9th-10th Jan 2020
I ended up waking up around 10 am. I’d been bitten by bedbugs, and hadn’t slept very well. I ended up leaving town around 11:30, after the obligatory breakfast of toast and jam in the hotel restaurant. I set off, unsure how far I was going to ride that day. At one point, I kept hearing a squeaking noise at low speed. Getting paranoid about wheel bearings, I’ stopped, put the bike on the centre stand and spun the back wheel, but all seemed OK. However, on finding out there was a Royal Enfield Dealer in Yerba Buena while consulting Google during a fuel and drink stop, combined with the thought of a shorter day, I decided to head to Yerba Buena. The interesting sounding name of the place (Yerba is the herb used to make mate tea) made up my mind. Of course, the squeaking noise could have been the heat, tiredness, and the hypnotic effect of 200 miles of straight road, distorting my senses. At one point, going through some scrubby salt flats, I saw a guy waving a huge snake at me.
1000km done
When I turned off route 9 towards Yerba Buena, on to RP321, everything instantly changed. Hills. Green stuff that wasn’t spiky. Trees. I hadn’t seen a tree for ages. So I parked under what I guess was some type of eucalyptus, took off my jacket, took a pic, then rode off. 10 minutes, later, I realised I had left my Camelback under a tree. When I got back there, identifying the exact spot from the photo I had taken there, it was gone. Shit. I headed in to Yerba Buena to look for a hostel. I found the Pura Vida Mae hostel on iOverlander. It wasn’t that cheap, but I got an air conditioned room in a very cool hostel. I neede a shower, and decided to leave Royal Enfield for the next day. The hostel told me of a shop in Tucuman that sold camping equipment, so I decided to go and find a new Camelabak too. I dropped off some laundy at a nearby laundry, ate a milanesa, and went to bed.
10th Jan 2020
After a really good sleep, I realised that by the time I had done everything I needed, it would be too late to get very far. I checked in for another night. I rode to the Royal Enfield dealer. It turned out to be a brand new dealer, open less than a week. They hadn’t yet got the workshop going, but after a conversation with two of the employees, and a play with the wheel, we all decided it was ok. I dajusted the chain and lubed it, and asked them if they knew anywhere that I could change US Dollars. They phoned a businessman they knew. He could change some money for me. One of the guys jumped on another Himalayan, and I followed him down to a big car dealership in Tucuman itself. The guy they introduced me to changed 200 dollars for me. I wish I’d changed more, because I never got such a good rate again.
Then I headed to a huge camping store in the city, Canigo. They also sell guns. Lots of guns. And knives, machetes; in fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they sold garottes. I bought a very capable looking hydration pack made by an Argentinian company called Waterdog. It looks the dogs bollocks, and is an improvement both design and functionality than the item it replaced. I also needed a spare gas cylinder, which they didn’t have in stock, but they sent me round the corner to a shop owned by a manic biker who chewed a huge wad of coca leaves while he rooted around for the one gas cylinder he had in stock. While there, Miguel phoned a friend of his who was riding to Cafayate the next day. Germán Guntern has ridden round the world on his BMW. I chatted to him for quite a while, and he asked me about my trip. He invited me to join him the next day, but I wanted to head for La Quica, and the start of Ruta 40. I would reach Cafayate about a week later.
Back at the hostel, I wandered to a local bar and ate empenadas for the first time (3 helpings, plus a beer, which here is served in litre bottles). When I got back to the hostel, it started raining. I stood outside in the rain for a while, enjoying the coolness of it. After plugging battery chargers in, it was time to sleep.
