The search for a summit grinds to a halt on desert tarmac

Well, it wasn't pretty but the repair worked well enough, I covered the 50 miles to the next town without further drama. In every tire's life a little pressure must fall.

From the mountains to the desert, wandering through Argentina

I have had an interesting few days. Currently I sit at a cafe in San Juan, about 200 miles from my motorcycle (there is a story here). I will be posting videos to document the timeline of events. Here is the first one, shot at the base camp of Mt. Aconcagua.

Two Dogs

There sat two dogs, one on each side of the U.S. Mexican border, imploring the border guards to allow crossing into the other countries.  The scruffy Mexican perro looked passively at the U.S. border guard and sheepishly asked for entry. The guard replied, "why do you want to come to the USA"? The not quite mangy mutt replied, "oh you know, maybe I find a wealthy master. I could get a fancy collar and a nice food bowl that is always filled with the good food. That would be so nice". The border guard, thinking this a reasonable request, allowed the little dog by. On the other side of the fence the Mexican Border guard  looked in disbelief at the American dog as it asked for entry, replying, "Why in the Hell do you want to come down here"? To this the healthy looking mutt stared assertively at the guard and said "I Want to Bark"

High speed on the salt flats from a cafe in Mendoza

 I hang in limbo here in Mendoza, awaiting some information concerning a place to keep my bike while hiking, so, I thought I would edit video to pass the time. The Bolivian salt flats are not to be missed and it's a shame that I'm only now posting this, but better late than never, enjoy.

A full moon and an empty soul

 The wide strips of land along the straight roads of Argentina are mostly desolate and lacking in points of commerce, however, they lend themselves to amazing rest areas, though not of the typical fare. Every 20 miles or so the main route passes beaten paths which lead into small but dense patches of mature hard wood trees. During the day these offer travelers some respite from the sun, and I passed many families picnicking, some under the watchful eye of Difuta Corea whose shrines were prevalent on my journey (several of these were comprised of plastic water bottles, thousands of them, she had died of dehydration), and generally enjoying a simple existence which didn't reek of poverty. Much like these Argentinian simpletons (no offense implied) I too was looking for utility maximization as I rode through the night. The full moon was giving quite a stare when I pulled from the road in search of a spot to camp, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. This wasn't too surprising, though this was farming area there are only about eight inches of rain per year here. I decided to forgo the tent and simply toss the sleeping bag atop one of my tarps, taking a moment for pictures before retreating for the night.
   The thunder came loudly at around 2 AM, and from a deep sleep I was somewhat slow to respond. This was going to be bad, I thought as I weighed my options . I had yet to test my tent's rain worthiness and was worried it would not be not up to the task at hand, but looking for another, more suitable, place seemed out of the question, the storm was moving too fast and it was angry. The lightening had struck something in the distance which had sparked an inferno, a towering glow shot out of the ground in stark contrast to a black cloud drenched sky. This should have been of major concern to me as I was camped under an outcropping of lightening rods, but my groggy condition led me to be more worried of the imminent prospect of myself and all my possessions becoming drenched to the core. The patter of rain was overwhelmed by the gusting wind as I assembled my tent on a mound just behind the bike. Upon my entrance into the domicile light precipitation was quickly replaced by a relentless barrage of rain, joining the vicious wind, which lasted well into the day.
    There are lessons to be learned here (I noticed the following morning that all the trees around me were charred,but obviously not dead, from a previous lightening/soaking attack) and they leave me a bit apprehensive about my next endeavor. The weather here is clearly a capricious beast at times and under the right circumstances can be the death of you, as Difuta Corea found out first hand.
      My next goal is to reach the summit of Mt.Aconcagua, though by comparison to the peaks in Asia, it's 23,000 ' are easily achievable, the swings in weather are often deadly. My life to this point has been an interesting mix of charm and failure, my fuck-ups have yet to cost me anything more than progress (as defined by prevailing B.S.)and girls. My chances to succeed here are pretty good, and as achievement and love pass me by (or by default, exclude me), what do I really have to lose?

From the air to the asphalt, the long road to Mendoza

  After landing yesterday I was a bit disheartened to learn that Argentina has what they call a "reciprocity fee" which is only applicable to Americans, Canadians, and Australians. I didn't have to pay this when I crossed into Argentina over land in August so I was a bit blindsided by the attack on my wallet, $150 gone forever. This was small change in comparison to the parking fee for the bike which came to a staggering $1,000. My compulsion to run up on the curb and around the booth was tempered a bit by my desire to avoid the police on this trip. I did some negotiating and got the charge down to $750.
  I was happy that my bike was where I'd left it but there were a few things needed to get it running again, fortunately I'd brought all of them with me, much to the TSA's chagrin. The trip to the salt flats had a lasting impact on the BMW and the brake pads had rust welded themselves to the disks, eventually WD40 and a screwdriver did the trick and the old girl was rolling once again.
  I spent the remainder of the day in Buenos Aries drinking cheap wine on the river front as a steady stream of pedestrians strolled by. Of particular interest to me was the popularity of skates here, there were hundreds of  people of all shapes and sizes rolling around, perhaps it has something to do with most of Argentina being as flat as a pancake. I've become well acquainted with this geographic (non)feature and as the photo illustrates my path has been following a straight line. This won't be the case for long though as the 1000 kilometer trip to the Andes is almost over. I'm looking forward to higher elevations and lower temperatures that Mendoza will bring.
   

A return south

  Earlier tonight I finished my last exam of the semester and I'm trading my regulated industries book for a map of Argentina, the flight from Atlanta leaves at seven tomorrow night. My bike has been at the airport in Buenos Aries for over three months now and a I desperately hope it is still where I left it.
   I wanted to edit and post a a cool video tonight, however, I am suffering from diminishing marginal returns and this brief clip is all I could muster, it's still pretty cool though, documenting a a first in my life.

   My next post should come from Argentina, though I have no idea what is in store for me it will certainly be more interesting than horizontal mergers, network externalities, and vertical restraints.