We were forced to make a sharp exit from the hostel in San Martin. Gary had managed to eat 24 croissants with the result that the breakfast was in short supply and a mob of Israeli backpackers were growing hungry and restless. Luckily we made it around the block before they managed to clock who the culprit was. Our complete escape from town was thwarted, however, by my amazing ability to break Mavic rims. The story isnīt quite as interesting as the Turkmenistan incident, as we were only 200m away from a well stocked bike shop who supplied me with a new (Mavic) rim and rebuilt the wheel for me for less than 20 pounds.

As always it was good to be back on the road after a few days off in Bariloche and Pucon and we set ourselves the target of getting to Mendoza without a day off in order to make up time. The total distance was 1200km and our map showed fairly good roads so we assumed it would be relatively easy- how wrong we could be. The first few days were made difficult by the total absence of interesting scenery and villages. We had come out of the lakes and woods of Patagonia and entered a stretch of arid pampas that supports very little human life. With few places to stock up on food and water we have to become self sufficient and carry as many supplies as possible. When we do happen across a place that can sell us a cold drink we inevitably find that they are very used to cycle tourists- as we are the only people totally reliant on them. The provisions issue on this leg was made even worse by the fact that we were planning to arrive in the large town of Chos Malal on Easter Sunday and we had no idea as to whether anything would be open. As a result we ended up carrying enough food for seven days.

Our diet is fairly limited and the only variety from day to day is whether we have chocolate or vanilla biscuits. So for the last months the following has been our daily staple, so donīt be surprised if we get scurvy:

Breakfast
Instant Porridge Oats
Sugar

Lunch
Bread
Tuna
Ketchup

Supper
Pasta
Tomato sauce
And a tin of peas as an occasional treat

Snacks
Pack of biscuits
Nougat
Chocolate
Fruit juice powder

From Chos Malal, which used to be the regional capital but is now a sleepy little backwater, we headed into the hills and made our way amongst some massive dormant volcanoes. This required a couple of 2000m passes and our daily average fell again despite some long days in the saddle. The hills round here are long and the roads straight which is very mentally draining as we sometimes have to climb for a few hours at a time over a seemingly never ending succession of blind summits. Oddly enough in this barren land there seems to be an amazing amount of schools. We have yet to see any children though which is either because they are off for Easter, or more likely, that there are none. I suspect that the government have built these schools because they boost the statistics yet cost nothing to run.

Our lowest point of the last few weeks came at the top of one of the aforementioned hills when we were met with a horrific wind full of dust that was absolutely impossible to cycle against. Taking shelter in a drainage pipe under the road we eat our tuna sandwiches in misery and discussed our options. Luckily the wind abated a little and we were able to make it down the pass and to the shelter of a stone corral that an old gaucho let us camp within.

The highlight of the fortnight came in the small village of Bardas Blancas where we happened across four very friendly yet very inebriated men, including the legendary Marco "El Gato Negro" Villar. He had just sold a cow and was drinking the profits and he spend half an hour trying to convince us to buy another one of them. He described how we could use it for milk as well as meat and didnīt seem to understand that carrying live cows is somewhat difficult on a bike. We were also treated to an out of tune rendition of a folk song with Marco singing different words to the guitarist. We found it all so funny that we bought them all a round of beers before leaving. On the way out of town we saw one of men passed out on top of his horse which was (presumably) taking him home- the ultimate beer scooter!

After 11 days of tough cycling and 7 days without a shower we arrived in Mendoza bedraggled, smelly and with some interesting facial hair (that has since been "styled" somewhat). Mendoza is the largest city we have come across so far and feels very European, with wide tree lined avenues, cafes and fast food outlets. It also has many green public spaces, created when the original city was destroyed by earthquake in 1861 so that one is never further than a couple of blocks away from safety. The city is famous for its wines which come from the surrounding vineyards that are fed with meltwater from the snows off the Andes towering to the West, including Aconcagua (at 6960m the highest peak in the Andes). We happened to cross paths with Franki McClure, a friend from Johnīs and to complete the reunion we have been joined by Rob West who wants to be toughened up before joining the Marines and so will be attempting to keep up for the next 6 weeks or so. He speaks fluent Spanish and has worked as a tour guide in Bolivia and Peru, so he is now official interpreter and cultural expert. He also has a few months of washing up and cooking rota to catch up on!