**markered by Tasha
The Road fromThe Salta Airport is Dirty. It was my first taste of
what the road was like. I had over 12 hours in flight from a night over in Miami getting my Passport that had expired. It was a bum
mer to have to get burnt on a Miami beach waiting for my passport to be ready. My skin was rosey. I left the posse for a bit but I was super determined to meet up with them in Cobra Coral, Argentina.
I was dumped at the Libertad super market to get some bike tools that were lost. I had my bike in a cart covered in plastic wrap. They were not to excited about that. Security told me that I would have to check my cart. Ok. Almost bought a helmet but honestly they did not fit.
Setting up my bike in their parking lot I noticed many curious faces. "What's white boy doing with a stripped down bike, pannier bags and tent doing in this lot?"
Needless to say I left with a bike full of hope rolling like a local with a San Diego cap.
SALTA _)0-0(_Col. Moldes
Many Tobacco fields and tobacco fiels. It was early afternoon so there was a good amount of traffic. I found a store that sold cookies and bought a few bags for the road. A storm was brewing out of the south. The road was easy and paved; mostly straight with some good coasting hills.
I kept asking people on the road. "Han visto otro Gringos en bici's?" My cap flew off right past some road workers in orange coats and weed wackers. They asked me if I was with a group of riders. "Yes," I told them. They are just a few hours ahead of you.
I kept riding knowing this storm was
coming. I was too.
I made it to Col Moldes at dusk. I asked again around about the others and was told that they were here. The storm cracked and the first drips came down on my bike helmet with headlamp. I scared an old shop keeper. My headlamp I guess. I bought a 1/2 kilo of ribs and a few cans of Quilmes. Coming down into the resevior my
eye glasses drench
ed, the light melting into lines. I came to a dark fork and stopped. Right then a lady passed me on a bike and I asked her "Donde esta camping" She pointed towards the fork.
I heard a group of people talking funny. We ate meat and I'm sorry Maria for stealing the birthday limelight. You too Kurt. We met another Argentinian who had just gotten back from biking Cachi on his Phoenix bike. He scared me when he showed me a large dagger he strapped off his back rack or water bottles on his front shocks. "For protection," he tells me. My first experience with an Argentinian gear head.
Col. Moldes__)0-0(____________________Alemania
We bounced out of soggy tent. Remembering a the horse that came grazing later that night and his face silhouette on the tent during the night. I realized in a big way that I was into this ride now. Bikes ready and coffee around the house. Our circle was slow to start but we got off to Col. Moldes no problem; stopping shortly to get provisions for our short ride south.
Ever seen a cactus growing out of a tree? Tobacco fields and parks with wooden wheels? The cookie breaks were an hourly communion along with long sips from our bottles. Our lunches were improvised sandwich artistry; sauge, queso, nice bread, a tomatoe and often avocados.
We had a few climbs before our drop into this pinched off valley. Two rivers
meet: one chocolate brown and the other clear stream water.
Two old steel rail bridges cross these rivers making a path for a group of nine to roll into town past the old Station on down near the shore of the clear river where I immediately bathed.
We set up camp and the camp stoves roared. We had a nice fire now and the stars. The stars were so different. I saw Orion and the white belt of the Milky Way. The Southern Cross was hiding
now or I did not see it.
Alemania ___) 0-0 (______________ Yasera
I could smell the dirt being rustled by a small dog. All the dogs were small here. Right now, pushing tent into bag, was when I really remembered the few hours my Minnesota back spent on the Miami Beach waves without sunscreen.
Cowboy coffee poured with oatmeal, raisins and the mix. The grass here in this valley was green and tight. My toes loved them. My sunburn sucked. I wasnt' the only one burnt. Gary suggested Ibuprophen and I was ok. Brick water towers and the Train Station artesania stop.
This ride was HOT. The sun was wicked b
ut the terrain cha
nged. Now we entered an eire desert where the wind flew free. The water went quick. Crossing the dirty river, we stopped under a spine tree and adobe home with true canahueca and mud roof. Hemos pedido, " Cerveza and Fanta." A bit more riding to through the Sundance kid world where gauchos roamed and the llama held there own. Gargantia de Diablo or Mouth
of the Devil was a large sandstone canyon full of fossils and foot prints.
We had to stop ahead to meet the local shop
owner in Santa Barbara. More cookies. W
e arrived in Yasera early afternoon, the sun was beginn
ing to shade us. We sat between two high ridges with the brown river coursing next to us. Our camp was in a wash of sand. Tents spots chosen. Rick and Kurt bathing in chocolate milk easing the days sweat. I think everyone was feeling a bit weak from all the days sun. i tooled around the rivrs edge in my thongs. The water was so silty that there was sandy stretches for feet prints. Found a rope and made a miniature river surfer. It could of been me.
Pasta , polenta, some box wine opened and the fire began. We all took to singing around the fire; toons we all were familiar with- Jim Croce? Maria and Kim seemed to carry the tunes. We made plans to rise early. The Southern Cross was spotted. "Lee! The Sout
hern Cross." 4,3,2,1
Yasera ____) 0-0 (___________Cafayette
We slept on the edge of a storm. Clouds would cover, then scatter and I kept saying,"It's goin' Rain." My face was dried by a film of fine silt. Blowing a few stones from my nose, I rose and stretched. I was still surfing 12 hours later on a wood board in the chocolate river. Lee slept on his camelbag. Suprised to find his thermarest and tent wet, wet. I washed my face. It was me.
We were out at (:30. Met a man with no teeth selling local pottery on a rock table. He lit up right when two lamas came out of the canyon with maybe his grandson. He took no notice. He showed me the strips of white clay on the hillsides that of which his ceramics were made.
We ditched some trash in a city bin off the road. The red hills now where beginning to fade into a green valley. The wind was at our back making it through fast. Our next real stop was with Nick filling water bottles. Assorted Cookies. Then vineyards by Noon.
____Cafayette
We filled a local plaza resturant taking
a row of tables in the street. Cafayette is a beautiful
colonial town surrounded by vineyards. A local Police man instructed me to move a few bikes that were sticking out. I moved two bike back off the street. Fanta and beer and empanadas. Cheese, and carne and chicken empanadas. Some of our group stayed in Hostels while the most of us camped outside of town. "3 Pesos a night." "Beef not bombs." So the Guy says. Hey. Hot showers powered by a wood fed ovens in the back. We did our laundry; by hand in a
concr
ete wash basin.
I could feel the intensity in everyone. INTERNET> YES!!! Dinner at 8-ish. Torrentes and Malbec, the white and red wine of this region. The blue cheese Pizza. The Pizza was blue! And you choose-your-salad option. Beets and Pineapple with olives and etc. Went to some random hacienda style bar later where a Bolivian Band was playing chirango, guitar, drums, and a flute. Introduced myself to the drummer after a set, thanking him for rockin the house. Threw in a few too many Quechua words and the coca chewing drummer reared back. I walked back to our back corner table. "Rockoo Guitara" means "hard rock?"
Cafayette
Had a day to rest. I sure took it easy. Did not sleep much after swatting mosquitos all night. My tent mate, Maria, had small pink mosquito tatoos all over. Ate breakfast then took a nap then didn't reall like breakfast so much. I realized one of my ankles was swollen. I figured I would go soak my foot in the pool but was only half way full. I went walking in my thongs on the hot pavement through vineyards. Found the irrigation ditch full of cold mountain water. I soaked my feet and fed the fish. The sun shined the whole day.
Went to lunch. Shopped a bit and had coffee with Rick. We had planned for a potluck. A Danish couple with their daughter were also staying in the campground and we earlier had invited them. Later a Swede arrived on a LiteSpeed bike. I went with Phil and invited him to our potluck. He was overjoyed having been swamped by a Middle school group.
Our conversations included: wine, Argentina, grade school, bike transportation vouchers in Europe, a 3 month vacation designed for couples to spend time with their child before the childs 4th birthday and biking. This barbeque was one our our bests. The Danish couple made a beet salad with brocolli. The Swede had a contagious laugh. I felt healthy again. I slept in a sealed tent peacefully.
Cafayette_____) 0-0 (_____Quilmes
We all met in the plaza that morning. Bikes were packed, bottles full of water. I think everyone was feeling rested. The sun was out
as cruised through vineyard after vineyard. Even past a new vineyard where the land was freshly cleared. Wood posts with stretched wires holding the vines. This is where my first flats started. We got to the washboard dirt road that lead to the western edge of the valley and the Rock Hotel at Quilmes. We took our rooms and made it to the fresh water pool. The ruins here had been reconstructed within the last 50 years. They were still impressive plots. I could see how these Native people lived with their lama.
Breakfast the next day was the typical bread and cafe con leche. The museum there exibited local pottery and tools. A mock representation showed how Quilmes looked 500 years ago; rock walls with cactus wood shacks. Again we hit the dirt but it was all downhill. Tires got flat and fixed, flat and fixed.
Quilmes______________________) 0-0 (_________Observatorio
Rode up to Amaicha and ate lunch in front of Artist Cruz's Pacha Mama Museum. Beautiful Gaudy style sculpture, stone and metal. Our typical free-for-all sandwich lunches. Maria shaving at a gas station. Lovely. Some guy selling sandwich bags o
f coca, telling us that its the best thing for our climb. And climb we did. We
made it into the cooler air of the eastern valley. Below was the town Santa Maria. Our guide greeted us at the gate. Small cabins and a small white dome observatory. Ever seen a large, fury tarantula- Kurt? We were shown the intricacies of proper bombilla placement and how to say "No more" while Mate drinking. If you say "Si" when offered then the next time the gourd goes around you get passed.
We found our bunks break
ing into 3 groups
according to age: 20, 30, 30+. Probably not intentional. Took a hike up the eastern side and witnesses their destroyed water tank from some recent rains. Then we went to more ruins. Ceramic shards everywhere. The spirits were at peace here. These Natives put their ancestors in ceramic vases and stored them for inspiration and heritage. They were a peaceful group but warred often with the Quilmes Indians to the immediate west. It was the Spanish Conquistadors that signaled their extinction.
I did my best to translate a fair amount of what was going on. Lots of these words or expressions I hate to translate as they live better in their own language. Our guide was more like a scientist-school teacher/astral traveler with a quasi spiritual bend. His wife had prepared us dinner that night: chicken and rice. Had a great talk with Maria about our religious upbringing. Some viewed the rings of Saturn that cloudy night. I rolled around in my top bunk slamming the wall for the snore-people to roll over.
Observatorio__________________________________) 0-0 (____Mollar
We rose to many flat tires. Haule
d our gear down the dirt road to the main road. Nick was struggling with two flats. We hit the road to the summit in stride. Our lunch today at a small chapel off the road. We had some wine at lunch with our cheese
and broken saltine crackers. The ride up became a crank-fest. My bot
tom bracket squeeled. M
y lungs started burning as we neared 10k ft. Hoo hoo. At the top we found such peace. Lama chilled in the mountain air. The town of Tafi below us lay near a large lake. Clouds hugged the hills looking like a shawl on a shoulder.
The ride down was fast. The gauchos were in full force as were the feeding Mustangs on the side of the road. We made it to Tafi and made our meal purchases for the following day. I bought some super tasty rolls and pastries. We stopped for a beer and swallowed the sun. Continuing on to Mollar the day cooled off as fog ripped right through us. Some showered. Tents on nice soft green grass. The FOOTPRINT of my Tent. What about the Footprint? We had a dining shed to ourselves tonight. Rolled into town with Gary to get some bottled beer. Spoke with the butcher for a good 1/2hr. He was asking about the city that went underwater. "OH, New Orleans." He was shocked that this would happen in Estados Unidos. I took my hand written receipt for 12 pesos on the return for t
hose bottles.
El Mollar____________________________________) 0-0 (_Tucuman- Yerba Buena
Woke up, tents down, everything was in Auto now. Familiarized with our day to day packing the pannier bags, filling the water and taking care of some paperwork. I returned the bottles gladly showing the Meat man his receipt; that he actually took from me. We were excited to be doing more downhill. The cold morning air slowly thinkened and warmed as we descended. We stopped at a few Artesania shops along the way. This is the place to do it; along the green stretches where the loud river flows. One shop keeper gave us treats as we bought so many things: gourds, blankets and rugs, tshirts.
The road was full of recently cleared mud slides; large trucks chugging up these steep and narrow grades. We weaved in and out stopping again for Acor Assorted cookies. I believe Kim bought stock. Brown sugar blocks entered this refueling session. Phil got excited about "El fin del Mundo." We cooked down the mountain into sugar cane fields. Stopping briefly at a fork and taking off some layers. The road congests with loud and dirty farm trucks. We make good times eating lunch in Archeral on the Plaza. Street kids just asking for money. Maria shows him a magic trick. The reappearing coin. Fanta and Beer. Again. Nick says it's the real orange flavor that makes Fanta so good. We all roll, agreeing with the nod. After milanesa, I rolled around the plaza once, twice with the local moped kids. Victory lap and we were off to the last diesel sucking stage into the Suburb of Tucuman. Picked up a bit of single track; proved to be better then the rutted shoulder where we rolled.
Started into a nicer neighborhood with nice large homes. Stayed in a hostel in the town of Yerba Buena. Commerce increases when the sun goes down in the hot sleepy suburb of Tucuman. We went to Pizza and then an art opening. Kurt bought a painting? A jam band played, base and guitar. We sat and watched a few long rolling songs. Nick and Kim took the hammocks as the kids rocked out next door all night. Forgot to mention we are still in Argentina.
The next day Phil and I took a ride without our packs. We went up to the foothills and looked down on the city. We noticed quite a few other bikers that morning. And they were all women? The ride down was fast and free. Today our bikes got taken apart and packaged. Dude. You're doing it wrong! Some went to the city of Tucuman while others hung out around town. I was only here a few days and I really liked Tucuman. A tourism related organization had a parrillada for us (2WV) at their cultural center. The had some nice hand made items in their gift shop. I have never seen giant bamboo like they have growing there in the back. After our meat-fest a guitar was given to a local EMO rocker. He sang with heartfelt conviction.
We sat around a bon-fire and shared songs. The Argentinians love folk music. It's part of their culture: ex. Sosa. She is a famous career folk singer. It was good to actually hang out with local people. Share some tunes and good times. It got amusing after Kurt told me I looked pregnant. Laughed so loud he fell over and snapped his plastic chair. The Argentinians didn't even stop the song, flinch or miss the beat. I loved that. Life goes on.
This was such a fun vacation. I refrain from saying vacation because it really was more like a trip. The people and fields, animals and rivers, meals, Bbqs', tents and packing... Getting to know a diverse group of individuals and inspiring lifelong friendships. I want to thank everyone who helped make this trip happen. Thanks. And thank you to everyone who took this adventure cycling trip with Two Wheel View.
-Koa Rosa
************Next trips are in July, Catalonia Spain, and then Dominican Republic in November. Most pictures taken by Kurtis. Thanks again!
"LIGHT THE BIKE. SEE THE BIKE" Portland, Oregon. 
__Ferry: La Pointe - Bayfield, Wisconson
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___video control center 
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*Artist James Turrell
