Now I’m back in Tolar Grande and I fancy some creature comforts, such as ice-cream, beer and a hot shower (although not all at the same time). From glimpses of my waistline, I can see that the gentle folds of flesh are gone, and my ribcage is starting to look like a xylophone. Less to carry up those hills perhaps, but there’s a happy medium between fat and thin. With Halloween rapidly approaching, I don’t want to be mistaken for a cast member from the Day of the Dead.
If I’m going to indulge myself, I have to head south, as there’s a place I’ve heard of called Belen that has supermarkets, warm nights, and ice-creams that haven’t been sitting in a freezer for the last 25 years. Unfortunately there are mountains everywhere, and I know these little luxuries are going to require a hard few days of cycling across salt flats and over dusty passes. I calibrate my expectations accordingly, and set off back across the Salar Arizaro, making a mental note to turn left after 10 miles, about halfway across the flats.
The road south is a decent affair, and the wind gives me an encouraging nudge from behind. There’s a whiff of lithium in the air as the SUVs and mining trucks speed by. There are tourists too, some of whom I’ve been chatting with in Tolar Grande – they tell me it’s a 76km shot from there to the Cono de Arita, and I’m hoping to make it in a day, despite my late start. The Cono is a sandstone hill, around 150m high, that graces the southern end of the salar. According to the guidebook it has mystical properties, although I see no druids nor do my razor blades unexpectedly sharpen themselves when I arrive.
I find shelter of sorts, but could do with an extra pair of arms as I try to assemble a three-man tent in the wind. I’ve given up on the thought of lighting the stove and enjoy, instead, the boiled eggs, tuna and mayonnaise I picked up in Tolar Grande. With a bit of salt, pepper and an incongruous dollop of Italian spices, this is catnip for a cyclist taking refuge from the wind and dust. There’s a gold mine a kilometre away, with an accommodation block and generator. How the other half lives!
My plan to capture sunset over the Cono de Arita becomes a rescue mission, as Dronio struggles in the wind and the cold. My remote tells me he’s short of battery only 10 minutes into the flight. He’s 500m downwind and I’m not convinced I’ll be able to fly him back again before he runs out of juice. After an anxious 10 minutes reducing altitude, and looking for landmarks on my screen (harder than it sounds), Dronio is safely back, blinking at me with sad eyes. I promise to do better in the morning.
The following day, I’m skirting the southern section of the lake, looking for a plausible road to take me up and over to Antofalla (pronounced Antofasha to confuse the gringos). A road is marked on both the Maps.me and Garmin Explore apps, so my confidence levels are high as I take a right turn off the salar and head up a shallow valley. I look into the distance and can see it’s one of those “everlasting” climbs to a col that will continue to recede as one false summit is replaced with the next. Never mind: the surface is ok, the tyre-pressure is reduced to a soggy custard for traction, the gradient is kind and there are lots of strange drilling rigs to look at through the dust thrown up by passing trucks.
Predictably, the wind picks up later in the day and I’m having to use my brakes on the final uphill section to slow down. Bonkers! There’s a right-hand turn to a place called Caballo Muerto that I’ve heard good things about. But an extra 30km detour this late in the day doesn’t swing it for me. I need to get up and over the final section today, in case someone comes along and builds another couple of false summits overnight. Thankfully the ground finally starts to fall away, and I’m working my way down from 4,300m to the Salar de Antofalla 850m below. The road is traffic-free but atrocious, and the tailwind becomes a headwind as I pummel the last 2km into town. But I know the cycling gods are on my side today, when four strangers take pity on me and invite me to stay in their hospedaje, where they ply me with food and wine. Their guide, Santiago, is from Catamarca and owns a vineyard: I’m in good hands!
The next day, there’s an infamous climb from the salar up and over a 4,600m pass. I bravely cycle and haul my bike up the first 500m, but it’s getting ridiculously steep and my tyres are spinning on the gravel. I flag down a passing SUV that takes me up to the pass itself. Looking at the difficulties the SUV is having with the road surface, this is a sensible decision. From the top, it’s a long ride down a pretty river valley. The sight of flowing water and grazing vicunas is something to savour after the barren wilderness I’ve come through. But the wind is blowing hard again, making the final 20km into Antofagasta de la Sierra a mixed bag of pain and pleasure. I arrive safe and sound at 6.30pm, ready for food and accommodation to be tied with a bow and presented at my feet. Unfortunately, all the other tourists have got there first, and I work my way from the best place in town to the worst over the course of the next hour. Not what I need really but, with the barrel well and truly scraped, I do find somewhere eventually.
Safely in a guesthouse with a quadruple room (I have to pay extra for my three imaginary friends…), I’m directed to an excellent “Comedor” where I can have a drink and eat vast quantities of food. On cue, Santiago and friends appear once more and offer me wine. Things are never so bad!
From Antofagasta de la Sierra, it’s a hop, skip and 286km jump to Belen on some of the smoothest, scrummiest and greyest tarmac I have ever had the pleasure of riding on (after miles of dirt road). Ok, there’s a 20km gravel section towards the end to remind me what I’m missing but, all told, it’s a fantastic two to three day ride in anyone’s book. Even if you haven’t been bumping along on unspeakable roads for seven weeks, I can royally recommend this section to cyclists who enjoy spectacular desert scenery on smooth and relatively quiet roads. There are a couple of mountain ranges to cross (of course!) for those looking for punishment but, with a drop of 2,500m from the high point, there’s plenty of time to freewheel and enjoy the looping birds and squeaking vicunas as you whistle past.
After the first day out of Antofagasta, I reach a high pass and enter the Laguna Blanca Provincial Reserve. A sign cheerfully informs me that camping is not allowed, not that there are any suitable flat or protected areas I’ve seen so far. Half an hour later,, I spot a hacienda and approach, cap in hand, to ask for shelter to put up my tent. There’s no-one there, although the unlocked doors suggest the place is occupied. I decide to wait and, shortly before sunset, an old Mercedes truck is working its way up the track. I have a speech prepared but, before I have time to deliver it, the driver has unlocked a dormitory room and ushered me in. No payment is requested, nor do we speak again apart from when they’re off early the following morning. I leave a thank-you note and small token of my appreciation anyway. What a great place Argentina is when it comes to hospitality.
Day two starts with a climb, but it’s soon over and a long descent to Laguna Blanca follows. Despite all the downhill over the past 24 hours, I’m still over 3,000m, although it’s getting noticeably warmer. There’s more great scenery, colourful rocks and sand-dunes to follow before I arrive in Barranca Larga for lunch. When I say lunch, I mean toffees, fruit drops and a Coca-Cola substitute. I feel like Jeff Goldblum in “the Fly”, but I have cravings to satisfy.
As I started reasonably early, I’m at the main road by 4.30pm. It’s another 48km to Belen from here, which would mean another few hours of cycling and a 110-mile day: well beyond the call of duty. I make some enquiries about accommodation at the petrol station I’ve stopped at. Predictably, although the place looks empty, I’m told all the accommodation has gone. I make a note to have my nose tested when I reach Belen, as the woman at the petrol station gives me a funny look and the flies have been ignoring me lately.
There’s a bus stop close by, but I don’t fancy my chances of getting on a regular bus. I half-heartedly stick my thumb out at a white SUV that’s going so fast it’s acquired a tinge of blue. The driver skids to a halt in an impressive cloud of smoke. It’s a Ministry of Agriculture vehicle and, as if to prove it, there’s a cactus on the flat-bed at the back. No problem: there’s room there for a bike and panniers too, if you don’t mind a few thorns. A short while later, we’re hurtling through a canyon and into Belen. We pull up a couple of blocks from the hotel I was able to book, on my phone, while Fangio was attempting to gain orbital velocity.
Belen will be my home for the next three days, before I move on to Fiambala. It’s a comfortable place where I can eat like a horse and get some money for the next section of the trip: thank you Western Union. I’ve not found any scales so far, but if I’ve not dropped from 78kg to something with a “6” at the front I’d be very surprised indeed. Calories in and calories out. I’m exercising all day every day and not eating all that much, so no great surprise there. But the bottom line is I’m a bag of bones with a suntan. My mission now is to work my way through every flavour of ice-cream Heladeria Don Fresquin can offer, and he offers a lot. Being skinny at my age isn’t necessarily a good look, but I’m sure with the right focus and encouragement I’ll put those kilos back on soon enough. Exactly where they go is another matter…
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Tolar Grande’s finest (but they do have a washing machine!)
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A bad place to be a cow
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Suffused with mysticism!
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More than just sodium chloride
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Pop-up mines
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I like this colour of grass. Just wish there was more of it
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Santiago, Ariana and friends (with wine)
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Views over the Salar de Antofalla
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…one for my collection…
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Vicunas…
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Water on outskirts of Antofagasta de la Sierra
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Antofagasta
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This is called tarmac and I like it!
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Downhill and glorious
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Dog with pneumatic ear
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Lovin’ it!
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Home for a night
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Lots of sand but not on the road 🤩
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Denounce a cow! I am all in favour 🐮
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This is what you get when you cross a cactus with a Dalek
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Strange murals in Barranca Larga
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I can clear a room in no time, even after a shower
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I need a lot of these, for research obvs
