pampas pampas y mas pampas

pampa grande (big desert) is not just the name of a town

        How could I forget to mention, the bicycle is a good invention? a fitting song to be playing in the hostal in Mendoza, Argentina as I packed up and prepared to get back into the saddle after a few weeks off the bike. I reached Ushuaia, Argentina a couple of weeks ago thus concluding my southern riding leg of this adventure and now it was time to get back to Mendoza where 3mos ago I began riding south still a soft, bike touring newbie. Only problem was Easter, everyone is travelling and everything is booked, so instead of easily jet setting back north on a cheap flight I had to endure 2 weeks of sitting around in Ushuaia and finally Punta Arenas before I could get on the 2 day bus ride back to Santiago, Chile. Santiago was good fun, stayed with a buddy in Las Condes and ripped around on the MTB trails above Santiago everyday

But it was time to get back to the vagabiking life, something strangely appealing about travelling and not knowing where you´ll be sleeping, what you´ll eat and how you´ll get there each and everyday. So I hopped on a bus to Mendoza, Argentina no need to do this again

This is Portillo which sits on the Chile and Argentine border is the oldest ski resort in South America and is just a stones throw from Aconcagua (6959m or 22,831ft) the highest peak in the world not located in Asia. Nat dragged me up this climb in my first week of bike touring when we rode from Santiago, Chile to Mendoza, Argentina beautiful scenery but I felt no need to ride it twice. By the way the photo above is only taken from switchback number 16 out of 34.

     Once back in Mendoza I sorted out a few last minute things, bought some maps a knife and some food and was off. Got a pretty late start getting out of Mendoza and after getting lost twice I didnt make it all too far. Apparently in Argentina they dont believe in road signs so trying to find your way around can be difficult, throw my shitty spanish into the equation and it can be down right impossible. Its starting to get dark so I ask some locals for directions and the most I can gather is to take the next paved road on the left. Easy enough, I take the next paved road on the left and end up with a dog hot on my heels, well nothing strange about this, dogs love to chase people on bikes so I stand up on the pedals and try to lose him, well the next 4 houses I pass also have dogs that like to chase people on bikes. So now I´ve got a total of 8 dogs chasing me, its like Im the Pied Piper only instead of children following me around vicious amimals do. I lose all the mutts and guess where this road ends up? no not the direction to Cordoba like I would have liked, it dead ends at the town dump. Which is really just corn fields with burning trash everywhere. Great, its now almost pitch dark out and there are 8 hungry dogs on the only road out of here, looks like Im camping at the dump my first day back on the bike. I try to get as far from the burning trash piles as possible but in the dark dont notice the one still slightly smoldering

In case you dont know, burning trash smells just fantastic. I end up waking up several times throughout the night thinking the smell sure is strong but must just be coming from the piles down the road, only the next morning do I realize I put my tent right next to the fire pit. I awake early, because well I couldnt really sleep with that awful smell to a nice sun rise over the corn fields

I hit the road early thinking maybe Ill do a little fishing as Ive noticed that Rio Mendoza is just down the road, that was a big no go..

Day 2 on the bike was uneventful, I can definitly feel all the time I took off ie. Im fat and slow and prone to cracking like an egg on long days like this one, so just when Im starting to crack a bit I roll by a family parked off to the side of the road having a little imprompto BBQ. I wave and one comes running out into the road holding a bottle of Fernet yelling ¨¿quiero?¨ (do you want?) well hell, twist my arm. So I pull off and eat a bunch of chorizos (sausages) and drink far too much Fernet with these awesome folks

Fernet  is a type of amaro, a bitter, aromatic spirit. Fernet is made from a number of herbs and spices which vary according to the brand, but usually include myrrh, rhubarb, chamomile, cardamom, aloe, and especially saffron, with a base of grape distilled spirits, and coloured with caramel colouring. Ingredients rumored to be in fernet include codeine, mushrooms, fermented beets, coca leaf, gentian, rhubarb, wormwood, zedoary, cinchona, bay leaves, absinthe, orange peel, calumba, echinacea, quinine, ginseng, St. John's wort, sage, and peppermint oil.*     *taken from Wikipedia

  I get back on the bike poco borracho (a little drunk) from all the Fernet and continue on my way, stopping to fill up bottles and eat some ice cream in Encon. Which unbeknonst to me at the time would be the last town I see for over 200km (120miles) despite my map saying otherwise. I camp 35km outside of Encon thinking Ill be hitting a few towns the next day. Now I can carry plenty of food, its water thats the problem. So after getting to a few of these so called ¨towns¨ and realzing there is nothing Im starting to get nervous, Im almost out of water and still over a day and halfs ride from the next place I know to have water. I get to the top of a hill and see some hitch hikers who confirm my fears that the next place to get water is still 124km (75miles) away. I ride another couple km´s and see a glorious sight..

This is the Difunta Correa that saved my ass, and yes those are all full bottles of water sitting next to it. ¨According to popular legend, Deolinda Correa was a woman whose husband was forcibly recruited around the year 1840, during the Argentine civil wars. Becoming sick, he was then abandoned by the Montoneras [partisans]. In an attempt to reach her sick husband, Deolinda took her baby child and followed the tracks of the Montoneras through the desert. When her supplies ran out, she died. Her body was found days later by gauchos that were driving cattle through, and to their astonishment found the baby still alive, feeding from the deceased woman's "miraculously" ever-full breast. The men buried the body in present-day Vallecito and took the baby with them. Once the folk tale became known, the inhabitants of the nearby areas started visiting Deolinda Correa's grave, building after time an oratory that slowly became a sanctuary.

The cultus to the Difunta Correa is that of an unofficial popular saint, not recognised by the Catholic Church. Her devout followers believe her to perform miracles and intercede for the living. The survival of her child would have been her first miracle. Cattle keepers first, then truck drivers, disseminated the figure of the Difunta, creating small altars in several routes throughout the country, with images and sculptures of the Deceased. They there leave bottles of water as votive offerings "to calm her eternal thirst".¨ *taken from Wikipedia

    Well Im not 3 days into bike touring solo and Im already relying on divine intervention to make it through. I load up on water (Sorry Deolinda, Ill get you back!) and continue on down the road, and no Im not worried about drinking that water because 24hrs of UV light will kill anything that may be in there, and those bottles have been there for a long long time. After a bunch more of this (not much to see out here)

I hit Lujan for a much needed fillup on suplies, stay in a nice hotel and wash my clothes and take a shower for the first time in 6 days (much needed!) and since Im obviously not getting enough physical activety go for a hike up to here.

Sunrise was cool too.

Cool little city Lujan is

The next few days are pretty standard until Villa Dolores where I plan on speding the night but everything is real pricey so I get a cool reccomendation from a friend (thanks Tai!) and head up the hill out of town and camp in a small little town called Los Molies overlooking Villa Dolores where, surprise surprise the sunset was again cool.

 The next day I begin the 100km (60mile) climb before Cordoba, I knock half of it out one afternoon and find a nice camp spot where I drink a little wine and watch the sun go down

I awake at 430am to rain, I havent been setting up my tent the last few nights the weather has been so good. That ended with a hurry as I scampered around the desert trying to get the tent up before everything was totally soaked. Not a great way to start the day, I hop back on the bike and knock out the last, much harder 50k of climbing in pretty awful conditions, that rain that woke me up at 430am only got worse and worse throughout the day killing my only scenic day in the last 750km (500miles) of riding, bummer. I get to the top and start the long cold descent about 80km (50miles) into Carlos Paz just a stones throw from Cordoba. I get about 20km (12miles) from town and come around a corner to a semi truck jack knifed in my lane, Im doing 40kph (25mph) down this hill and the roads are wet so I try to slow down to get around this thing when I realize the guy had destroyed his gas tank and there is a full on river of gasoline flowing down the hill. Oh fuck I think and before I have time to do anything Im into the gas river and the bike slides out from under me. Now if you remember that game you used to play at summer camp called ¨Slip n Slide¨ where you set up a long roll of plastic down a hill, cover it in water, and than slide down thats alot like how it was only in my version instead of plastic and water I used gasoline and asphalt. I get up to minor injuries, scraped up elbow, hip and shoulder (and let me tell ya gasoline in an open wound feels absolutely superb!) but the real issue is I am completely drenched in gas, its all I can smell and taste, its in my hair my eyes all over my clothes. So I drop down into Carlos Paz all buzzed up and with a splitting headache from huffing gas (and if their are any 12yr old reading this, dont huff gas.. not worth it in my opinion) find a hotel and the poor owner is like what the hell have you been doing? swimming in gasoline? pretty much I respond and after 3 showers I slightly get the gas smell off, not quite but almost. My clothes are another story, I would have simply chucked them out but they are the only ones I have so thats not an option, they have now been through the wash 4x and still smell terrible.. o well. Had an easy 50km (30miles) into Cordoba the next day which is where I sit now planning out my way north to Tucuman, Salta, and Jujuy. Ready for another few weeks of Pampas before I hit the mountains of Bolivia. Thanks for reading

    Matt

couple shots of Cordoba, they sure love their cathedrals