Argentinian border formalites went pretty smoothly and with our documents checked and stamped without fuss we were finaly ready to leave Argentina. Strange it feels like only yesterday that we were entering for the first time. Chile awaits.

With the softly fluttering Argentinean flag of the border hose in the distance we were again heading up. The country side was becoming more impressive by the minutes. It was taking all our discipline not to stop every 200 metres for photos.

Majestic ancient mountain side swept up from the road. Water worn valleys ran into the distance and all the time the road simply went up. By mid afternoon I was counting down the altitude every few minutes until we finally topped out at 15,900 feet. I was having to be extremely gently on the accelerator. Any moderately aggressive wrist action just made Tink’s cough and complain. ‘Just keep going, just keep going’ I was muttering under my breath.

By now even with the mid-day Sun the temperature was below freezing. The heated grips were seemingly ineffectual.

Snow capped volcanoes were laying off to the North as we slowly began our descent into San Pedro de Atacama. And Chilian border formalities.

We made camp at the other end of town. Camping and hostel ‘Takha Takha’, with European prices we won’t be staying long. That said I’ve got to look at my bike again. She’s not right.

Right job day…

We’d eaten sparsely last night due to the prices. San Pedro’s on to a good thing. This whole town is awash with North Face clad clones, all meandering around looking cool in their shiny new red, Gore-tex, Windstopper, super breathable climbing, hiking kit, which based on how shiny most of it all looked was bought epecially for their trip here.

Back at the camp site I’d managed to finally stop my stomach from grumbling and had stuck Tink’s on centre stand, drained the tank of all her gas and now had pulled off her tank and was poking and prodding around inside.

There didn’t seem to be a worryingly large amount of crap in the bottom of the tank and water pollution wasn’t the culprit…dam, I was really hoping it was going to be something obvious. Two hours later and I’d blown out the fuel filter and replaced all the internal fuel lines. My thinking was even a small split would affect the fuel pressure and cause the symptoms I’d been experiencing. Another ½ hour later and I’d checked over the frame looking for bad earth’s that would affect the fuel pump assembly…nada.

Whilst I’m dicking around with Tinks, Lisa been going over our kit and making last minute preparation for our journey into the Altiplano.

We’re desperately looking forward to riding into this awesome landscape but I’d be lying if I said neither of us were more than a little nervous. Much of the riding will be at over 5,000 metres andf the idea of -20 at night is concerning. Add to that my obvious concerns of my bikes performance or lack there of, Mmm…it’s going to be interesting.

We’d spent a few more hours interfering with the bikes, hopefully pushing and prodding rather unenthusiastically in the hope of improving things. We’ll see later if to any avail.

With a full moon due for this evening, our evening had been booked. The valle de la Luna was only a short 20 minute ride away and far too great a photo op’ to miss out on, besides it’ll be fun to do something a little touristy.

By 5:30pm we were heading out into the musty orange desert landscape, skirting the lower hills of the nearby volcanoes, before taking the loose gravel track which would lead us down and through into the Valle itself. Dark brown and golden shadows were already beginning to elongate themselves across this moon like landscape. Contorted, jagged rock formations nestled back into windswept sand dunes. Off to our right a large salt pan was shimmering in the last low rays of the Sun. In the distance tall sharp crest’s of the mountain range stretched into the distance. With tickets bought from the small rock shack we’d headed into the middle of the valle and easily parked up amongst the already parked white mini-vans that had ferried other eager tourists.

Legs were heavy and lungs struggled as we slowly climbed the nearest dune, our access to the volcanic crest and the lookout point. The colours were becoming heavier and richer by the passing second and right on cue the moon effortlessly broke the peak of the distant mountain range and rose higher into the sky.

Soft but vast sand dunes glowed a heavy orange and the weak shadows of the mountains around us steadily sharped.

The grey dusty orange of the earlier horizon was now a milky, hazy lavender. Shadows were now a rich purple and rising higher into the sky the ancient scarred lunar surface could easily be made out. Neither of us had ever seen the moons surface so clearly.

Walking along the crest of the mountainside we found our spot, set up the tri-pod and sat down to enjoy the show. Now matter how hard we looked or for that matter how often our brains still struggled to take in our surroundings. So many colours and such contrasting shapes and surfaces. It was like being on the moon.

As the camera lens snaped and the evening became darker we knew we’d soon be saying farewell to this incredible place. Without the Sun the tmpreature was dropping by the second, besides neither of uswanted to ride back to Sanpedro de Atacarma in the pitch black.