Southern Exposure

Thursday, March 5

We left Los Andes and rode south to Santiago. The road quickly swelled to 4 lanes and became a toll road. I don’t think we’d been on a road this big in months. Unfortunately, unlike Peru, motorcycle do not travel free in Chile. As we got close to the city, I realized I should have read more about Santiago and learned the neighborhood names, because none of the signs simply said “El Centro” but were names of the various neighborhoods which were completely foreign to us. Fortunately, the Wanderlust GPS maps were pretty good in Chile and I was able to steer us towards the center.

After some consulting with the city map in our guide book, I found our hotel Plaza San Francisco. My mother was already in from the airport to greet us at the hotel. It was great to see her after so many months on the road and I’m sure our muddy clothes and bikes made for an interesting sight. As we pulled up to the ritzy hotel we received many looks from the hotel staff. My mother had a great surprise for us – my aunt Susan who I hadn’t seen in years would be arriving the next day from Charlotte, NC.

Inna and I carried our mountain of dirty gear up to our luxurious rooms and headed straight for the shower. It felt great to clean up with the knowledge that we’d be off the bikes for a week. We regrouped and headed across the street into the center to grab some lunch. We ate at a recommended restaurant, the Blue Jar, sitting outside on the pedestrian street catching up. After so many miles, it was a little surreal to be sitting outside at a cafe with my mother as if we’d flown into town on vacation.

We walked around the area near the Plaza de Armas, without a great idea where we were going. We went by the fish market, and then across to the “crap” market, in a shadier neighborhood. It was mid afternoon and quite hot and as we finally reached the Bella Vista neighborhood, we realized that the rules of siesta applied here and everything was closed. After admiring some impressive graffiti, we decided to take a cab back to the hotel to relax away the afternoon heat.

We took a cab back to Bella Vista for dinner, and this time it was crowded and lively. We walked around, checking out menus, and had pisco sours on the patio of a bar. It was a nice evening to have a drink outside. We moved to the restaurant Como Agua para Chocolate, and had a great dinner. It was quite the change from road food, from which I had lost about 15 pounds since the trip started. After dinner, everyone was sleepy from the travel and the wine, and we went back to our awesome king sized bed and air conditioning at the hotel.

Friday, March 6

My aunt Susan arrived in the morning and she hadn’t aged a year. We all had breakfast at the hotel’s large breakfast buffet. It was such a nice change from the miserable breakfasts of bread and juice or Fanta.

We split up for a bit as I went into town to find the Kawasaki dealer and arrange some service. My mother had arrived with a huge supply of spare parts and other luxuries for us (a replacement watch, woo!). We would have new steering bearings installed and we could replace some faulty electronics. My dad had really come through for us in rounding up all of our requests, even getting a new welding rod tube to replace the one on my bike that had shattered on some rocks. The folks at the dealer seemed reasonable, and we could drop the bikes off the next morning to get the bearings replaced and the oild changed.

We went for a walk around town towards the plazas while Inna decided she would hit the hotel gym. We had hardly exercised at all since we left Central America and I imagine our cardio performance is pretty weak these days. It was a nice walk around town before we regrouped for lunch. Inna was too tired after her workout, so she stayed in the room while we went out to eat. We did more catching up at lunch over a light vegetarian meal. It was so great to eat a big salad.

After spending far too long picking a restaurant, we met Stefano at Infante 51. Stefano was just arriving from Valparaiso, where very sadly he had crated up his bike for its return to Italy. He gave great advice on the menu and chose the wine for our meal. The food was fantastic! I had a slow cooked shoulder of lamb which was easily the best lamb I’ve ever had. It was an evening of great food and great company, which Inna and I luxuriated in. We even had some comedy as a mistranslation by our poor waiter resulted in two extra entrees being delivered mid meal. After desserts, we finally surrendered our patio table and headed back to the hotel.

Saturday, March 7

After enjoying the breakfast buffet, Inna and I had some reality to deal with and we rode off to the dealer to drop the bikes off. While we were gone, my mother and aunt Susan were taking a bus tour of Santiago. They would end up seeing much more of the city than Inna and I did.

We regrouped and walked back to the Plaza de Armas to meet Stefano and go the Museum of Pre Colombian art. This was easily the best museum we’d been to on the entire trip. It covered southern Mexico to all of western South America, arranged from north to south. The clear organization and explanations in English made it very easy to compare and contrast the various tribes and empires spread across Latin America. The collection was fantastic and well worth the visit.

After the museum, we went to the fish market to have lunch. Inna and Stefano were having the South American version of Alaskan King Crab, but better. They ordered the smallest size and it was still huge.

For appetizers they had a bowl of baby eels. Susan had shrimp and shared in the crab, which by all accounts, was excellent. My mother and I are generally not seafood lovers so it was a boring meal for us, but it was fun to watch them dismember and savor the giant crab.

After lunch, we went for a walk to Los Condes to find a particular wine shop. We took the Santiago Metro, which was nice with the exception of the lack of electronic ticket sales. We found the shop, located in the hip/yuppie neighborhood of Santiago and after some purchasing, we were done for the afternoon.

Back at the hotel we napped and wrote through the afternoon heat. Inna declared she was too tired and not hungry enough to eat dinner. The rest of us met Stefano in the plaza in Bella Vista for a pizza dinner. We were off to Valparaiso the next day, so after dinner we wished farewell to Stefano, who would be returning to Italy while we were gone. It was a sad farewell, as he was a great guy and we’d had some nice rides and good times together.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

With so little distance to cover today, we slept in until 8, and packed up slowly. Inna had been up late writing, and we proofed and posted her writing. We’re almost two weeks behind in writing and it’s taking diligence to get caught up.

We ate another nutrition-less breakfast of coffee and bread with jam, this time supplemented by yogurt and juice packs we had bought the night before. We’ve finally figured out that the standard provided South American breakfast of coffee and bread was sapping our late morning energy by only providing empty calories and zero nutrition. Even our Mexico breakfasts of yogurt and granola bars were more nutritious.

We rode west out of Uspallata towards the border. Uspallata had been a cute town located in a scenic meadow between some surprisingly colorful, rugged mountains. The ride out was nicer than we had expected, as the massive uplifts of sedimentary rock provided startling amounts of color to the barren mountain hills.

We climbed west, enjoying the easy ride above the river below. We stopped occasionally for pictures and zoomed west. We stopped in the tiny “town” of Puente de Inca for a coffee and people watched the buses unloading hordes of tourists upon the sorry little craft market.

We rode another mile down the road and decided to stop in at the small park at the southern base of Aconcagua. We had plenty of time, so a short hike was in order. Aconcagua is the highest peak in the Andes at 6,959 meters, and is actually the highest peak in the world outside of the Himalayas. It was a beautiful site, but it strangely did not seem that tall to us from our current altitude of 10,000 ft.

We had a nice walk, and it was good to get some exercise. As I was looking up the valley, I saw a huge shadow moving across the hill in front of us, and when I looked up I could see it was a condor. I had been dying to see a condor since learning of its sacred place in Andean culture, and my desires had been stoked by seeing a condor feather as long as my arm in the comedor in Los Baldecitos. The condor flew low and straight above us. It was truly massive with its 12 ft wingspan. It was a rare treat to see one so low and close, and it was soon high, high above us riding the thermals before it disappeared completely.

We returned to the bikes and resumed our course towards the border. At a small stop we made to see about buying some stickers for the boxes, a Lassie type dog, excited by the bike, tried to bite my thigh, according to Inna. I had felt it jump up on my leg a bit but not the bite at all. I looked down and saw a little drool, but my thigh armor is incredibly thick and covered in Kevlar, so Motoport pants 1, dog 0.

We were waiting and waiting to see the Argentinean immigration and aduana to check out, but we soon found ourselves through the long mountain tunnel and in Chile. We thought surely this couldn’t be right, as the border post is always within the country, so we went back through the tunnel and back 15 km to find the ingress station. After asking the officials, they said this station was only for people entering Argentina, not exiting, and that the exit post for Argentina was a few kilometers past the tunnel crossing in Chile. This was a first time that the aduana process had to be done in the next country. We should have done our research.

We rode back through the tunnel and to the combined border post on the Chilean side. The process was tedious as the Argentinean agents were too busy lounging in the sun listening to music from one of their car stereos to be thorough. More than once I had to return from the Chilean officials to amend something the Argentines had missed. We were through soon enough, and I’m always grateful it’s not a Central American border. It baffles me why the borders in South America are so much less stressful and easier than their counterparts in Central America.

Immediately leaving the border, the road descends in a long series of switchbacks surrounded by steeply towering rocky mountains. Judging from the ski lifts the border is also a resort in the winter. The road to Los Andes was a painless 80 km ride. In Los Andes we found ourselves a slightly overpriced but nice bed and breakfast, which was the cheaper of the two available hotels. We went out to the main plaza for a nice chicken dinner, grateful not to be eating beef for a change. Who would have guessed that after the endless miles of chicken dinners we would miss it in the face of endless beef?

We watched the 2nd World Superbike race back in the room, and then it was back to work for me, more catching up on writing. Inna treated herself to an early night.

Tuesday, March 3

We took advantage of our nice hotel room and after another breakfast of instant coffee and stale pastries with jam we lingered until a “courtesy call” came for the 10 am check out.

Before getting out of town we stopped at a Yamaha shop to get a few quarts of oil for our ever thirsty bikes.

We had two more days until we were to meet Matt’s mom in Santiago, and the distance was very short. We decided to take it easy today and ride only to Uspallata which we heard was a quite town good for a relaxing stop over.

The ride of 90 km was mostly uneventful. We passed through a scenic mountain pass with a large blue lake and before we knew it we were in Uspallata.

As we were parking near a hotel a BMW rider pulled up and stroke a conversation. He was a Brit who has been riding around the world for the last three years. He was going north from Ushuiaia, so we decided to grab lunch together and exchange tips for the roads.

After lunch we found a suitable hotel and spent the evening working on the blog. Matt picked up some pizza for dinner, so we treated ourselves to a Superbike race while chowing down on pizza in the room. After the dinner break it was back to the blog for me, while Matt had an early night.

Monday, March 2

Getting out of bed was tough today. Since we arrived from Bolivia in Argentina via San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, we just have not recovered. We’re both fatigued and my back injury does not feel much better. It is healing very slowly and riding every day is probably not helping. Our alarm went off at 7:30 and I don’t think we moved until 8:30.

I added more oil to the oil drinking monsters we ride and we were on the road late around 10:30. We went west through the towns of Las Flores and Iglesia, two small villages that were not as picturesque as advertised. At least in the distance to the west there were snow capped peaks.

Past them the road descended down the flank of the mountains into a valley. It was a very Nevada-like desert landscape, rugged, dry mountains covered in low sparse, low brush. Once on the valley floor, it was a straight line across, with occasional dips for flash flood water crossings. On the other side we climbed out of the valley and back onto the plains.

We arrived in San Juan at 2 pm and stopped at a gas station. We filled up, and since the gas station had a deli, we had a quick lunch. We had been planning on going east to Barreal, but after reading more in the guide book, we decided we would take it easy and go to Mendoza. The first week in March is the annual wine harvest festival there, so we hoped there would be something interesting going on.

The ride from San Juan to Mendoza must have turned up one degree per mile. It was very hot, over 90 degrees, and the line seemed arrow straight. It was a very boring ride but the miles slid past reasonably quickly. We arrived in Mendoza around 5 pm.

We instantly liked Mendoza. Its streets, squares and avenues are wide and lined with bushy sycamore and plane trees. The city feels like a sophisticated metropolis, spacious and vibrant, and has a lot to offer in terms of hotels, restaurants, bars and of course wine. After all Mendoza is Argentina’s wine capital.

We checked out a few hostels from our guide book, but were approached by a kid on a bicycle about hotel deals. We have had surprisingly good luck with random people approaching us on the street for accommodations, and this time was no exception. For the same price as the two star hotel we had been looking at, he got us an apartment suite in a modern hotel. We had a kitchenette and a living room. Score!

In the evening we called Stefano, who we knew was also spending that evening in Mendoza, and met for dinner at La Sal, one of the best restaurants of this trip. Stefan is a certified wine sommelier so he chose an outstanding local Chardonnay-Pinot Gris Brut to accompany our meals. After two bottles of wine, memorable dishes and some good conversation we realized it was already midnight. We said good-byes and agreed to get in touch in Santiago when we crossed over in a few days.

Sunday, March 1

Our room last night was surprisingly pleasant and comfortable, and I so wished we could sleep in, but we planned on visiting the second park in the area in the morning and then needed to make up some distance going south, so sleeping in wasn’t an option.

For breakfast we went back to the comida place and were served some eggs and freshly baked rolls by the señora from last night.

The Parque Nacional Talampaya was 70 km north from Los Baldecitos and we reached it within half an hour, just in time for the temperature to rise up to high 90’s. At the entrance we found out that we could not ride our bikes in the park and had to take an organized tour in the mini bus. It was a bummer, but I was keen on seeing the park, so we paid a hefty fee of $15 per person, left our bags at the bar and went ahead with the tour.

The park’s main features are a wide-bottomed canyon with 180-meter high rust-colored sandstone cliffs and curious rock formations that look like carved out columns or parts of a gothic cathedral. Additionally, the park features a number of rocks with pre-Columbian petroglyphs, and is home to bird species such as condors and eagles.

The tour lasted about 2.5 hours and was quite boring. As always, it was in Spanish and included five stops at places of interest. The stops lasted way too long, it was way too hot outside and the constant chatter of French tourist girls in the mini van was driving us a both crazy. On top of that, Matt’s back was still bothering him for the seventh day in a row, so overall it was a bit of struggle to last through the tour.

The scenery however was indeed impressive, and reminded me a lot of Bryce Canyon in Utah. If I had to choose between the two parks, I would recommend Ischiguakasto over Talampaya. The fact that you are confined to the mini van under the strict supervision of the guide in Taampaya takes all the fun out of the nature experience.

After the park we headed up north through Villa Union which seemed like a smarter and shorter route to get us to the western parts of La Rioja and San Juan regions. After a quick fill up on gas in Villa Union the road headed south, and for the next two hours it was a grueling grind on a straight (but nicely paved) road through some dull and boring desert scenery with a stretch of mountains on both sides. I struggled a bit in the heat, but the last stretch of Routa 40 just before San Jose de Jachal climbed many meters up into the mountains and opened up into lovely valley with lush farmland.

It was 4:30 pm, and we decided to stop for the night in the sleepy town of Jachal to get some rest and catch up on the blog. Ever since Bolivia, we have not gotten a proper rest. Even though we spent two days in Salta we didn’t feel like we were able to relax and recharge. It doesn’t look like we would be able to do that until Santiago, where we are meeting Matt’s mom next week and plan on spending a week off the bikes.

We tried to get an early dinner, but as we have discovered, in Argentina the restaurants don’t open for dinner until 8 pm. On the second try and much later than we desired we got some dinner on the main square to the sounds of a Sunday fiesta mixed with the noise of a bicycle charity event that attracted hundreds of locals and professional out of town bicyclists on $4,000 bikes.

When we got back from dinner it was already 9:30 pm and yet again the evening seemed to have evaporated without proper rest or relaxation.

Saturday, February 28

Today we made an effort and actually succeeded in being on the road by 9 am. Stefano decided to ride with us at least to La Rioja and then possibly split up. The three of us have been dreaming of paved easy roads for a while now. Yesterday’s ride was much more difficult than we had anticipated and we made half the distance we originally planned on, but finally this morning we were rewarded with smooth pavement and easy on the eye scenery.

We had descended quite a bit from the mountains yesterday, so the morning’s ride took us through a desert landscape which nevertheless was quite lively and green with a salt lake and chains of mountains and snowy peaks in all their morning glory in the distance. The air was crisp and fresh and it felt rejuvenating riding in the morning.

After an hour the road became more twisty as it curved through a cactus filled highland landscape. We stopped to take pictures of the beautiful white cactus flowers, and their fragrant scent reminded me of the smell of jasmine.

After the twisites the road became very straight, hot and boring, but soon we reached the town of La Rioja, just in time for a much needed afternoon refreshment. We found a nice cafe on the main plaza with outdoor seating, and since it was lunch time, all the locals were out, which made for good people watching. While we waited for our sandwiches, we went over the Patagonia map with Stefano, who shared his route with us and recommended a few not to miss roads and places.

After lunch we treated ourselves to tasty ice cream and Stefano deciced to ride with us a bit further south to Los Baldecitos. When we were suiting up for the road we witnessed a comical sight: two men were trying to pull up a rope tied mattress to the third floor of the building through a window.

For the next few hours of riding we battled the bordom of a straight, flat, endless road in the 35 (100) degree heat. As we started getting closer to Los Baldecitos, the scenery was changing to canyons, mountains and plains with low green vegetation.

It was 4:30 pm when we got to Los Baldecitos. We decided to take the last tour of the day at the Parque Provincial Ischigualasto, also known as the Valle de a Luna (Moon Valley), which started at 5 pm. Stefano said he would stay in Los Baldecitos overnight and while we were in the park he would reserve a room for us in one of the homes he had stayed at before.

The only way you can ride your bike in the park (a Unesco World Heritage site) is to follow a vehicle of a tour operator. The standard tour is three hours and you have to always keep with the group. Matt did not seem too excited about a three hour tour, but I thought it would be worth it. There were a total of three other cars on the tour.

At the first stop we realized the tour was all in Spanish and the guide was determined to give a complete lecture on the geological history of the planet Earth. Since I did not understand most of what he was saying and Matt was tired and half interested we knew it was going to be a long tour.

There were a total of five stops on the tour. We lingered behind after each stop and took our time stopping for pictures and to admire the eerily out-of-this-world landscape, and fragile rock formations.

The park covers 150 square kilometers of astonishingly varied terrain, it is geologically unique because all stages of the 45-million-year Triassic era are represented in its rocks, and it was a rich burial ground for dinosaurs.

When we finished the tour circuit, the sun had set and it started getting dark fast, while we had 25 more km to ride to the exit of the park. We decided to break the rules and go infront of the operator car in order to get out of the park before darkness. The cars were crawling cautiously along the dirt road, and after Bolivia, we had no problem blowing by them. By the time we got to Los Baldecitos it was pitch black. As we were pulling up to the house that Stefano indicated to us earlier we hit an unexpected patch of sand, where Matt dropped his bike. Oh no, not again! We lifted the bike and were greeted by the owners of the house who gave us a hand written note from Stefano. Apparently there was only one room available for the night, so he reserved it for us but rode to the next town to find lodging there. Thanks again, Stefano! What a gentleman!

We quickly unloaded the bags and went to the only comida place in this three house village. As we were sitting in the barewall room with a lonely light bulb hanging from the ceiling that you couldn’t have paid us to eat in at home, we marveled at the fact that such strange surroundings seem totally normal, homey and even pleasant to us. We were just happy to have a roof over our heads and a plate of warm food to eat. After a quick bite we headed back to the room and fell asleep instantly.

Friday, February 27

We got a late start the next morning, not wanting to leave our new favorite bed and breakfast. The breakfast was the usual bread and jam with juice and coffee, but much higher quality and included a selection of local cheeses, which Inna very much appreciated. Stefano was already almost finished by the time we made it to the dining room.

We decided we would spend the morning riding south together, and then figure out as we went along where we would part ways. Inna and I felt bad that we weren’t ready to ride until 10 am, as Stefano cleared moved faster in the mornings than we did. Inna was trying to get some quality time in with the llamas before we had to leave.

The ride down the valley was a nice, twisty descent along the river below the lake. The pavement wasn’t the highest quality, but it didn’t detract from the ride. We quickly made it to the town of Concepción. We were thinking of taking a dirt road west from here to Andalgalá, and wanted to see if we could get any information on the quality of the road before we started out. The locals were of little help. It amazes how people can know nothing of a town only 20km away. If you asked me about any town within 50 miles of Seattle I could probably tell you at least something about it.

After we passed through the tiny town of Alpachiri, the road turned to dirt. Neither Inna nor I were ecstatic to be back on dirt, but we’d willingly volunteered for it. The road quickly turned into a series of switchbacks, going up and up and up and up. It was slow going as the U’s were very tight and full of gravel. As we wound ourselves up the mountain, we were at least treated to some nice views.

There was occasional traffic going the other direction along the road, which was encouraging in that corrugation aside, the road ahead couldn’t be too difficult or too isolated. After treating us to some scenic overlooks of the river valley below, the road wound alonside the mountain, gradually descending.

We came to a small town, and decided it would be a good stop for lunch. We walked in like alien visitors into the bar/cafe, where we interrupted the locals watching soap operas on the TV. We ordered some sandwiches, all of which were terrible. While we ate the locals amused themselves by taking pictures of each other alongside our bikes.

Once we left, we had more descending ahead of us. The descent turned into downhill switchbacks which we navigated slowly. The hard work was rewarded with ample scenic views of the plains and salar in the distance. We had a strange feeling that we were looking out over an ocean. I lagged behind to take pictures of Stefano and Inna from above, almost none of which came out. Bummer!

We finally reached the bottom, and slogged through more corrugation and sand. We joined the paved road just south of town, and road to the center to find a hotel. Our book had the official tourist hotel listed along with another very low quality hotel. At the tourist hotel, neither Inna nor I were pleased with the price, and walked next door to another hotel not in our book. It was slightly cheaper, but when we came back Stefano had negotiated the same price for us as the tourist hotel. Nice. It was amazing how little distance we had covered during the day.

We went into town after dark, to the main plaza to find dinner. It was a busy night and the town felt vibrant. People were in all the benches and strolling through the town square park. We picked a pizza restaurant, assuming it would be a safe bet, and it had the added bonus of having seating outdoors across the street in the park. We had a reasonably good pizza and beers as we watched a Carnival related parade go by on the street in front of us. For our day of dirt riding, we treated ourselves to more fantastic Argentinean ice cream as we walked to the hotel. Unfortunately it seemed like the end point of the parade was just in front of our hotel, so we tried to sleep in spite of all the loud music and percussion.

Thursday, February 26

We reluctantly checked out of the hostel and got on the road. The doctor had warned me that the muscle relaxers might make me drowsy, but I figured I would at least try it for one morning to see if it would be doable. Unlike many cities, Salta was very easy to get out of and we were soon on the road south.

After some miles in the suburbs, we found ourselves following a river through increasingly beautiful mountains. The underlying rocks were a rich brown and pink sandstone, sparsely covered in low, green shrubs. The river ran thick and muddy, matching the bright color of the rock.

We descended into a valley where the rock had eroded into many fantastic formations, sometimes forming arches and natural windows in the stones. At one photo stop, a yellow BMW F650 pulled up next to me and said hello. I asked him where he was from, and to my surprise he said we’d already met! With his helmet on and my brain clouded by muscle relaxers, I hadn’t recognized Stefano from the hotel in San Antonio de los Cobres. We caught up and decided to continue riding south together.

The canyon landscape continued to impress as three of us continued south. We passed through Cafayate, one of the northern wine growing regions of Argentina. We took a few pictures, filled up for gas, and rolled on through.

We had thought of stopping at the ruins of Quilmes, but didn’t feel in the mood, and Stefano said he had not been terribly impressed by them. Our next step was in Amaicha del Valle, to visit the Pachamama Museum. Both of us had had this recommended to us by others so we figured it must be worth a stop.

The museum exceeded our expectations. A local artist who worked in stone, oils, and tapestry had built this museum in this remote location. The museum itself was a piece of art. All of the stonework in the walls were composed of pictures of whimsical symbols and crazy creatures. The grounds were alive with large stone sculptures laid out amidst flowering cactus. Even the stone paths were pieces of art. If I ever lay out a patio in a future home, I will incorporate some of these ideas.

We toured the grounds, which even included a small museum on the regional geology and mining. Aside from the grounds themselves, the tapestries were particularly impressive. If only we could afford one. We ate our sandwiches from the leftover parradilla in a small cafe on the grounds, enjoying the scenery and catching up with Stefano on what he’d been doing since we had first met days before.

Once we were back in the saddle, we continued south on RN-307 to head to Tafí del Valle. Martin and Lauren had recommended it to us, and Stefano had also heard good things about the town. After riding through more fantastic cactus fields, the road climbed up. The higher and twistier the road got, the worse the pavement became. We weren’t complaining, pavement was pavement. Rain threatened to the east, and the road was wet, but we stayed dry.

We finally reached the summit overlooking Tafí del Valle and the lake to the south of it. It was an easy descent and we were soon in town. After some searching around, we settled on our first choice of hotels. It was an old rustic ranch house with llamas grazing in the front yard.

Our room was authentically antique and the entire house had a wonderful smell of wood to match the rustic vibe. Inna was in heaven, and the house even came with a cute cat to go with the llamas. We freshened up as the sun set over the town, and then went into the center to find ourselves some dinner.

After some misdirection from the bizarrely attired local tourist helpers, we settled on an traditional Argentinean style food restaurant on the main street. Inna discovered her favorite fish of the trip, dorado, while Stefano picked us an excellent wine. He was great company and the bottle of wine went by quickly.

Back at the hotel, we relaxed while enjoying the feel of our ranch house room. Even the wiring of the room was antique, with a pair of positive and negative wires running across the rafters, feeding pairs of wires that ran down the walls to outlets and light switches. It was a nice transport back in time and we fell asleep to the sound of wind amidst the pleasant smell of wood.

Tuesday, February 24

After the last three days on the road we were in need of serious rest. Although our 5-star hotel was a total splurge, nothing felt so good in a long time than waking up in a king size bed and a fancy room and having an awesome buffet breakfast (included in the room price). Though, we didn’t get to sleep in (by our standards) as the cut off time for breakfast was 10 am. We rolled in to the restaurant at 9:50 am and lingered till 10:30 am when all the food was cleared by staff and they were impatiently waiting for us to leave.

After a quick run to a convenience store, I busied myself with the blog while Matt went downstairs to work on the bikes trying to figure out my electrical problem and fix what he could from our list of post Bolivia bike problems.

The afternoon went by very fast and we didn’t end up having any rest. Before dinner we took a cab to Salta’s moto stores district to buy fuses for my bike, low beam bulbs, and oil. We also got some cool stickers, including “46” for my bike. In this part of the world, as I suppose everywhere in the world, Valentino Rossi is the people’s favourite. Even tiny 50 cc scooters sport number 46 on their panels, and Matt couldn’t miss the opportunity to photograph next to Rossi’s graffiti image. I take great pride in the fact that Valle and I have the same exact birthday date, down to the year. 🙂

After a successful shopping trip we went back to the hotel and asked our very helpful doorman for a dinner recommendation. We were keen on trying some good Argentinean meat and wine and were recommended an authentic parrilla (grilled meat) restaurant in our neighborhood and a must try Michel Torino Don David wine from the nearby Cafayate Valley.

In this part of the world people enjoy long afternoon siestas. The stores are open 9 am to 1 pm, then close for a four-hour siesta and reopen at 5 pm to 9 pm. Consequently, the dinners don’t start until 8 or 9 pm. We were the first customers in the restaurant at 8 pm. After some deliberation we decided on a “Classic Parilla for 2,” mashed potatoes, mixed greens salad and a few empañadas to start with, accompanied by a bottle of Don David Malbec.

The parrilla arrived on a sizzling pan with a tray full of still burning coals underneath. It was a substantial selection of grilled meats, including beef, chicken, pork, chorizo, and some intestine type pieces that we didn’t care for so much.

The meat was exquisite and we very much enjoyed our meal, albeit we couldn’t finish it all, so I took a few pieces of beef to home to make sandwiches for the road. One bottle of wine for two usually is not a big deal for us, but this time, probably because we have not had a drop of alcohol in a long time, gave us quite a buzz.

We hurried back to the hotel to watch Obama’s presidential address to congress. It felt good to finally listen to a coherent presidential speech that was both inspiring and to the point, though I couldn’t last past 11:30 pm and fell asleep in the middle of the broadcast.

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Wednesday, February 25

While we could not afford another day of four-star treatment, we decided to change hotels and stay in Salta for one more night. We found a nice hostel and moved there after breakfast.

Salta was a pleasant town, big enough to have nice shops, cafes and restaurants and small enough to be able to explore it in a day or so. We’ve walked around the center enjoying its harmonious architecture and urban ambiance. For lunch and some people watching we stopped at a plaza coffee shop called Van Gogh.

Matt continued having intense pain in his back, which started worrying us, so we decided to find a doctor. Fortunately, the hostel was next to a hospital. We paid $30 for a consultation and the doctor determined that Matt had seriously strained muscles in his lower back. He prescribed him some muscle relaxers and told him to take it easy on the riding. We bought the prescription and also a kidney belt that we saw Martin and Lauren wear, hoping it can provide some support and ease the pressure on his back while riding.

In the late afternoon we visited the archeological museum and its only exhibition focusing on the “Llullailaco Children,” one of the most important archeological finds made in Argentina. Three naturally mummified Inca children were uncovered in 1990 atop Volcan Llullaillaco, west of Salta, 6700 m above sea level, by an expedition of mountaineers and scientists. They were a 6-year old girl, a teenage girl and a 7-year old boy, all three were royal Inca children who lived around 1490 AD and were sacrificed to deities. Their incredibly well preserved corpses have been kept in a laboratory, and only the 6-year old girl was on display. Her little figure in a sitting position was quite creepy, the skin, the hair, and the expression on her face were very vivid – it looked like she died just a few days ago. Artifacts, textiles and treasures were buried with the children as well as photographs and video interviews of the expedition members were also part of the showcase. Even though it was a small exhibit and cost a hefty $13 per person, it was worth it for us as neither of us have seen anything like this before.

I then dragged Matt to a museum of contemporary art across the street, which was free but a complete disappointment. Apart from a series of five surreal photographs there was nothing even remotely interesting or inspiring.

We decided to grab a quick dinner at one of the plaza restaurants. My caesar salad came covered in a solid blanket of parmesan cheese with about five tiny leaves of romaine lettuce underneath. It was lame but funny at the same time.

Another day passed by and we hardly got any rest, no sleeping in, no day naps, not much relaxation. Unfortunately, we can not linger here for another day. We have made plans with Matt’s mom to visit us in Santiago, Chile. We gave ourselves a comfortable week to get there from Salta. Maybe in Santiago we can finally get proper rest.

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.