Ruta 40 – hot hot hot!

Well that was easy. Not! The celebratory cerveza upon arriving in the central plaza of Chilecito – another notch on our belts along Argentina’s Ruta 40 – was well-earned. The past 10 days or so from Cafayate have been more of a desert slog than either of us had imagined. Or, either of us wants. It’s pretty much akin to crossing an ocean where islands of trees far off in the distance are your targets. Add an endless road that goes off into infinity, laser-beam like sun, zero water or shade, and head winds that obviously don’t want you to get where you’re going...and you pretty much have cycle-touring Ruta 40 in northwest Argentina. The single biggest challenge is simply that pit stops (human settlements with food and water) have become farther and farther apart, to the point where a day of riding often isn’t enough to span the gaps. All in all, it has become more of an ecochallenge than anything else...which, as previously discussed isn’t really our objective here. No wineries? We’re outta here! Time to head more inland to greener pastures (I can see them in google earth...green versus brown...looks much more inviting).

The decision to head more inland away from the deserts of Ruta 40 has been made easier by the fact that the next stretch of road on Ruta 40 – a mountain pass that climbs 1000 m of stinking-hot rock and desert – is closed due to rock slides. Thank god. So ya, decision made. We’re still heading south towards Mendoza, just a bit of a detour.

The town of Chilecito, or should we say, the oasis of Chilecito, is a decent sized town of 30,000 inhabitants smack in the middle of a furnace of rock and desert. One of the funniest things here to us is the absolute quiet and stillness of the afternoons. Perhaps due to the more intense heat and sun of mid-afternoon here, the siesta takes on new meaning. After arriving yesterday in the middle of the day, finding a place to stay, and washing up, we thought we would stroll the streets and perhaps find a place to eat or drink or even shop for groceries and wine. We just haven’t learned yet obviously. Not a creature was stirring, “not even a mouse” as the story goes. It was also Sunday, which might have made it worse, but man, not a sole on the streets, not a store open anywhere. It’s like our 3 am. Although, the big exception is ice cream shops. They are open in mid-afternoon. Perhaps it’s a law to keep the lunatics out on the street at 3 pm cool? Either way, it’s good for us. With half a dozen varieties of dulce de leche (caramelized sweeten milk; very popular here), and a buck for a monster cone with toppings, our favorite chain is Grido.

As they say, “when in Rome”...so after satiating our developing ice cream addiction we returned to our air-conditioned nest for some down time, then crawled back out of hiding around 7 pm. The plaza was waking up and the chairs and tables from the morning shift were being put back in place. We ended up having a wonderful dinner of beer, pizza, and salad in the plaza (luckily this place opens their kitchen early at 7 pm).

An interesting result of the Argentine schedule is the invention and insertion of another daily meal they call Merienda (dating back to their Spanish roots). It’s a snack – usually a drink with sandwiches or finger food – right around the time we usually have dinner (hence the open kitchen).  That then gets them through to 10 or 11 when they have dinner. Makes sense. Between lunch and 10 pm is a long stretch. I think anyone in that position would invent a meal to fill in the gap J

The 3-day ride from Belen was...ummm...hot.  Midday temps are in the mid to high 30s at least. Another interesting challenge to getting through these areas is the daily diminishing window of morning cycle time we have. Rule number one in hot climates is get up early and be on the road before sunrise, then shut it down by noon or so before it gets too hot. The head wind adds another factor here. It seems like the time the wind starts picking up is getting earlier and earlier. It now seems like we just get going and we can feel the head winds picking up. It makes for stressful decision-making. Do we continue into the wind, or camp now to save energy? However, camping early can be painful given the heat of the midday sun. We were in that situation a couple days ago when we ended up in a small village (oasis) at about 11 am. Kind of early to stop, but then, continuing out into the desert only to be ground to a stop by the winds in the middle of nowhere is not fun. So we ended up camping, and interestingly, on the side of a soccer pitch that el presidente of the village soccer club graciously permitted. It was a long hot wait for that sun to disappear behind the hills. Not really “camping”, more like waiting.

Next morning, after a rather hot and sweaty night, we awoke to gale-force winds. Great. Now what do we do? We can’t ride into gale-force head winds all day. But we can’t stay here (gracious as el presidente was). Decisions decisions. It’s always about decisions. Critical decisions. One would suppose that’s why they call it “adventure”. In the end, we rolled the dice and headed into the wind, hoping that our situation would improve. There was no plan B if it didn’t. Another miracle ensued, and it did indeed get better, and we rode through the morning and into town just in time for last call in the plaza (that would be 2 pm). A fine tasting brew it was! Btw, have I mentioned that “a beer” in Argentina comes in a 1-litre bottle? Brings on yet another meaning to having “a few beers”. At a buck-fifty a litre, no complaints here.

So a couple of days of R&R to take in the town winery (Bodega La Riojana – “bodega” means winery), a little sparkling torrentés in the courtyard followed by steak and a nice bottle of malbec, perhaps another evening in the plaza (ah, the Argentine life...hard to beat), and we’re back on the road. This time Ruta 74 -- hopefully in the direction of greener hills and valleys. As always, more on that soon. Adios babies.

My thoughts exactly