Los Andes

Overview

Brice and I will meet in Santiago in two days' time. A day or two after that, we'll set off north through the Andes foothills to a town called Hurtado. From there, we'll climb the Andes and cross over into Argentina. We then cycle north for a spell to Tucuman, hopefully taking in the Malbec vineyard “Yacochuya” in Cafayate. We cross back into Chile on the Altiplano, rendezvousing at San Pedro de Atacama with some spare supplies we will have shipped from Santiago. Either we'll (a) go due north into Bolivia and, ultimately, La Paz, or we'll (b) cycle to the coast and turn right up to Bolivia on the nicer route. It'll only be because we want to see the sea pretty badly that we could opt for the latter, given that it means coming off the high plateau only to mount it all over again.

Route (a) from San Pedro is on the desolate side. We are pretty well prepared for it. This is our third long-distance cycle tour and we've gotten used to 'ultra light' touring. We are self-contained, meaning we carry most of what we need -- tents, sleeping bags, spare parts and tools, plus the capacity to carry 10.5 litres of water per person. Our formula is mountain bikes with front suspension, which makes us a little unusual. Most cycle tourers are on a rigid front fork and carry loads of baggage on front and rear panniers. We cannot carry front panniers because of the suspension. But the shocks allow us to move across pretty bad road at a good clip. We carry a front handlebar bag, rear panniers, and a duffel bag on top of the rear panniers. It means we go fairly light -- light enough to haul bikes over obstacles or through rivers, as was too often the case in Tibet. The setup from that ride is in this picture from 2000. That bike was stolen in Beijing after the ride. I'll have photos of the new setup soon.

Why do we keep doing this? Because this is the best method of touring. The bicycle liberates. There is no internal-combustion motor to fuel and pamper. There are few moving parts. The body is your engine and the more you ask of it, the stronger it gets. Bicycling means moving along when you want to, and staying when you don’t. There is little upon which you rely save yourself. You see things in a way you wouldn’t otherwise. A train takes a route of its choosing. A car finds limits in the road conditions. Even a jeep sometimes hesitates where the cyclist can cope. We do it because it’s a break. A chance to get lost. Civilisation stokes the appetite to live minimally, preferably in remote places.

I’ll update this site from the road.

Scott Urban