found a hostel on iOverlander before setting off into the city.
So now I am in Salta, in a strange hostel with no exterior windows. I have arranged a welder for 10am tomorrow (he wouldn’t do it this evening due to a thunderstorm), dropped off some laundry, and in the morning will completely disassemble the throttle and find out what’s wrong with it. Meanwhile, I have effectively lost two days, as I expected to be at the end of the dirt on the northern part of RN40, at Cafayate, tomorrow. I will re-evaluate in the morning. For now, another beer, and bed.
So here finally is my review of the bike and equipment I used on my recent trip to Argentina and Chile.
For those unfamiliar with the RE Himalayan, it is an Indian made bike aimed squarely at the adventure market. At just over £4000 new, it is very cheap for what it is. It first came out in 2016. The frame was designed by Harris Engineering, who are now owned by Royal Enfield. It has a 411cc, single cylinder, long stroke engine, producing 24.5HP. Being designed for off-road as well as on road use, it sports a 21 inch front wheel and 17 inch rear. Seat height is 800mm, significantly lower than most adventure bikes. It has a 15 litre fuel tank, and comes with ABS as standard. Kerb weigh is 185kg, and suspension travel is 200mm on the front, and 180mm on the rear.
I’ll get straight to the point. There are those that will tell you that the Royal Enfield Himalayan is not an adventure bike, that’s it too slow, too unreliable, too badly made, to stand up to the rigours of true adventure motorcycling. Many people on online forums have been very scathing of the Himalayan. Few of them actually have ridden one. A number of people told me it wouldn’t last, that it would fall to bits or break down, that I should get a “proper” adventure bike. Having just covered just over 10000km on one, with over 2000km of that being off-road, I disagree. There are a few issues, but, for me anyway, the benefits of the Himalayan far outweigh any disadvantages. It is cheap, simple, rugged and capable, and is also one of the few (maybe the only?) adventure bikes on the market not clad in plastic. The seat height is lower than most, and it’s comfortable. It;s fuel efficient, easy to work on, and looks great in my opinion.
I bought the bike second had, with just over 7000 miles on the clock. The guy I bought it from had had a stroke, and wanted to sell it before gong back home to Poland. The bike had evidently been dropped at least once, judging by a few scratches and a broken spotlight. It was also apparent that the previous owner had lubed the chain, but never cleaned it.
Here I will go into a bit more detail about the bike and mods. Most of the mods were very cheap, and all bar one lasted the trip. I have been asked by a few people how much the accessories etc cost, so, where applicable, I have included the price I paid for them. You don’t need to spend a fortune kitting a bike out for a long trip.
Ready for the road
The Bike
After buying the bike, I fitted a few extras, which I will include in this review. To start with though, here are my top 5 negatives and positives about the bike.
I will start with the negatives.
1- The side-stand. This is number 1 on my list for a reason. It is too long, and the foot too small. I really regret not getting it shortened and a bigger foot put on it. Stupid thing is, I found a fantastic welder in Salta who could have done it, but I forgot about it. Duh. It was a very annoying issue, as I couldn’t always stop where I wanted to take pictures, and had to be careful every time I parked in dirt or on ground that wasn’t level. It’s getting shortened asap.
2-Cylinder head bolts- I had to replace two cylinder head bolts during the trip. It’s a known issue with the bike. The threads came loose in the holes. Fitting longer bolts worked, though I still had a minor oil leak. One of the bolts has since come loose again. For anyone buying a Himalayan, I would suggest changing these bolts before you get a problem. I thought mine had been done, but evidently not.
3-Things tend to come loose. Easily avoided by regularly checking all, and I mean all, the bolts. I missed out the gear shift on my last check, and it fell off, losing the bolt and bush from the shifter. It was fixed beside the road by a car mechanic with stuff he had in his boot.
4- Top end cruising speed. The Himalayan is not fast. If you want to cover huge mileage, either get a GS, or be patient. Cruising speed is 95-100kph.
5- I can’t think of anything else.
Now the positives
1-The bike is really comfortable. I had no problem riding the bike all day, on or off road. Standing on the pegs was also comfortable, but I suspect someone taller than me ( I am 5’7) would benefit from risers
2-It is easy to handle off-road. I hadn’t ridden off road for 30 years, and had no issues with the bike in gravel, sand, rocks or ruts. The suspension soaks up bumps very well, and very rarely bottomed out. The lack of engine power and smooth torque curve possibly also helps in this department. The 21 inch front wheel is the right size for off-road, but the bike handles very well on tarmac too. Power delivery is smooth. Some people have complained that the front brake is not powerful enough, but I found it perfectly adequate. It does require a strong squeeze to get maximum braking, but I found this helped off-road, making it less likely to lock the front wheel up when I had the ABS switched off (I modded the bike to make ABS swiitchable)
3-It is very strong. Apart from the cylinder head bolts, nothing broke on the trip, apart from the rear rack, which was after-market.
4-It’s light enough to pick up on your own. At 185kg, it’s no lightweight, but the low centre of gravity helps when you you have to pick the bike up. One of my requirements for this trip, as I was travelling solo, was having a bike I could pick up.
5- It is very reliable. It’s easy to work on, and simple enough that whatever you can’t fix yourself, a competent bike mechanic should be able to work out. It’s easier to find a mechanic than a technician when you are in the middle of nowhere. The only issue I couldn’t fix,or get fixed, on the trip was the speedo cable, which stopped working quite early on.
6-It is fuel efficient. I was averaging about 65mpg on the trip
Before leaving, I did a few mods, and fitted luggage and extra fuel capacity. All of them bar one turned out to be a good idea. Here’s a list, broken down into the bike itself, luggage, and electrical components.
Bike Mods
Loobman chain oiler – disintegrated the first time I rode on dirt. Cheap, and useless imo.
Tyres-Mitas E-07. The tyres lasted the whole trip, just over 10 000km, which actually surprised me. They probably aren’t legal now. These tyres worked well in everything except mud, but I doubt anything short of massive knobblies would. They handle tarmac well, including wet roads. I didn’t get any vibration from the tyres on tarmac. Off-road, they are very good in sand, gravel, rocky terrain, though in mud they tend to get clagged up. I will be replacing them with the same tyres.
Front fender raisers – £16.60 from Cooperb. They stopped mud jamming the wheel on a couple of occasions. Essential imo , but it would be easy enough to make them yourself.
Sprockets and chain- I used a Talon rear sprocket and heavy duty DID X-ring chain. £144 for the chain and both sprockets, ordered direct from Hitchcocks. I also bought 2 spare split links for £4.50 each. Halfway through the trip I ditched my spare rear sprocket. It was obvious the chain and sprockets were going to survive the trip. 10000 km later, the chain hasn’t stretched at all, and the sprockets look good for another 5000 km at least. I did lube the chain every day, and cleaned it regularly with an old toothbrush. It only needed adjusting 3 times on the whole trip.
Givi engine guards – probably not essential, but, if fitting an engine guard, probably the best on the market, with 3 points of attachment, including a rod through the frame. £129.97, from Italy via eBay.
R&G Shock tube protector- Keeps dirt and mud off the rear shock. The guy who serviced my bike in Argentina thought it the best mod on the bike. £29.98 from Cooperb.
Windscreen extension : cheap Chinese one off eBay, at £13.95. It looks like a copy of a much more expensive Givi one. Everyone, me included, expected it to contribute to the complete destruction of my already damaged windscreen, but the screen survived the trip. It also worked very well, a big improvement over just the stock windscreen. It’s still in great condition.
Handguards : plastic ones from Cooperb via eBay, £35.99. I was worried about there being no metal in these, but they worked fine, including in an off at about 40kph, and several time dropping the bike. I see no reason to change them.
Heel guard – for off-road riding, I consider this essential. It would be very easy to damage the rear brake master cylinder without it. £29.99 from Cooperb.
Luggage etc
I decided to use soft luggage. There are pros and cons to the soft/hard luggage question, but I am not going to go into them here, save to say that I am pretty sure that in one of my offs, I would have ended up with a broken leg if I had hard panniers on the bike
Lomo Panniers – Bought direct from Lomo. £136.95 for the two panniers, a magnetic tank-bag, waterproof phone case, waterproof leg bag, and a first aid kit. Panniers on their own are less than £50. The panniers and tank-bag proved to be totally waterproof, and indestructible. They are large, basic, very cheap, and do the job. What more do you need? I certainly will use them again. In addition, I had a Lomo 40litre drybag, donated by Lomo. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have got the magnetic tank bag : it tended to move around when standing on the pegs on bad roads, and has scratched the paint on the tank.
Tool tube-I bought this from eBay, for £11, and secured it to the left pannier rails. Inside, I had a tool roll with sockets, pliers, scissors, a couple of spanners, and Knipex plier/wrench, which turned out to be my most used tool.
Tool tube
Fuel cans – cheap 3 litre cans from China, bought off eBay. £47.98 for the pair. The mounting kit cost £29.99 from Hitchcocks ( now £39.99) The cans survived two crashes and several times dropping the bike. You can spend 4 times as much on Rotapaks, but why?
Tailbag- This was actually the magnetic tank-bag I use on my Harley. It was useful to hold electrical tape, tie-wraps, rubber bands, spare fuses and other bits and pieces.
Front crash bar bag-This held my waterproofs, a multi-tool, and a head torch. Free, from my loft. It was a re-purposed old camera bag I had lying about.
Electrical
INNNOV Power Hub2 : £59.95 from Amazon. I ran the spotlights, heated grips and dual USB port through this. I fitted it in the small box under the seat. It survived torrential rain, crashes, river crossings, really bad roads. However, it became a bit intermittent immediately after getting the bike serviced, halfway through the trip. I guess a loose wire, but I never found it. Investigations continue. I am going to rewire everything anyway, to tidy up the wires a bit more. The power hub meant I didn’t have to worry about leaving any of the ancillaries on, and meant only single wires to the battery, from the hub.
Dual USB hub : cheapo from China, £8.67. It survived all the conditions mentioned above. It also displays voltage, so I would immediately notice any charging problems. The temperature gauge was much more accurate than the one built into the bike.
USB Hub
Heated grips : Oxford Adventure. £48.99 from eBay. They work great, though on the trip I had to remove one to clean out a bit of plastic that had found its way into the throttle housing. My fault, probably happened when I fitted them.
Heated Grips
Spotlights : Chinese, off eBay. They were wired incorrectly when I bought them, but I got refunded the cost of getting them rewired. Very bright, seem indestructible.
ABS switch- I wired this to the main ABS fuse. £2.67 for the switch, from eBay. I’m very glad I did this mod, though it would be great if I could wire it up to just the rear wheel ABS.
ABS switch
Spares
Most of my spares were in the let hand pannier, which when driving on the right is the side nearest traffic. Spares I might need on the road, like tyre irons, were in the right hand pannier.
In addition to tyre irons I had
Motopressor pump-at £34, a complete waste of money. It broke on third use, and I ended up buying a cheap foot pump for about £6 which lasted the rest of the trip. .
Two tubes (17 and 21 inch)
Spare clutch’
Spare clutch cable
2 oil filters
Spare brake and clutch levers
Throttle/clutch cable repair kit
Fuses
Spare headlight bulb
O-rings
Of these, only an oil filter got used. I never got a puncture.
Extras I didn’t bother with:
Steel bash plate : I considered fitting a stronger bash plate, but the stock one is fine, it stood up to a lot of abuse.
Headlight grill : To me it appears to be mainly cosmetic.
Mirrors- I see lots of complaints about the mirrors, but, especially compared to my Harley, they were perfectly adequate.
What would I change?
I am very tempted by the 462cc conversion. Main reason is to change the gearing and get a higher cruising speed. Alloy rims are also tempting, to lose a bit of weight. However, they are very expensive. I might also get a Lextek exhaust; weight saving again, and it’s pretty cheap. Apart from these, I actually don’t think I would change anything. Larger pegs and different handlebars are available, and I had a look at a different rear shock, but I see no reason to change any of them. I had no problems with the pegs, bars or suspension.
Camping gear
I’m not going to go into lots of detail here, but here’s a list of the stuff I used and liked
Tent-Vango Banshee 200- I have used this tent on several previous motorcycle trips.It actually belongs to my step-son, though I think he has given up on the idea of getting it back! It;s easy to put up and take down, large enough to keep your gear with you in the tent, and has stood up to a lot of bad weather. It’s also quite light and packs up small.
Sleeping bag-Snugpack Softie expanding 3 season bag. It’s bulky (it took up most of a pannier), but it’s very warm and comfortable. You need a bit of luxury.
Sleeping mat-Thermarest Neoair Xlite- I have had this a few years, it’s been used on many rallies and bike trips. It got a puncture on this trip, but I managed to repair it. It’s comfortable, and insulates you from cold ground.
Chair-Cheap copy of a Helinox chair, bought off eBay. I consider it essential to have a comfortable chair when camping.
Stove- Chinese copy (Outry) of Fire Maple Spark gas stove. This stove is brilliant, and folds up very small. At £13.99 from eBay, it’s also much cheaper than similar, better known brands.
Wood burning stove- Lixada portable wood burning stove. This folds up flat, and you can cook using twigs or fir cones. I used it as much as the gas stove. It works very well, with the added bonus that you have a little fire to sit next to. At around £14, it’s a brilliant bit of kit
My cookware was just a cheap pan and saucepan from Decathlon.
I also had a Waterdog backpack with a 2 litre bladder, bought in Argentina to replace my lost Camelbak. I wouldn’t entertain the idea of doing a trip like this without a means to drink water on the go. Relying on stops to drink water on a long trip is a sure way to get seriously dehydrated.
Summary
For me, the Himalayan is an excellent adventure bike, and I personally don’t see the need to think about any other bike. Royal Enfield’s Himalayan is simple, rugged, and it does the job, on or off road. It’s also cheap enough that, if the worst comes to the worst, abandoning it somewhere is not the financial disaster that losing a more expensive bike would be. It also doesn’t attract the same level of unwanted attention you can get on a GS, Africa Twin or other highly specced expensive adventure bike when travelling in areas where people don’t have the disposable income we in the West have. To me, it also looks great. I hate plastic.
I hope some of you find this review informative. Of course, it’s all just my opinions and observations, and some people may want a bike with traction control, rider modes and lots of other gizmos.
If anyone wants any more info on any of the products mentioned, feel free to drop me an email. I have no affiliation with any companies, apart from Lomo, who gave me a free drybag. I bought the panniers and tank bag. I do thoroughly recommend Lomo products though. They are a British company, producing quality products much cheaper than their competition.
I would also like to once again thank Bolton Motorcycles for their support, and the free service they provided before my trip.
Ride safe.
I left the El Cactus hostel in Susques just after 9 am.I said goodbye to 3 very friendly Brazilian bikers who were heading to Chile and Peru, then went for breakfast. The weather was looking a bit dodgy on the forecasts; thunderstorms expected pretty much the whole way. Ruta 40 is pretty much impassable in rain on the northern dirt bit. I was hoping to get to La Poma which reputedly has a fantastic municipal camp site which is also free. The weather looked ok so I decided to head for San Antonio de les Cobres and take it from there. The road was ripio (corrgated) most of the way. I hadn’t seen stuff as bad since Botswana 30 years ago. If you can get some speed up it’s not too bad. But there was a stretch of about 20km across a huge bowl in the mountains that was obviously uphill. It would take me about a mile to get up to a speed where the corrugations suddenly seem to smooth out, which was around 2300rpm in 4th, top speed on this section. Problem was, about every quarter mile there was a stream crossing the road, which meant slowing down again.
Watching the little fluffy clouds becoming big fluffy clouds, I didn’t stop much, though I did manage to fly the drone again. Eventually crossing the plain the road wound through some ravines, at one point becoming a narrow winding track on a cliff, with a huge drop-off to the right. Then I came across a strange sight, a huge curved railway bridge about 200 feet above the road. It is the Viaducto de La Polvorilla, the highest railway bridge in the world at 4182m above sea level. It is also the last stop of the Tren les Nubes, which makes it seem pretty pointless: couldn’t they have just stopped a bit sooner? The locals evidently don’t mind wrecking their cars as I passed numerous little cars rattling their way up the hillside. Two stopped me and asked how far it was.
Viaducto de La Polvorilla
At San Antonio de los Cobres I could see some storms buiding. I decided to see if the road avoided them knowing I could probably outtrun a storm back to town if I couldn’t continue. I followed Google Maps on to a bit of Ruta 40 which looked unused. After about 10km it joined a tar road. a new bit that I have subsequently found out has in fact been incorporated into Ruta 40. After about another 10km it turned off onto gravel. It was corrugated, not as badly as the previous stretch but I could get up a good speed heading towards some mountains and the Abra de Acay pass, at 4895m reputedly the highest pass on a national road in the world. Its certainly very high. There were two storms. The road seemed to be heading between them so I continued. Even when I reached the base of the pass it looked clear. But I guess sbout halfway up I came round a steep climbing hairpin in first gear, to be confronted by a wall of black! The gap was closing up. I turned round and scuttled back to Cobres. I didnt stop for about 10 km from the base of the pass, then I saw a bicycle heading towards me so I stopped and waited for him. He was French, about 59 I guess. When I pointed at the storms, he just shrugged his shoulders and said he was used to it. Wow. He also told me there were no hotel rooms available in Cobres, so evidently he had been thinking of treating himself to one.
Mad cyclist heading towards the storm over Abra del Acay Iglesia de San Antonio de los Cobres
The first hotel had no rooms. Second hotel had one room but it was a triple, I took it anyway. There is now a German couple hanging around hoping a reserved customer doesn’t turn up.
I took a walk after a shower. It was really hot. Its like you can feel you are closer to the sun. All the shops were closed.
There’s beautiful church here. I sat inside for a while enjoying the cool calm. When I came out a shop had opened. Using Google Translate I asked Lorenzo. the shopkeeper to let me buy the ingredients for a sandwich, and asked him to assemble it for me. He produced a huge butty and a sub. He asked me where I was from. The reply that I was English didn’t go down well. Turns out Lorenzo fought in the Falklands (Malvinas). Whoops. I said I hated war and that calmed him down a bit. He shook my hand when I left and wished me a safe journey.
I think I am Scottish now.
Lorenzo the Malvinas veteran
So tomorrow I will have a look at the weather and hopefully get to La Poma and points beyond. And I am glad today just turned out to be an acclimatisation trip.
It’s just started raining here.
Daniel and his daughter
Beemer with a flat
Great roads, if a bit sandy
Where I came off. I thought I took a pic of the bike, but can’t find it.
