An altiplano odyssey
Sun, salt and sand in southwestern Bolivia and northern Argentina
Hello friends, family and those we've met on the road! Welcome to the twenty-first edition of our newsletter, this time penned from Mendoza, Argentina.
It’s been a while since the last newsletter, and that’s because we’ve been pedalling our little legs out across the Bolivian altiplano, the Argentinian puna and then down by over 3,000m into wine country in order to reach Mendoza for a very feliz Navidad.
The first of these environments was one of the most dramatic of the whole trip so far. From Uyuni in Bolivia, we made our way out across the Salar de Uyuni, which is the largest salt flat in the world and a place we’d been looking forward to seeing since we first thought we might ride our bikes the length of the Americas. It is so unlike any other place in the world, with vistas entirely empty of landmarks aside from the occasional tourist jeep. We spent a day traversing the flat, enjoying the solitude and the otherworldly effect of nothingness on your brain and eyeballs. Covered up and wearing eye protection to protect from the harmful effects of the sun reflecting off the salt, our movements were largely dictated by the wind direction (a theme for this newsletter instalment).
After taking a photo in our birthday suits - a cyclists’ tradition, the results of which you can find on Suzie’s Instagram, if you wish to subject your eyes to it - we attempted to set up camp, but sadly a slight change in the angle of the gusts meant we had to abort. Thus began an extended period of hostel owners kindly allowing us to sleep on their floors to escape the somewhat hairy conditions outside. We were so thankful to generally be treated well on the flats and throughout the Lagunas route, as the hoteliers in the region can have a reputation for (understandably) not giving much of a hoot about cyclists, when the pre-booked jeep tourists are their main source of income. We were glad to encounter many kind souls who would let us set up our tent in their hallway, and were similarly delighted to have been on the altiplano during a relative heatwave (-10 is not an uncommon night-time temperature, but it never dipped below -2 for us).
After exiting the salar we joined the Lagunas route, which is a notorious way to traverse southwestern Bolivia before crossing into Chile. We were nervous at the thought of pushing our bikes through deep sand, but the promise of salt lakes, thousands of flamingos, volcanoes and Mars-like vistas, along with the feedback of a handful of riders a little way ahead, encouraged us to think of ourselves as up to the challenge. And after our disjointed journey through southern Peru and northern Bolivia, which saw us bus vast sections, we decided to throw the remaining energy we had at the idea of being Lagunas finishers.
And boy are we glad we did. Aside from one rainy hiccup (our poor bikes had a mud bath), we found the route to be in largely good condition, with very little pushing required. I will not, however, call the week or so we spent reaching Chile easy by any means. The wind was always strong, and almost never to our advantage, while the need to constantly pay attention to food and water supplies made riding in this high desert atmosphere a heavy and slow experience. But the uniqueness of the topography was undeniable, and two and a half days riding with German couple Simone and Michael (who we’d first met in Huancavelica in Peru) not only provided welcome craic, but also made us a little less nervous about the consequences of getting into trouble in an isolated place. They were an absolute joy to spend time with, and we’re excited to see how their journey progresses now that they are much further south in Chile.
We then rested up for a few days in the hippyish enclave of San Pedro de Atacama before crossing into Argentina via Paso Jama. Although we will volley between Chile and Argentina a few more times on the trip, it was a pleasure to realise we had now accomplished our stated goal of ‘Alaska to Argentina’, and we enjoyed feeling smug as we pedalled on an extended portion of tarmac for the first time in weeks. More salt lakes and huge sandy mountains lined our path, with us both being surprised at the range of colours visible in this barren place. We enjoyed this little taster of the Argentinian puna, which many of our impressive cyclists friends have explored in more detail on the mind-boggling difficult Seis Miles route, which we shamefully skirted in favour of Argentina’s Ruta 40.
Expecting the good times to immediately roll (wine, campsites, vegetables), we were surprised to discover the first few hundred kilometres of the 40 were dirt roads, often featuring long sections of yet more washboard. Despite feeling a little over unpaved, since our buttcheeks were still bruised from the Lagunas, we enjoyed gorgeous views and dramatic canyons, as well as the hospitality of small and often indigenous towns in the area. This is a region that has been supremely affected by the consequences of lithium mining, and it was interesting to talk a little about this with locals and a trio of documentary filmmakers from Italy we met in the miniscule town of Puesto Sey.
After the final ‘super high’ pass of the whole trip (thanks for the ride Eric!) we started to descend the thousands of metres downwards towards Argentina’s wine country. Suddenly we found ourselves riding through oases of lush plants and flowing rivers, or in the midst of stunning rock formations, and we were greeted by moto tourists and more reliable infrastructure. Argentina loves barbecues, and as a result most small towns have a municipal campsite with basic utilities and grills at every pitch. This has been a real treat - camping with running water and showers has felt incredibly luxurious after months of just setting up in the middle of nowhere and having to lug all your supplies up a big mountain. Even the mountains have largely gone; with the reintroduction of tarmac and the lack of bumps in the road, we are finding ourselves able to once again cover large distances every day, giving us a little confidence boost. In fact, as the scenery has slowly become less dramatic and the temperature has started to peak (we rode in 45-degree heat on our final stint into the city), this feeling of accomplishment has become even more important for our day-to-day wellbeing.
It’s now been more than 19 months since we started the trip, and we have been feeling the emotional toll of the time away more than ever before. We see the deep tiredness we feel reflected back at us in the faces of our friends that also started in the northern hemisphere; and although it can be tough, the fact that we are now within 5,000km of our finishing line, and that Patagonia will constitute a large percentage of what’s still to come, we are feeling more determined than ever to see the welcome sign at el fin del mundo.
We have another few hundred kilometres of things being hot and flat, but then our surroundings should get properly green and the snow-topped mountains should return. We are certain that after a good rest with friends here in Mendoza (there’s quite the cyclist contingent, and we are in an Airbnb with long-time friends Simon and Lizzie) that we will feel refreshed and ready to tackle the last few thousand kilometres on the continent. But I reckon there will be another couple of newsletters between here and there, don’t worry.
Feliz fiestas, friends.
Toot or boot
Losing THE ACTUAL TENT on the Lagunas route BOOT
A hero jeep driver finding it a few kilometres down the road and returning it to us TOOT
45-degree heat on the highway BOOT
Kiosks having a ready supply of frozen water bottles for cyclists TOOT
Not being big wine drinkers BOOT
Finding a winery with an art gallery in the middle of nowhere TOOT
Thanks and shoutouts
Lizzie and Simon
Benson
Oscar
Dominick
Matt
Mari and Alejo
Eric
Erick and Marie
Erika and Oli
Eleanor and Liam
Simone and Michael
Cleo and Ryan
Gustavo and Marcello
Robbie and Issy
Julia and family
Dougal
Andrej
Bruno
About us
We are Edwin Foote and Suzie McCracken - thanks for signing up for our newsletter! Edwin is from England and Suzie is from Northern Ireland and normally we live together in Deptford, south-east London. We arrived in Fairbanks, Alaska, in May 2022 and are attempting to ride our bicycles the length of the Americas, hoping to finish in Argentina in 2024. If you have any recommendations of things we should do, people we should meet or places we should stay, we'd love to hear from you! Please reply to this email, leave a comment on Substack, or follow us on Instagram at ed_win and _suziemccracken.