Molinos and Helados

In the past 3 days we have biked over another pass, set a new record for longest biking day (132 kms), and passed the 2000 km mark.  Which means today's day off in San José de Jachal is desperately needed.  To think that the last time we had an ice cream was more than a week ago? Terrifying.  The Cuesta de Míranda, between Chilecito and Villa Union, was a fairly minor ordeal, (compared to the previous pass) following a small mountain river through a canyon of vibrant red cliffs and dropping us back into another valley on the other side.  To our surprise we found ourselves biking past sand dunes recently, nearly having to wrap shirts around our faces as the wind blew clouds of sand up the dry riverbeds.  Today we took the bikes out for a ride without all of our bags, a slightly strange experience, to visit one of the (no longer functional) local mills.

A Donkey Story

The Calchaqui Valley is the second largest wine producing region, after Mendoza, in Argentina. But here they are known for their white torrontes grapes. Cafayete is the central town and aspires to be chic and uptown, which it is succeeding at. But you can't take the country out of Cafayete. We were strolling down the street, as was a donkey, poking through some garbage bags, and pretty much doing what donkeys do. As it sidles past one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, it decides to saunter right on in. We're across the street, as are a few other people watching the proceedings. Sure enough, it didn't take long before the tuxedo attired wait staff escorts the beast out.

For everyone in Lunenburg County, don't forget our afternoon of music, from 4 until 8 on May 1st at the Pinehurst Community Hall. This will be the final fundraiser to end this project of ours. $5 donation for Amnesty International at the door.

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For the fourth photo album , click here

March 24

Today is a national holiday in Argentina, that Tucker and I wanted to acknowledge. It is Day of Remembrance for Truth and Justice, commemorating the victims of the military dictatorship. By opinion, we think that this is the worst that a government can do, to turn against it's own people. For what is a nation but it's people. After huge national demonstrations on March 24, 2006, it was officially made a national public holiday. In this small Andean city of Chilecito, remembrance was observed by an outdoor music event and skateboard/BMX demonstrations. The stage was done in graffiti style backdrop and proscenium, with slogans of human rights, right to public education, water(not tears), freedom of expression and most importantly... "nunca mas" (never again). Remember that these skater boys and young bands had not been born yet, but most certainly their parents had. It was a touching display, and made us quite confidant, that Argentines indeed would not forget and would not let this happen again.

Road Without Bears

It has been nearly a week since our last post, and in that time we have past the momentus 500km mark on RN 40.  A road which thankfully contains no bears. (Explaination pending)  We have been travelling across what is by far the most desert like terrain we have experienced yet, prickly bushes as far as the eye can see with vultures circling ominously.  Between towns there's little enough traffic that shadow puppets are a perfectly safe way to occupy one's mind while biking.  And yet, when you hit each town there is an unbelieveable amount of produce.  Pomegranates, peaches, quinces, grapes, and olives (which I would suggest no one ever try eating fresh) all grow along the roads and in gardens.  Grapes are grow in such amounts that they are transported by dumptruck, with a stream of juice running out the back. 

"Camino Sinuoso" is a warning to travellers of an upcoming "winding road". But when an unknown agent causes the "u" in sinuoso to disappear, "Camino Sin Oso" becomes a sign to inform travellers that the road ahead has no bears.  Reassuring as it is, we have also gotten no end of amusement out it.

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National Route 40 (la cuarenta)

We have breathed the dust, the grit between our teeth, of la cuarenta. A windy silence, broken by occasional streams that flow over the road, cooling our toes. Passing adobe homes (architectural purity), goat skins drying on the line, outdoor clay ovens, signs of life. Barefoot kids run outdoors to greet us. The road is rough, the road is wet, the road is impossible sand, maddening and demanding. This vision we share is important, it's enough. And we are filled with happiness, through this laborious progress. We are in the prescence of God, on la cuarenta.

Piece of Hidden Sky

There's really no better way to truly appreciate the size of the Andes than to bike over them.  Thursday morning we woke up before dawn in Chicoana, (a native word meaning "piece of hidden sky) and prepared for what we expected to be the most strenuous day of our 9 weeks.  As we hit the road carrying 10 water bottles and a dozen freshly baked buns, the sun had just started peeking out from behind the mountains.  For the next 11 hours, we valiantly battled the heat, the switchbacks, the condors (LOL, j/k), and the narrow dirt roads which occasionally disappeared under large rockslides or had collapsed from being undermined by the river swollen by four days of heavy rain.  But we prevailed, and after starting the day at 1200 metres, we climbed over 2 vertical kms through the slowly thinning oxygen to a final height of 3457 metres, buried within the clouds.  We laid down the final kilometres through a surreal landscape of mountains, cardón cacti, donkeys, llamas, and absolute silence, reaching the village of Cachi as the sun sank below snowcapped Mount Cachi.

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Asado and Bandoneón

So... if you don't know, they eat a lot of beef in Argentina, although we have become aware of a movement to curb this practice. I'm not going to go on about how much land is needed to grow the food to feed the cattle. With all these demons and angels sitting on our shoulders, whispering their words of advice, we kept our minds open to new experience, and bit the beef. A medium rare treat indeed. Last night, we went to the Teatro Libertador, a beautiful old theatre in downtown Córdoba, sat behind the turned balustrades of the 4th balcony and enjoyed the Provincial Tango Orchestra and pretended we were of a much higher class than we in fact are.

For the latest photo album, click here.

Por si no lo saben, en Argentina comen mucha carne, incluso existiendo diversas acciones para frenar esta práctica. No voy a profundizar acerca de cuánta tierra se necesita para alimentar al ganado. Con estos ángeles y demonios rondando sobre nuestras cabezas, susurrando sus consejos, mantenemos nuestras mentes abiertas a nuevas experiencias y probamos la carne. Fue un festín jugoso de hecho.
Anoche, fuimos al Teatro Libertador, un hermoso teatro antiguo en la ciudad de Córdoba, nos sentamos detrás de los balaustres del 4to balcón y disfrutamos de la Orquesta Provincial de Tango y pretendimos ser de una clase mucho más alta de la que en realidad somos.

Armadillos and Parakeets

After Rosario we headed once again into the Pampa, farther into the agricultural countryside of Argentina.  If Pa and I weren't an intelligent team we might be confused and think we were back in Saskatchewan, amongst the John Deeres and endless fields.  Until mountains suddenly appeared on the horizon that is, only 2 days ago.  Biking in the mountains has been absolutely breath-taking so far, but not even a glimpse of a condor's tailfeathers. We aren't even in the Andes yet, these are just some little mountains to get warmed up on.  At the moment we're in Alta Gracia, the town where Che Guevera moved as a child to help his asthma.  Tomorrow we arrive in Cordobá for some well deserved (in our opinion) time off.


Después de Rosario volvimos a internarnos en la Pampa, cada vez mas adentro del campo de Argentina. Si Papá y yo no formáramos un equipo tan inteligente, nos habríamos confundido y hubiéramos pensado que estábamos de regreso en Saskatchewan, entre los tractores de John Deer y los interminables terrenos. Las montañas parecieron de repente en el horizonte, sólo después de 2 dos días. Andar en bicicleta por las montañas ha sido absolutamente increíble hasta ahora, pero todavía no pudimos ver ni una pluma de la cola de un cóndor. Aun no estamos en los Andes, estas son algunas pequeñas montañas para ir entrando en calor. En este momento estamos en Alta Gracia, la ciudad a la que se mudó Che Guevara cuando era un niño por sus problemas de asma. Mañana llegaremos a Córdoba para tener (a criterio propio) nuestro merecido descanso.