The grand old Villavicencio Hotel

Full moon & poplars

Our tent is pitched next to a grand hotel built in 1940 and abandoned in 1978; it is now part of a natural reserve. Julie and I toasted the New Year with a local spumante on the hotel’s grand terrace with big owls screeching while watching the full moon rise. This is the first New Years since 2001 that we are not celebrating with Paul and Patti Gilbertson. We wonder if they are watching the same full moon rise in the North Woods of Wisconsin while skiing the trails with a gathering of friends at Eighteenmile Lodge.

Old wine barrels in the museum at La Rural bodega.

What I enjoyed most about Mendoza was the shaded, tree lined boulevards everywhere. If you had been born in the city and never ventured outside you might not know you were in a desert. Irrigation canals from melting glaciers have fed the area for thousands of years and canals run next to the sidewalks giving the large trees a drink. There are also very green and fountain filled parks situated on four corners outlining the center of the city and one very large park with a hill where we had great views of the city and the surrounding area. Under the trees are many sidewalk cafes which fill with people at the dinner hour (in Argentina this is after 9:30pm) and the streets become very lively. David and I have (somewhat begrudgingly) adapted to the Argentine time schedule where generally we are up past midnight having our dinner and we sleep ’til 8 in the morning when breakfast is served.

Mendoza is the capital of the wine growing region of Argentina. After a day of rest where we ran a few errands, we got on our bikes and did a tour of  two wineries and an olive farm in Maipu, a town near Mendoza. Malbecs, our favorite kind of wine, are produced in this region and I enjoyed passing a vineyard or two whose names I recognized. We toured the vineyards La Rural which had a great wine museum and Familia di Tommaso where we had a relaxing and tasty lunch in view of the green grapes on the rows and rows of vines (an aside for our parents and the impressionable young….Don’t let the pictures fool you…we did not drink all that wine at the same time!)

The La Rural bodega started in 1885.

A wooden wine press from the early years of wine-making.

The Virgin Mary blesses the wine cellar.

Cynthia pours at a wine-tasting.

Lunch at the Familia di Tommaso bodega with abottle of their Torrontes.

Malbec grapes just starting to ripen at Bodega Trapiche.

We tasted a flight of five Malbecs, the type of wine this region is famous for.

This Mendoza street performer sang with the voice of an angel.

Today’s ride was not pleasant.  Screaming headwinds greeted an early start on our last desert crossing in Argentina.  Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas, is visible to the west.  From Mendoza we’ll head in that direction to cross the border into Chile, then head south along the Pacific coast.  Climbing up the mountain pass may be easier than battling the headwinds.  Luckily the winds calmed down midafternoon as we entered the premier wine-growing region of Argentina, otherwise we’d have arrived in this city in the dark.

The first UPS package car I've seen in South America is a Peugot.

Cycling San Juan's Ruta Vino

We left the city on the Ruta Vino, a pleasant ride through tree-lined vineyards.  The Bodegas were closed for the siesta, making this a short day.  We are staying on the edge of the irrigated San Juan valley to shorten the distance to Mendoza tomorrow.

Kids cooling off in the irrigation canal.

Julie and Ruben, mate is drunk through a metal straw.

Our bikes got new tires for X-mas, after 10,000k on our Schwalbe Marathons.

We exchanged gifts with Ruben midday on Christmas.  A rear wheel fell off his Ford pick-up at 8 am and he was still waiting for a tow.  We were halfway to San Juan, making good time, and offered Ruben a candy bar.  He gave us a bunch of grapes and a taste of his maté, a traditional tea not available in restaurants.   A tow truck passed us a couple hours later towing Ruben’s pick-up.  We arrived here in time to Skype Julie’s family celebrating the whitest Christmas ever in Minnesota.  It was great talking to everyone there.  We then called my parents in Florida, where mom hung up on me twice as I greeted her with Feliz Navidad.  Her caller ID said I was Florida Marketing.  I ID’d myself the third time and got to talk to Aunt Pat and brother Matt who was visiting.

Photo by Brazilian cyclist Rudi.

Big old eucalyptus trees line the road into Jachal.

San José de Jáchal, like many towns named after saints, is just referred to by it’s last name.  We’ll take an extra rest day here because it is 160 km (100 miles) to the next town, with nothing but desert in between.  We wake up to strong headwinds on our day off, glad that we are not biking.  It will be difficult to get a good night’s sleep, and an early start, when the restaurants here don’t open until 10 pm.

Dutch cyclists Hetty & Lauren Willemsen on a two-month tour.

Drinks served at 9:30, food at 10:30.

The lighting of the town X-mas tree in the central plaza.

Roadside shrine to La Difunta Correa, a woman who died of thirst with her baby still alive, suckling her breast.

Today we had a short & easy 51 km ride because it is too far to make the next town.  This also gives us time to do laundry and relax.  I also did some chores I’ve been putting off.

The canyon of the Rio Miranda.

We met Swiss cyclist Michi Adams heading north, one month from Ushuaia.  We expect to get there in three months.  He’d just cycled 220 km the day before we met.  He was also fighting headwinds heading through central Argentina.  After checking online weather forecasts he altered his course west to Ruta 40 to catch the south winds that have been plaguing us.  He suggested that we also alter our course to the east where he was, but we will soon be going west into Chile.

Swiss cyclist Michi Adams

The chaps are to prevent sunburn through my long pants.,

Coasting downhill after cresting the pass.

Most businesses are closed from one to five for a siesta, so we napped in Pituil from one to three to avoid the heat and fourth day of headwinds.  Though it cooled down a bit,  the winds kept up ’till midnight when we crawled into town on this dark and stormy night.  Speedy lizards cross the road with legs whirring, rodents live in underground burrows like prairie dogs, and fast-running desert fowl that aren’t roadrunners, but look like long-necked grouse with a crest bobbing on the top of their heads as they dance.   Though I keep reminding myself that every day is an adventure;  today was just not much fun.

The gorge at Andolucas at dawn.

Our third night camping in this tent.

Schoolgirls dressed up to dance for an end-of-schoolyear celebration.

Angela left at dawn to avoid the heat and the headwinds, while the Aussies biked through the night.  The temp reached 40°C as we crossed another lonely stretch of desert between green irrigated valleys. This area reminds me of the desert coast of Peru with towns seperated by long stretches of desert.  We camped at a park with a school fiesta lasting from 10 pm until 2 am, then a loud group picnicking nearby kept us up even later.