Petrol stations, though not frequent, were of a higher quality than Brazil and stopping at the first one for refreshments as well as a refuel, we found the Halls’ Volvo over a pit and David emerging like an agile, though heavily greased, monkey; they had gearbox trouble. Not only had the second and third gears disintegrated but the gear lever had also snapped off in his hands, added to which they had broken the Panhard rod, which locates the rear axle, and in doing so destroyed two tyres. There was a long way to go and with the temperature, at 33.2°C at11.30am we did not envy their position, though both David and Jackie were, as ever, cheerful if not ebullient.
The wonderful scenes of morning and midday continued until early dusk when with the faltering light came our first realisation that we were in for a sixteen-hour day, the road was starting to break-up. With most of the ‘herd’ having blasted away earlier than us we were, as would be usual for this trip, about the last to be travelling up the road through nightfall lto Ju Juy. At first, we found we were suddenly upon a short stretch of potholes, the first of which almost threw us off the road and accordingly we reduced our speed to a manageable 50mph but the sections of potholes became more frequent and simultaneously the quality of the potholes deteriorated whilst the quantity increased so badly that our speed came down to 5mph. These potholes were not isolated units of two or three but whole sections of road lasting for a half-mile or more with holes that could swallow a wheel to its hub. The first sign that potholes were going to be bad ahead was given by heavy skid-marks, presumably from the fast Mustangs which had been caught-out travelling at their customary 90mph only to realise too late that even they would not be able to glide across the surface of this minefield.
That eerie light which descends just before the blackness creeps in was accompanied with the arrival of a dirt road made up from white chalk, which tricked us into thinking that it was not really so late or so dark. Even creeping along this dirt road we were sending up white contrails of talcum powder which remained suspended in the atmosphere on this windless plateau awaiting later road users. Behind us we knew that we had Alberto in the open Mustang, Bill and Eileen in the old Chrysler and maybe the Halls in their damaged Volvo. We also knew that the AA patrol vans were well ahead and probably sinking cold beers at the bar in Ju Juy.
Along this long dirt road we occasionally came up against a lorry with its trailer which would be picking its way trying to find the best surface, or a happy peasant sitting on his donkey apparently unaffected by all the dust thrown up, and frequently a group of young bare-footed children playing seemingly oblivious by the choking dust in the dirt in front of a shack with open doors and windows. The dusk wore on into night very rapidly and after about 90 miles of dreadful road we came upon an old hard-top road which even though it was cratered and cracked, and liberally patched jarring every bone in our bodies, we preferred to that chalk road on which we had occasionally come close to being stuck. Around about 9.30pm this little pock-marked road abruptly came to a junction where we turned right onto a new arterial of such high quality that we were soon buzzing along on our way to our hotel at speeds exceeding 90mph; such a reward after those horrible conditions over the last 5 hours that we almost preferred it to bed.
San Salvador de Ju Juy was our first real taste of Argentina, somewhere we would meet Argentineans for, though we had just put in about 800 miles, we had not spoken to anybody save the petrol pump attendant, nor seen anything but flat grassland and tiny shacks, so we were full of expectation as to how we would be received. The City’s central market had been boarded off forming a corral to receive us and afford the cars some security for the night. The press of people at the entrance was bewildering after such a long drive and the announcement over a very loud PA system of our arrival had our eardrums rattling against the accumulated dust we had picked up in trying to get there. Dog-tired we were quickly escorted to our hotel by local car club enthusiasts who were quick to point out the wonderful differences between the Argentineans and the Brazilians and they were right, for we were never again to feel under threat in Spanish America
.
We were up early at Juj but with a drip of crimson fluid from the power-steering box having stained the soil of our car park overnight and Bill’s Chrysler having fractured its radiator header-tank pipe, we sought and received enthusiastic local assistance prolonging our departure to Potosi, Bolivia until 11.30am.
