Leaving Cafayate we headed south towards Santiago, Chile.

Over the following four days we covered 900 miles down the magnificent Ruta 40 running parallel with the Andes mountains.

We made good, reasonably fast, progress each day. The red sandstone mountains gave way to long straight roads across a desert landscape that enabled us to keep up a good average speed.

Unfortunately, every 500 metres or so, the road dipped significantly as we crossed a dry river bed. We run down the dip, clatter across concrete slabs and then up the dip at the other side. For a hundred miles or more this happened time, after time, after time.

Each time we cross a dry river bed I give Susan pre warning over the intercom. We have perfected a messaging code over the last couple of months:

‘Bumpy bumpy’ is a mild rumble with no need to hold on. ‘Bump’ is hold on but it’s fine. ‘Big bump’ is hold on and brace yersel woman’.

Then there’s the final message ‘fu*k I didn’t see that coming’ – it’s more of an after the fact comment than a warning. Unfortunately, Susan would probably say she gets too many of these particular ‘messages’. It’s just so difficult to judge the roads ahead when they’re an absolute mess.

Everything happens at a bit of a pace as our average speed this day was about 60 mph. The road is inhospitable, desolate and not for sallying along. Susan takes it all very well and I can appreciate it must be like riding a rickity roller coaster blind fold.

One river crossing tested her more than most. That’s because it wasn’t a dry river bed like all the others. This was a real river about 35 metres wide.

It looked shallow as we slowed to a slightly too fast speed for the circumstances. The water sprayed everywhere and I thought momentarily that’s good the bike and my legs are getting a good clean.

Then I saw the deeper section of the river a split second before we hit it. It was nothing really, about 20 cm deep but the breaking force on the bike was considerable. So I accelerated through, went up a small river bank, that appeared out of nowhere (fu*k I didn’t see that coming), hit some holes caused by the swirling river current and the bike left the ground.

Now it wasn’t a big jump but I felt Susan lift off the seat and her left hand flew off the bike and up into the air above us. Thankfully, she still held onto the bike with right hand. It was like she was in a rodeo on the steel horse, bucking like a bronco. Well done ‘Cowboy Susan’. Ye ha!

To give you an appreciation of the forces at play I can tell you that even I left the seat. Yes I really did and I’m sure you can appreciate the amount of force it takes to get a lardy like me to defy gravity!

Of course, ‘Cowboy Susan’ got the message ‘fu*k I didn’t see that coming’. She wasn’t impressed. ‘That was bad, I was nearly off’ ‘Cowboy Susan’ says. ‘It was fine’ I reassured her as we accelerated down the road scanning for next river bed. Hopefully it would be dry next time.

To reach Santiago, Chile, we had to cross the Andes mountains, yet again. We don’t mind because they’re the most spectacular, beautiful, colourful mountains of grandure. The outlook and scenery changes at nearly every bend.

So after three days riding the steel horse, ‘Cowboy Susan’ and I ended up in a little western town called Uspallata. The only accommodation with steel horse parking was a hostel but we went upscale and rented a small ‘cottage’ as opposed to the communal dorm. We’re posh hostellers.

It had all the essentials and even included two sets of bunk beds if you had four pals to share. ‘Cowboy Susan’ was a bit of a spoil sport as she wouldn’t let me sub let. I thought she would have been okay with a couple of ranch hands sharing but it was a definite ‘no’. Maybe not a real cowboy after all?

Then there was the common room where all the nice hostel people hung out talking young people conversation. ‘Cowboy Susan’ and I fitted right in.

Now I accept there’s no young hip trendy friends in this photo but I’m not making them up. It’s just that I took this photo at 6am as we were up early to tackle the border crossing. Okay? So let it go because we really did have young hip hostel friends. Please don’t be jealous.

Now may I repeat previous similar warnings – please don’t show these hostel photos to your partner.

I don’t want them saying ‘why don’t you take me to a young people’s hostel like Clif takes ‘Cowboy Susan’ where we can live as if we’re young again, talk about travel and be cool, hip and trendy’. Peace and happiness ✌️

We had some great food that evening in Uspallata. We went to an Argentine parrilla – essentially it’s a restaurant with an open BBQ. We opted for the BBQ chicken and it was outstanding. I thought ‘Cowboy Susan’ was going to order a side bowl of beans and sit by the BBQ and start farting. But she didn’t – maybe not a real Cowboy after all?

The following morning we loaded the steel horse and set off whilst all our young ‘invisible’ hostel companions slept and dreamt of a better world. We had no time for dreaming, we had another border to cross.

First we admired the morning sun rising over the Andes – that’s where we were heading.

90 minutes later we reached the border crossing at over 10,000 feet. The last half hour was relatively awful for a steel horse. The road started off greasy then became icy. It largely consisted of concrete slabs that had become cracked and potholed by the extreme weather. Some of the potholes would throw you off the horse – this was no time for ‘fu*k I didn’t see that coming’.

Arriving at the customs post early Sunday morning was an advantage. It’s a joint Argentine Chile building, a one stop shop. However, even with relatively few travellers it was a bloody confusing mess with no clear process.

Thankfully, we now know what forms we need to complete and get stamped and so we negotiate our own way through various people, forms and queues to get the job done. Honestly, like other borders in South America there’s been nothing stopping us from entering and exiting the other end without getting anything stamped. As long as you’re not carrying any blinking fruit or honey you’re fine.

We left the border post. We were in Chile, our sixth country. ‘Ye ha’ as ‘Cowboy Susan’ would say.

Then it was a steep descent through say 30 or more hairpin bends. We took it easy and a couple of hours later we were in Santiago where we rented a small apartment for 5 nights. Of course, you know that that means?

Yes its ‘Cowboy Susan’, me and Mr Beer for four days. Happy as three non farting llamas.

‘From the end of the world to your town’.

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