I can't describe how fortunate I feel to have done the Chaco portion of this tour. People from all over the world fly to Argentina, book bus tours or rent cars to tour the famous Gran Chaco… and now I am probably one of the few people in the world who has had the opportunity to bicycle from its swampy east side to its dry west side that rises to meet the Andes, to roll through hot north winds and sweat the hot north wind sweat, and to feel the sun rise behind me every morning as I rode west, slowly warming my back as the birdlife awakened and flew in flocks over the flat, straight road that stretched out hundreds of miles in front of me. I will forever remember the Chaco mornings as some of the most content moments of my life.

Here's the play-by-play for my week and a half long tour through the Argentinian Chaco!
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Thursday, 29th January, 2009
Corrientes to Resistencia, 35k

After putting together a new set of equipment in Corrientes, Argentina, I crossed the bridge to the west that acts as a gateway to the Chaco. The next city, Resistencia, 35 kilometers away, is the capital of the Chaco province. As I crossed the main bridge, and then another, and another, I realized the river wasn't quite just a river. It was a mass of wetlands that stretched out over this flat land, requiring several smaller bridges. After a short two hour ride I was in Resistencia, where I continued searching for tools and spare parts that were stolen after the bee attack in the province of Corrientes the week prior. A nice guy, Lucas, who worked at a hotel invited me to stay with him and his girlfriend in their house. But first he introduced me to a Paraguayan man, and we had the opportunity to rombotavy ha ropukaheta kachiaitere'ihaicha before Lucas and I were on our way. We rode through the night, breaking my rule to never ever ride at night ever on this trip ever. We arrived at his house safely and his girlfriend had platesful of ñokis and veggies ready to eat within minutes! Before we ate, I presented them with the aloe plant, which was the environmental gift from the Castelo family in Corrientes. They placed it alongside several other well-cared-for potted plants and promised to take care of it, too. After dinner we watched the powerful environmental documentary Winged Migration over a beer, talked a lot about environmental issues the world over, and then hit the hay.
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Friday, January 30, 2009
Resistencia to La Escondida, 100k

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. determined to be on the road by 7am. But as often is the case on this trip, the Latin culture is too tranquilo for hurries, and I end up falling victim to it. I must admit I am usually okay with this. So we ate bread with jam and honey, drank mate, joked and enjoyed our last moments together, and then everybody got sad because it was time to go... about 7:45. As a parting gift they presented me with a large bottle of honey for my next host family. It is all natural, good stuff from their uncle’s honey farm, they said. I was ecstatic the environmental gift chain was continuing...

The ride that day was beautiful, but in a way that is hard to describe. I never expected to enjoy the Chaco so much. This section of the Chaco was loaded with wetlands. At one point I nearly ran over a lizard that must have been almost 2 feet long, so large it could have easily caused a crash. The moment was reminiscent of the time Ben Venter and I were riding through Wyoming and a GIGANTIC moose ran out in front of us, or the time Brian Nilsson and I were returning from a mountain bike ride in phoenix and a bird flew into his spokes, leaving little more than a plume of feathers falling around us like pillow fight residue. Who ever heard of (almost) hitting animals while riding bikes? But I didn’t hit the lizard; instead I continued to the town of Makalle, where I met several Guarani-speaking Paraguayans, then on to La Escondida, farther west and five more kilometers off the main Ruta. READ ABOUT QUEBRACHO TREE EXTRACTION AND THE TANNIN FACTORY IN LA ESCONDIDA: "They asked me to tell you this #1."

In La Escondida I went to a local social club restaurant for a drink and some food, then to the local hospital to use my coin phrase “Do you know of any nice families in town who might let me pitch my tent in their yard? I’ve been robbed three times already so it’s really important I find a safe place to sleep... I’m doing a pretty long bicycle trip to raise money for charity... I have everything necessary except water to drink and bathe...” Then they ask questions. “No, I’m not from Brazil, I’m from the United States. Yes, I am happy Obama replaced Bush. No, I am not a missionary... Yes I have family... Yes I miss them...” Nearly every time the first person I talk to invites me to stay in their house. This was the case in the hospital. One of the “enfermeros” walked me to his house, introduced me to his family. I set up camp in their backyard, showered, then took a nap to prepare for Carnaval, which began that night in La Escondida.

I woke up and gave the bottle of honey to the father of the family, who was very thankful. He promised he would give me a plant or something to take to the next family (but we both ended up forgetting). After gifting them the honey we drank some terere with a group of new friends from the social club restaurant who I really wish I could have gotten to know better, but as is the case everyday I say goodbye to great people who I will probably never see again. I tried to stick it out through Carnaval but was too tired. Dodged spray foam for about 20 minutes and then went to sleep.
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Saturday 31 Jan- Tuesday 03 Feb 2009
La Escondida to Quitilipi, 105k
I woke up as Carnaval was ending. Said goodbye to the family I was staying with, then rode to the social club restaurant to meet up with my friends. The plan was for them to accompany me by bicycle 5k to the Ruta, but they were exhausted from a night of partying Carnaval style, so I left them with about 5 handshakes and besitos each, passed the train of logging trucks waiting at the entrance of the Tannin factory, and continued west. I was very excited for my destination that day, Quitilipi, a small city of about 30,000 people. I had met the Garcia family in Ituzaingo, then in Resistencia again, and now they invited me to visit a third time, AND to stay with them as long as I wished! I fell in love with the family and decided now was as good a time as any to take a three day break. During my 3 day visit, they drove me to the local Toba tribe reservation where the Toba people are getting the short end of the social stick (video interview coming soon), and to the Chaco campo to Señor Garcia’s hometown, now a neglected dirt road surrounded by abused, dry land, a few houses, and a some old abandoned buildings here and there (video also coming soon.) They taught me new games like “Los Simpsons” and new words like “Digamos” and “he dicho.” They also introduced me to half of the town; I must have visited 10 other friends’ houses and workplaces during my 3 days in Quitilipi, whose nickname is “The City of Friendship.” When I wasn’t meeting new people I had some time to look for more bike parts in the small city, use internet, and drink mate and terere with the Garcia family. Señor Garcia also cooked me my first delicious Argentinian asado, and the family refused to let me do dishes or fix their bikes. “Go take a siesta” they would often tell me. “You are here to rest. You have many kilometers left. Go take a siesta.” You don’t argue with Argentinians. And so I would go to my assigned bed in the air-conditioned room, laughing with my host brothers, Jaime and Lucas, trying to sleep.
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Wed. Feb 4, 2009
Quitilipi to Pampa del Infierno, 100k
Leaving Quitilipi was impossible, but it had to be done. A group of friends walked/biked with me to the Ruta, where I began a 100k day to Pampa del Infierno (Pampa of Hell). It was hot. And beautiful. You know all about the Chaco by now. I camped free in a park just outside the small town. No rainfly on the tent, only underwear on my body, no sleeping bag, no sleeping bag liner. It was hot, with no wind, and the Garcia family wasn’t there to spoil me with a fan or air-conditioning any more. I woke up many times with pools of sweat under my back and legs on the surface of my sleeping pad. Biking midday is more bearable because at least there is a breeze. Oh, didn’t I promise I wouldn’t complain about the heat? Done.
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Thurs. February 05, 2009
Pampa del Infierno to Pampa de los Guanacos, 80k
I woke up early to beat the heat in Pampa del Infierno, which was difficult because I didn’t sleep well. I was hopeful that the heat might die down a bit since I had a new destination today, a destination not named after an eternal flaming pit of heat and pain. I used the free showers in the park, loaded up with water, bought some food and aimed west again on the flat straight road. But something was wrong. The water tasted funny. Salty. A man had told me the water was drinkable. I asked somebody else. It is salty water. Only poor people drink it, they said. Hmmm... I thought. Am I poor people? They said it is clean, it won’t make me sick, it is just salty. But with this heat and the ease of dehydration I opted for bottled water. A lot of it, about 6 liters because the residents said the next two towns might not have water for sale, or if they do the shops might be closed for the 12-4 siesta as I pass through. Turns out, though, the shops do sell water. And in these small towns somebody is always available.

So here’s A NOTE FOR TOURING CYCLISTS: The water in the chaco is sometimes salty, but there are usually towns every 25 to 50 kilometers that sell something. And the people are very helpful.

I officially left the province of the Chaco this day, but I was still in what people refer to as the Chaco, in the province of Santiago del Estero. I arrived in the a dusty town of Pampa de los Guanacos, where I was yelled at friendlily “Ehhhh!...” from the side of the street by a shirtless man with a large belly. He invited me to join him and his family in the shade. After we talked for a while they invited me to pitch camp in their yard, but there was no fence so I said thanks, I might come back. He warned me that some people might not be as friendly here because there isn’t a lot of water. Some people save rainwater to drink so that they don’t have to drink the salty water, and they might not have enough to share, but it doesn't mean they don't like tourists. I thanked him for the advice and then made my way to an internet cafe. The internet cafe (cyber) had fast internet so I tried to upload some videos, to no avail. But the owners of the cyber invited me to stay in their house, and water was no problem. They said they didn’t know what the man was talking about; they have plenty of fresh water. But it could have been one of those courteous lies that were so common in Paraguay, I don’t know. I took a shower, washed my clothes in said shower, found some food, and then tried to sleep through another windless, sweaty night. Riding in the Chaco has been hot, but bearable. Sleeping in the Chaco without a fan or air conditioning, however... okay I’m done talking about the heat.
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Friday Feb. 6th 2009
Pampa de los Guanacos to Monte Quemado, 110k
I left Pampa de los Guanacos later than I wanted to, but it was okay because now it was windy and cool, and it was clearly going to RAIN! My destination was Monte Quemado (Burnt Woods) 110 kilometers away. Since my waterproof BOB bag was stolen, I wrapped my new backpack in a heavy duty garbage bag, double checked my rain gear accessibility, and rode west as fast as I could— I wanted to take advantage of the cool weather, plus the wind was coming from behind me! I was cruising at 27 kilometers/hour! My average on this trip is 17.7 kph. The rain came, and it was as refreshing as one of those beer commercials in the snow-capped mountains. There is less traffic when it rains, but what traffic there is I have to watch closer. I watch them in the mirror; they always seem to see me and courteously swing wide. LOOK! I slammed on the brakes because I saw something on the side of the road. A coral snake? I went back a few meters. There it was. Was it alive? I threw a rock at it. Nothing. I nudged it with my foot. This was a deadly snake. I should be extra careful. Or could it be a harmless lookalike? Red on yellow friendly fellow, or black on red you’re dead? Or yellow on black you’re dead Jack? What was the rhyme?! It didn’t matter; it was dead. I picked it up, felt its broken spine in my hands, opened its mouth with a stick to examine its teeth. I decided to take it with me to ask the locals if it was a real coral snake, or the harmless twin. The locals say it’s real. Check out the photo albums for a photo of the snake around my neck.

Now A NOTE ABOUT CORAL SNAKES FOR ANYBODY READING THIS: Yahoo Answers says “You can't rely on the rule (rhyme) once you are outside the U.S. Some of the tropical coral snakes have red rings next to black ones and some of the mimics have red against yellow. Treat any snake you find with respect.” Forget the rhyme. But, for the record, the Scarlet King Snake resembles the Coral Snake, and two common rhymes are: “Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, venom lack” and “Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, friend of Jack.” You’ll see in my photo the red does not touch yellow, and the red does touch black, but the locals say this snake is deadly. One señor told me a man in town died three days prior because he was bit by a snake just like the one I found.

I camped out at a police station this night, did my laundry in the shower as usual, and enjoyed my first night that wasn't ridiculously hot in the Chaco. I had a clear night, but more rain was to come. Be careful what you wish for.

Saturday, Feb 7th, 2009:

Monte Quemado to Nuestra Señora de Talavera: 100k

I woke up to rain, packed up the wet tent, loaded up my wet clothes in a plastic bag and booked it west, again extatic that the Chaco's summer heat had been killed by a storm that was following me; or was I following the storm?

I only made it as far as the tiny town of Talavera where people looked at me strangely and then a nice family let me camp in their backyard and use their shower. Then once I changed out of my helmet and spandex I had the opportunity to speak with a number of families about their current environmental issues. It's the same story the world over, but it pains me to see how it is affecting my new friends and the small towns I pass through. Here's Talavera's story: Large companies are buying all the land around the Talavera, planting transgenic crops, and using airplanes to spray agrotoxins that float into town and certainly is not healthy, or legal. There is (was?) one small piece of forest left on the south edge of town that is owned by a relative of an ex-governor. He used his corrupt connections to illegally get permission to chop the last trees in Talavera. The forest protects the town against the cold south winds in the winter and also provides firewood for residents, not to mention providing a buffer zone against the agrotoxins. Last week machinery arrived to begin the destruction. The landowner's name, the relative of the ex-governor, is Romero. The forest is about 100 hectares. If there is one person in all of poor Talavera who does not need more land or money, it is Señor Romero.

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Sunday 08 February, 2009

Talavera to J.V. Gonzales: 60k

I woke up at 5:30 to a light rain. It had been raining all night. I washed my clothes (I wash my riding clothes in the shower after every ride) and hung them the night before, but they were wetter now. I rung them out, packed them in a plastic bag, packed up the wet tent again. My bicycle was smelling like mildew. The bags, the small stuffed buffalo that is zip-tied to the top tube, even the handlebar tape. My helmet smelled too, but my gloves were the worst. I need to start washing my gloves after every ride, too.

After mate with the family, I was ready to hit the wet road. The Señora was crying as I left,  maybe worried about traffic, or that the rain would make me sick, or maybe just happy tears, thankful that I was going to share the small town's environmental issues with the world. As I left Talavera I could hear heavy machinery to the south, behind the woods lining the road.

After 60 kilometers in the rain I arrived in J.V. Gonzales smelling horrible. I decided to check in to a hostel, take a long warm shower, and sleep until the sun came out. In the shower I found 27 ticks all over my body. Everywhere. It is tick season, the locals say. Everybody knows not to go into the woods. Especially don't drop your pants in the woods. My bad.

The sun came out in the late afternoon so I decided to do some laundry in the bathroom sink. I hung it in the shining sun, got some dinner, and updated the website. On my way back to the hostel I got to see a little kiddy bike race, 1 block long. It was a hilarious community event, complete with an announcer and prizes. It got dark. I got some ice cream, checked on my laundry which was almost dry!!! and went to sleep in a bed, mosquitos sucking my blood through a thick layer of repellant. I missed my tent.

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Monday 09 February 2009

J.V. Gonzales to El Tunal: 50k

I woke up to rain. Everything was wet. I decided to kill time by playing with the bike and using internet. By early afternoon the storm had passed, but my laundry still wasn't dry. I packed up and started pedalling toward the Andes, up hills and alongside rivers. It was still so cloudy I couldn't see the Andes but I knew I was in the foothills now, and I was sure I would see them soon.

After a week on the Chaco's completely flat, completely straight road, I was enjoying the climbs and bends in the road. I arrived in El Tunal where my map said there was a "commonly used" road leading to a lake, or a "dique" with campsites and a police department. A local told me it was 3 kilometers away. It looked like 3 kilometers on my map, so I went for it, through puddles on this rough, muddy, rocky, sandy road. I rode for 45 minutes, it was nearly dark, and didn't see any sign of a body of water, so I returned to the town of El Tunal. Justo at sunset, I met a nice family that let me camp in their front yard. And then we watched a small Carnaval performance by the youth, right in front of their house. They bought me a beer, I gave them some cookies, and then I slept. Wet laundry hung above.

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Tuesday, 10 February 2009:

El Tunal to Lumbrera: 95 kilometers

My laundry was almost dry in the morning! I put on my wet spandex, socks, and jersey for the 4th day in a row and headed into the mountains. I got my first glimpse of the Andes!! A peak waaaayyy up in the sky, peaking through a break in the clouds. I snapped a photo, and then the clouds covered it again. I was in the Andes!

A lot of climbing today. After lunch I took my first tent-siesta; I simply pitched it in the shade of a tree next to a gas station. By the time I got to my destination of Lumbrera I was surrounded by gigantic mountains and I found myself wondering if the change from the Chaco to the Andes would have seemed so sudden and magical if it weren't for the cloud cover over the last few days. I pitched camp next to the police station in Lumbrera where we shared some soda, I did my wet laundry in the shower again, and it dried completely as I slept in a dry tent, which was pitched in dry grass.

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Wednesday 11 February, 2009

Lumbrera to SALTA!!! 105 kilometers

The clouds had cleared completely, save for some puffy white crowns atop the peaks surrounding me. This was the most beautiful day of my ride so far. I was in complete awe. I do not remember getting tired on the climbs; I felt no pain. I don't remember much of anything except being distracted by the mountains all around me. I don't even remember leaving my stick of Body Glide behind (a lubricantish deoderantesque stick to  prevent chafing on the inner thighs from the bike seat.

I remember drafting behind an old slow truck a number of kilometers uphill approaching Salta. I was so excited to reach this outdoor mecca city in Northern Argentina I think I rode a bit too hard. I didn't realize it at the time, but once I got to Salta I was dead. I checked into a hostel and went straight to sleep. No laundry today. I had planned to take some time off in Salta to prepare for Bolivia. After being robbed, I was not prepared for Bolivia. I didn't even have a cassette tool, necessary to change a rear drive-side spoke! And I only had one spoke. I had no jacket, no gloves, no water purification system, no stove, no knobby tires. I was going to need a few days in Salta. Y que hermosura! Argentina is a captivating country, and Salta is one of its jewels.




CHACO 101

Here's what Wikipedia has to say about the Chaco, which extends from Bolivia and Paraguay to Northern Argentina: "The Gran Chaco has some of the highest temperatures on the continent. It is a great source of timber and tannin, which is derived from the native quebracho tree. Special tannin factories have been constructed there. The ecosystems of the Gran Chaco are unique… and are slowly being destroyed by civilization with the introduction of cattle, burning of vegetation and irresponsible agricultural decisions. Many groups are trying to protect this unique set of ecosystems."