Springlike: El Carmen to Salta (8th to 15th off)

June 7, 2016

Today would see a complete change in the weather after yesterday's rain. The sky cloudless. Springlike. Warm sunshine and lieder of small birds. Tall yellow wildflowers along the margin of the field I'm camped in. The view of wooded foothills and the Andes beyond against warm blue sky.

What is more the road, old road 9 between San Salvador de Jujuy and Salta, which I've ridden a few times previously, is narrow and hilly much of the way, unsuitable for heavy traffic, so only an infrequent odd local car or pickup truck passes. The main traffic takes the autopista. From El Carmen I climb a wooded valley with small farmsteads to the side and pass trees full of parrots. Then climb through uninhabited jungle clad hills to Cerro Santa Laura, the summit of which marks the division of the provinces of Jujuy and Salta, from hereon the road curves in and around the flanks of jungle clad hillsides in symmetrical curves, most of the way enclosed in overhanging trees.

I stop and watch large black spotted orange butterflies hovering above and lighting upon roadside foliage.

No butterfly photo because my camera malfunctioned. Nonetheless, goats are good craic.

It is easy to stop too often here and admire the serene surroundings, but seeing the time I press on, wanting to reach Salta early afternoon. The way on descends and I'm hoping to reach the village of La Caldera around oneish, where there are a few places to eat.

Not long after one o'clock I've come down into the valley of Rio Caldera. The river a wide gravel-bar scree on the right with a single channel of water flowing along it. The road still enclosed in overhanging trees and the far riverbank fringed with trees too, which cover the foothills that side toward the grey ridge of the mountains beyond.

The route from Alto Peru (now Bolivia) to Buenos Aires between the 16th and 19th century. In La Caldera.

I cross a long narrow 1930s bridge to the village and turn left into the principle street, jerking along over uneven cobblestones with flat roofed single storey colonnade fronted houses to the side. It has an air of colonial era town. Most of the older men dress in wide baggy trousers tucked into boots and wear a wide brimmed hat: the gaucho uniform. On previous visits here it wasn't unusual to see men on horseback.

Most of the young men and many young women however buzz by on scooters.

There's an old signboard explaining the significances of Caldera as a post on the route between Alto Peru (present day Bolivia) and Buenos Aires, from the 16th to 19th century.

I lunch at a small eating place on empanadas and wine before setting off again, back across the bridge and right for the remaining 25km to Salta.

Entering the city from the north is stress free. A near enough empty autopista taking me near to the centre where on arriving, I ride a circuit of the plaza, then push the bike along a pedestrian street leading off.

It is about here while sat snacking on a cone of chips that I couldn't resist photographing a pensioner couple sat on a bench. I thought it unique because she is knitting, nothing more.

I go further and check into the backpackers hostel on Buenos Aires (st).

I share a room with a young Israeli called Or. Straightaway when he sees me viewing photos on the back of my camera, he starts talking photography, about white balance and how the finished edited picture should be what the person taking the photo sees, which may differ to what the next person may see; basically, the perception of the eye. He shows me finished photos on his phone to emphasis his meaning.

Or is also a good cook. He cooks dinner for a group of us later and is very knowledgeable about food.

Next morning at breakfast he offers me coffee he's made enriched with spices. A whole new coffee experience. He talks about home where they grow oranges, olives and just about all the fruit and vegetables the family eat on his grandfather's farm.

I took a walk to the top of San Bernardo hill, where there's a great panoramic view of the whole city.

While catching up on journaling, Or moved on and my new room mate is Marco from the Piedmonte region of north west Italy. Being Italian he is also a good cook. I think before people are born, those that excel at cooking are chosen to be born in Italy.

For Sunday lunch he cooks a tasty lentil casserole. Then in the evening a pasta carbonara with a delicious cream sauce. Both us feeling stuffed afterwards and not having done much all day, he says "We do a nothing today, but sit around and eat like pigs!"

He is also very knowledgeable about blues and rock music and says "My a all time favourite guitarist is a Rory Gallagher" and precedes to load a video to his phone to show me his hero playing live.

He studied for a year in Dundee and says he loved Scotland. That he could go back and live there. At home in Italy he was involve in Historical reconstruction and shows me a video of a costume and weapons reconstructed battle between a Roman army and Catilonian (my spelling) army, held in a hay field, there being stubble grass and bales stacked at the side.

Bartholomew Mitre (19th century president) on the 2 pesos banknote. Someone doodling with a pen tried turning him into John Lennon. Then thought they'd do horns.

Most intersections in the city street grid operate smoothly without traffic-lights.

Today's ride: 68 km (42 miles)
Total: 10,763 km (6,684 miles)

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