Paso del Agua Negra

Given our delay and the burning desire to get north, we have had to ditch some of the stopovers and sidetrips we might otherwise have done. This is still happening three weeks later. Leaving the factory, though, there was one detour I really didn't want to let go of. The Paso del Agua Negra crosses the Andes between Argentina and Chile at an altitude of 4780 metres. That is higher than either of us had ever been, more than twice theheight of Australia's biggest bump. Besides the sheer height, the road passes close to glaciers. I also wanted to see how the bike would perform at such a height, given the deficit of oxygen.

We lunched - too heavily, it turned out - and fueled at Las Flores, then left our passports with the border guards before taking the climb. It's about 90km from Las Flores to the top of the pass, and of course the road climbs all the way.

We were both excited to head into such a dramatic and clearly unforgiving place. The views from the road were stunning, though riding the bike I didnt have much chance to look around. Off asphalt, onto dirt, first under rain and then with snowflakes swiirling around us, we kept it pointed uphill. Wind, cold and precipitius cliff kept us on edge. Somewhere around 4000m the road got even steeper and narrower. With the good old boy (the BMW, not me!) getting out of breath, I pulled out the air pre-filter so as to give a less-restricted flow of air to the motor.

By the time we got to the top, it waas clear we weren't going to stay long. It was bloody freezing - don't know what temperature, but 5 or 6 below zero, and a screaming wind. We banged out a couple of photos before mounting up and getting down off the saddle.

Once off the hightest part of the pass and out of the wind, we stopped for a couple more photos under an over-hanging icefield.

It really doesn't take much to get out of breath at that altitude, and after running around for photos, and the rushed effort of putting my jumper on under my jacket, we felt like we'd run up ten flights of stairs.

Altitude sickness is also a real risk for people who usually hang out somewhat lower down the hill. It has various effects, but perhaps most relevant for the motorcyclist is the potential for loss of concentration. I think I concentrated harder on the way down than I ever have before. Through snow then rain, wider roads and shallower grades.

We grabbed our passports from the Gendarmeria Nacional, and headed back to relative lowlands. One more bit of intense riding, on sand this time, got us to a wild camp amongst towering white sandstone gorges.

Wow, what a day. I'm tuckered ot just writing about it!