We only leave the impressive Agua Negra pass behind us at the end of a long day at the Rodeo. An elongated village that extends for several kilometers next to the main road. We are exhausted and longing for a shower, food and rest. There are five campsites on the map. We drive past them one by one: ‘not to be found’, closed, closed, ‘out of use’, OPEN. We still have just enough Argentine Pesos to pay for the campsite. To do some shopping for dinner I will have to change the Chilean Pesos. Paul has reached the end of his rope. I leave him at the campsite and get on my bike to look for a place to exchange money. It soon becomes clear that it does not exist in this border village (incomprehensible). That’s why I cycle to the only ATM. Any amount I want to withdraw is ‘too high’, unless I withdraw so little that the costs for withdrawing are as high as the amount itself. ‘Yes, DAHAAG!’ I am referred to the only supermarket in the village with an ATM, which is located at the far end of the village, up the hill. We passed it when we drove into the village two hours ago. I don’t lose heart (I can keep that in mind for a long time) and pedal back to the supermarket. I’m surprised at the increased prices! Since Milei came to power, everything has become considerably more expensive. With the most unfavorable exchange rate, I pay with my debit card and return to the campsite. Paul has not yet recovered and his fuse is short. The uncertainty about money, food and a place to sleep has caused him a lot of stress. I think I’m also losing my stretch, because for the first time (on a trip, ever?) we’re really bummed about each other! I retreat to the tent and announce that I don’t need any food, just when Paul has started cooking against his will. We endure being angry for 5 minutes, then we sit in each other’s arms sobbing. I take over the cooking and send Paul to the showers. It’s really empty and I’m not quite there yet. For me, I cook quite a nice meal that is just ready when Paul returns from a nice hot shower. We are okay again, and tired, and dive into the tent immediately after dinner. Tomorrow is a new day!

The next dot on the horizon is La Rioja. From there the route promises to be beautiful and green. Until then we don’t really know what to expect. We decide to cycle to San José de Jáchal first. A city where we can undoubtedly exchange our Chilean Pesos so that we can pay anywhere again. The route leads past beautiful rock formations and then through a beautiful valley that is marred by a large hydroelectric power plant and countless cables and pipes running through it. I try to look past it and enjoy the natural beauty. After a tour of various accommodations we find a pleasant spot where we decide to stay for three nights. Come relax! It is very hot there, but the air conditioning in our otherwise simple room works wonders. Here too it appears impossible to exchange money. However, the hostel can only be paid in cash. Fortunately, there is a post office that can handle Western Union transactions up to a certain amount. Together with our cycling buddy from the Agua Negra (Ryan), who is in the same boat, we try our luck at the post office. After filling out long forms (that was never necessary before!?) the clerk gets to work. Half an hour passes… It turns out that the computer system does not know what to do with a passport number that also has letters. Miraculously, they can replace the one letter in Ryan’s American passport with a 0 and he gets his ordered Pesos. This trick does not work for my passport number. Fortunately, Ryan allows us to borrow some Pesos and the next day (one transaction per day) he collects for us the maximum allowed number of Pesos that I transferred to him. Fortunately, Paul and I are not going to Rioja, 300 km away, with a completely empty wallet. Without Ryan’s help we would have really had a problem.

During our last night in San José de Jáchal it rains heavily in the area. We only get a few drops, but we hear thunder and see lightning in the distance. During our ride the next day we see the result. Instead of the main road we take a small road that leads through the mountains. However, for the people who live in that area, this is their ‘main road’. It is a beautiful route that gradually climbs to a mirador (viewpoint) from where you look out over the area on the other side. However, the road is littered with large and smaller boulders. All this must have come down last night. Cars come towards us at walking pace during the climb, pushing their way between the boulders. We decide to camp on the mirador. The view is beautiful! Fortunately, we brought enough water up and we shower under our 4 liter bag that we hang in one of the few trees. It’s not warm, it’s hot! Sweltering hot. I only put up the inner tent hoping for a breath of wind and a dry night. It is still warmer inside the tent than outside, but we have to because as soon as it starts to get dark the mosquitoes wake up. Exposing ourselves to this not only means a lot of itching, but also the risk of dengue. So we are extra careful.

After a short but wonderful descent in the morning we drive into a cute village where we drink coffee in a small coffee shop with a living room atmosphere. Today we have a long drive on a boring straight road ahead of us. Even though the village is temporarily without water (pipe broken), we are fortunate to be able to fill our bottles at the school’s water supply. I see several people walking across the plaza with empty PET bottles and returning with full ones. We drive towards the main road on an unpaved road and see that the rain has also wreaked havoc here. We have to cross several times the remains of a mudslide that has flooded the road. Soon the space between my front fork, wheel and brakes fills with red mud and I am forced to step off into the mud. A little later on the hot dry asphalt, the mud from my tires splashes against my legs, something that for some inexplicable reason I always enjoy. However, that pleasure is short-lived, because we wait hours of overheated pedaling against the wind through an (almost) treeless environment. Our dot on the horizon, a ranger station in the middle of nowhere.

When we arrive there hours later, overheated and thirsty, it turns out to be unmanned and locked. However, a happy dog and a dead dinosaur welcome us and we find shade and cool water from a huge tank. We take turns showering under the water bag again, this time with unlimited water. In the afternoon two rangers arrive. We can spend the night here and they open an office space for us where we can roll out our mats. However, we still move outside a little later. We place our mats slightly on the wind, free from mosquitoes, and I continuously dab my face and legs with a wet cloth. Even after sunset, the heat here is oppressive and we sweat while we lie uncovered on our mats. Eventually we fall asleep and dream, overheated, the craziest dreams.

The days that follow are mainly a marathon to leave the barren, hot area behind us and reach La Rioja. We envision an attractive airBnB as extra motivation. The day before we reach La Rioja we camp in an almost deserted village next to the cemetery on a dead-end dirt road. There are prickly bushes everywhere next to the road and we have had our share of flat tires lately. Fortunately, the cemetery has a tap and here too we step naked under our improvised shower. It’s always a matter of lurking around to see if people are coming. Not so much out of embarrassment but mainly to avoid shocking others. Usually, however, the only audience consists of dogs or horses. And in this case, I just hope the dead don’t take too much offense. We don’t mean bad.

The AirBnB that we moved into nice and early in the day exceeded our expectations. A private large bedroom, a kitchenette (with refrigerator!) and a spacious bathroom. It is the top floor of a house owned by a couple whose children have left home. They enjoy having some life in the house in the form of guests. The lady of the house even does laundry for us and hangs it to dry. I hear myself say it when I tell my mother on the phone what a luxurious place we are in: ‘with a big soft bed and a washing machine and a refrigerator!!!’. These are the most normal things in the world for us in the Netherlands, but here it feels like a gift from heaven if we can spread cool butter instead of wiping the butter box clean of leaked melted butter and sand and putting the leftovers on the sandwich. donate. I prefer to have odorless detergent at home, here the artificial lavender in my clothes smells wonderful!

We book an additional two nights immediately after arrival and use this extra time to enjoy the coolness indoors, finally collect our own Western Union transfer, lose some warm fur at the hairdresser and have our teeth checked by a dentist.

After La Rioja it is another two days of trudging before we can turn to a more attractive route. More attractive in the sense of more beautiful… Suddenly the green around us becomes jungle-like. And, stuffy! The climb is difficult for us, but it is still a lot nicer than walking along the main road in the drought. Paul’s creative map reading leads us through a river instead of over the bridge, but that doesn’t matter. With shoes on we drag our bikes through the river over the boulders. My freshly applied sunscreen prevents me from doing so, but Paul stretches out with his clothes on in the shallow, fast-flowing river. I quickly take off my shirt and dip it in the cold water before putting it back on. What relief!

The route we are cycling now is beautiful! It leads past small charming villages. We leave those behind us to get a little further off the beaten track. Before that, another climb awaits us. Since its approaching the end of the afternoon, we start looking for a suitable camping spot for the night. The best we can find is a flat patch of grass next to the outside bend of the road. Not ideal, but a tired cyclist can’t really worry about that. The next day we continue our climb. The fog hangs in thick sheets around the mountain and we see nothing next to us and little in front of or behind us. Descending a bit and increasing heat will change that. Instead of following the bend of the road back towards the main road, we turn onto a dirt road. This will lead us downhill towards a river and lake. We cycle through a true jungle, covered in greenery and dripping with sweat. Only the monkeys and toucans are missing. Failing that, we just make some monkey noises ourselves.

Via a narrow suspension bridge (cars have to cross the river) we arrive at a wonderfully quiet rural village. There is one WiFi for the entire village, which we also use while sitting at the only table near a kiosk. We set up camp on a (once former) campsite on the river and clamber over the smooth boulders to the deeper part. Together we struggle our way against the rapids and then enjoy the rush back. In the evening I do some shopping at the only kiosk (at home) in the village and secretly buy something tasty for Paul’s birthday the next day. Before we crawl into the tent, we dive into the river one more time to cool off. This time in the nude, because apart from a few horses, dogs, a lot of chickens and mister pig, we have the place to ourselves.

‘Happy birthday to yououououououououou, happy birthday to yououoou! Birthday boy will never be lost, pull him by his ears, pull him by his ears! (Dutch song…)’. Paul turns 44 today. There are songs, sweet treats (mwoah..) and a birthday card with monkeys(!), from my mother, which has been traveling in my bag for 7 months. As a surprise, I booked a ‘luxury’ hotel for today and tonight. To our delight, the route that morning turned out to be very beautiful and I would have liked to have taken longer, if it weren’t for the fact that we can check in at 12:00 at our hotel with SWIMMING POOL! We look a bit out of place in our sweaty cycling clothes in the chic lobby of the colonial hotel. That’s what makes it extra fun. A little later we are in the pool! We enjoy ourselves like a children in the lukewarm water. Everything is better than that scorching heat. In the evening we watch a film in the cool room. And against our better judgment we postpone our departure (back into the heat) the next morning as long as possible. It’ll only get hotter…

A long climb awaits us towards the much-praised ‘Tafi del Valle’, very popular among local tourists. The climb there leads us again through a jungle-like dense environment. Beautiful, but also monotonous without a view. Two days later we arrive at our WarmShower in Tafi. Our hostesses live comfortably outside the town in a self-built house with a beautiful view. We are taking a rest day here. At least, that was the intention. Ultimately, both Paul and I are busy all day. I clean our bikes while Paul fixes tires. I wash our clothes and also our inner tent which is full of mosquito and fly corpses, food stains and melted chocolate.

My legs itch like crazy! When I packed the tent the day before in the morning, I already had the feeling that I was being bitten continuously. At first I thought I was imagining it, ‘just an itch’… but then I spotted the tiny black creatures swarming around me. Would that really be the cause? When I look at my calfs and the back of my knees I’m shocked. I’m completely covered in red dots. The itching in bed that night drives me crazy. I tell myself to just persevere for a few days and then it will be over.

When we leave Tafi del Valle, on the advice of our hostess in the village, we eat a ‘Bomba de papa’ (a kind of large potato croquette filled with lots of cheese) and a few vegetable empanadas, a greasy snack for the morning. As we continue our way, and still climb, I soon feel that it is too heavy on my stomach. I feel nauseous. When the nausea rises to my throat, I seize the opportunity. While Paul holds my bike, I throw the Bomba de papa out onto the roadside. Well, that’s a relief! I immediately feel a bit better and we complete the beautiful climb (now out of the jungle) to the pass without any problems.

After this pass a long descent awaits us. After a night of camping we take a detour via a museum. In addition to the bomba de papa, also recommended by the WarmShowers hostess. But I still dare to do this. We visit the ruins of what was once the settlement of the indigenous Quilmes tribe. A tribe that lived here around the 15th century and consisted of about 10,000 people. They held out against the many invasions of the Incas at that time and managed to resist the Spanish for 130 years, until they were defeated in 1667. The 2,000 survivors were forced by the Spanish to make a 1,500km journey on foot to a reserve near Buenos Aires. Only half of them survived that journey and were subsequently enslaved. The descendants of this tribe eventually retreated to the ruins of their ancient city and built a new village next to it. They want to tell about their history and honor traditions through guided tours of the ruins and the museum. Once again I am impressed by the damage that white men from Europe have caused in this area.

At the end of the day we cycle into Cafayate, which to our surprise turns out to be a very touristy town. Fortunately, we don’t have to look for accommodation here because we can once again enjoy the hospitality of a WarmShowers member. Bicycle repairman and top chef Daniël welcomes us in the guesthouse behind his house. The apartment where he lived with his wife and baby when they were building their house 14 years ago. How spoiled we are! Not only with this accommodation but also with two delicious meals from both Daniël and his wife. In (high) exception we eat the smoked meat that Daniël prepares. I’m glad it’s still on the bone, because I really hate meat that is no longer recognizable as an animal. However, the pig goes too far for me. They are such cute animals! I just don’t want to eat them, period.

Daniël appears to have made it his specialty to convert regular rims and tires to tubeless. In other words: placing the tire airtight on the rim so that an inner tube is no longer needed. Paul has been considering this for some time. A sauce is then injected into the tire that immediately fills the hole in the tire if you have a puncture on a thorn, for example. I’m a bit more old school and stick to my inner tubes, but have them filled with anti-puncture fluid. The principle is the same, except you keep the inner tube and its weight. Would this finally mean ‘no more flat tires’?

On our last day in Cafayate we visit the ‘Carbras de Cafayate’, or ‘the goats of Cafayate’. A goat farm that also receives tourists for a tour and tasting. Cafayate is chock full of wine tastings and I’m happy to find a Hera-friendly alternative! When we arrive we can just join the tour. We don’t understand a lot of what the guide says, but just poking around is fun. I like goats. I love the smell of goats and goat cheese and their curious, funny faces. Paul knows that one of my dream plans for the future is to start a goat farm somewhere. Small but nice, with goats for fun and cheese. And then sell them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t smell like goats on this farm… and they don’t bleat either… how is that possible? I ask our guide. The fact that they do not have a strong odor seems to be because the males are far enough away from the females. When the females are closer to them, the bucks will produce pheromones that give off that strong scent. And whining? They only do that when they are hungry. And these goats just get plenty to eat. Too bad…

The tasting follows. Paul gets a glass of wine, I get a glass of water. I ask for goat’s milk, but they don’t have it… strange. We get a plate full of six types of cheese and sit at a table under the trees. It’s quiet… so quiet… I haven’t felt this calm in a long time. I’m relaxed! I already felt it a bit when we arrived and there were a few people sitting at tables in (almost) silence enjoying their cheeses. I don’t have to ride, don’t plan anything, don’t wash anything, don’t text anything, don’t read anything or look something up, don’t have to fix anything. This moment is just for tasting goat cheeses and sitting here. I could keep this up for hours. Back in our apartment I discuss it with Paul. I can’t quite figure out how it works, but maybe I should find a moment more often when I really don’t have to do anything.

The next day our rest days are over. We took a few more than planned because the pain in my knee is coming back. It went very well for 1.5 months, no pain at all. But now two weeks ago I started having problems again. When we cycle out of Cafayate we soon find ourselves fighting a strong headwind. The surroundings are beautiful, but this is not a good idea now. I’m bummed, but a little later I raise my thumb in the hope of finding a lift that can help us move forward, away from the strong headwind that howls through the gorge. Three young men on holiday take us along. We’re lucky that they also stop at a few ‘highlights’. At our request, they dropped us off at a village that consists of no more than eight houses and a small station that has been converted into a restaurant. But we can camp there quietly on a field by the river and make a second attempt to cycle a bit the next day. Fortunately, without the headwind, things are going reasonably well. Towards the evening we find a camping spot in the form of a dead end (because it has collapsed) on the edge of a very wide riverbed through which a small stream runs. A man, with the help of his son, tries to catch fish in one of the pools left after a moment of higher water, in vain. Too bad, because judging by the looks of him and his children, they could use some free fish.

The next day we cycle to the long-promised Salta. A city known for being beautiful, atmospheric and green. We are lucky with our booked hostel. It has just opened and is run by a young couple. They serve us at our beck and call until it makes us uncomfortable and we prefer not to say that the internet has gone down again. This is a really relaxing place and I try to surrender to that. I’m not washing, not blogging, not fixing anything. I enjoy the very extensive breakfast buffet and take our card game to the dining room to relax and play a few games of ‘Claim’ after breakfast. That also requires all my attention and brings that nice feeling of not having to do anything for a while. It may sound strange… we are traveling, right? Something that many see as a ‘very long vacation’. Yet I am always busy. And if it is not practically, then it is mentally. And if not with things here, then with things ‘at home’, within the family, with friends or elsewhere in the world (Israel-Gaza, exploitation in cobalt mines in the Congo, Russia-Ukraine).

In the theater at the plaza I check what performances are on these days. Tomorrow there is a dance performance. I have no idea what it will be exactly, but the tickets are only 2000 pesos (2 euros). Just for fun I dye my hair pink in the afternoon and in the evening we stand in line outside the theater, all dressed up (as best we can do on a cycling trip). It’s busy! Still, we can find nice seats, right at the front. Only when it starts do I understand what this is about. It is a piece that was specially created for the 40th anniversary of the end of the ‘dirty war’. This is the name given to the seven-year period of state terrorism by the military dictatorship, characterized by torture, murders and disappearances of ‘leftists’, supposedly necessary to ‘establish order’. To learn more about this, I can highly recommend: the book ‘My name in Light’ by Elsa Osorio and the film ‘Argentina, 1985’. The dance performance is beautiful and moving. I can only imagine how special he must be to all the Argentinians in this room, for whom this is very recent history. When we come outside after the performance, there is a meeting/demonstration going on in the plaza about this same subject. There are still people missing, whose fate has never been clarified. The message of the Argentine people in response to this (mentioned) genocide is ‘Nunce mas!’, Never again.

We are really enjoying our stay in Salta and hope that the pain in my knee will decrease. Secretly, Bolivia is finally starting to come close. A new adventure that we are looking forward to and that I am happy to cycle through step by step. But first we will climb towards the altiplano (high plateau) of Bolivia. The climb towards it is in Argentina. But I will write about how we accomplish this and how we cross the border to a new adventure in the next blog.