Out of Salta

... not a moment too soon, and for the first time in ages, travelling with biker mates. John and Marcia, also heading to Bolivia on the way to Marcia's home country of British Guyana. Nice to be riding together, they also two-up on a BMW, and again we had the feeling of new liberty after our forced layoff.

Little hills, lakes and a subtropical landscape similar to the north coast of New South Wales had Emily feeling at home. Later, as we climbed through a couple of thousand metres, this gave way to desert country more reminiscent of my former home in Central Australia.

We suggested to John and Marcia a spot of bush camping - it was really the only option for us, having been cooped up so long in Salta's less than salubrious municipal campground. They were up for it, so we stocked up on food and wine. Again choosing a series of more minor roads, we set up camp at the end of a track in our own private valley.

The morning brought a sunrise walk

then lazy visits to languid villages in this harsh and spectacular Jujuy region of Argentina.

Lunch in Humahuaca - later to become Em's and my home town - set us up for the afternoon's ride. Through 3000m, stock up at dusty Abra Pampa on the Puna, or high plains of Jujuy. Aiming for the Laguna de los Pozuelos in the hope of spying pink flamingos, we left the asphalt and went up again, gradually, to over 4000m.

Though all four of us had misgivings about the colour of the sky - more purple than black - we wanted to find a camp on a par with the one of the previous night, so kept on. Sand, river crossings, then slippery clay in bossy little squalls, but just as the ride started to become a bit of a slog, we spotted a rainbow and a sunny patch across the valley. The sunshine came to meet us as we scouted out our camp - for the weather's sake under a bridge on a lonely road, protected and comfortable. It doesn't take much nowadays!