Leaving the shady avenues and bustling city life of Mendoza behind I felt like a mad woman on the run from a mental institution. A full week of rest had come and gone since arriving in the fruit and wine Mekka of Argentina, and it was high time to move on. Regardless of how great big hostel hangouts, even bigger glasses of Malbec and water melon enough for a lifetime can be – I not only wanted – I needed out.
Nope. Not even you can make me stay one more minute.
Out. Fast. And after rolling through those few rough neighbourhoods that everyone had made sure to warn me about – I was.
Urgent pedal strokes gave away my impatience. I was still far from where I wanted to be. But more than anything they were proof of a massive dose of excitement. Because I knew I was getting there.
The original plan of crossing the Cristo Redentor pass into Chile (which no doubt had been great too) had been scratched to give place for a new one. A far greater one. One to the starting point of which I simply couldn’t get to soon enough. Though unfortunately one that I still had quite some riding to get to.
What is worth mentioning though, is that the ride there turned out to be total a gem in itself. And no doubt the best ‘warm up’ possible, with just enough switchbacks, shitty road surface and ‘people-lessness’ to get legs and mind ready for what was about to hit them.
Days came and went. I wasn’t far now.
High. Rough. Remote.
Pure.
Hopefully more so than ever before.
It was time to hit the Andes.
And kickstart these South American adventures for real.
Until next time,
Fredrika