Motorcycle Explorer December 2014 Issue 3 | Page 110

I came to a crossroads. Straight on via Ruta 52 was Purmamarca
where I would spend the night, to my left was the road to La
Quiaca on the Ruta 40. To the right on the 40 was San Antonio de
Los Cobres. I looked left and right up and down the 40 and with a
wry smile thought to myself, “Not a lick of asphalt - you pure
whores bastard!” You might ask - why not just go up to La
Quiaca from that point? The decision was driven by finding a
place to stay - had I done that I risked being out on the 40 after
dark and its already a big enough bastard of a road without riding
on it after dark. I also didn’t want ride up and down the same
stretch of road. The gobshite in me didn’t want to drive over any
bit of road twice unless I was absolutely forced to, that way every
single mile of the journey would be different. Yes, I do realize
there’s a hole a mile wide in that argument as I’d be doubling
back on myself on the Ruta 52 at least twice, so why the fuss
about doing it on the 40. Hey! Look behind you, There’s a bear!
By 4pm my internal scenery bucket was yet again completely full
and I pulled off the road into the gorgeous little town of
Purmamarca, which used to be a stopping point on the Inca trail.
I had a shower and went out for a steak and a few beers. I’d
always bring along my diary and write down all the things that
had happened during the day. I had been trying to psyche myself
for the "40", and was doing a bad job. "What are you doing this
for? If you come off the bike in the middle of nowhere on your
own, you are dead. No one is going to care one way or the other
whether you do this or not. No fucker has even heard of the Ruta