Southern Exposure

Monday, February 23

Waking up was hard to do. Our only motivation was to catch breakfast before it closed at 10 am. We made it over just before the cutoff, and Stefano was already long gone. We ate languidly, and tried to decide what we wanted to do for the day. Being gluttons for punishment, we elected to take the dirt road RN-40 north from San Antonio de Cobres rather than the wonderful pavement of RN-51 directly to Salta. Going north would mean 70 miles of more dirt and sand, but we would be able to see the canyons of the Quebrada de Humahuaca, the mountains of the seven colors.

We reluctantly packed up, and were on the dirt road north. The first miles were reasonable rocky gravel, but as we entered the flat desert valley, we encountered our favorite thing, sand. The sand was mercifully shallow and we muddled our way through without incident. The valley floor stretched on for miles, with the only excitement being the occasional cows and vicuñas.

We began to encounter patches of mud, most easily passable. On one encounter, Inna was following too close, a habit of hers, and when she saw how unexpectedly deep I went in the mud, she touched the front brake and her front wheel dug in. It was a low speed semi tip over to rest against the bank and was fairly amusing.

We continued along RN-40 as it went across the valley, patiently waiting for the intersection with RN-52. We expected RN-52 to also be a dirt road, as it was marked with the same line as RN-40 on the map. As we reached the intersection and rode up the slope, we were shocked to see beautiful, pristine pavement stretching off to the horizon. I think we both could have kissed the pavement and we were just giddy about the thought of having the rest of the day’s ride be on smooth, smooth, speedy pavement.

Just as we began our ride east, we passed two riders going the opposite direction on BMW 1200s. We were all in the mood to stop, so Inna and I doubled back and chatted with them on the side of the road. They were two Brazilians from Sao Paulo heading to San Pedro de Atacama. They were very charming guys and we exchanged road reports and contact information before we set off in opposite directions.

The glorious pavement soon turned into a nice mountain climb, up to 13,000 ft, before wrapping around the mountain and beginning a descent on the other side. The descent from the top looked like motorcyclist’s fantasy – a seemingly endless series of switchbacks linked with constant radius curves. I had to stop to capture it as best I could in a picture.

The ride down this road was enjoyable, but flawed. The notch in my steering bearings made the front end nervous in curves, and each of the curves in the top half of the descent was full of scattered gravel, requiring a more cautious corner speed. Still, it was a nice ride with great views.

As we reached the bottom the canyon, fantastic rock formations came into view. The canyon lived up to its name, with each layer of rock and hillside having a different color. There were pinks, greens, grays, browns, and yellows. The erosion formations looked a little like Bryce Canyon, Utah. Less dramatic, but on a larger scale.

We reached and rode through the town of Purmamarca. It was teeming with tourists, but seemed nice enough. We connected with RN-9 and began our way south towards San Salvador de Jujuy. The road was thick with tourist traffic checking out the nearby volcano and mountains, but we made easy passes as the road descended. Our stay in Jujuy was a brief stop for gas and then back on RN-9.

RN-9 looked like the most direct route on the map, but I think the road to the east must have been faster. RN-9 however, was a hidden gem of a “highway” and an unexpected pleasure. The road narrowed from 4 lanes, to 2 lanes, to ultimately one and a half lanes. The pavement was perfect, but the road had gone from freeway to a narrow track curving along lush green hillsides.

We had to ride carefully, as every curve to the right was a blind curve, and there was still occasional oncoming traffic. I don’t think Inna was enjoying the endless series of curves as much as I was, but I was thrilled. For the last thousand miles we had a good idea of the roads ahead of us, but not only was this road a pleasure, it was unexpected, and a good reward for the previous days of slogging through the dirt.

The road eventually straightened out near a lake, and soon thereafter we were in downtown Salta. It was early evening, and since we were hoping to spend a few days here recuperating, we spent some time riding around town checking out hotels. Our first choice was full, probably due to people on Carnival vacation. We eventually settled on a 5 star hotel that while cheap for 5 stars, was too expensive for a long stay. The plan was to stay the night, enjoy the jacuzzi on my poor back, and see what we could find in the morning for the next days.

The king size bed was heaven after the hotels of Bolivia, and the clean, white sheets were mana from heaven. We didn’t waste any time settling in, and put off dinner in favor of the jacuzzi and sauna. When those were closed for the night, we had room service in the room and sank into a deep slumber.