Sweating through the deserts of Northern Argentina

In the last two weeks we have travelled further than we did in the first month of the trip. ( I have no idea if this is true but it does feel that way). We have been cycling through deserts, inhabited for the most part by ants, snakes and spiders as big as your head.

We enjoyed our time in wine country, swilling, gurgling and swallowing our way through all sorts of fine wines and liquors. We dutifully pretended to differentiate between the various flora and fungi that each proprietor insisted was hidden in the depths of every sip. Ultimately though, they all tasted like wine.

We were soon on our way and found ourselves travelling through a cross between Holland (incredibly flat) and Wales (not at all worth visiting). The road stretched on for four days, with nothing much to see at all.
The road changed in time, leading us through cacti covered, John Wayne sort of country. The roads were open and empty and we would see just a handful of motorbikes each day. The monotony was broken up as we finally arrived at a hill. Despite being warned that the road was closed ahead we tactfully ignored the road block and continued upwards, only to find that the road was in the process of being rebuilt. We were stuck for over 3 hours on the very cold mountain side with a worker whose name we never quite got the hang of. He shared with us his fire as well as many of his scientific insights; coca leaves make your legs strong and wearing a wooly hat prevents altitude sickness. He stretched our Spanish well beyond its limits but it was an interesting afternoon, and with 30kms of downhill through the valley, not a completely unproductive one.

We both pride ourselves on being people that do not suffer greatly from that terrible, ineradicable affliction of body odour. Many people we have met have a lingering cloud of stink enveloping them yet despite many days without showering we generally manage to keep things together. Until now. Cycling for 2 weeks through the desert without so much as a rinse off would test anyone. Each day sweat built upon sweat to create a crusty outer layer of skin, the sock cycle had been completed more times than ever before and the sleeping bags were releasing fumes similar to those inhaled back during Anna's 'problem period.' Wearing the same shorts each day, and without that protective layer of underwear..... in short, we weren't particularly nice to be around.

That made it all the more surprising when we were chosen to complete our first television interview. Now I am not unfamiliar with the big screen having once been chosen for the tricky role of 'a Danish scientist' in one of Vietnam's most popular fertilizer commercials. This however, was the first time for both of us portraying ourselves, in a language we really aren't particularly good at speaking. We inexpertly explained our trip and how much we loved the town Santa Maria, despite the fact we only stopped to use the internet. The man at least pretended to understand us but we shall never know if we made it onto the news at 9.

All in all it has been a good couple weeks, we have enjoyed the hospitality of the Northern Argentinians, everyone has shown interest in our trip and plenty have packed us off with food. We have also seen an entirely new side of Argentina. As we rode North away from the wealthy vineyards of Mendoza (owned almost exclusively by foreigners) we saw regions of real poverty marked by mud houses and decrepit motorbikes carrying entire families. It was as if we had popped into Asia for a week. Most countries have a similar divide between rich and poor but being on the bikes has let us see clearly the invisible lines of wealth that divide this country.

We are happy to be off the bikes for a couple of days in Cafayate, another wine region of Argentina. We are doing absolutely nothing with our time, simply relaxing before the coming week that will provide our biggest challenge yet. We will be saying goodbye to Argentina for the final time and over 6 days climbing up to a dizzying 4950 metres, a prospect that makes me out of breath just thinking about it.

"For every mountain there are two thighs" The Dalai Lama

This week has taken us from a sofa in Santiago to a 3185 metre Andes pass and back down to a vineyard in Mendoza. It has brought the most challenging day, and definitely the most rewarding two.

We were stuck in Santiago for longer than expected, waiting for our camera to be repaired. Our boulder like muscles seemed to deflate visibly with each passing day and our confidence in tackling the big pass wilted simultaneously.

It was not a wasted week though. We moved house, bunking up with Andres, our new couchsurfing host. Anna strode gracefully into her mid to late twenties on the 30th of March and we celebrated with something a bit different - a cycle ride around the city. With the streets closed for bikers each Sunday morning we took in the sites without fearing for our lives. In the same afternoon Andres drove us up to the nearest mountains giving us a taste of what was to come in the following week.

We finally got the call to say our camera was good to go and we said our goodbyes to Andres and wobbled off slowly with the strong suspicion that our bikes had doubled in weight in the last week. It was a predictably stressful day leaving the city, with my proposed route becoming slightly too life threatening we took the backroads and pavements and it wasn't until the evening that we escaped the clutches of the city.

 The following day took us North towards Los Andes and onwards towards the pass. Feeling the heat of the sun and possibly underestimating what lay ahead we camped just 10 kms into the 55km climb. We were on our bikes early and began the ascent, with the road gradually steepening as we forged further into the mountains.



The first 12 switchbacks

We cycled upwards all morning, anticipating the famous switchbacks for long before we reached them. With every passing kilometer uphill we lost confidence, knowing that the real ascent had not yet begun.
Finally we pulled up to the bottom of 30 switchbacks that snake up the mountainside. After 10 we felt good, 20 we slowed a little and as the final 10 lengthened and steepened we struggled. As we slowly gained height the mountains seemed to rise with us, growing to such formidable dimensions that I felt like I was 2 inches tall riding an incredibly intricate toy bicycle.

On reaching curve 30 I felt fantastic, a feeling that lasted for a good 10 minutes until we crept up on a sign signaling a further 8 kms to climb. The incline was unrelenting, with the wind blowing stronger and the temperature dropping. That 8 kms alone took us around 2 hours. Out of nowhere we reached the summit having climbed over 2000 metres in altitude since the morning. The summit; rather than the panoramic, flag placing kind, consisted instead of a less than glamorous tunnel that entered out into Argentina.

Not being allowed to cycle through it, we were given a lift and we appeared on the other side of the mountain, looking downwards for the first time in 2 days. The day hadn't quite finished, with 16 kms of downhill to take us to border control. Darkness hard fallen by the time we pitched tent, it had been a 12 hour day and we were feeling a little sore.

I had envisioned the easiest of days following the climb, a sort of bobsleigh run descending the 200 kms to Mendoza. But it wasn't to be. With the wind gusting up the valley our tired limbs were forced to work for every metre. It was the most spectacular days riding of the trip, 70 kms of immense mountains on all sides, a 200metre wide river bed, inca ruins, tunnels. It was unforgettable.

We camped beside a river beneath the backdrop of the Andes, a spectacular sight to wake up to. The second day of descent took us from red to brown to green as we left the mountains behind us and approached the vineyards of Mendoza.

Just 30kms the following morning and we have arrived in wine country where we're staying for a couple days in Maipu, which is much nicer than the name suggests.

It has been a challenging few days but it sort of feels like dipping your toe in the lake before taking the plunge. With most of Bolivia lying above 3000metres and at least one much bigger pass to come, we aren't getting ahead of ourselves.