Badlanders MCC Website

 

Not long now until Bolivia.......he says!

 

After a soul destroying trip back on the bus from san Juan,  I met two girls coming off the bus who looked like gringos. Accordingly, I spoke to them in English. It was clear with the hesitant reply that English was not their first language, though both were able to speak it quite fluently. Turns out that they were both from Brittany, doing an internship in Mendoza. They had taken the trip out for a few days to do Ischigualasto and Talampaya.

 

I recommended the Eco Hostel to them and then headed off to the Supermarket buy some food. Unfortunately, though it was 6pm, the supermarket was still not open, (opening hours being 10am to 1pm and 5pm to 9pm, but this is Argentinian time!) So I headed for the hostel, recovered my bike and booked back into my room.

 

A few moments later, I could hear Chloe and Claire’s voices. It was a lovely night and we decided being the only people in the hostel, that we would eat in the garden and have an early night as they had to get up to do their tour the next day, an d I had to be up early on the bike. I agreed to cook the main meal ( on the condition that the supermarket had reopened) and Chloe and Claire agreed to do postre; a huge fruit salad, and bring a bottle of wine. During the course of the evening our conversation went from travel to music to film and back to travel. Chloe was about to return to France before heading off to Cambridge’s French Institute.

 

The next morning we were up early and after a brief breakfast (fortunately given the stale bread on offer, there was still some fruit salad from the night before) Chloe and Claire were off in a car and me on my bike.

 

After a tiring 80km through the desert, where I must have consumed about 5 ½  litres of water, I eventually reached Ischigualasto. The last 25 kilometres against the wind were a real struggle and became clear that I’d miss the last tour of the national park. One of the interesting features of the trip through an otherwise soulless desert was the number of twisters I’d seen whipping up from each gust of wind.  When I arrived at the park office, I booked the campsite and managed to get a decent meal at the onsite restaurant.  The other feature is the number of animal/bird noises. You can rarely see anything, other than the occasional herd of goats, that cross the road, and bring all traffic to a halt, but the animal noise is loud and disconcerting!

 

I had just completed erecting the tent in strong winds ( which is always high on entertainment value for anyone watching; this time the park rangers!), when I could hear the dulcet tones of Chloe and Claire, who had just completed their tour of the park. They took a picture of the tent and bike ( the only tent in the campsite) and as they went off back to  Valle de fertile, I prepared to settle down for the night after a nice warm shower at on the site facilities. Now this really is a luxury you don’t get very often!

 

I was told that the first tour around the park would be about 8.00 am. In Argentinian time, that could have been anything between 8 and 10. So it gave me time to pack the tent and gear away. Having purchased my ticket, I was told the bus would leave at 9.20, so closer to 10 o’clock that 8 o’clock! So I also had time to enjoy a bite of breakfast. Imagine my dismay, when after purchasing the ticket, I was told that the bus was full!! The long and short of it was I was given the luxury of a nice new Toyota. This Argentinean couple had agreed to take me in their vehicle which was following the tour bus. Though the conversation was sparse, it was polite and I shared the ritual Mate session as we drove around a very bumpy track. The tour guide and I clearly took a dislike to each other (that’s the guy who decided that I couldn’t get on the bus, not the car owner), and that was apparent from the scowls. Nevertheless, after 4 hours touring the park, with Fernando and Irsca ( I think that was how she pronounced her name) I went back and prepared myself for the cycle to La Rioja.

 

As I left the Ischigualasto National parque, I had the wind behind me and was managing a steady 18- 20 mph, when all of a sudden I could hear this twang. I’d lost not one but three spokes in my rear wheel and it was wobbling around like a weeble ( remember them!) I realised that I was going to end up with no spokes in my back wheel so decided to stop at the site office to another national park just outside Patquia. Though I was within reach of la Rioja, getting there on a wobbly and very much weakened bike was like to be a problem. The guy who managed the site office to the park, attempted to flag down a bus. Though the bus kept going, presumably after looking at the scale of the luggage I had, it stopped about 500 metres away, and fortunately reversed back. There is no way this gear goes anywhere once its dismantled. So.......... for the last fifty miles, I ended up on a bus ( I know...it seems like I’m making a habit of this), this time with capricious bike rather than trailer.

 

It was late when I arrived in la Rioja, and after re-assembling the bike and trailer, I nursed it into the town centre. I tried one or two residencias, but none could offer to keep my bike. I eventually ended up at the plaza hotel on the main square. I managed to get good deal, relatively speaking, at £24, though a lot more expensive than my 90p campsite the night before, which even had an electricity supply, and as such, was way beyond my budget. However the hotel receptionist was able to direct me to a brilliant cycle repair shop “Feyrerra” who sorted the spokes and gave the bike a service for a total of £6.50. Since then it’s been non-stop cycling to Catamarca and late last night arrived in Tucuman after four days. On route I’ve passed no less than five demonstrations, something I’ve become less and less comfortable with. The last one involved cycling through three fires that had been lit in the centre and side of the road, with guns being fired into the air just a few miles outside Las Malvinas, a little place in Tucuman!

 

I felt a little ill today, after a 156 km cycle yesterday through 32 degrees, including a fairly large climb out Merced, though one which offered the most spectacular views. I was grateful for a decent bed at the home of Rodolfico, Felicie, Carla and Lucas. I met Felicie and Justin when the spokes broke and I had to get the bus. They offered a room for the night when I reached Tucuman. A great deal, which goes some way to get the budget back on track. Rudolfico also has a bar a few blocks away and in it he treated me to the Norte negra cervesa and a plate of regional faire; maize and spicy meat wrapped in the skin of, well..........maize!

 

Well I still haven’t reached Bolivia, bit its not for the want of trying. I reckon a further two days to Salta and further three to get into Bolivia and I will have reached (mentally at least) my half way point, even though it isn’t quite. But if you take the climbs into account, this was always going to be the hardest bit as indeed the whole of Bolivia will be. However it definitely looks like I will struggle to hit Colombia in time without some sort of miracle cure for heat exhaustion and leg/backside ache!