The beauty of having your own wheels means we executed our own sorties each day while using San Pedro de Atacama as a base. Our first self-facilitated foray into the desert took us to Valle de la Luna, Chile’s equivalent of Valley of the moon. I’d clocked the coaches carting around the day-trippers but thankfully the park was big enough to disperse everyone adequately enough. Its resemblance to the surface of the moon was remarkable, owing to its different stratifications and salt formations. We took ourselves on a cruisy circuit stopping when the urge took us; sauntered over the odd sand dune, bobbled over the bumpiest salt-stiffened road to date, siesta’ed in the sun post lunch and indulged in a light read. It was biking bliss. I overheard one young woman who, after completing a guided walk faced her tour guide and exclaimed, “Well that was absolutely not boring!”
Blog
3-6 Aug 2014 – Purmamarca, an argument with altitude & fabulous Fatima
Our lives six months after saying our heartfelt goodbyes in old Blighty – no longer concerned themselves with mainstream matters on which the average Brit might dwell: work, bills, making some imaginative weekend play before the cycle’s put on repeat. Our affairs now involved: getting from A to which B faring through foreign lands in often unpredictable conditions. Risk assessment, daily contingency plans, expectation management and damage limitation. As well, on-the-road health, our welfare in the wilderness and staying sane with each other 24/7 while riding a rollercoaster of emotions.
29 July – 2 August 2014 – Sun, sand and Salta!
Santa Cruz, Copacabana, San Jose and Londres (also known as London) – what do they all have in common? They’re all the names given to friendly little towns of dusty dwellings, doing their individual Argentinian ‘thing’, a world apart from their counterparts elsewhere on earth. Most boasted tree lined central plazas bearing ripe oranges and one had a cluster of trees whose trunks were patriotically painted in Argentinian flag colours – blue and white. Heat shimmers rose off the road as we rode through the aforementioned towns en route to Santa Maria, giving a dreamlike quality to our surroundings ahead.
24 – 28 July 2014 – An idiot, a Rodeo without broncos & a Sphinx
Barreal’s playground on the crazy paving dried mud lake had been a hoot. We continued on ruta 149 but de toured eastwards for a pit stop in San Juan; Jason’s bike was screaming out for sprockets and a new chain. He was carrying a set from Santiago; it was just a case of replacing old for new. Jumping back on the 149 with a carefree spirit for the life unconventional, I sharply sucked a breath of air in as a four by four driver – evidently harbouring a death wish for himself and those jinxed mortals around him – made a kamikaze swerve around me, overtaking seconds before the brow of a hill.
14 – 23 July 2014 – Highs and lows: as many literal as metaphorical
Our seven-day sojourn in Chile’s capital was protracted because of having to stay put for parts to be replaced and spares to be shipped. Three weeks of languidly waiting around had come to an end. If there had been any quiet little moment of peace to savour about the late night drum beating, World Cup cheering, zoo-captive monkey howling city, it was upon reaching Cerro Santa Lucia. Smack in Santiago’s hustle and bustle, we chanced on an old park of steep stoned steps haphazardly lodged in a hill leading up to a stellar view. The hill was a remnant of a volcano 15 million years old.
19 June – 13 July 2014 – The magic of Mendoza and almost spellbound in Santiago
Sharing stories at breakfast, learning local knowledge over lunch and regaling one another with tales over tea made our stay in Toto’s utopian setting Posada Olivar that much more idyllic. We took full advantage of taking time out to sink into our surroundings, aided by the selflessness of Juan Pablo, our newfound friend via a Horizons Unlimited community, Toto and their warm wives. We spent the best part of a week relaxing at Toto’s place, the manicured grounds of which were akin more to some sort of open aviary than an average back-garden.
11-18 June 2014 – To the end of the ‘V’ and the power of three
We’d enjoyed and endured about as much snow as we could take in eight days – white sheets had fallen in a fierce Patagonian wind for a week. We’d also been scarred as much as the bleating goat had been scared out of its skin upon our Caviahue departure. The bikes were calling and it was a profound joy to be deposited out of the snow onto silky smooth roads again. Back onto Ruta 40, we cruised through the bland town of Chos Malal and unexpectedly, the main drag took us through a dramatic scene of volcanic dessert, crested caracara country and a steppe landscape whose rocky hillsides were tiered in reds, russets and dusky pink. What a contrast to Caviahue under the mantle of winter.