AndalgalaAndalgala proved to be a town of reasonable size, which was a surprise as it is a really out-of-the-way place nestled between mountains on two sides and desert and salt flats on the other two. Still size is always good as it improves the chance of a decent meal and some nice ice-cream. I spent a rest-day there but I was too knackered to enjoy the local summer festival of music they had in the plaza that night. I retired at mid-night (early in Argentina) so that I could get up the road early before the heat kicked in again. It turned out that the heat-wave would pass that night and the next day would be a lot cooler. This was a God-send as I had to climb over the Quebrada de Aconquija to get out of there and I didn't quite fancy soaring up the mountain and getting too close to the sun such that my wings would melt.
The map I have is detailed but it's never easy to read the contour-lines in terms of where the road actually passes. Talking to the locals I was aware that I was in for a harder ride than my map suggested and so I would have to do it over two-days as it was ripio. While the road-surface was tough-going the climb itself turned out to be amazing. I had hoped that the road would slice between two peaks to give me an easy time of it but I had to climb over the whole mountain. I recall approaching it and looking way up to see what seemed to me to be a large house in the hill-side looking over the valley. I presumed this to be ruins and never actually thought that I would have to climb up to it thinking that whatever previous civilisation was mad to live up there. It turned out to be a wall-support for the road. Thus, I was in for a long but fun ride with cattle precariously perched grazing on very steep slopes, so steep that I had no idea how they got there or how they were going to climb out. Eventually I would crest the top and the view of the road back down into the valley made it all worthwhile ... an Argentinian version of France's l'Alpe d'Huez made more funny by the fact that my map showed it as a straight-line.
what my map said was a striaght roadAs I crested I would descend onto a plateau leaving me with one more climb to crest the following day in order to get to the town of Concepcion. The plateau housed a string of tiny pueblos which seemed to be small farming communities. Indeed, I was at last out of the desert and now amongst farmland. It was great to see crops and green again. Somehow I came across a cool little resto-bar with a super-fast wi-fi connection and a good menu. It was a little surreal to be surrounded by familiar faces; John, Paul, Ringo, George, Frank Serpico and Bob Marley. This modern cool city bar was at total odds with its isolated rural surroundings full of adobe houses.
Once I got kicked out for siesta I explored the towns to figure out where my bed might be for the night. I was looking to pitch in the municipal camp-site but all that existed was a series of log-cabanas in a complex that looked like it had had a tourist glut at one point but the crowd had since moved on. I cycled back to the map of the town and still being confused I disturbed the local police officers watching TV. They were a little shocked to see me, the adventure cyclist not being too common in this part ... most preferring to take the easier road north through Belen. They were very anxious that I not cycle the next pass as there wasn't much day-light left. I explained that I was done for the day and that I was just looking for the camp-site that was on the map. It didn't exist and so they offered to cart me to the next town 15k away where there was someone who would put me up. Becoming uneasy at the sight of my bike being loaded into their truck the Argentinian version of Chief Wiggum decided to take a shine to me and started asking me all sorts of questions. I thought he was probing but he just couldn't believe what I was doing and kept exclaiming 'que un hombre -what a man'. A side conversation with his partner, who did look a lot like Serpico, resolved the situation. I would pitch my tent behind their station so that I could use their facilities. So I set up camp amongst the wild horses who clearly had never seen a tent before. Once I popped my head out asking them to stop huffing and puffing so that they wouldn't blow my house down, they seemed to relax putting two and two together that I was a human and that I would be keeping them company for the night. In the morning I had more chats with the very amiable Chief Wiggum who was very concerned that I would never get over the next mountain due to the rains. I reassured him that I was aboard a tank and that it would all be fine. He was concerned about the effect of altitude on me but again, I reassured him that 2000ms was nothing. To which I received another series of "que un hombre's". He asked me for my website and email and we parted with a big affectionate hug. It is always a treat to experience the local hospitality and to meet somebody who is clearly in the right job such was his concern for his fellow-man.
Next-stop the jungle
Marco
Aconquija - The road out of town