A friend recently enlightened me to the fact that the science behind everyday life does indeed lead to human progress. Christmas is a pertinent time of year to combine these merits with the festive holidays. While currently in South America, personalising greetings cards online – comforted in the knowledge they’ll be delivered on one’s preferred date to the front door mat of anyone worldwide – has been a breakthrough.
1-12 Nov 2014 – Against the clock, a watery wonderland & battered eyelids
Before withdrawing from our haven that’s been Chacras de Coria these past halcyon weeks, Toto took us to a six day international enduro race at San Juan. Countries were represented from around the globe, flags on display from all corners of the world. A sense of excitement and racing fever gripped everyone, the place became an instant sand-churned hive of activity. The site was a furnace, the sun an executioner but that mattered little and less; we were there to witness what looked and felt synonymous to the Dakar Rally, one of the world’s most famous endurance races in South America where competitors cover around 500 miles off road per day for two weeks.
1-10 Oct 2014 – A bleating kid, a crazed French woman & hola to Orla
The boys: Juan-Pi, Matt and Jason enjoyed a ‘Lads day out’ (synonymous to No ‘Captain Slows’ allowed) up in Mendoza’s finest mountains.“No problema chicos, by all means venture out; I will chat and chill the day away”, I managed between a big grin, ushering them out of the door. With the freedom granted by an off-roading prowess of similar abilities, they chose a pretty technical route through the foothills of Mendoza. They rode hard. Tackled some steep inclines, pushed the bravado-fuelled envelope and go figure, dropped their bikes more than once – fun-filled hours after which the afternoon saw them sweat-soaked, bushed and does-my-belly-think-my-throat’s-been-cut ravenous! Juan-Pi admirably stepped up and treated the trio to an impressively large beef asado, prepared on an open fire in a rural spot, al fresco style. I heard it was tantalisingly good, yet another taste bud sensation.
21-30 Sept 2014 – Lucid thoughts when lightning strikes
Once passing for human again post our sliver in Bolivia, we casually made our way out of San Pedro de Atacama. Upon leaving, the three of us bumped into some bikers from Santiago ‘two up’ on two bikes. Briefly acquainted, their proceeding word of cautionary advice was, “Be very, very careful in Argentina, it is dangerous.” Eh?! Sorry, it’s what now? Surely it had to be about thee safest country in South America – of which we’d experienced its length and breadth around a dozen times. I was fast running out of passport pages because of our unremitting infatuation with the country. I shouldn’t have but out of earshot, I chuckled to myself on and off for about half an hour afterwards. What exactly should we be so afraid of, I honestly wondered as we rode into the familiarity of Argentina. Vicious vicuna?
1-5 Sept 2014 – A divine diversion: IRUYA
The route out of Salta kick-started with a warm send off from our Hostel Salta Por Siempre’s obliging manager, after which wended us once again on the frilly edges that is ruta 9’s rah-rah skirt. Its snaking width narrowed down to four metres at best and three at worst. I intimately encountered three fly-sized hapless individuals that left a smarting sting after pinging straight onto my face. I think I swallowed one. That coupled with an all-consuming tortuous road, which when taken unawares by a speeding oncoming four-by-four kept any emerging hunger locked up til lunch.
27-31 Aug 2014 – The definition of uncanny coincidence…
Sometime during the trip, my nickname and I mysteriously parted company, ‘Captain Slow’ merely evaporated like a ghost out of my being. I hoped to high heaven that was indicative that Pearl and I had begun to finally get a ‘wriggle on’ as and when required. It wasn’t rocket science picking my preferred of the remaining ones, courtesy of Jason: ‘Snot dispenser’ – doesn’t everyone have a runny hooter in cold weather? ‘Afternoon shadow’ from all the dirt and dust clinging to my face after a day in the saddle like iron filings on a magnet. ‘Princess’ when I’m being told to “Suck it up” on the sand or ‘Mozza’, an adaptation of my surname Morris. I might have some choice alternatives for my ‘marvellous other’ too.
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.