MORE OF ARGENTINA

As promised, here I am at Iguacu Falls, Brazil. The rest of the original group flew out to Rio this morning, while the two Italian members Luca & Massimo, aka Valentino Rossi & Max Biaggi, flew to Buenos Aires yesterday. A bit sad to see everyone go, because everyone got along famously, & after sharing 3 weeks of adventure & adrenaline, I think there were genuine bonds of friendship & respect, as well as a hell of a lot of laughs. There was always something going on that called for laugh. So now its just me & the Compass Crew, Wicki & Lisbet, & 10 very dirty GS 650s. These need to be cleaned & serviced, & a lot need new tyres. I have a chance to catch up with things (like blogging). I have no doubts that the new group which flies in shortly will undergo the same process. Bike riders share something that other people dont. (Gravel rash?). You know what I mean.

Based on first impressions of the town of Iguacu, Brazil is certainly different from the other countries we have visited. For a start, the weather is hot & humid, the place is cleaner & a lot greener, the traffic is faster & more furious, & things are generally more expensive. Oh, & Portuguese is not Spanish. I can´t understand a bloody thing anyone says. But the Falls are certainly spectacular. I have seen, heard & felt the power! I wont go back & see them again with the new group, but I will certainly front up for the helicopter flight again, that was just fantastic. A large plume of mist hanging in the air above the raging torrent is visible well before you can see anything else but a vast expanse of rain forest, so you are in no doubt as to where they are. But the suspense builds as you get closer, & the first glimpse is a spine tingling shock & awe moment, & quite unforgettable.

OK, so what happened between here & Salta? Well, in 3 days we covered about 1500 km. Not a problem in Oz, but its a bit trickier over here. Some of the more sports bike oriented people (Luca & Max especially) had sore butts & were bored out of their brains after the first few hours, but I was in my element. The first day we covered about 600km, through open, flattish farm country. It didnt look all that prosperous, it appeared that the land may have been cleared, then taken over by weeds, but we were down to almost sea level, & it was cooler. It threatened to rain, but didnt. The landscape gradually changed to more of what you might expect of good cropping & cattle country, with a lot more stock visible, particularly beef cattle, & some very large feedlots. The Argies know a lot about beef, dont worry about that. We finished the days work at a very forgettable town, & stayed in a very forgettable hotel. I would give you more information, but I am trying to suppress the memories. Basically it was a hole. Along the way, I noticed several roadside signs indicating that ¨Las Malvinas son Argentino¨, ie that the Falklands belong to Argentina. Oh really? I thought that had been decided, & that the final score was Britain 1, Argentina nil.

Next morning we awoke to a thunderstorm, & the streets were partly flooded. As we had a 500 km ride that day, it didnt look good. It rained heavily all morning, & out on the roads, it was very dangerous. Visibility was very restricted, & there was a lot of oncoming traffic, particularly trucks, on the single lane road. The roadside was waterlogged, & there was one dropped bike & a few nearlys as people pulled over to clean their visors. We saw one car which had slid off the road, & at one stage, there was a dead horse next to the road. Gulp! The rain eased after a few hours, but everyone had some wet clothes or gloves.

As we entered the city of Corrientes, we crossed a very large cable stayed bridge over the mighty Parana River. It was easily the biggest river I have ever seen, it was massive, & up until that point, Id never heard of it. The Amazon must really be something! Shortly afterwards, we wee pulled over by a traffic cop on a little trail bike. Wiki had committed the mortal sin of cutting onto a service road at an intersection, & naturally all nine other bikes followed. The cop swaggered up the line of parked bikes asking each of us in turn if we spoke Spanish. Of course, anyone that could immediately forgot whatever Spanish they knew. This seemed to infuriate the guy, until eventually he reached Wiki, who also played dumb. By this stage, the cop was extremely angry, but had realised the bikes were foreign registered, & he smacked his ticket book against his thigh furiously. I thought he was about to burst into flames, then it slowly dawned on him that if he issued a ticket, he would also be comdemning himself to about a year of paperwork. So off we went. The irony of the situation was not lost on anyone. After the mayhem we had witnessed out on the roads for the last 2 weeks, all this idiot could do was stop someone for a minor infringement which had not hurt anyone. Thats South America. Mind you in the interest of survival, we had been routinely ignoring speed limits & most other traffic control measures since we left Cusco, but that is not the point, is it? (is it?). Later that day we stopped for lunch at a roadhouse, which would best be described as a smorgasbord of pestilence. We had to stop because the fridge in the truck had packed up, & for the second time, our potential lunch had to be thrown out. Anyway, I took one look at this joint & decided I wouldnt eat anything, except an ice cream with a wrapper on it. Rarely have I seen so many flies in one place, & the kitchen & toilets were filthy. Next day, some of the guys had stomach problems. Up here for thinking! That night we stayed at Puerto Valle, in an old country estate that had been converted into a luxury hotel, & boy was it luxurious. It was a tropical wonderland on the banks of the Parana, & we were treated to a fantastic BBQ & mucho vino y cerveza, then toddled off & slept like the dead. It was a great end to a tough days riding.

The following day, we followed Ruta 12 up along a narrow strip of Argentina which runs between the borders of Paraguay on one side & Brazil on the other, not that you would know by looking at it. The scenery had changed to green & tropical, & the temperature & hunidity had increased accordingly. Another 400 km or so saw us at the border between Argentina & Brazil. This time it took us a while to clear the Brazilian side, & it got dark while we were looking for the hotel, & the group became split up. This was not the first time, but it looked like it might be the biggest stuff up yet, but it got sorted.

Next day the biggest laugh of the trip happened. While in an ATM centre, with a money exchange next door, Brian Gilbert (aka Barney) managed to get himself stuck in a revolving door between the two. Dead set, it was properly stuck & so was he. Did I mention it was a Saturday? Did I mention I had tears of laughter running down my cheeks? Did anyone help? First things first. Like true mates, after everyone else had filmed this predicament from every angle, & had run out of wisecracks, (ie about half an hour later) we managed to bend the glass door just enough for a slightly bewildered Barney to squeeze out. Luckily he was the smallest guy on the tour, anyone else would still be in there. Of couse this did not stop the relentless payouts, which will continue for weeks, if not longer. This will shortly be uploaded to Youtube, & I will put the link on this blogsite. And as ever, there is the pepetual promise of photos to be posted soon, but this looks like it might now be straightforward.