The return to earth was a long, straight road, a continual descent of 2000 meters with the air noticeably getting warmer. Heatwaves upon heatwaves with our destination getting clearer and for a short while we felt like we were flying!

Geographically we were in the same place but just 30 short kilometres away, things were growing (not much), smelling, life was happening and voices were no longer in isolation. Only on a flight can you change landscape and climate so dramatically, so quickly and that’s what it felt like, like we’d been on a flight, even though we could see where we’d come from.

With those mountains behind, serving as a reminder of tough times and with our remaining time limited, we had some genuine conversations about sacking the rest of the trip off. It wasn’t like we were on an A to B, there was nothing to complete, only what we invented, so why couldn’t we invent something new and enjoyable?

I had the shits too and this wasn’t the place to set off dehydrated, so we took our time, enjoyed a cracking Superbowl final, had a pizza altercation and made the most of a top bakery! We knew we had to go back the way we came, the 30km down hill in reverse. Our reward, being back at 4000m and when you’re warm and comfortable it’s hard to do that to yourself but in the end we had to hit the road (Jack).

We cycled on to the border with Argentina. And it appeared that fainting was a regular thing up there. One guy hit concrete at our feet. Medico, medico!

We rode on a little more to a tourist information centre, a curious existence not really near anything touristy, built of mud with one permanent resident. We asked nicely if we could stay the night and she a bit rudely said yes. There was drinking water and space for two tents under some semi cover, that would prove no match for the overnight weather. Loud booms and thick rain, the clay turned to sludge beneath us and we lay wondering why we’d returned to the Altiplano in rainy season!

We were into the low twenties days left and if we wanted to get all the way over to Brazil, we needed to be open to hitchikery; it was a case of when, not if.

We cycled on to Susques a pretty little town, full of evil, sick, twisted, (probably mistreated) dogs. We snaked through the town looking for money and food and contemplated our onward journey. There was a small pack of street dogs running around as if they owned the place and one particular bastard (poor neglected and most likely abused) dog sunk its teeth into my calf, through trousers, breaking the skin.

It would have been fine, if not for the real threat of rabies and the fact that I’d already lectured Chris on how to deal with dogs. He enjoyed the situation and I hated him for it because it meant that I had been wrong for the first time in my life… You can’t ‘just ignore’ street dogs, they’re assholes (that need a home).

This made up our mind to stay the night, get vaccinated, take drugs, and be well.

Incredibly my little trip to the hospital cost bugger all, great Susques! And with their advice of three days rest, firmly ignored, we found ourselves in the back of truck, with a suave Argentinian.

It was a beautiful morning and the stretch that came next was the longest, most spectacular, hairpin road that would simply embarrass the Alps. Being inside a car for that was painful. Worse still, we were ejected at the bottom, very little gained and in reality a lot lost.

The road got a little busier approaching Juyjuy City. It was baking hot but we found coffee and shade before we cycled on to the small town of El Carmen and then eventually this huge family campsite. The landscape turned to rural green meadows, there were fewer cars and for the first time on the trip we felt like we had landed in cycling heaven.

Next day we negotiated, a perfectly marked, Mario-kart track, through the plush countryside of the Salta wine region. As we neared Salta city, a local lad on his mountain bike joined the peloton before peeling off as we entered el traffico. We stopped for coffee and pastry, something that Argentina does Europeanly well before locating our boutique hotel.

Time to bus it East. It would have been nice to cycle Paraguay but it was a sacrifice-able part of the trip and I wasn’t too sad looking out of the window. Asuncion, the capital of Paraguay lies on the border of Argentina and it was a particularly interesting if not arduous part of the journey. There is no convenient river crossing to the city, instead, you must cycle 25km with the city on your right, until the suburbs fade, before crossing the river and riding the very same 25km back through all of the congestion.

We tried to cycle onwards to Iguazu falls in Brazil but the hard-shoulder was speed bumped and it was just no fun! We camped one night in a delightful campsite before making it our plan to hitchhike from the village of Cordillera where we had a chance encounter with the Paraguayan president. Happy handshakes with the dictator.

It was a bit of a struggle but in the end we got ourselves to Ciudad del Este, close to Iguazu falls on the cheap side of the border with Brazil. The trip had become bitty but at least we were seeing plenty of stuff.

Big city meant new street food, and after my great experiences in La Paz, I backed my iron stomach to take on a plate of mystery meat. Numpty. The first vomit wave I opted for the toilet but the splash back got me, so instead I tried the bidet, which squirted me in the eye! I settled on a sick bag which got fuller and fuller until 6 in the morning. Rough, rough night.

After the bile and dry heave stage was over, a euphoric wave of happiness came over me. There was a rooftop looking over the city and I spent hours up there, enjoying my own company, reflecting on the trip, listening to music, whilst Chris had his turn to be ill.

It was now time for two fit and healthy lads to go see the world’s best waterfall.

Finally we had reached Brazil, which is where we will forever remain according to our passports. Exit stamps, who needs them? Iguazu was our grand finale… all we had to do now was sneak into Uruguay before starting our string of flights home from Rosaria (The home of Messi).

Approaching Uruguay with our heads down, we all of a sudden heard a screech of tires and very nearly lost our left elbows as a drink driver failed to see us until the very last minute. We watched him roll before helping him clamber out of the passenger side window. It was a little too much for our final week!

I would recommend a trip like this to anyone with the main benefit, freeing yourself from distractions and realising that you actually need very little.  As far as safety, I can’t think of a time when I felt moderately threatened. So much so that it feels like I still haven’t visited South America. I was promised bandits!

Thanks Chris for sharing the optimism to make such a trip happen and taking care of a lot of the boring stuff – until next time amigo 🙂 x x x