We awoke to the sound of a duck quacking, our 5am alarm call. We had some work to do on the car, battle scars from yesterday. It was so cold we struggled to get the car doors open but sunrise over the salt flats is a beauty to behold. After a spanner check, service and another replacement shock absorber we were ready for a hearty breakfast, but it was not to be, stale bread and jam with weak coffee and optional sticky buns.
We made it to the time control with minutes to spare and then headed off to the fuel station for some Super Plus (85 octane) but on the way there another ominous clunking noise reared it's head. Having refuelled and fixed the clunk we set off half an hour late. The "road" was even worse than yesterday and we picked our way through with great care and skill. We tried wherever possible to use alternative tracks through the sand as maximum speed on the road was 25 kph and we had 611 kms to do, work that one out. The going just got worse as the sandy bits ran out, this was painful stuff but we only got stuck in the sand once. The only highlight was a random ostrich which ran in front of us, the only one we have seen.
We missed the first time control but soldiered on to the top of the mountain pass, 4200 metres high, where the views were quite stunning. We had passed several broken down cars, offering help and assistance of course, things were proving tough for the classics, this was 4x4 country and we started to share the Dutch contingents view that this stuff was just destroying the cars. At the bottom of the mountain we passed a dead cow strung up from a tree with all it's insides missing, we just kept going.
Then it was a matter of following the river along the valley, but the washboard got worse, this phenomenon is the worst of all conditions, just small ridges about an inch high and 8 inches apart, they just shake the car until you think it can't possibly take anymore and blur the vision. The rock formations were incredible, like something out of Lord of the Rings, weird lifelike shapes and mythological forms, a sort of fantasy vista.
Needless to say we missed lunch and survived on water and a packet of Polos and some Halls cough sweets donated by a generous
benefactor.
We eventually got to the first stretch of tarmac after 232 kms, it had taken us 9 hours so far, non stop apart from numerous pee breaks. The silky smooth blacktop lasted 2 kms and then broke off for roadworks, this was the story all the way to the Argentinian border. The crossing was quite straight forward, around 45 mins, there was one amusing moment when one of the contestants, a big fat red-faced Dutchman, threw a wobbly, he went berserk with the customs officials, I think it was because he had been much delayed on the way into Bolivia, anyhow his wife took control and sent him off to sit in the car on his own. Needless to say it took much longer for them than anyone else.
It was a massive relief to be back in Argentina, our favourite country so far "the truth is we've always loved you" we sang as we set off for the long downhill stretch to Jujuy.
One of the Dutch crews, a husband and wife in a Mercedes 280 SEL hit a 14 year old girl on the way, she had crossed the road in the dark, whilst using her mobile phone. They had been doing about 75 kph before they swerved and braked but unfortunately hit her, damaging the front wing and breaking a hole in the windscreen. The girl had a badly bruised arm and a broken leg, it was a miracle she wasn't killed. Very lucky/unlucky, depending on how you look at these things.
We got to the hotel at 10.30 pm, 11.30 Argentinian time, completely knackered, caked in muck and dust and starving hungry. Peter and I
love rallying.
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