Across the Andes

With my bike fixed (or at least rested and cleaned), we headed back down the coast of Chile to attempt another pass into Argentina – a slightly lower one.  It was also great to arrive again back to Joaquin at El Conquistador in Los Vilos. In the evening we headed out the same restaurant we had eaten at last time, with the great cerviche and seafood empanadas. As we sat down, we spotted another motorcyclist who had turned up at El Conquistador that afternoon sitting on his own. Despite some trepidation that he may not want company, and we may not be able to converse enough in Spanish for a whole dinner time conversation, we approached him, sat down and began chatting to him. 


Victor was a middle aged Argentinian farmer from Cordoba. He was riding a BMW 1200 and was very encouraging of our little bikes and expressed surprise that they had not made it over Paso del Agua Negra. We talked all through dinner and it was a wonderful chance to practice our Spanish in a real situation with someone who didn’t really speak any English, as well as ask questions about motorcycling through Chile and Argentina. 

After we had finished eating, another couple joined the conversation and the fairly understandable Spanish dissipated into fast Chilean/Argentinian drawl. Victor promised to have breakfast with us the next morning before we set off and give us some more information about Argentina. It was a wonderful evening spent with a new and interesting friend. In the morning, after a series of photos, we said goodbye to Victor and Joaquin and set of for another day of driving, towards Los Andes and the border with Argentina.

The ride was not too arduous, however we were up to our fifth day of riding in a row and we were starting to feel quite tired. Day six of riding turned out to be a long one. We headed off early towards the Andes and Paso Liberatadores, feeling a little bit nervous, but hoping that we’d be alright at a lesser altitude and on a sealed road. The ride was still spectacular even though it was a much less challenging road, and there was a lot more traffic including large tour buses and trucks than Paso del Agua Negra. The road wound its way through the Andes and up a series of switchbacks that increased our elevation to 3200m. At the top of the Pass, we drove through a tunnel, appearing on the other side of the Andes and entering Argentina. 

 

The process of exiting Chile and entering Argentina was not difficult, but took some time due to the large crowds at the border. One particular official was not convinced that we had bought the bikes legally and questioned Jono for some time. I don’t think we was trying to be difficult, but he didn’t seem to understand the process of owning vehicles in Chile. We, of course, told him we lived in Santiago for the purpose of ease, but it took some convincing before he let us through. The ride down the hill to Uspallata and on to Mendoza was also very easy but the wind was a challenge for our little bikes and light load and I spent most of the trip just trying to stay on the road. We had lunch in Uspallata, where there were many bikers parked up – mostly Argentinians on a weekend ride. By chance, luck, fate and some guidance by some friendly Mendozans, we arrived safely at the camp ground on the outskirts of Mendoza just before 7pm.

Our first glimpse of Mendoza City when we biked in was filled with promise of avenues and interesting architecture and town planning. We were not disappointed, and in some respects (given it was Sunday) it was great not to be inundated with lots of Mendozans going about their normal business. In fact it was not until approx 7pm that the Plazas began to fill with families and markets, leaving us to spend the day wandering the streets and enjoying the coffee and medialunas followed by a luxurious (by our standards) liquid lunch of local chardonnay and grilled fare. Of course, we were obliged to go on a wine tour in Mendoza, and the wine did not disappoint. We drank our way through many tastings, and discovered we enjoyed much more of a variety of wines than we had allowed ourselves to in NZ.  

En route to San Juan, we turned off the main road to try to get to the Municipal camp ground. It was a beautiful drive through the countryside, however despite asking directions of a number of people, including an army officer, we did not manage to find the camp ground. So, we headed into town for our other choice, the centrally located Hostel Zonda. We were given a room with a balcony fit for our “Boston Legals” (drinks overlooking the city with deep and meaningful conversation), and there were two playful kittens to keep me amused. We went out for dinner in the evening to a parradilla, or barbeque restaurant, and had a decadent meal of a variety of barbequed meats, salad, and San Juan Malbec.

The road to San Agustin was beautiful and very varied, ranging from arid, desert-like landscape, to low craggy mountains, to a road that followed the undulations of the terrain like a billowing ribbon. We passed through tiny little settlements with no more than a few houses in each. The road wound its way around the foothills of the small mountains, and into Valle Fertil. San Agustin was completely asleep when we arrived, shop doors closed, curtains pulled and blinds down. On the main street we started talking to a German couple who were motorbiking around South America like us – unlike us they were on large bikes that they had shipped over to Chile taking 5 months to get there. They directed us to the tourist information centre, where we met a lovely man who helped us to find the municipal camp ground and information about the nearby Parque de la Luna. La Luna was a strange and intriguing place. The landscape was so varied, despite there being almost no vegetation,  in terms of rock formations and colour.

 

We carried on up the road, connecting with Ruta 40, and headed over a spectacular gravel road, Cuesta de Miranda, to Chilecito (“Little Chile”, named so after all the Chileans living there to work on the now defunct mine). Here, we have met a lovely Argentinian called Luciano who is motorbiking around Argentina, and has been very patient with our Spanish. We are now here for a third night (a long time without traveling for us!) as the weather packed in yesterday with rain and thunderstorms - the first real rain since we arrived in South America. We are camping on the lawn of Hostel del Paiman and the rain has cleaned much of the dust off our tent, but with rainy weather reports for today, we decided to stay put for another night. A blessing in disguise as we were ready for some down time.