VENTURING SOUTH on DRZ's

Hi! I've been watching this thread since it was linked on reddit. For some reason this really intrigued and inspired me, I normally would look over something like this and move on, but it's been bookmarked since I found it and I check for new posts daily. Just signed up to drop in and say thanks for the updates, looks like an awesome trip.
Cheers

And I like to party......so lets keep this trucking into Argentina.

So you had a lot of confidence in me when I departed.....Is that what you're saying? Anyway, I haven't uploaded all the gopro.

Thanks for dropping in. I have to ask; what is "reddit" and is it good or bad that I am linked on it?

That's funny because I do. Should make it interesting....but I'll watch it a bit.

First thing to do is run down to the gasolinera where we find that the protests are continuing. We ask all over town and they say that tomorrow morning we should be able to get gas. I even offer locals double price to siphon from their car because I do not want to stay another night….not happening. Then we roll to the Llavado to get the bikes washed and to see what is left underneath the salt. Water is frozen so they are still closed; yeah it’s cold here.



We grab breakfast and then head back to the wash station and pay an exorbitant gringo price to have them pressure washed and soaped down. Then head for the hotel to pay for another night after checking on the gas station again.





Station still blocked:



Right next door to us is a Frenchman riding two-up with his wife and we tell him about the gas situation. He busts out a piece of paper with the name of an ice cream shop on it “Heladeria Pinguil”. He says that he read about another rider who experienced this same situation and this ice cream shop sold him gas out of the back. So we all leave the hotel and a few blocks later find the place and they have gas!! The price is only $7 bolivianos per liter which is half way between local and international price so we gladly pay this and fill the tanks. It is just before noon so we rush back to the hotel and load up. 120 miles of pure offroad in front of us to the next town of Tupiza.





Leaving town there is a roadblock made of cars, bicycles, garbage, and rocks. We squeeze between a bicycle and a car before anyone can make a move on us and hit the dusty trail.

Just after squeezing through the blockage:



First 30 or so miles is straight lines full of brutal washboard with the occasional 20 yards of sand patches thrown in that tries to give you a case of the tank slappers. We run this section full out at our normal cruising speed of 55mph. Occasionally there are large ruts/dips in the road that bottom out your back end and then send it flying diaganoly just to test how hard you can squeeze your knees against the tank.

During one of these episodes my front end smashed hard and I flew out of the rut with a large piece of the bike flying up into the air and then smashing me in the face……it was the llama skull. Happened so fast it could have been anything I thought I was going to go down hard. Phew!!

Then the road entered the hills winding through red rock terrain and rolling cactus laden hills. The Frenchman who gave us the lead on fuel said that this road took him a little over 5 hours. He said we might be able to do it in 4 if we are cruising. I said 3 hours I’ll be in Tapiza and he said no way. This is an Enduro event with a single entry. Sliding around corners, hitting large rocks, slamming gears because the bike just won’t run right under 5K RPM due to the elevation, I am absolutely punishing the DRZ.





Occasionally there is a sign that depicts a sharp corner or twisty road ahead. It seems that whenever a sign is present you can haul ass because the corners will NOT be very sharp and when there are no signs you better be careful. I learned this after flying up over a hill where the road immediately turned 90* and also turned into loose sandy dirt rather than gravel. Sharp turn and over the handlebars I went….kinda bugered up my shoulder but my luck was due to run out soon. :mutt



A few miles down the rode and I realize I am aiming at 11 O’clock in order to go straight; somehow I tweaked the forks in the triples. Stopped, loosened everything up and realigned everything. Seems to be fixed.



All along the way I was looking for a good spot for a little explosion but nothing jumped out at me. We rolled into Tapiza after 3 hours 15 minutes. Killed it. These people are protesting as well so we had to turn around at the road block and navigate around town along a river bed and then jump onto the highway where we found a gas station. The first was out of fuel due to the road blocks but the second had a bit. The lady wouldn’t take a tip so we paid international rate for the last time. We will exit Bolivia tomorrow.

More photos just before entering Tapiza, Bolivia.

Today internet duties consumed the majority of the day. Walked around town, found some grease for the chains, ate a bunch of street food, and hid dynamite in various places among my bike to bring to Argentina. I’m going fishing one way or another. POW!

5/12/13

Shoot south for the last bordering crossing that I will make on this trip. Decent ride but nothing notable.

So we get to Villazon, on the border, and I watch the bikes while Al figures out the process. He turns in the bike paperwork and stamps out of Bolivia in all of 5 minutes. It is quite nice because the Bolivian and Argentinean immigration and customs office are all in the same place.



But then he goes to get his stamp into Argentina and can’t. We were expecting to pay the $160 reciprocity fee but were completely unaware that YOU CANNOT PAY IN CASH at the border. Apparently noone sent me the memo. You must pay online and print a receipt.

The website:



So then we turn back and drive into Villazon looking for an internet shop with a printer. The 3rd one we stop at has both computers and printers. Sit down and access the website. I can make it only so far through the process and then the internet cuts out or the browser times out and can’t load the required page. After 100 tries and much frustration sitting in a room full of kids playing video games, looking at porn, and playing rap music we say F*CK it go to a hostal/hotel. They have wifi so we can use our own computers. No success. The internet is just flat out to slow to make this required payment to enter the next bloody country.

So I call my buddy Robert (the guy that met us in Medellin). I wake him up and tell him I need help, here is a website, here is a debit card number, just save the forms as pdf’s and email them to me. I owe Robert big time. He has been an awesome help for me on this journey. 15 minutes later I get two emails with our Payment receipts that I quickly print out back at the first internet café.

We pull up at the border again and now a bus has dropped off about 70 Bolivians trying to enter Argentina. The sun is beating down on us and all I can think about are the hidden stashes of explosive in my bike and how they my start leaking impact sensitive fluids at any time. I stand in line for a solid hour to get my exit stamp. Entering Argentina took no time at all. Now we can pull the bikes into the shade and get them imported. The guys inspecting the citizens that came off the bus are doing serious searches. Digging through all the belongings pretty in depth. We get the bikes imported (30 minutes for both) and then are told to show some guy our papers and he will inspect the bikes before we can enter. He says to hang on a minute while he is digging through somebody’s luggage and will be over soon. I’ve got this stuff tucked away pretty good but still have my concerns. His line gets longer and longer and finally he yells at the guy who do the paperwork for our bikes and asks if he will do the inspection. You can tell this is one lazy government employee so I’m feeling better already. He walks over, checks the vin number to match the paperwork, asks what’s in the bags, we say clothes and camping gear, he says go ahead. Sweet!!!!! Resume update: International explosive trafficker. BAM!!!

Before we depart we ask where we can trade in the Bolivianos for Argentinean Pesos. He says you have to do that in Bolivia. So Al runs back (no bikes allowed) and changes our money out. The guy doing the change accidently divided by .73 instead of multiplying. I made about $150 in the ordeal and Al picked up an extra $350 or so. Awesome, entrance to Argentina paid for on a fluke.

Wow. Hope you find a good place to set off the dynomite . Holy crap!

Don't worry I will. Try not to let you guys down

We pound down the pavement to Tilcara for a night of camping. We make it just before sunset to set up the tent, grab some hotdogs, buns, mustard, potato chips, and a fifth of “Old Smuggler’s” whiskey to celebrate our last border crossing of the trip. Tilcara is a nice little town. Camp spot was mediocre but at least it had a picnic table. Even a barbeque pit but we couldn’t find wood anywhere.

The Old Smuggler didn’t treat me all that well so I’m feeling a bit groggy this morning.



We get everything picked up and put away and are on the road headed for Salta by 9:00 AM.



Stopped at a gas station for coffee and croissants. Best cup of coffee I have had since Costa Rica. Good work Argentina!



Last night’s stay was at 8K feet. We are finally going down and it feels so much better. Breathing is easy again and it isn’t so darn cold.

Followed a nice valley out of Tilcara until we reached the Routa 9 turn off to head for Salta. This is a fantastic road. Only about 8’ wide with a dotted line down the middle that weaves in and out of the mountain crevices while most of the road is draped in jungle vines and large tropical trees. This area looks more like Ecuador than what I would expect in Argentina.









We also passed a number of very nice looking camping areas. Here is the GPS coordinates to the first one that we passed. The second, only 3-5 miles down the road looked even nicer.



Arriving in Salta the town looks quite nice. It is large but not too much traffic to fight. The first hostel was far too expensive. The next was being tended by the brother of the owner who didn’t appear to know much at all. The price he gave us was quite low so we rolled the bikes inside and got settled. Later in the evening the sister pushed for the real price but after saying we would just leave she gave it to us at the “discounted” rate.

Absolutely starving we walked around Salta and stumbled into a McDonald’s…just had to do it. Then we found a few stores that we would like to visit but everything was closed. This is where we learned that nothing really opens in Argentina until about 6:00 PM. What a work schedule? Even the sporting goods and moto shops. Crazy!



I’ve carried a decent amount of US cash all the way from the states because I didn’t know that Ecuador was on the US dollar. Anyway, the whole point is to trade US dollars on the black market, or Blue Dollar market, in Argentina. Luckily the rate is quite high right now. Officially, one US dollar is worth 5.25 Argentinean Pesos. On the black market you can currently get 9 to 9.5 pesos for 1 dollar. So basically if you bring enough cash then everything is damn near half price. I found a guy on the corner of 9 de Julio that I traded $500 for 4,500 pesos. I just made $400USD in about 2 minutes time. Damn I’m good. Later that evening I found another guy and traded another $500 USD for 4,625 pesos. Just made over $400 in another 2 minutes. I’m on fire. Argentina is going to be cheaper than Bolivia.

A little sketchy going through hundreds of bills on the street checking for authenticity but not too terrible:

Kicked off the day with a McDonald’s breakfast. Sorry at best. No sausage egg mcmuffins…only ham and cheese sandwiches. Then grab gas. I guy at the station is selling Salami, I try a piece, yeah that’s delicious I’ll take one.





Grab oil for the last change of the trip:



Headed south for a bit and then shot westerly to the small town of Cachi. Got a little bit of offroad in to cross a mountain pass but a rather short ride at only 120 miles. Rolled into town and secured a nice campsite.























Apparently Argentineans love the “idea” of camping but all the campsites are for the most part empty. Doesn’t bother us at all. They are also right on the edge of town so walking in for food and drinks is no issue at all.

Here early we spend our time gather sticks and any wood that we can burn for a proper campfire.





Not before long we have a decent stash and then head into town for lunch and dinner fixens. The town is small, quaint, and nice. You can tell that a lot of the folks here are locals on vacation. They are the most welcoming and friendly people that we have come across on the trip. They all want to know where we are from and how the journey has been. I wish I spoke more Spanish. There is also a heavy Italian influence that you can here in all the restaurant conversations. On and on and on they ramble and drink their wine. Lots of folks stop on the sidewalk an snap photos standing with our bikes…pretty entertaining.

The only thing to be had for dinner is more hotdogs….and some whiskey.



With the sun setting we light the fire, warm our bellies, and make some proper weenie sticks. Before long we are tipsy and running out of wood.







I make an attempt to break a large dead limb off of a dead tree and after dangling and jiggling the bastard I can’t make it come free. With Al’s help we both yard on the stupid thing and it snaps off in a hurry crushing me in the head. Stumble down the hill and almost into the fire I hold my head to ease the pain.

Removing my hand it is absolutely bright red covered in blood and now drops are falling from the tip of my nose. “No Bueno Al, I got a problem”. I hold TP to the wound and after a bit it resides.









We go to the bathroom to rinse my hair. Chunks of my little remaining follicles fall into the sink with pieces of dead skin. Al doesn’t think I need stitches but even if I did what the heck can I do out here camping in the tiny town of Cachi. Just hold paper to the large knot on my skull and hope for the best. Eat the hot dogs, finish the whiskey, and then go check out the sports area where everyone is playing games.



Then sneak back to camp the "short" way.

Probably a good thing you own your own body. If you'd rented that thing for the trip someone would be keeping your deposit when you turned it back in, lol.

This is larger than life, we may need to start a fan club, but will need a noble portrait of you to kick it off, preferably not giving that Cheshire smile

BTW, I'm down to either a DR or a DRZ for my next bike, thanks for your inspiration, lol...just need to sell the R first so I can stay married! Use the helmet next time you gather wood :).

Good times.

I'm feeling a twinge of sadness that this will be ending before long.

But wait; Uruguay is just across the river from Buenos Aires!! Why, Colonia del Sacramento is a Unesco World Heritage site! How can you not at least go there and take pictures and eat hot dogs and drink whisky? Then there's the Atlantic coastline nearby and Cabo Polonio - one of the kwewlest places anywhere! They'd love you guys there - you'd be treated like rock stars!!

come on come on come on come on!!!

Hey guys I know I must have read it somewhere along the story but since I forgot can you tell us why you are only going to Buenos Aries? I'm sure that's a good stopping point if you need to fly home but are you coming back for the bikes so you can go all the way to the end of the road? Just curious...

I can seriously feel pain in ever corner of my body. This trip has really beat the hell out of me.

Sweet! I hope the participants bring large checks so that I can just keep riding around the world. Looks like Taranaki is already doing research....he can be the voice of destination.

Good luck on choosing the bike. I don't know what your style is but if you don't plan on throwing the bike around corners and absolutely killing single track, then I would probably opt for the DR. I think my biggest reason would be so that it can handle the large weight of Lockable Panniers. IMHO

I wish! This is going to kill me going home. I don't want it to end. Complete and utter freedom; waking each day and doing whatever the heck you want to, not worrying about how you will make ends meet, etc....

Right me a check and I'll stay on this long road as long as you please (or fund).

All those places sound nice but I'm thinking "Venturing East" has a nice ring to it.

I'm only going to BA because of the time period that I have chosen to ride in. Meaning that it is far too cold/windy/snowy to go down to the tip right now. I'd love to see but it just wasn't meant to be for this trip.

I will be flying me and my bike home from BA. I can't stand to leave it here. it sounds good and all but you only have a 6 month visa. My line of work doesn't exactly let me take long breaks after 6 months. I basically have to quit work to do this sort of thing. I need a 6 months on 6 months off sort of gig.....oil rigs maybe?