Michael and Max have also met the cycling families Vogel and Verhages.

Angela left Quito two months after us with her friend Steve, who’s waiting in Salta for a package to arrive. She joined us for lunch and while looking for an hospedaje we found two cyclists napping in a park.  Max and Michael have been on the road for 17 months from Alaska. They heard about me the day after I left La Libertad, El Salvador and thought they’d catch up to me. It took them six months.  We are all heading for Ushuaia, the world’s southernmost city, at the tip of South America.  We may meet them again, and others cycling towards the same goal.  I imagined that I was the only world cyclist back in the 70s, and met only one other long-distance cyclist.  Ignorance was bliss before the age of the internet, and I could think that I was going where no cyclist had gone before.  Here and now a lonely stretch of desert highway is crowded with the likes of us.

Angela is the first cyclist we've met traveling lighter than us.

Desert landscape near Hualfin.

After several days of tailwinds pushing us merrily along, the winds turned against us today. At midday we left a populated area and ascended a lonely broad valley between mountains on a lightly trafficed road. Little did we know that cyclists were just ahead of and behind us. Australian cyclists Max and Michael  were napping under a bridge  we crossed over, then woke up to bike through the night.  British cyclist Angela was just behind us and camped in a barn.  We won’t know how close we were until we all meet tomorrow.

Local traffic on an unpaved section of Ruta 40

Registering at the hotel I listed my profession as retired, which in Spanish is jubilado (jubilant!).  The dueňa soon came knocking on our door wanting to know how old I am, and seemed miffed that I’m younger than she and already retired.  I explained how lucky I am, that most Americans don’t retire until their 60s.

Ruta 40 follows the Andes along the western side of Argentina.

Good wine grows in this desert climate.

The vineyard of Felix Lavaque in Cafayate.

Though we climbed over 1000m today, strong tailwinds made it easy as we cycled up the Quebrada de Conchas.  We are back in arid canyon lands again with rock formations named Devil’s Throat, The Toad, The Friar, The Obelisk, and Los Castillos (little castles).  We had time to visit with other tourists, a Belgian couple, then a Swiss couple that passed us for the third time in the past week.  We don’t see many US Americans in South America.  We met a Swiss cyclist, Manuel/Emil, at our hostel whose been on the road since April, like me.  We shared a bottle of Torrontes, a semi-sweet white wine grown here in this wine country tourist town.  We then Skyped Mom and Dad to wish Dad a happy 80th birthday.  Mom wondered if we are getting tired of traveling.  No.  Almost every day we go on a bike ride through wonderful scenery, we check into a hostal, shower, and go out to eat.  We have a toast with beer or wine, (they have a couple of good dark beers here). Then sleep in a bed.  Doing this blog adds to our adventure.  Mom also commented on how they always wondered where I was on my first Cycling the World tour.  Communication technology has certainly improved in 33 years.  Tonight Julie will Skype her book group. She hasn’t read the book, though.

Marisol (3) watched us eat lunch in the Quebrada de Conchas.

This part of Argentina is similar to the US southwest.

Bee on cactus flower.

The Rufous Hornero (an ovenbird) makes a mud/clay nest.

Fanciful road sign (skateboarding a stream crossing)

Today's scenery included"Los Castillos".

A common, though eerie, green-barked tree.

A hike up the Rio Colorado required many stream crossings.

One of many cascades along the way... Cool. Clear. Water.

Flowering trees in the central plaza of La Merced.

Though the road today is a National Highway, it seems more like a Wisconsin County Road.  There is no shoulder, but with little traffic that’s okay. Trees bloom in spring splendor, Scissor-tailed flycatchers fly from the wires, and zorro crossed the road in front of us (a fox). A lot of old cars pass by, European models from the 50s and 60s that we don’t see much of in the US like Fiat, Citröen, Peugot, Renault, and Mercedes.  Argentina seems about as developed as the US was a few decades ago. It is emerging from a depression that started in 2002 when the Argentine peso devalued by two-thirds and unemployment reached 25%. Though not the travel bargain now that it was just a couple years ago, we can find hostal rooms for $20.  Many people warned me that a vegetarian would have trouble in a nation famous for it’s beef, but pasta is widely available and excellent. Hot baked, or fried, cheese empanadas are a lunch bargain at $3-$5 a dozen and the ice cream here is delicious.  We are entering the same latitudes as south Texas, but on the opposite side of the equator.  We’ll go as far south in Argentina as Hudson Bay is north (55°).

We very much enjoyed Salta, a regional capital in Northern Argentina. Situated in a green valley surrounded by green mountains it was a welcome change from the drier climates we had been in the last month or so. A large city of 500,000 people, we found it surprisingly easy to get around. With great colonial architecture in the main square and mixed in throughout the central area there was much to gawk at as we walked around. Salta had a European feel. We sampled various wines, drank espresso, and enjoyed folk music watching “the gaucho” dance (for which this area is known). I ate an enormous, luscious steak (for which Argentina is known) and David ate very good pasta.

We toured the museum, the Museo Archeological Altos Montañas. In 1999, on the Volcano Llullaillaco, in Northern Argentina archaeologists discovered three 500 year-old mummies, of Inca children who had been sacrificed to the god of the sun. Because the mummies were frozen on the top of the mountain they were very well preserved. The museum did a good job, I thought, of respectfully displaying the mummy of the 6 year old girl and in presenting this religious practice of the Incas that is difficult for me to understand. Human sacrifice was a part of life in many of the old cultures in the Americas. Scientists are able to piece together much about the culture, diet and lifestyle of people from 500 years ago through small samples of the children’s hair and their DNA, and through x-rays of their very intact organs.

Re-entering the fog on one-lane Ruta 9.

Ruta 9 is a one-lane highway winding through green hills reminiscent of the hills and hollows of SW Wisconsin.  It was positively delightful cycling up through a misty fog with very little traffic after leaving Jujuy on a busy autopista with no shoulder.  We followed a bike trail along the autopista coming into Salta and made our way to the Central Plaza named for the date my birthday is on. I’ve known since the fifth grade that Argentina’s Independence Day is on my birthday.  Julie’s birthday is on Peru’s Independence Day.

With a speed limit of 40 kph on the corners most traffic takes the 25k longer autopista from Jujuy to Salta.

The Hill of Seven Colors at Purmamarca.

Say “Hoo-hooey!”.  We followed the Quebrada de Humahuaca down to this provincial capital whose full name is San Salvador de Jujuy.  Halfway down, the canyon changed from sunny and arid to overcast and green.  After a month on the high and dry altiplano (and even drier Atacama desert, where some stream beds have not held water for 100,000 years) trees full of birds now line the road, including small green parrots.  There’s a labor rally in the Central Plaza with posters of  Che Guevara, the Argentine revolutionary (whose iconic portrait wearing a beret we’ve seen throughout South America). Hundreds of tents are erected in the park and on the streets offering protection from a misty rain.

ps: For those of you still using obsolete measurement systems, I reached the milestone of ten thousand miles today. (16, 093 km)

An 1841 church in Tumbaya.

These washed-out train tracks offer a rollercoaster ride.

Suddenly, the scenery changed.

Tall, thousand-year-old cacti grow in these canyon lands.

We crossed the Tropic of Capricorn twice entering Susques, and five more times after leaving.  We will now remain outside the tropics and the days will lengthen until the austral summer solstice on December 21st. I entered the tropics on May 11th in northern Mexico and we won’t re-enter the tropics until next May in Mozambique.   The road winds through canyon lands similar to SE Utah, with large Saguaro-like cacti .  After crossing the flat Salinas Grande it took 3 1/2 hours to climb 800m into the clouds (due to 50 kph headwinds and a flat tire) before dropping 2000m (from a 4170m pass) through a cold,wet fog that cleared halfway down.  We rode into this tourist town in the dark after nine hours in the saddle and enjoyed a good Argentine Malbec (Latitude 33) as live Andean music accompanied our dinner.

A small eroded hill in these badlands.

Curious llamas block the road.

Salt stalactites hang underneath a salt tabletop in the Salinas Grande.

This long Andean horn is like a Swiss Alpenhorn.

David and I woke this morning to a temps of -11°C. Ice crystals had formed on the tent. Our water next to the tent had frozen. We had placed our bikes higher up on the small depression where we had set our tent and the water did not freeze there. We thought perhaps there had been a temperature inversion in this 1.5m-deep hole. I slept pretty well, wrapping my cold feet in my wool shirt in the early morning hours. David slept fitfully again, although his toes were toasty warm wrapped in his scarf. I felt strong,  feeling much better after my altitude sickness of yesterday. I was happy knowing we would not climb back to 4700m and what ever ups and downs the road took, the town of Susques, our next destination, was lower than our current elevation of 4200m. We hoped to bike 100km and make our camp within 40km of the town.

The road to the Argentine border stretched out before us in a view reminiscent to me of a scene in my mind from The Hobbit, where the road turned first this way, then that way as it made its way up and over the hill, 20km in the distance, flanked by a volcano or two (I have often felt a little like Bilbo on this trip). With almost no wind, blue skies with fluffy clouds, and a warming sun we made our way to Argentina.

This day was a gift, a glorious day of cycling. Our first treat was at the border. We had been told we could get water there, but nothing else. What we found was a tienda with coffee, sandwiches, chocolate, orange juice, and cold water. To top that, a clean bathroom with soap and flush toilets was off to the side. About a kilometer from Customs was a brand new gas station, complete with snacks and fast food, much like you would see in the States. We found out later they also had very nice rooms with showers where we could have stayed instead of camping. Then we biked along mostly flat salars that connected to other flat salars where small herds of vicuñas could sometimes be seen, with the wind pretty much at our back. As the wind changed direction in the afternoon and became more intense the road seemed to turn with it so that the very stiff wind was generally always in our favor. Finally, we climbed a not so very long hill with reasonable grades to reach a pass that took us out of the dry salars and deserts with which we had become so familiar. On the other side stretched a vast mountainous area with canyons and gullies and llamas suggesting, to me, it rained a bit more here. We dropped another 400m very quickly into a canyon, to a river where we reached the small town of Susques, completing the 140km distance from our campsite in one day. Our last treat was in meeting Lionel Daudet and Veronique, a cycling couple from France who happened to be staying at our hostal. They are doing a few months-long combined biking, rock climbing/bouldering trip in the border area of Chile, Bolivia and Argentina, after which Lionel will fly to Ushuaia to begin an expedition to Antartica to climb mountains. Perhaps we´ll meet again in Ushuaia when Lionel returns.