EASY BY SLOW

One value of the slow way we travel is, after staying in the small, out of the way places that are often pretty bad, a good Hotel is like paradise. If we stayed only in 5 Star places we wouldn’t or couldn’t really appreciate them. As Kalil Gibran said in his wonderful book, The Prophet, “You can’t truly know joy until you’ve known sorrow and you can’t truly know sorrow until you’ve known joy”. Some of the places where we’ve stayed have been pretty sorrowful.

Jujuy, Argentina to Copacabana, Bolivia

Ridin’ The High One!

Bolivia is the second poorest country in the Americas. Bolivia is also one of the most interesting countries we’ve visited. The people are shy and many don’t like to have their picture taken. Once past the camera and first few moments, they are also very warm and friendly. One friend put it this way, “Bolivians are naïve, most are poor and live a simple life”.

So, come climb and cross the Bolivian Altiplano, the high plateau. Our journey takes us up and over 14,288 feet (4338 Meters) at one point. The highest mountain in the continental USA, Mt. Whitney, is 14,474 feet. The air is thin and our breathing labored everyday. The Altiplano averages 12,500 feet (3810 Meters) in altitude. Meet Doctor Raphael, the Cycling Doctor and Doctor Miguel, he makes Hotel Calls!

Push through a river then find an Angel in the Darkness, Enjoy Carnival Bolivian style, Witness our first taste of Pancakes and Maple Syrup in 2 ½ years, Then, visit Lake Titicaca, the worlds highest navigable lake, 12,500 feet (3810 Meters) above sea level. We survive cold weather once again, that goes with the altitude territory, and live to tell the story and love the experience.

January 4, 2005
Last Day at Low Altitude
Mammy and Pappy’s Birthdays

Yes, this would be my parent’s birthdays. Born two years apart on the same day. They would be 89 and 87. If you remember we cycled through the area where my Dad spent his young years in South Dakota back in July 2002. Mom was born in Oklahoma just a few years after they changed the name to Indian Territory. You know the story, shuffled from their Home Lands then they discovered oil on the land that would be forever theirs. End of Indian Territory!

Breakfast down then Cat took the package of CDs with pictures to mail to Wally. The Correo clerk told her she had to see the Aduana, Customs Officer. She walked into a questionable neighborhood only to find that the Aduana wasn’t required? Perhaps it has to do with the weight of the package? Perhaps we’ll never know?

She found a Pharmacia and ordered my heart flippy floppy pills. They said they’d have them by 8:00 tonight. She visited several Banks looking for Evita coins. We were given change sometime back and one of the coins was an Evita, 2 Peso. Quite a nice, silverish looking coin with Evita's profile on the heads side. We thought they would make nice gifts for our family. A busy afternoon for The Cat, she even found time for a haircut.

Hot and running late, we took Taxi to Mario’s Bicicletteria, a bargain at 1 Peso. (33 Cents) He hadn’t finished and asked us to come back at 7:00 PM. Searching for Mini CDs, we stopped at a Department store. Amazing, they had some no names, I put one in the camera and tried it out on the clerk, Fernando. It worked, we bought five.

After a warm workout walking back, we picnicked in the room. Cat spent the afternoon repacking then sitting in front of the Internet Computer. I did what I do, the journal. Late afternoon we relaxed and watched our favorite sit-coms. .

Another Taxi, this one charged us 1 Peso 50 Centavos, a 1/3 increase? Cat questioned but the guy just shrugged. They run without meters, maybe they can charge what they think the traffic will bare. Not worth the hassle but Cat feels that he was just taking advantage of a couple of Gringos. I do the math, 50 Centavos is 16 ½ cents, US.

Mario was just putting the finishing touches on the bike. He didn’t replace the freewheel. The only one he had or could find had a different ratio. I looked at it and decided to go with what I’ve got. We mounted up rode the busy streets back to Hotel Jujuy Palace. Cat’s bike has a clatter as she pedals and it skips gears. She wanted to go back, I felt that we could figure it out on our own.

I spent an hour playing with the rear derailleur, got my hands dirty and accomplished nothing. Cat walked back to the Pharmacia only to hear that they don’t and won’t have the pills. My prescribed dosage is 10 mg, the smallest they could find was 100, too large to cut.

Dinner down, lamb stew for Cat and I had Lamb Anana, Pineapple Lamb. Both were very tasty.

A little more TV then bed and dreams of climbing to the clouds.

January 5, 2005
Jujuy to Tumbaya
1,240 Meters (4,067 feet ) climbing to 2,094 Meters (6 868 feet)
An 854 meter, 2,801 feet climb
49 Kilometers
Let The Ascent to Bolivia Begin!

Finished loading the bags on the bikes after breakfast. They are in the garage out back and it’s hot in there. We were covered with sweat when we pushed out into the hot sun at 10:00 AM.

Cat was clattering along and I had seriously low air pressure in my rear tire. A cyclist that we had been playing tortoise and hare with pulled up and wanted to help. He indicated that we would have to turn back to find air. We hate that so, I wobbled and Cat clattered, onward.

Cat caught sight of a “Gomeria” (Tire Shop) across the grassy median. Pushing across then struggling up a dirt and rock path we crossed and Nicholas put 65 pounds in each tire. His family stood and watched with pride as he applied his expertise. When we asked how much he smiled and said, “Nada”, nothing.

Nicholas indicated that we could go down this side of the road and get back to Ruta 9. It is now a constant pull, upward. The side road took a turn to the left, away from the Camino. After a half-kilometer we turned back, we were going in the wrong direction.

The Cycling Doctor

Back on track we backtracked then crossed the grassy median again and rode toward the clouds. Sweating and breathing hard we pulled into a small town and found a Kioske. As we pulled up to try again to fix Cat’s bike when a guy on a strange looking recumbent bicycle rode up. He had on a hot looking long sleeve shirt and a cap covering his ears on under his helmet. He asked the problem, I told him that we’d had the chains replaced and I thought Cat’s had a frozen link.

Ralph or Rafael as he’s known in Spanish, is a Doctor. He sat on the ground, pedaled the chain backwards and found the sticking link. He took the chain in his hands and worked it back and forth, up and down. So, he not only cures people, he can cure bicycles, too. His recumbent is homemade, a friend welded the frame to his specification then he added the components. The strange looking hat and long sleeves are protection from the scorching sun. He has obviously had some sunspots removed, his face is blotchy as though he recently had the “pre C scrub”.

Ralph's Contraption

Dr. Ralph works at several outlying Clinics and rides his bike to work. We asked about a Kioske, he pointed up the road. Hand shakes and he rode on. We found the Kioske and had just taken a seat at a table when he rode up. He joined us and we bought soft drinks to celebrate Cat’s chain cure. Ralph’s a wonderful person, he told us of his incarceration during the dirty wars. He also told us that he earns only 1,000 Pesos a month working the Clinics and another 1,000 in private practice. Geez, a Doctor only makes 2,000 Pesos, about $665 US, per month. The socialist system is the price he pays but he says he and his family have a good life. He also almost apologized, saying that if he had known of us earlier we could have stayed with them.

As we talked a young guy rode up with bags and spare tires on the back of his bike. He, Javier, is 21 years old and cycling alone on what Dr. Ralph called the most difficult ride in Argentina. The found a piece of paper and Dr. Ralph drew a map of the route showing water sources and altitudes exceeding 4,000 meters. The road is all dirt once he leaves Ruta 9. How does Dr. Ralph no the route so well? He's ridden it annually for the past 20 years. We sat, sipped and chatted. Javier has a little English but we all depended on Dr. Ralph to translate. He changed into his scrubs as we prepared to leave.

Onward, accompanied by Javier. Dr. Ralph told us that the climb would get steeper but we should have a good tail wind. He was right on both points. The three of us climbed, up then back and forth on switchbacks, into the afternoon sun. Some of the trucks were barely able to go faster than our slow pace. On one switchback a couple had pulled over and raised the hood. Signs warning, “Controle La Temperatura” didn’t help one couple. They had the hood up and a cloud of steam was erupting from under it. One of the signs had been altered, I had to have a picture, forgive me, please.

Who's following you?

The top of that steep stretch crossed a bridge. We’ve become a threesome, Javier wants to tag along until he reaches his turn off at Tilcara. This is his first day on the road, he’s as tired as we. Our plan to stop here at Volcan dissipated like the steam from the car had. The girl at Tourist Info told us that the Hotel here had closed. It’s another 9 Ks to Tumbaya where she assured us we’d find a room.

Though tired, we rolled right along thanks to the flat and at times slight down slant of the road. Tumbaya is very small but they do have a Hosteria. Javier led the way through the Pueblo Calles and to the Hotel. It’s small but has a Café. The bad news, they have a reservation for their last room but will let us have it if the people fail to show by 6:00 PM. We enjoyed a beer and halting, two-language conversation. Javier is going to camp and has learned that there’s place just down the road.

Cobbled Street

At 6:10 we finally asked and the woman took Cat to see the room. It is okay but she indicated that we’d have to wait until 7:00? Another beer then at 7:00 they refused to let us move in? We’d heard of a Casa Familia, the woman told Javier that the owners weren’t there? Javier led us in that direction then asked a Policeman. He learned that the same family that owns the Hosteria owned the Casa?

As we rode past I again asked if they would rent the room. The woman shook her head negatively. We couldn’t figure out what we’d said or done but they’d definitely decided against us. Maybe we smell of sweat from the climb?

So, we’ll camp. Javier led us to a wire fenced, open field. We pushed into the yard of the house and he did the talking. The woman seemed to be giving us our second cold shoulder of the evening. At last she allowed us to go over under some trees and pitch our tents. Javier told us that she said others had camped and not paid. When we asked how much she wanted he said, “We pay whatever we wish”?

Tents set, we began the process of cooking. Javier volunteered a bag of Pasta. He also had a sausage and two packets of tomato sauce. We cooked on our stove. The sausage was a great learning experience for us. Javier took one glass of wine then shifted to a soft drink. A package of pasta was short of feeding the 3 of us. Javier did a good job of cooking. He said that his family thinks he’s crazy for wanting to camp.

Just before we closed up for the evening he said we should pay the woman tonight. A brief discussion and we offered 5 Pesos, he thought it was plenty. He took it to here and reported back that she was very happy. Geez, she’d almost turned us away for only $1.65 US.

We took a few bugs but really enjoyed talking with Javier. His English skills are improving with every word spoken. Our Spanish got a small boost, too.

Early to bed, 9:00 PM.

January 6, 2005
Tumbaya to Tilcara
2094 Meters to 2461, 6,868 to 8,073 feet
35 Kilometers

Breakfast, we had cereal and banana. Javier only eats a couple of apples in the morning. Then the joy of camping, it took us almost 1½ hours to tear down and pack up. Don’t misunderstand, when you must camp it’s way better than sleeping on the ground. And, our equipment is very good. Our early awakening had us on the road by 8:50 AM.

It’s cooler today and the tail wind began soon after we set off. Just a kilometer down he road we entered the Quebrada de Humahuaca. A canyon lined on both sides with fantastic mountains, a real treat for Geologists and neophytes like the 3 of us. The colors are striking, we shot a ton of pictures.

Cycling Quebrada

Again, Javier led the way through the historic streets of Miamara. As he asked about a café a guy, Hector began trying to speak English with us. He’s studying in a Tourismo Program. When we passed a small shop the clerk, Jose, rushed out and asked where we’re going. Hector told him of our journey then he ran back inside and reappeared carrying a pennant, a “recuerdo" of Miamara. Hector led us to a small café. Javier and I had Milenessa sandwiches, Cat went for the Empanadas. The stark little place filled with talkative locals as we ate. They stared but asked not. As we pushed the bikes back to the sidewalk a small band of drums and flutes passed led by dancing children. More Enero Tilcareno.

Enero Tilcareno

The remainder of today’s ride was only 6 Ks of rolling little hills. We were in the streets of Tilcara by 2:30 PM. Javier followed the “Camping:” signs we sought out Hotel Tourismo Tilcara. They argued a bit then gave in and let us park the bikes in our room. The place is old and a little run down. It is centrally located, an easy walk to the Plaza. The shower was great. v 9a012 Andrea 9a013 Kilroy was Here

A walk around town led to the discovery that there’s only 1 Internet Café with 3 machines. A lineup of hungry Internet users forced us to delay checking our e-mails until tomorrow. The Plaza is full of booths, crafts and local foods. I stopped to look at some baubles and the guy in the booth spoke good English. His group of Artisanos call themselves “Wichi Crafts. They’re trying to preserve the Culture of Indigenous Peoples of Northern Argentina. He gave me a paper describing the different figures in local lore. Pancha Mama is Mother Nature. I tried to by 2 pendants for us but he only had one and it was silver. He says they are made of stone and wood too but he has none. Alas, a new quest.

Makin' Tortillas

There is a local phenomenon going on here, too. They call it Enero Tilcareno here, too. Young people parade around town to the sounds of flutes and drums. The first time we saw it we thought it was just one group but then, another and another came dancing past.

Enero Tilcareno

Javier was strolling the Square too. We walked together for a while. He has a date for dinner with some fellow campers. There is a pretty interesting Museum of Art on the main street and another group of dancing kids followed by a band passed as we enjoyed the art. Their music added to the ambiance.

Cat bought two flat bread tortillas that they were cooking on the corner. Retreating to the room we enjoyed reviewing our photos, a glass of wine, tortillas and queso de cabra. (Goat Cheese)

We dined at the Parrilla just across the street. The place feels like a mountain resort, logs and rough wood chairs and tables. They offer a mixed grill. A lot of meat and sausage, YUM.

January 7, 2005
Tilcara to Humamuaca
2461 Meters to 2936, 8073 to 9631 Feet
42 Kilometers

Javier met us for coffee at 8:30 AM. It took an hour to eat the bread and drink coffee then get the bikes from the room to the street. A steady but not steep up greeted us. The morning is full of sun and the wind started to push us a bit by 11:00.

The Quebrada de Humahuaca is Mother Nature’s palette. The mountains are full of colors, from golds and browns to reds and greens. She has done an outstanding job of carving and coloring.

Climbing, we unceremoniously crossed the Tropic of Capricorn then met two cyclists, Lilliana and Monica coming downhill. As we talked a group of guys came past at breakneck speed. They hooted and hollered but didn’t slow their pace a bit. Both girls have been sick and headachy from the altitude. This downhill run seems to be a popular way to see the Quebrada.

Two gals, Lillian and Monica from Buenos Aires, are doing what seems to be a popular ride. They started at La Quiaca, 3445 meters or about 11,300 feet above sea level. Both suffered some altitude sickness, headaches and shortness of breath. After a short chat they turned and rolled downward, we boarded our bikes and continued our hard fought progress.

Lunch in the tiny Pueblo Uquia. There’s a wonderful Hostal on the edge of the Plaza. We thought it was closed and were about to walk away when a worker across the street yelled out for us to ring the bell. I did and a girl came running. She had us park the bikes in a shaded garage area. The place is furnished and feels like a wonderful B&B. The owner served us Uquia Tamales, slightly different from the Mexican variety we know and love. Also, a plate of procuitto of Llama with Goat Cheese. The meat tastes unique yet not unlike the Italian ham. We took our time and relished the atmosphere and good food.

It’s only 10 Ks into Humahuaca but still a steady climb. All of us are now feeling the effects of altitude. Shortness of breath as well as off and on slight headaches. The streets of cobblestone aren’t great for cycling but they blend well with the buildings of stone and adobe.

We went looking for Hotel Tourismo Humahuaca, Javier set off to find a campsite. The Hotel was a huge disappointment. The rooms old and dirty looking. They didn’t even have TVs? They did tell Cat that the only place that has TVs is Hosteria Camino de Inca. (The Inca Highway) It’s across the bridge over the Rio Grande, the river that divides the town. Surprise, it’s really nice. They had a ground floor room and allowed us to park the bikes inside. The room is spacious and well decorated. The TV is local channels only but some of our favorite shows are English with Spanish subtitles.

Invigorating showers then walked across to the campground looking for Javier. There are a surprising number of girls, camping in pairs. Lots of young people setting up tents and cooking on barbeques. The downside, the dirt is fine dust and the wind plays havoc with it, sending swirling clouds between the tents. No Javier, not even a tent that looks like his.

Back across the bridge and into the streets of Humahuaca, we passed by an interesting building. A girl was swinging in a hammock surrounded by flowers and plants. Cat was curious and stepped inside. There in the first room to the right was Javier. He had looked at the campground and decided that he needed rest. He admits to fatigue and he looks tired. He told us that he was cooking there. We left him to his own devises and walked back to Camino de Inca for dinner.

The food was surprisingly good. The service painfully slow. We met a couple from Chile. They’re here on vacation. Both work at the World’s largest open pit copper mine there.

The altitude has us struggling to get deep breaths. My Mother had emphysema, now I no how it must have felt. Our heart rates are slightly pronounced but the shortness of breath makes getting to sleep difficult.

January 8, 2005
Acclimating to the Altitude

After a restless night the pounding of a hammer awakened us. The Chilean couple is locked inside their room. The husband had to climb out the window and get help. They finally pounded and pried it open but not before he used a ladder to get back in and hand their luggage out. Needless to say they were a little upset. They loaded their car and roared away.

A couple we sat near last night came in and stopped at our table. Enrique and Sylvia are from Buenos Aires. They both speak English, his is very good. He lived in Palo Alto for 6 years, studying Philosophy of History and later teaching at Stanford. He was born in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Sylvia’s is a Psychologist. They own a Paint Store and Interior Design Studio. We have several things in common. Like me, he has been married several times. He and Sylvia have been married for 21 years. They have a slightly larger age difference than Cat and I. He climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, to Kibo Hut, ending there with the same altitude sickness symptoms that stopped us. He did climb Aconcagua and was the oldest person to reach the top back then. All in all really nice people. We enjoyed the so-so breakfast laced with interesting conversation. They are off for the mountains by bus to see Iruya, a small Pueblo carved from the side of the mountain at 4,000 meters. (13,200 feet)

Cat went in search of a Lavanderia. The quest was running out of steam when she stopped at The Pension where Javier is staying. The owner told her that there is no laundry in town but she had her girls do it for only 6 Pesos. Javier is headed off, up the hill for a test ride to over 4,000 meters. So, our friends are all going up while we do chores.

My chore of course is the journal. Cat’s took her throughout the narrow streets of Humahuaca. Backpackers and tourists were out in numbers. Locals lined the walkways and square playing music and selling hats, rugs, jewelry, pan flutes and other goodies. Amidst the entertainment she found Gatorade, Mineral Water, salami and toothpaste.

Back in the room, she quickly unloaded the supplies, I shut down the computer and we rushed back into the square to witness the appearance of San Francisco Solano. We got there and got a good vantage point to see the door open at the strike of 12:00 o’clock. Once again San Fran emerged at high noon and gave his Benediction as he has for many years. Tourists and locals alike applauded when the figure slipped back behind his door.

Benediction

Lunch, a fine goat stew for me and Pizza for Cat. Back to the room, I concentrated on loading pictures to CDs for Javier and Dr. Ralph. Cat wrote in her journal pages and watched a tearjerker movie.

Late afternoon, back across the bridge and into town to deliver the CDs to Javier. We also dug out the broken AutoShifter to give to Dr. Ralph. He was so interested in our bikes and will probably have it on his recumbent in days. It works fine, we just lost a screw from one of the little gears. Javier is packing and preparing for his ride on the toughest route in Argentina. He joined us for a drink. We sat at a table on the street, in the sun. The cool breeze took most of the heat from its rays.

The 3 of us enjoyed a wonderful Llama stew, Cat and I indulged in a bottle of Torontes Chardonnay. Paulo and Dolores added to the ambiance, playing guitars and singing. A great night, another sad parting. Javier is almost like family now, we worry about the difficulty he faces this next week. Hugs all around, cheek kisses with Cat then he disappeared down the moonlit street.

We crossed the bridge over the Rio Grande and back Hotel Camino del Inca. Enrique and Sylvia were having dinner when we stopped for our key. A short conversation because they were as tired as we, the altitude got us all.

No TV, just to bed and to sleep.

January 9, 2005
Another Day of Acclimatizing

Breakfast with Enrique and Sylvia, he certainly is and interesting guy. We learned that he is also a part time actor, appearing in theater, movies and most recently in a Coca Cola commercial. The hurried off to Jujuy to meet with some fabric people, I sauntered back to the computer. Cat went walking, got our clean laundry and a roasted chicken. An in room picnic, movies all afternoon and dinner here at the Hotel.

Though we feel better and have had no headaches, we are still short of breath. The slightest exertion has us gulping for air. Funny we seem to be okay when we cycle but just walking or packing has us gasping.

Gladys, the young desk clerk/waitress and niece of the owner let us play our Acadiana CD on their system in the dining room. Pasta to the familiar strains of Cajun and Zydeco. More TV then bed.

Almost forgot, there is a quiet German guy staying here. He’s been here since we arrived. Today he donned a very skimpy bathing suit and sat in the sun most of the afternoon. We decided he must be working in Humahuaca, surely no one would come here just to sunbath in the dangerous high altitude rays?

January 10, 2005
Humahuaca to Tres Cruces
61 Kilometers
2936 to 3780 Meters (9630 to 12,398 Feet)
Up and Over 4198 Meters (13,770 Feet)
Cat’s Brother Jeff’s Birthday

Up early and bikes packed then off to breakfast. We were on the road by 8:00 AM. A quick stop, I held the bikes while Cat dashed across the street and got fresh bread from the bakery. I confirmed the direction with a Policeman as I waited. He pointed up the hill, we pedaled upward.

Steep, huffing and puffing then pushing. The air is cool to cold, Cat wore her jacket and raincoat. With a slight tailwind we climbed and cycled adjacent to the old, deteriorating railroad tracks. It disappeared as we began a steep 3 K climb. A local guy pulled past and ahead then he had to push his unladened bike. We three pushed then at the summit, he squatted to rest. As we passed we saw that he was breathing as heavily as we. I pulled the camera out and took a picture then he protested and wanted Pesositos. (Little Pesos) I protested that and we pushed on. He past us again then turned off onto a rocky road that looked like it went nowhere. He did wish us “Suerte”, good luck, as he passed.

Though the road levels some and we could ride, it’s still up then ups and downs. Leaning the bikes on a sign, we sat on the leeward side and ate our lunch near a 3-house pueblo called Azul Pampa. A group walked past and called out hellos. When we finished we caught them and asked where they were going. They are day hiking with Ignacio, a local guide, to Cueva de Inca. Teresa and her boy friend are from Spain. Mariano is from Buenos Aires. As we talked a couple, Gustavo and Cristina rode up. They are doing the famous downhill run all the way from La Quiaca to their hometown of Cordoba.

Breathless

Our summit conference was short of the summit. Ignacio told us that Azul lies at 3,900 meters. Gustavo assured us that we still have a long pull to the summit but it won’t be too steep. In fact it was a beautiful mountain ride through the colorful canyon. The summit, 4,198 meters, is also the turn off to Iruya, the town Enrique and Sylvia visited. Two Argentinean girls with backpacks were hitchhiking there. So few cars pass, it may be a while before they catch a ride? Though a little breathless and Cat had a momentary dizzy spell yet we felt amazing well. Well, our legs are fatigued so we’re looking forward to the downhill run ahead. v The sun finally shone through the clouds as we rolled. The colorful mountains with sedimentary patterns are spectacular. A woman with her herd of Llama caught our attention. As I shot my picture a van pulled up and tourists inundated her and the herd.

We rolled past the Tres Cruces sign and up to the Military Check Point. Good news the Guard told us that there is a Hotel here. He even pointed and told us to go two blocks then right one. Down the main street and it’s obvious this is a Military town. Down and around then up to the door of the building with the faded “Hotel” sign. I rang the bell, pounded on the door and finally a lady came to the window and let us know that the place is cerrado, closed. She pointed back toward the main street.

Stumped, we cruised up and down then asked a military guy, Leonardo, and he came to our rescue. After pointing he decided to lead us. As we walked he told us that he’s a musician, plays the Accordion. I tried to tell him about our band, Acadiana but couldn’t get through the language barrier. His last name sounds Polish. I asked and he said, “No, Ukrainian”. Again, I tried to make conversation about the recent elections there. Not sure it got through?

Leonardo walked with us to a little Restaurante then asked us to wait. He went inside then re-immerged with a woman. Yes, they do have a room to let. Funny they have only the Restaurante signboard sitting on the sidewalk and a couple of soft drink signs above the door. The room is just barely large enough for the bikes and us. They have a shower but warm water won’t be available for an hour. The room cost is 15 pesos per person including breakfast. They charge an extra 3 pesos for the shower. We sipped a glass of wine then decided to just take a “spit” bath.

Dinner was really quite nice. Steak, eggs and boiled potatoes. We had the place to ourselves. The daughter served us and worked hard to find an English language TV program but failed. We were tucked into bed in our little lair by 9:00 PM.

Oh, the Restaurante and our little room are located on Calle J. F. Kennedy. Interesting, eh?

January 11, 2005
Tres Cruces to Abra Pampas
29 Kilometers
3780 to 3484 Meters (12,398 to 11,428 Feet)

The thin air and small sagging beds left us with a pretty sleepless night. Both seemed to wake up often and have a hard time getting back to sleep. At 6:30 AM we were startled into the day by the sounds of a man coughing, harking and spitting. The husband was up, chopping wood then firing up the kitchen stove. We loaded the bags back on the bikes then went into the restaurante. He, the husband was serving. The coffee was little more than hot milk with a tinge of beige. It was another of those bread and water beginnings.

Out the door, onto J. F. Kennedy Street and up toward the highway by 8:30 AM. Past the Guard Shack, a snappy salute from the young guy there then up. Not steep, not a long pull then over the crest and down, down, down. Gradual down that turned to a rapid roll. Thousands of Llama pasturing on both sides of the road.

Llama Herd

We covered the 29 Ks at breakneck speed and were in Abra Pampas by 10:00 AM. A stop at the Tourist Office which was actually a travel company trying to sell tours. The girl did give Cat a list of the 3 possible places to stay. We had seen a billboard on Caesarito but couldn’t find it. A tour of the streets of town and we stopped at one of the places on the list. Pretty basic so we moved on. The Traffic Policeman made us stop going the wrong way on a one way. He did point out the direction to Caesarito.

The room is okay but up. They assured us that they would be safe in the courtyard. We took the room then rode back down the street to the service station at the North end of town. They have Internet but it failed to connect to AO for us.

Back to Caesarito, we carried the essential bags to the room and locked the bikes and bags under the stair well. Lunch, at the connected Restaurant. As we ate we caught a news flash of floods in California. They showed a hillside collapsing and we knew immediately that it was La Conchita, a small community just 15 miles north of our home. The worst, 10 people died there.

One station on the tiny TV in our room had an English language movie. I dozed through part, Cat watched 2 full films. Dinner down, pretty good chicken and fries.

January 12, 2005
Abra Pampas to La Quiaca
72 Kilometers
3484 to 3445 meters (11,428 to 11,279 feet)

Caesarito is a family operation. Last night the Mom told us that we could have omelets this morning. It was the Son’s duty time this morning and he knew nothing of Omelets. Son showed up with 2 fried eggs and set the plate in front of me. A struggle then he finally got the point that Cat wanted eggs, too. Okay, back to the kitchen, we shared the two eggs then he popped back in with two more. Moments later Mom showed up with two very dry, thin omelets. Cat tried to reason with them but they didn’t get it. We accepted all and ate. The orange juice we almost begged for arrived just as we finished the eggs. I usually only like juice with the eggs but took this as a final sugar pump to get us to La Quiaca. The coffee was pretty good.

The ride, as you can see by the slight drop in Meters, was a treat. The weather added to the delight. Bright and sunny and still, not a whisper of wind. The road is lined with small farms and adobe farmhouse. Very photogenic. And, Llamas, thousands of them. At one point we slowed and watched a huge flock be driven across the road.

Llama Crossing

By 1:30 we’d come almost 50 Ks and our stomachs were calling out for food. Pumahuasi is a dirt colored, adobe homes and buildings pueblo. The Mom at Caesarito had packed sandwiches for us so we sought shade, leaned the bikes and settled down on the curb. Barely two bites into our lunch, a couple rode up, coming down from La Quiaca. Arjou and Martine, from Holland are heading down, into Argentina. They’re here, cycling, for 3 ½ months. They have cycled the most dangerous road in the world. You take a bus up, over 5,000 meters (16,500 feet) then a fast run down on a narrow road with sheer drop offs of as much as 1,000 meters. A very handsome couple, Arjou is a Biologist and Martine a social worker and Exercise Trainer. They both look in fantastic physical condition. They sat and had their lunch as we talked. They did tell us that they took buses for much of the distance in Bolivia because the roads were so bad. That didn’t set to well with Cat, she’s been reading some of the same reports.

After goodbyes Arjou and Martine coasted on down toward Abra Pampas and we turned upward and into the wind. The ride was a little more difficult. The level we’d enjoyed rose up a bit toward Bolivia and the wind tried to hold us back.

Rolling into La Quiaca we pulled up at the Tourist Office. The woman was helpful with a map and info regarding Hotels. She confirmed the LP Guide Book’s assessment that the best place to stay was Hotel de Tourismo. She marked the map and pointed up the hill.

There is a sign nearby that required a photo. It reads “Ushuaia 5171 Kilometers”. Two couples from Buenos Aires, Guillerto, Rita, Eduardo and Duete were taking pics and agreed to take one for us. We did the same sort of kiss picture that we had done in Ushuaia. I did note that the sign there says La Quiaca 5121 Ks, a 50 Kilometer discrepancy?

A simple ride and we were lifting the bikes up two levels of stairs and pushing them inside. The staff didn’t like having the bikes inside and refused to allow them in our room. The end result was rolling them down another set of steps and into a conference room. We got our clothing bags off and I locked the bikes and remaining bags together then we carried the others up to our room. If this is the best Hotel we would hate to be staying at one of the lesser. They had advertised Internet in the Lobby but couldn’t produce. They did point our several nearby.

Once again, we failed to be able to enter our e-mail site. We can enter the AOL site but when we go to e-mail it tells us that our screen name and password didn’t match. It has matched for almost 10 years? Thus we began our quest to straighten out the problem. The AOL web site has only an toll free in the US (800) telephone number. You would think that the problem could be solved on the Internet since AOL is one of the largest Internet/e-mail servers? So, we found a Telecabina and called Base Camp Charlie to see if he could get a local telephone number. (The toll free 800 numbers are impossible to call from here.)

Dinner turned out to be the best thing at the Hotel. We had steak and it was great!

January 13, 2005
A Frustrating Day With AOL in Villazon

After the so-so included breakfast I spent time setting up our computer while Cat walked the village. She came upon hundreds of local people in native dress carrying bags and parcels from this side to the Bolivian side of the border. Probably cheaper to hand carry the goods than pay the border tariff if you drive the truck across? The line, like overburdened ants, ran across, dropped the parcel and ran back to get another.

The change in the look of people is sudden. We love the little hats many women wear. Also the colorful cloth they use to carry things on their backs. They are almost as unique as the Masaai Warriors in Africa. Cat had the camera and got some really good shots of them as well as old men and babies.

Lunch in a local’s only place, soup and Milanese sandwiches were good. Better than the food, the people watching. It’s all locals, dressed and acting uniquely, and enjoying time to gossip as they ate.

The rest of our afternoon was spent in total frustration trying to retrieve our e-mail messages. The local number that we had to pay to call ended up being the service center in India. The people there tried hard to give us instructions. Finally a manager, a nice but also frustrated woman gave us advice that was worthwhile. She said, open an e-mail account with Yahoo, they’re free, then send your questions to the Customer Service Center so that they can communicate with you.

What a stroke of luck, we entered “WorldRiders2” and immediately had a new e-mail center. After feeling our way around the site for a few minutes we were able send to AOL and get a message off to our families. The new site is so simple that it dulled some of our frustration with AOL. However, we know that there are 132 messages trapped with AOL.

Dinner down, again. Cat had a subtitled movie going on the big screen but locals flooded the room and took over, changing it to an Argentinean/Bolivian soccer game.

Our very small screen TV in the room did have a movie in English for us. Both had drooping eyelids by the time the movie ended.

January 14, 2005
Getting Ready to Get Ready in Villazon

Breakfast then off to the Internet Shop. AOL is still a dead end. The Customer Service Center recommended several websites to turn to for help. They all end up being like disk scan companies and they charge a lot of money to help, generally in cases where the user has forgotten their Password or Screen Name. So, decision time, we e-mailed our Website Wizard, Wally and asked him to send out a message to our list of friends. The new e-mail at Yahoo has a lot of advantages beyond the name.

As we walked to the Internet Café we found lots of interesting photo opportunities. The same women Cat caught on camera yesterday are now lined up and loading up. Different day, different truck but same old heavy packages. They take the bags from a truck, check in with a lady then hustle off to the border, across the bridge.

Cat packaged up items to mail home and headed off to the Aduana. They required the things be boxed. Another quest for a box, then back. The process took more than 2 hours. I sat in front of our computer screen, placing pictures in the Mendoza to Jujuy segment of our journal.

Lunch on the bed, leftovers from dinner, steak and pasta. Cat went back to the Internet, I continued my work on the pictures.

Dinner down, again. We met a guy, Peter, who is a retired schoolteacher from Canada. His new avocation is travel, he does guiding for a British company. He’s currently on a fact-finding mission as much for himself as for the travel company. We traded stories of travel. He loved our story of passing through his hometown, Montreal. His wife is also an educator. She isn’t retired but home working. They e-mail and call each other daily. She joins him whenever she has time off.

Cat was tired so headed for bed. I stayed and talked with Peter for another hour.

January 15, 2005
La Quiaca to Villazon
4 Kilometers
Into Bolivia !

Peter joined us and we three chatted about travel, how it’s affected our lives. We three agree that the world would be a better place if more of us traveled and learned more about Pacha Mama and he children.

Bags packed and down, we loaded the bikes near the doorway. Lots of nice people stopped and wished us well. Down the steps and off toward the our 42nd country, Bolivia. This may be one of our easiest border crossings? No hassles, no moneychangers in our faces? No threatening looking characters and nobody tried to get into our pockets? The short line moved quickly into the Immigration Office. Cat took my Passport, I watched the bikes. They accepted her, stamped both and we were in Bolivia. Even a moneychanger made it easy to convert Argentinean Pesos to Bolivianos.

The one-way street is a pull up. We pedaled, dodged cars and made our way to the Plaza. The Hotel Plaza, aptly named, was easy to find. No it’s not a 3 star but not bad. We got a room with view of the Plaza, private bath and comphy bed for only 200 Bolivianos. The exchange rate US Dollars to Bolivianos it about 8 to 1. That makes the cost of our room a whapping $25. The Desk Clerk even cleared a spot in luggage storage and we shackled the bikes to a broken video game.

Starving by now we made a beeline for the little restaurant next door. Another sticker shock, the daily menu that included an appetizer, soup, chicken and potatoes, even flan for dessert, all for 16 Bs. Great food and only $2.00 for both of us. Yes, we’re going to like this place, Bolivia.

For me, a little siesta while Cat hit the Internet. At 5:00 PM we walked down the main street, back toward the border. It’s lined with hundreds of little shops facing the crowded sidewalk. Out front of each little shop are people sitting, surrounded by merchandise of all description. These people are industrious. We see few beggars, most are too busy trying to sell some little trinket or piece of clothing.

Dinner at the Chinese Restaurant. The sign says that they’re open 24 hours, everyday. An early meal, compared to the usual deal in Argentina. The staff, owners we think, are not Chinese. Bolivian Sweet and Sour Pork, Chicken Chop Suey and Chicken Veggies. Not very authentic Chinese but wonderful Bolivian style food with a Chinese flavor.

It was a jog in pouring rain, getting back across the street to the Hotel. Early to bed.

January 16, 2005
Villazon to Suipacha
68 Kilometers

In honor of Dr. Ralph, Cat’s begun to call the road ahead the “The Dreaded Dead Dinger Dirt”. Dinner had been so good that we retraced our steps to the Chinese place for American Breakfast. Eggs, juice and pretty bad, Chinese/Bolivian coffee.

Concrete at first, bumpy concrete then dirt. The dreaded dirt Cat had envisioned turned out to be hard packed, with little or no loose gravel or rocks. Oh, there were hills, a couple of pushers but in general a good road on our first day on the Altiplano. The morning cold had us dressed out in leggings and long sleeves. The sun ate the clouds away and it warmed but we stayed with them.

Rolling prairie, not the flat we thought we’d find here. Llamas, lots of llamas all along the road otherwise not much to see. We stopped for lunch, sandwiches made fresh this morning at the Chinese Restaurant. The grass was short and dry, comfortable to sit on as we ate, soaked up sunshine and waved to the few passing cars and trucks.

Parts of the road showed the signs of last nights rain. We passed through several small Pueblos. One called Mojo called for a song but we couldn’t remember the words to “I got my Mojo working”. In another we tried to find more water but the little store had little to offer and no water. As I stood guard a little local guy sidled up and tried to talk with me. He had a cheek full of Coca and green teeth to match. Our friendly conversation ended with his request for Monetito, little money.

Devil Came A Knockn'

Condors

It was up and push out of town then a long sweeping downhill. The only thing that slowed us, in fact stopped us were passing trucks and busses. Whether coming or going they put up a cloud of dust that lingers for several minutes. When we see one approaching we cover down and cover our eyes and mouths.

Share the Road

Alexis and Maria came toward us stirring up a pretty good cloud on their motorcycle. They passed, waved then doubled back. They’re from Columbia and their plan is to ride to Bariloche the across to Buenos Aires. They’ll shop the bike home from there. They’re covered with mud, came flying down a hill and into a creek that cross the road. He said that they almost lost it but held and only suffered muddy clothing. They urge us to come cycle in Columbia and assure us that it’s safe. Cat has her doubts.

It was getting into late afternoon, we said our goodbyes and rode on. In short time we came upon the Pueblo Suipacha. The Church dominated the view, the village is slightly off the Camino. A hotly contested Soccer game just breaking up. Kids were streaming into the little Plaza to drink from a faucet bid. We found a spot to lean the bikes and Cat went for beers at the local market. Sitting in the sin and sipping our suds we were a curious sight for the locals. I walked across the square and asked a couple of guys working on a tractor where we could camp. They chatted between themselves then both pointed to the Plaza. “It’s safe” I asked in my best Spanish? They were very insistent, even said things I understood like “small village” and “good people”.

So, we set the tent to the surprise and joy of most of the kids in town. Even after we had it set the kids still clambered around and peeked through the netting. I threw the rain fly over the top for privacy, they got the hint and slowly drifted away.

When we set the little cook stove out and Cat began cooking a few of them drifted back. They had a lengthy, animated discussion about the stove. Even got down on their hands and knees to look under it and watch the fire. As we pulled the cooked rice with salmon off and into the tent they politely departed. Each had to stop at the flap and say, “Buenos Noches”.

I was so sleepy that my head almost dropped into the dish, several times. The clanging of the off tone church bell called people to Mass at 8:00 PM. Food finished and things put away, we were in our sleeping bags and I was dozing when the clanging called the faithful to the 9:00 o’ clock Mass.

January 17, 2005
Suipacha to Tupiza
26 Kilometers

Our quiet sleep was interrupted at 2:30 AM. A party was getting noisy and loud music spilled out of the bar down the street. By 3:00, closing time we assumed, the revelers were in the street and continuing the party. As these events a often do, this one split into several groups. One marched down the street singing and pounding on a drum. Another shouted and seemed to be arguing. A third, two men and a woman, came to the bench in the Plaza near us and began to argue. Hard to tell what the problem they were trying to solve was but the woman kept calling one of them “Caballero”, gentleman. All the excitement aroused a little fear in me. I found the empty beer bottle, our headlight and Swiss Army Knife. I was prepared for battle. Cat was amazingly calm and kept assuring me that we were safe.

Reflecting Back to The Chief Crazy Horse

As I lay silently, worrying about how we would defend ourselves if necessary a memory of Chief Crazy Horse flooded my thinking. A very Sioux looking Native American guy asked about our plans. When I told him that we wanted to cross Pine Ridge, the nearby Reservation he became insistent that we not go there. “There’s no place for you to sleep”, he said. “We’ll camp, we have the equipment” I responded. “No, it’s not safe” he retorted. “Wait a minute”, said I, “The people there are good people, aren’t they”? He put his hand on my arm, looked me in the eye and said, “Yes, they are all good people but alcohol and drugs make good people do bad things”.

Cat confidently dropped back off to sleep, I clutched the beer bottle and knife until the last of the arguments and singing ended.

Up at the crack of dawn and the gallery of kids were already there, watching. Both washed our faces at the faucet then I began the search for a toilet. The girl at the store pointed off across the Plaza. I rounded the corner of the Church and walked down the dirt street. I’d given up on the Public Bano and decided to go near a fence there when I spotted a tiny mud hut. Sure enough, it was had hole in the ground and smelled real bad. I had to duck inside, the roof was only about 4 feet high. No details beyond this but suffice it to say, the only good thing about the experience was privacy.

A quick breakfast of cereal and banana then we pulled down our city center campsite. Several kids played and watched, 4 adults came and sat on a bench to watch the spectacle. Nice people, we exchanged a few words and they were pretty excited to hear that we were going “Todo el Mundo en Bicicletas”.

The sun shone bright as we exited Suipacha. We did stop and take a picture of the sign at the entrance that says something about the conflict raging here in Bolivia. Apparently the President privatized the gas and water services and now the new companies are raising the prices. We’ve seen news of it on TV.

The road surface worsened with each turn of the cranks. The scenery on the other hand, improved to picturesque. Hues of red, blues, purples and pinks intertwined in the cliffs. Unfortunately the loose stones and powdery dirt left us standing in a shower of small rocks and a tick cloud of dust at every truck or car passing. We began stopping, pulling our shirts up over our noses and waiting for the dust to settle. It was hilly, too. We had to push several times.

Our map tells us that the total distance from Villazon to Tupiza is 116 Ks. The signs along the road told us that we covered 68 yesterday so we know we’re in for almost 50 0f this dust and toil.

The road surface did improve a little and much of it was down so we began to make pretty good time. Somehow, the distance shrank? The last sign we saw told us that we’d come 91 Ks then shortly we passed a Tupiza sign? It was still 3 or 4 Ks to the bridge that crossed the Tupiza River. This strange disappearing kilometers thing didn’t bother us at all. In fact we were quite happy with the quick turn of events.

Once over the bridge and across the Railroad tracks, the streets of town became cobbled, bumpy but better than dusty. A guy pulled up in a Tour Company truck and began pitching a Hotel. It was the one we had chosen from our LP Guide Book so we let him lead. Good thing, the streets wind around and he knew where he was going, probably saved us a half hour.

We were in front of the Hotel at 1:00 PM. There was a little confrontation when we arrived, the sign said Hotel Torre and we had told him we wanted the Roca Colorado. Of course we thought we’d been duped but several gathered round and finally a young boy seated on the step found enough English to let us know that the name has just been changed. He is quite a character, even asked to ride Cat’s bike. I helped him up and he made a valiant attempt, almost crashed into a parked car.

The room is just okay but it does have a private toilet unlike our accommodations last night. With the necessary bags off loaded the nice lady led us down the street to a garage where the bikes will rest for the night. Nice as the entire staff was, they didn’t offer to help tote the bags up the 3 flights. Yes, we do have a TV but local channels, only.

The Loss of Blacky

A sad note, we had trouble keeping a 1½ liter bottle of water on the bike so I put it in one of the water bottle cages and strapped “Blacky”, out favorite tall water bottle, onto the bags. Somehow, somewhere it fell off and neither of us noticed. Blacky has been on board since we began this Odyssey.

Hungry, we walked down the street and into “El Garage” Restaurante. Definitely a favorite among tourists. Only one local and she must not have been in the no? The guy serving was slower than molasses in winter and the food was less than so-so. A slow-slow Internet Café consumed much of the rest of the afternoon.

A Train Ride to Uyuni?

A walk to the Train Station to get tickets was equally disappointing. They let us inside the terminal then the brusque clerk pointed and told us to sit. In a few minutes a guy in camouflage uniform came in and told us to leave. Were they trying to shut us out? We rose up in mild anger and that brought the clerk and his two henchmen to attention. So, once we began to understand it was simple, today’s train was sold out. Since we wanted the day train tomorrow that was no problem. Well, no problem until we understood that they have discontinued the day train. With that in mind we left the station. Our motives were two fold, to get beyond this terrible road and to enjoy the scenery as the little train huffed and puffed over the tall mountains.

No Train, Let’s Take a 4WD

After a brief discussion we walked to the Bus Station. The road climbs from 3,000 meters to over 4,000 just out of town. We see no reason to push for 2 days, up and over. And, the dirt and rock continue all the way to Uyuni. So, off to the Bus Station. After a confusing half hour of searching we found a place that runs 4WDs over the top. The lady was pretty nice, she sold us tickets for seats 1 and 2. That is the passenger seat and the center consol, up front. There are two bench seats in the back. She said that they sell 12 tickets but may not fill up. If not we can stretch out in the back. We told her about the bikes and 14 bags, she said, no problem.

The Return of Peter

While pecking away at the Internet we found Peter, the fellow we’d met in La Quiaca, sitting a couple of machines down the line. He’s staying at Hotel Torre, too. So, we decided to have dinner together.

After a glass of wine and relaxation in the room, we joined him and went out in search of food. The search led us to 3 places, the young boy who sits at the doorway of Hotel Torre joined us as we walked down the street. Peter has sort of adopted him. He tagged along and Peter flipped him a couple of coins as we entered the Restaurante California. Peter warned us that they would be packed and service would be slow. It’s a favorite of the Back Packing set. A slow night we guessed? Seated and served quickly I enjoyed a steak and Cat had Lasagna.

Peter leaves in the morning on a 4-day circuit cruise via 4WD to 3 stops then the Salar de Uyuni. The three of us shared red wine then walked back to Torre. A little TV but we had a hard time keeping our eyes open, a long, tiring day.

January 18, 2005
Tupiza to Uyuni
183 Kilometers in 7 Passenger 4WD with 12 People

Met Peter for breakfast, his tour will include Lago Colorado, Lago Verde, a Volcano and Salar del Uyuni. Though he’s quite a character, he’s as well traveled and as full of stories as we. We almost hated to bid him adieu.

Bags down to the lobby, we got the bikes and loaded under the interested and watchful eye of the staff. They may be the owners? They recommended a Hotel in La Paz that they say also belongs to family. They’re trying hard to get the name change into the next Lonely Planet. They asked us to send and e-mail of recommendation. We took a photo of them out front.

Our ride leaves at 10:30, we have time so rode to the Plaza and got a couple of pics there, too. Not as picturesque as Salta but nice for a small Pueblo. At a corner restaurant we spotted a bike with bags. Another Road Warrior, Peter is from Austria. He is a man of few words and even fewer English words. His bags, bike and personal demeanor tell us that he’s a rugged individualist and has been on the road for a long time.

Then, down the bumpy cobblestone streets and into the Station. The nice woman wasn’t so nice this morning. She charged us an extra 50 Bolivianos for the bikes and bags. I tried to argue but she just pointed to a sign on the wall and held out her hand. Reluctantly, I gave in. Then, just outside the door another woman asked for more money, 3 Bs each? I argued then watched as even the locals paid up. It must be Bus Station fee? We mumbled and grumbled, feeling like Gringos being picked on. Then we did the math, the extra for the bags was only $6.25 and the other less than 75 cents for both of us. This high finance is tough to figure.

As I hoisted the bags and bikes up to the driver another cyclist rolled up. Matias is from Buenos Aires and will set off tomorrow up and over the hill we’re avoiding. Nice young guy, we wished we’d met him earlier or had more time but the driver was cramming people in and preparing to go. Oh, another interesting revelation, the Toyota will have 12 on board and they have also filled another. So much for stretching out. The vehicle is built to carry 7 and now has 12. The roof is stacked high with luggage, including our bikes and bags.

Though we’re jammed into the front with the driver we were glad the woman had made that seating arrangement. The folks I the back are packed in like sardines. As we exited Tupiza the driver leaned on the horn but an old lady either didn’t or couldn’t hear. He hit the brakes and the rear passengers crushed down on each other. The lady hit the side of the Toyota but was brushed aside. She just staggered on across the street.

The road was bad leaving town, we even forded a shallow river. Then, as we began to climb it went from bad to worse. Another side trip up a dry, sandy riverbed then, up, up, up. The scenery is gorgeous, the climb unbelievable. The loose dirt and rock road winds up and passing trucks send up a spew of dust that hangs for several minutes. It clings to the hillside and at times it’s a huge drop off. The driver seems to pull to the left and we feel like he may misjudge and send us rolling end over end.

Toyota Way

Climbing

After 2 hours of bumps and grinds we pulled up at a little café. Nothing looked good to us so we chose to stick with our crackers and cookies. A young couple we met yesterday at El Garage, Ryan and Jayne were there, they are riding in another of the jeeps. As Ryan and I stood talking a guy from our Toyota walked to a few feet away and sat down, hard on the dirt. Then he began to retch and vomit. The scene was terrible but was destined to get worse. As he spewed a dog sauntered over, surveyed the scene then began lapping it up. Ryan and I couldn’t take it, we had to turn away. It must have been awful for the guy.

The locals got rice and some kind of meat to go. Also, they had drinks in plastic bags tied around a straw. The driver told us we’d stop again at 2:00 PM. The road continued to wind upward then down and into a muddy riverbed. The sick guy hung out the window and continued to be purge. We knew that we’d made the right decision, even though this ride is rough it would have taken us at least two days to push up and over the 4,000 meters and another to push through the mud.

Atocha is the halfway point of this day’s journey. For 20 Ks before town we were in mud, a riverbed of mud. The Pueblo clings to a cliff above the river. Main street is a sting of colorful buildings. The driver pulled in, parked midst the 20 or so other jeeps and told us that we had 30 minutes to find food and use the Banos. They unloaded the top, bikes first in order to get baggage for passengers stopping here. I stood the guard as Cat sought food. Her quest was fruitless. We ended up running to the public toilets then grabbing some more cookies and 4 containers of yogurt.

River Bed Riders

The sick Argentinean asked for a drink of our water. He needed, Cat handed him the bottle. He then asked if Cat would trade seats with him. Water was one thing, sitting in the bullpen and being pitched around with the pack was too much to give. He told us that he was suffering from altitude sickness.

We did find 4 energy bars that we gulped down as the Toyota lurched down the riverbed. I carefully opened my yogurt then sloshed it down the front of my shirt and pants. The driver witnessed my plight out of the corner of his eye. He pulled a dirty rag from under the seat. It was way better than sitting and soaking.

6 ½ Hours in a Jeep, 6 ½ days Cycling?

The drive in the mud continued, the Toyota slipped and slid but pulled through. Then, up a steep rocky road and onto the Altiplano. The road leveled and the surface hardened. The driver picked up speed and we were in the streets of Uyuni by 5:00 PM. It was great to get back on solid ground, out of the lurching Toyota. We felt like we had sea legs as the guy handed the bikes down.

The Tourist Info Office was closed, we spotted a group of Tourists at a Restaurant. A French couple seated outside offered us a seat at their table and their room at a Hostel. They only rented it to rest, they came in this morning and are leaving in half an hour. What a nice gesture but, we want something more than the Hostel offers. Another group suggested Hotel Kutimuy and pointed down the street. The Guide, John, is from Wales. They are in a truck and usually camp but are relaxing tonight. As we talked Ryan and Jayne walked up. They promised to save us a seat, we cycled to the Hotel. Our room is at the top of the stairs and has no outside windows. The bikes will be parked in a baggage room. We washed our faces and hands then walked back to the restaurant. Starving, we ordered steak and Pizza then chatted with the Truck People, Ryan and Jayne.

The waiter is very nice but his service is not. Maybe a language problem? My steak must have been Llama, it was so tough I had to chew then spit out most of it.

A Match Made in Backpacker’s Heaven

Both Ryan and Jayne are on Around the World Airline tickets. They met in Southeast Asia. She had a boy friend but the relationship was shaky. The next time they ran into each other they decided to travel together. Both of their 1-year tickets have expired but they extended and are continuing. Jayne’s from England and Ryan is Canadian. They seem to fit like gloves. A match made in Backpacker’s heaven? A very nice couple a very nice couple of young people out seeing the world.

A great ending to a long tough day.

January 19, 2005
Planning to See the Salar

The Hotel was bustling with action when we went down for breakfast. The Truck Group, Exodus Tours, is leaving, their trip began in Alaska and they’ll end up at Ushuaia in 4 weeks. They have a beautiful sunny morning to set off in. We set off to explore Uyuni. As we walked a French couple, Frederick and Laurence, spotted the maps on our jackets and asked if we were cycling. They’ve been riding their bikes here and there for almost 2 ½ years in an around the world pattern. Like others we’ve met they started this final leg of their journey in Alaska, in late fall. They too have stories of cold and snow. They’re shoe stringing and proud of it, working hard to find the least expensive way to see this wonderful world. They rode across the Salar getting here but admit it wasn’t easy. Their story about the wear and tear on their equipment, the 80 Ks without being able to sit to rest and the look of their shoes convinced us that we don’t want to cycle across. We made a date to dine together, tonight.

So, with our no cycling on the Salar plan we set off to find a ride across. One Tour Agency offered to take us for 150. When I pulled out 150 Bolivianos the girl asked if this was a deposit? “What, we thought you said 150”? Big misunderstanding, they were talking US Dollars. No deal! A stop at an Airline office, Aero Sur. They have a wonderful poster of a DC3 flying over the Salar de Uyuni. Asked and they agreed to take us out to the Museo de Salar then back to Colchani and help us find a place to stay. Aldo and his wife Lidia sounded completely confident and the price, 300 Bs or $37.50 US for the day. Simon will drive and says that he knows El Salar very well. E bought and scheduled to meet at the Hotel at 9:30 in the morning.

For me, another day at our keyboard. Cat hit the Internet and found 140 messages waiting for her attendance. As I typed I kept an eye open for interesting sights on the street below our window. Merchants, buyers, locals, cyclists, anything of interest. As I said before, these people are the most interesting we’ve encountered since Masaai Mara in Africa.

As agreed, we met Frederick and Laurence near the clock tower and walked together to last night’s restaurant. As we entered Ryan and Jayne passed and bid us goodbye. They’re moving on in the morning. This is really the place of tourists.

We, the 4 intrepid cycle tourists, enjoyed an evening of “Tales of the Trail”. There is no greater joy than sharing stories with those who have been there and done that. Frederick and Laurence have chosen a life style similar to that of our friends, Tim and Cindie. They live on little, camp a lot, cycle hard and enjoy the hardships. They have 5 months to get to Ushuaia before their time and money run short. Cat say’s, “They’re tough”!

As we walked together toward our Hotel we promised to keep in touch via Internet and meet again somewhere, sometime. It was 11:30 by the time we pulled the covers back on our tiny bed. 

January 20, 2005
Uyuni to Colchani Via Jeep

Simon was a little early but we were ready, we’d packed and moved the bikes to the lobby before breakfast. It’s cool, almost cold and overcast. A few drops of rain were threatening to ruin Market Day. The vendors began setting at 6:30 AM and were the reason we were set to go early. The street is now full of booths packed with everything from fruit to nuts and then some. Cat took a quick walk and bought Saltenos, they’re like empanadas but stuffed with veggies instead of meat. A bargain at 8 for 8 Bolivianos. (8 for $1.00) She also grabbed bread, cheese and bottled water. She has us prepared to camp tonight, just in case the Colchani Hostal doesn’t materialize.