Motorcycle Explorer December 2014 Issue 3 | Page 160

I took the map out of the tank bag and got my bearings. I looked
at the ultra sexy looking Ruta 51 with its luxuriant asphalt and
how it travelled to the the city of Salta. The day had started in the
mountains as I climbed to the Altiplano, then I had spent the rest
of the morning and early afternoon in the desert. What would the
rest of it be like? I’d no clue. I really hoped that it would be better.
I consoled myself that at any point I could take the easy way out
and cut east for Buenos Aires and then go home. The map called
out that the next mountain pass, was the highest in South
America which was enough for me to carry on for at least another
afternoon anyway. It wasn’t long before I felt like I had gone
through a worm hole to another part of the world.
As I crossed the peak of the mountains it started to rain
which turned the path into a muddy sludge fest. Whatever
about maintaining your line through a crap road in the dry,
when your visor is covered with rain drops you've no
chance, so the going became very very slow. I couldn't
believe how much the landscape changed once I went over
the peak of the mountains, on one side desert and blue
skies, and on the other clouds and rain. It didn’t feel like I
was in the same day. This experience is recounted a lot by
people who travel in the Andes, where in only a very short
distance the weather and landscape changes completely,
you can literally have rain forest and desert separated by
only a few short miles.