Gone with the wind or, at least, because of it!

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Nick:
Wind. I could just type that one word, and finish the entry and you'd get a pretty good idea of our status! Since we last wrote we have ridden hard, at least by our standards, and fought our way 800miles north to the city of Mendoza, in readiness for our traverse of the Andes into Chile.

Its been a bitter sweet journey with spectacular views, mountains and high plateaus. Our journey from Bariloche saw us following the Ruta 273 and then the Ruta 40 once more. It was a pretty calm if damp day that led us to the Zapala, a small town that looked a bit drap in the overcast light. It should be noted that, whilst impressive, the landscape can be pretty oppressive. Caught between the mountains' and highlands' greys and browns and the low level clouds of a uniform and heavier grey, you can almost feel the weight bearing down on you: very good for putting you in your place in the grand scheme of things!
Once in Zapala, being pretty cold and weary (being so focused on the riding, we sort of forgot to eat other than breakfast and a cup-a-soup by a huge lake), we decided against the roadside camping site with its one warden who, with his three dogs, seemed a bit starved of human contact... We returned into town and looked for a hotel: We found one that was too dear and I was then approached by a young lad who led me to another building. This too turned out to be a hotel. The point to remember is that this was no ordinary hotel: the guests never misbehave and always pay the bill in full. It is owned and run by the police union. Checking in, was like getting booked! Still, on the plus side, the bike was kept overnight, across the road, in the Police compound, so I think that alone should get me an insurance discount! In the morning sunshine, as is often the case in these towns, Zapala looked far happier and inviting.

After checking out and getting frisked, we left and resumed our charge North. This day we continued along the Ruta 40, filled up in a a small town and crossed into the Provincia de Mendoza! We stopped for the night, some way from the road, in a secluded area of scrub, pitched the tent with a view of the village lights, 10 miles away, and a volcano wearing a cloud sombrero. My first good night's sleep in a tent!
On our third day of riding things got harder. Despite this I enjoyed the days ride ( except for the last 2 hours). We saw flamingoes which, contrary to the postcard suggestions, are not in tropical warmth but in bloody cold mountain lakes: I'd be rosy cheeked if I spent my time in that water! We also saw soaring condors: they are quite big... They look to be about the same size as a Buzzard, until you realise that the silhouette you are looking at is about 3 times higher than a buzzard would be, and then the size and scale hits you... wow, dudes! A few miles further on we encountered what I had been dreading for some time! The gravel stretches. There were only two and no more than 25 miles each, but when each yard has your full attention, its quite long. Had we turned South, and not north, we would have had 400 miles of the stuff!! Still, I have conquered my fear, and we survived unscathed despite rain, mud and crosswinds on the second, shorter, but more hellish stretch. I can say that I can do it, but I would not say that I love it, merely tolerate it, as a surface. There will be far more in Chile, too....Bugger...
Due to these roads drastically slowing us down and the next bout of ridiculously strong crosswinds, we stopped in Malargüe for the night. Here we self medicated with a visit to the small, but perfectly form hotel bar: I had not even taken off my bike boots: a Cointreau for the lady and an Argentine scotch for me!
Point of Note: Argentine measures are an indicator of the server's mood and general demeanour toward the servee: I had been cheerful and friendly to the hotel owner and I was then rewarded with a nice shot of whisky. Shot?, sorry I meant to say, half-pint.... We wobbled out to dinner and came home after also spending 30 mins staring at PCs with the words "opening page..." in the tool bar, but little else, hence why no entry until now. When we got back to the hotel and settled down for sleep, we reaslied that we should have been grateful for the big drinks (good sedative) and that you should also do your research. Had we done the latter, we would have noticed the bloody big sign next to the hotel reading "Disco"! It seems that the Patagonians are a hardy folk and, as such, like to let their hair down on a friday night... all night... So by 4.30 am , we had stopped thinking it was nice to essentially have a complementary ticket, by proxy, the nightclub; we had stopped marvelling at the accoustics of the alley way our room had a view of, and just lay there, four exhausted pupils and two knackered craniums in the dark.
Yesterday, our biggest drive yet brought us to more lush landscapes as scrub and gave way to poplars, planted in lines as wind breaks and willows lining the road, granting us sporadic views of the ever increasing fields of vines! Wine country! Home away from home!! Still we did not get here without Argentina bending over backwards to give us yet one more wind-related exprience! As we rode on, along the straight Ruta 40, I was flashed by an oncoming pick-up, and I flashed back as they often did that. Moments later I saw why: a stream of dust was coursing across the road in front of us at quite a pace, so I slowed us down, braced the bars and heaved my quadriceps down on the footpeg on the opposite side to the oncoming gusts, as I always must, in order to stabilise the bike. As we reached the dust stream and entered it, it changed as a small, but potent, vortex coalesced around us. It seems that one of the plains' many dirt devils had decide to begin life right on our heads. "Buffeting" does not quite do the experience justice. We saw more later and I sped up/slowed down depending when they might cross out path
My mood brightened later when for the firstly time, I saw other motorcycles: big ones, hoon passed, no doubt on their way to the only curves in the region, amongst the craggy canyons we had left behind. And they waved, too: happy days!!
Mendoza, leapt up to greet us as the city is all quite low rise and the tall trees block any sense of a city being around us, until we left the auto-pista and suddenly found shops, flats, avenues and lunatic "wacky-races" type traffic. We had earned our rest as we turned into the drive of our hotel for the next few nights: a beautiful colonial house with inner courtyards and tiled spaces; our room with lots of windows, light, air and its own terrace for evenings under the stars in the clean, warm air.

Kriss:
It's day 20 on the road and we have now over 3000km behind us!!!
So, what have we done, where have we been since the last blog entry? We've visited the lovely Bariloche - we named it among ourselves as the "San Francisco of Argentina" as the town is all on massive hills and is facing the waterfront and it is full of funky-looking people. Yes, we liked the town a lot. I ate a way too big piece of "lomo" (tenderloin steak) and confused my poor old stomach a lot - it's used to instant noodles or potato mash for dinner...
We then headed towards north and made it to a town called Zapala that is situated high in the mountains (1000-2000m above sea level) on a massive plain field (pampas). By massive I mean at least 300km2 or so! It was hard work to get there, fighting with the winds. I admire the people who choose to live in desolate places like that - you must be made of steel to fit in with the surroundings... The camping ground in Zapala was well hidden - we spent about an hour chasing the little signs saying "Camping Municipal" and ended up back in the nothingness about 5 times (and the town only has about 5 main roads!!) Finally, we found the place, but as always, it was next to a big road, visible to everyone. I must say that I feel much safer camping out in the wild compared to the "municipal" option. Animals have much more common sense than people. So we headed back to the town and landed on our feet again - guess where we spent the night - in a local "police academy"! It cannot get much better than that!
The next day we were back on the embrace of the Argentine Wind and crawled towards north. I can only imagine how hard it is for Nick to keep the half-a-ton bike upright and facing the right direction. I struggle, too, with being relaxed and yet resistant to the knocks of the gales but it is nothing compared to what he is putting up with. Finally we crossed the Rio Grande and it was time again to look for a place to spend the night. We found a lovely spot for a our tent in the pampas, surrounded by snowcapped volcanoes and lots of lava stones. Next morning we woke up to some concerning sounds - I could only describe it as something like a group of people throwing themselves ober a clifftop, one-by-one.... "Baaahh, blaaaaaaagghhhh" At a closer inspection it was (only) a gang of local goats having a friendly chat :-)
The last few kilometers of the tarmaced Ruta 40 were breath-takingly beautiful: we rode through valleys and over mountains, condors flying above us and wild rivers running below us. Every now and then we would see a village or "estancia" (farm house) that for us might look like people living in extreme poverty (tiny shed-like houses with stones on the rooftops due to the winds) - but the people look smiley and peaceful, much more so than us with a mortgage and a car and a career. I find myself coming back to the same thought over and over again, "less is more", and I hope I will remember that when I am back in the West.
We then hit the "ripio" (gravel) bit of the R40 and it was bumpy enough to loosen any teeth fillings, the winds pulled and pushed us and we must have looked liked two rag-dolls on the muddy road. But again, we did not give up and made it (120km - in 5 hours!) to Malargue where we decide to treat ourselves for a warm and comfortable hotel. And an experience it was! We had the privilege to listen to the local dance floor hits in the privacy of our hotel room... until 6 am! Yes, the discoteque next door was an added bonus to the price of the room. In addition, the heating in the room was turned on max (centrally), the only way to get some fresh air was to open the window which meant you could hear (feel) the beat even better!
Next morning, puffy-eyed and even more determined, we headed towards the final 400km stretch to Mendoza. The Andes ahead of us looked like to massive tsunami wave that had been petrified - the skies hugging the mountains resembling the foamy tips of the wave - a very humbling sight.
Mendoza has a lovely buzz, young and yet old, elegant and wild at the same time. Our home for the next few days is a cosy (Alhambra-like) hotel and we have our very own terrace!

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Photos

Out running clouds
On the bleak but beautiful Ruta 40

A small reminder
that we're in a place that demands respect!

When is a door that is not a door?
A Con-dor!!
Sorry, it must be the altitude,...
I'll get my coat...

The volcano has got his hat on..
and he's coming out to play...

Complimentary entertainment
taken a step too far in Malargüe

Comments

[karyn]

Hi guys quick note to let you know i am proud owner of new job and will be leaving ORIOn on the 16th NOv will let you knwo my new email as soon as i can.Karyn

[ELIMINATOR]

Guys, I can imagine the pain of spending a night listening to loud music, when all you want to do is sleep. Nick, I'll get your coat, Con door indeed! Trev