Funy the things you notice when you got time to kill at an airport. We couldn’t help but take a photo of what has to one of the most inapropriatley named airport cencension. A large green and red sign news seller called…’Blow Up’ and yep the names in English. I mean c’mon that’s like calling the restaurant in the VD ward of a hospital ‘The Syphilis Eatery’…it’s just not right.

Anyway, sorry I digress…Will’s flight finally came in and a very tired producer come camera man staggered into the meeting lounge complete with minimal baggage and camera kit. With a few tired hello’s we introduced Will to the kids, who waited patiently outside and found Will the hire car he’d arranged prior to landing and headed into central Mendoza.

Jerrimiah was filling up his F650GS at the same staion we’d all pulled into; someone back at Hertz had forgotten to put any fuel in the car Will had picked up. Needless to say conversation started pretty quickly as to Jerrimiah journey from North America South. He was on his way to find the BMW dealer anda hotel for the night. With that we were not a group of four, we could easily take Jerrimiah around to the dealer and from their onto a hotel as we needed to find somewhere for Will anyway.

We left Will and J at the ‘Hotel San Martin’ (find it GPS: S32 53.317 W68 50.693) and arranged to meet up with Will tomorrow morning to start shooting. Poor guy he’s knackered.

30-01-2006

Heading our of town the grey clouds that had threatened rain all morning finally let leash as did our best to done our water-proofs, Will ran round as did his best to protect the sensitive camera that ws now stuck to the front of the renta car. 15 minutes later and we were off again. Lisa and I riding side-by-side down the long SN with the mountains to our right. Will filmed from the back first of all and then instructed us to ride as close as we cold to the rear of his car as filmed from the front. The whole process was repeated about 5 times in order to get the phootage tha Will needed. And so the day continued.

By late afternoon we been riding most of the day, up and down the desent but loose dirt surface that leads up to the criss-cross of tracks we’d eventually use to ride into Uspallata tomorrow at around 3,000 metres.

The views were simply breathtaking. Miles and miles of weaving dirt track could be seen from our stop mounts. Hairpin after hairpin wove up the side of the mountain with glorious jagged peaks making a perfect backdrop. A little less laiden than normal, with some of our bags in Will’s car, the back wheels playfully slid out as we opened up the throttle on the tighter bends. Great fun. And so the day continued as we slid and skidded our way up an dbackdown the mountain side. By mid-afternoon even the local condors had come out to see what all the noise was about.

By dusk, Legs were a little tired and both of us felt more fatigued than we really should have. With the contstant U-turns and repetition of particular pieces of inclined track we were getting to know the mountain side pretty well and only now beginning to understand exactly how much phootage and work goes into making even a short documentary. The lighjt was beginning to fade around 6:00pm when Will called it day.

Lisa had gone a short way ahead and up onto the short track that veered off to the right of the one we’d been filming on all day…things were about to get interesting. Waiting for Will in the Car, I’d stopped on the left of the track and as Will came into sight I’d signalled with my right arm for him to slow and make the same right turn Lisa had made moments earlier and with that I pulled out and began my own turn. Will had taken my signall as a straight on sign and simply continued. The heavy thud and sudden sideways movement of my bikes back-end had the adrenalin shooting through tmy system in a milli-second. On the throttle the back end slid further before finally startingot behave, by that time I’d manage to slow the bike but not enough to avoid the thick pile of soft gravel on the side. I unceremoniously dumped the bike. “No fuckin way”…yep…hit by the Beeb!!!

I was fine, the bike was fine and it was no big deal. We’d try to hide the small scratches on Will’s renta car later, but oh-boy did little ding come up in conversation for days to come. We could see the headlines now…British bikers survives broken neck after Amazon plunge only to be killed by the BBC…we still think this has some mileage.

Jorge was right the view across to Acconcagua was stunning even in the half light of the evening. Will filmed as we put up the tent and as twighlight became night, Will was still filming us cook inside the tent finally finishing when his hunger pangs got the better of him.

Worryingly Lisa’s feeling pretty nauseas and is having problems with sensation inher fingers. We have been up and down the mountain side all day and we think the constant changing of altitudes combined with her medication is making her feel lousy. We’ll hope a good night sleep helps.

Felt a bit sorry for Will…With 3 in the tent it’s a little cramped but whilst we had our air-matresses he was sleeping on our bike kit, which wouldn’t have done much to make the stoney, rockey ground any more comfortable.

Another fun but long day shooting and re-shooting riding scenes to capture the right light or the right angle by late afternoon we’d been at it all day and the rain had finally started coming down.

I’m not sure why but I feel absolutely drained…bone tired and so bloody cold. Have’nt a clue why?

Early evening saw us check into a small hotel in Uspallate (find it at GPS: S32 35.482 W69 20.812)
Matt one of Will ex-BBC collegues who now works at sky joined us for an evening meal. Matt’s here by chance on holiday but has been talked into helping film our last day’s ride out to Punte del Inca tomorrow.

With a good start from Uspallata we were soon out on the smooth, fast Routa 7. A mixture of dark looming rounded mountains and higher more aggressive edges mosters lined our route. Accompanied by bright Sun and a chill wind we rode easily the 44 miles out to One of Argentinas most colourful natural wonder the Punta Del Inca. A green-golden hued chunk of limestone worn over the millennia to now form a natural arch over the stream that is still carving out the deeply grooved gulley. Sadly the once poplualr thermal spring is now closed, but wow what a sight. With our last ride down to the bridge itself for Will to capture. He called dit day. Pleased with the phootage he’d manage to capture in the last few days.

With work done we were free to just let the engines roar and ride at our own pace, retraceing our steps back through this majstic landscape of colourful, golden and amer giants. At Uspallata we detoured right following the 7 as its snaked steeply down the mountainside, it’s fast twising contours dictated to by the sheer rock faces onit’s left and the fast flowing river on it’s left.

By late afternoon the four of us had met back up in Mendoza and with our kit thrown into room 204 and our passport numbers given we we’d been checked into the San Martin.

Lisa and I are still feeling oddly tired but it ahs been a busy few days.

With Matt and Will for good company we enjoyed and good evening of wine and asado at one of the local eateries.

So to Will and Matt, a big thank youy for the whole experience and your patience with us…to Will especially thank you so much for the ‘near death experience’ ?…told you it still ahd some mileage. Take care and don’t work too hard.

11:30 am saw me wave the white flag and my surrender was the undignified stomach wrenching back arching vomiting into the toilet. I was on my hands and knees. The ´retching´ lasted 5 minutes. There was nothing left to orally evacuate, but the retching continued.

Lisa was feeling much the same, with a brief reprieve from the nausea we mustered our wilted strength and slowly donned our clothes, even moving was a Herculean effort.

At reception we mumbled pitifully our best Spanish and asked for a taxi. “por favour, Hospital Central” we blurted to the concerned-looking cabby. I was feeling weak, feverish and my head was spinning. The motion of the taxi wasn’t helping. By the time we’d reached the emergency room of the hospital my legs weren’t obeying my orders. Lisa and the cabby each took an arm and sat me in the dirty old looking room. Lisa was providing information to the admission staff; I was steadily slumping towards the floor. The cold concrete floor felt good. Some 10 minutes later Id been heaved unwillingly into a chair on wheels, this ´thing´ didn’t deserve to be called a wheelchair! My fever and delirium was getting worse.

Out of the chair and onto an old green emergency bed smothered in thick clear plastic. This wasn’t going to help the perspiration issue. I was doing my best to explain that Lisa was also ill, I could see she was shaking and her lips were the wrong shade of blue, but it was falling on deaf ears. An intravenous was brutally jabbed into my right arm and secured by thick tacky tape slapped on haphazardly; this was ´miles away´ from the Albert Einstein in Sao Paulo.

To my right a middle-aged woman with her face smashed in was struggling to accommodate the drain tube that had been shoved up here nose and taped in place. The slow dribble of sputum, vomit and blood she’d exorcised to the floor was to stay there all day. No-one seemed bothered to clean it up.

Lisa and I were doing our best to explain in Spanish for the 4th or 5th time our symptoms, how long we’d had them and the date and times we’d traveled in Amazonia and Paraguay. By 5:30pm we were no nearer diagnosis, but the drip had brought my temperature under control. We’d explained another 2-3 times that Lisa was ill but my concerns were dismissed with the now normal “Ahh, ah, Si, Si”, what’s fucking wrong with these people? My wife has similar symptoms and nothing is being done, much like last night! She’s been told to come back on Monday when they’ll test for malaria. Great, in the meantime she can simply faint, shake and vomit to her hearts content.

We seemed to spend hours left on our won. 6:30 and the impossibly young-looking Doctor/nurse pulled back the dirty cream curtain that hung precariously on its last 3 rusting hoops and explained that shed needed arterial blood and was going to take this from the vein in my groin. Mmmmm….that doesn’t sound good. The introduction of the needle made me wince and the unnecessary deep prodding around of the needle combined with the horrified look on Lisa’s face made me ´whelp like a beaten puppy´! She needed two samples “you’ve got to be fucking kidding” I thought…….she wasn’t.

Lisa was getting less and less bothered about being ´seen to´! With the blood taken and an hour later an English speaking Doctor had explained I was going to be admitted for 2-3 days and on Monday, when the blood testing facility opens (!?) we might get a diagnosis.

My insistence that my wife was also very sick was again dismissed with an “Ah Si, but she looks strong, bueno, chio”. With that he left. My helpless condition and the hospital staff indifference to my wife’s obvious plight was making me angrier by the minute.

The metal chair complete with its pitted and scarred dirty cream paint looked like an accident waiting to happen and the small 4 wheels that had been badly welded to the legs looked ridiculous. I had no choice, I still can’t walk and I was to be taken to an admission room. Being wheeled backwards through old, dark tiled corridors was making me feel nauseas. After what seemed like an age we reached ´the room´. Not good. The blood from a previous patient was still on the floor, the bedding was obviously unchanged and pillow cases here don’t exist. The walls are painted that odd colour that sits between cream and green and on all sides deep gouges were in the plaster, punctuated by black rubber streaks that highlighted the heavy handed moving of equipment over the years.

Lisa was keen to stay but she was obviously feeling like crap and so after 20 mins of sympathetic chat, we agreed she should get herself back to the hotel and should her symptoms worsen she would call reception. To be honest I was now more worried about her than I was myself.