Wandering To The Worlds Southern Most City

I’d not yet reached the border between Bolivia and Argentina when I was stopped by police. They were friendly, but asked me to bring my luggage to the X-ray room for inspection. As their RR: Ruta 40drug dogs showed no interest I was quickly on my way.

- Frank Lindert

After crossing the Peace Bridge the trouble continued, with a question I wouldn’t have expected there: Where’s my motorcycle insurance? Without it, the bike couldn’t enter Bolivia. I’d planned to get it in Salta but wasn’t expecting this kind of problem. Not skipping a beat, I passed off my Carnet de Passage as German insurance. Looking at the complex foreign paperwork (carnets are not used in South America), they didn’t have a clue what it said. When I pointed out that “Argentina” was marked on the reverse, they all nodded and within a few minutes I was off.

Wet and chilled to the bone, I made it to Salta and took the first hostel on a quest for a hot shower. For $20 I got a tiny en suite room, but nothing worked. The toilet ran non-stop, and after the slightest touch the shower head broke. But no problem, I used a bucket—at least the water was hot.

Salta is so different from its counterparts in Bolivia. Although architecturally similar, there are countless outdoor cafes where you can sit and watch the street life. But after two days in the big city I wanted to get back on the road again—to follow Ruta 40 all the way down to Tierra del Fuego.

Ruta 40 is akin to an Argentinian version of Route 66, but more than 5,300 kilometers longer— one of the longest roads in the world. The starting point for me was Cachi, where I met Martin, the Swiss owner of a 1947 Ford coupe who wanted to drive his old-timer all the way to Ushuaia. We decided to join forces.