Category: Countries

After a day of complete and utter rest on Sunday, today is a complete contrast.

Sunday night in the park filled with people, bands, and crafts stalls.

The first task for the day is getting the missing and broken pieces on my bike replaced. So contracting a taxi driver to shuttle me around the town, I move from place to place searching for those elusive bits that seem to belong only to the bygone era when the bike was made. Although many parts come close, there is nothing that works.

Pipa’s Workshop
The main bearings are easy to find, as the shops here are large and filled with every variety of item. Quite a contrast from the places that I have known in Corrientes. The other parts remain missing, but my taxi driver who also owns a couple of motorbikes makes a suggestion. He knows a guy whom he claims is the best guy in the entire city to solve my problem. If  this guy cannot fix my problem then it cannot be solved in Saenz Peña.

Skeptical at first, when we arrive at Pipa’s workshop I start to believe the claims about the place. A motorbike workshop that specialises in racing bikes, it has all of the lathes and other specialised equipment needed to fabricate any broken or missing part. When presented with the broken bits of my bike, the guy suggests that it is possible to fix, if I leave them with him until the afternoon.

Some of the damaged parts from my bike.

It is still morning when I consider calling a shop I know in Resistencia to see if they have the parts. When I am assured that they do, I return to Pipa’s to inform him. His preference is to fix it here, and my presence sends him into action, looking for a solution. Half an hour later I discover that there is no solution for me in this town.

Searching for a Solution
My solution lies in Resistencia, or Corrientes where there are shops with the parts that I desperately need. Already into the fourth day of my saga, my search for a courier service that leaves today to take my parts ends up fruitless. It would now be tomorrow evening at the earliest that my parts would arrive here.

With desperation rising, there had to be another way. There was. The only other way to get the parts today was for me to go for them myself. That meant a bus ride to Resistencia.

The bus terminal in Saenz Peña.

Pirota
At 5.30pm I arrived in Resistencia after a two and a half hour journey on the bus and went straight to Pirota, a shop I had known only through phone calls and recommendations. Well presented, and filled with plaques and paper clippings about the owner as a basketball champion, it was an old guy that served me.

The shop was busy and he was on his own, so it was a long wait between other customers for him to help me out. As the time wore on, it became obvious that he had no actual replacement parts for my bike. The parts that were appearing on the counter before me were assorted bits and pieces that may or may not work in solving my problem.

Andérica
When it became more obvious that these parts were a gamble, there was only one place that I had left to go. Andérica, Corrientes. They have been the ones that have been able to supply me with genuine Siambretta parts when I have needed them.

Having made some good friends at this shop, the guys there were very surprised to see me again after my final farewells only a few days ago. They all wanted to hear the story of what happened and how far I got and so on. We chatted away as they searched out the missing parts. All genuine Siambretta parts. Almost all perfect for the job.

On the way home over the bridge to Resistencia.

Heading Home
Now that I had my parts gathered together, I needed to get back to Saenz Peña where my hotel room was still booked. Time was tight to get the 9pm bus, so a couple of taxis were needed to get me to the bus terminal in time where I grab one of the very last seats.

The journey back home was uneventful, and by midnight my day had finished. I now had the pieces. Tomorrow we begin to put them together, with some extra work required to get everything to fit.

The Bombshell
Today was another very adventurous day. After arriving at the workshop where I left the bike, I am confronted with some serious news. The bike has a serious problem. The engine is broken somewhere on the inside. There is no quick fix.

Victor’s workshop.

Worse still, is that the workshop refused to work on my bike because it was too old. Instead I am pointed down the road to another workshop that may accept the job. I thank the guy for finding the problem and push the bike down the road to the other workshop. Victor, namesake and owner of the workshop, comes out to look over the bike. To my relief he agrees to take on the job, but I must leave the bike with him.

After explaining my situation, Victor points me to the bus terminal and shortly afterwards closes up shop for the afternoon siesta. The bus terminal however, only brings sad news. That there are no buses leaving for Salta before 10pm at night. I return to my hotel, collect my bags, and head out to the main route. Perhaps I would at least be able to hitch a ride there so I could make it to the wedding.

Loaded up with my bags and heading out to the highway. Note the kung-fu shoes.

Facing Reality
The time was now 3pm, and I had been standing on the side of the road for the last two and a half hours, trying to solicit a ride from the passing motorists. I was willing to do anything to try and arrive in time for Isaac and Natalia’s wedding. I never made it.

While standing on the side of the road, I considered every possibility to cover the remaining 650kms. Walking would take me between 10-15 days, riding a bicycle would be about 5 days, by horse it would take about the same time, 5 days. If I had a motorbike at 50km/h it would still take me 13 hours. By now, even at 100km/h I would not get there in time.

Waiting on the side of the road for a ride.

It was not what I had planned. Nor even something that I had considered a possibility. But here I was, having to face the reality that I would not make it to Isaac’s wedding tonight. The engine on my bike was totally blown, there were no buses leaving in time, a taxi was ridiculously expensive, and after trying to hitch for so long I had received not even a hint of a ride. I was stranded and going nowhere.

Returning to Victor’s Workshop
Walking back the 2km stretch to the hotel was hard with the weight of my bags bearing down upon me. Once again I checked in and then, after dropping off my bags, decided to head over to see how my motorbike was going at the workshop where I had left it. Perhaps they would know something more about it by now.

The news was that the bike was still untouched. It would be Monday before they could look at it. I suggested to Victor that since I was now hanging around and had nothing to do, perhaps I could pull the thing apart for him. He seemed happy for me to do that, perhaps because I had mentioned to him earlier that I had been a mechanic many years ago.

My bike inside and in pieces in Victor’s workshop.

So with the little tools I had, and some borrowed ones, in my good clothes because my suggestion had come as a whim in the moment, and with little time before the workshop would shut, I started pulling the bike apart. Covers, cables, sides, and other parts started coming off the bike at a fast rate.

In the middle of working, a rag fell down before me, and suddenly a pair of extra hands reached down to help me. It was Victor’s other mechanic who had finished his work and was now helping me to pull my bike apart. Before I had finished, Victor had also joined me, making a group of three. The whole job went very quickly and we removed everything including the crankshaft and bearings.

The Problem
It was here that we found the problem. The bottom end of the connecting rod had started to disintegrate, throwing chunks of metal into the fast moving precision areas of the engine. This caused some minor damage to the piston and cylinder, but pinned a ring to the piston, rendering it useless. Or put more simply, the engine chewed up and spat out a lot of metal chunks causing enough damage to stop it working.

The engine pulled completely apart to fix the broken bits.

Most of the parts that we need to fix the bike will be easy to find. There is one part however that needs to be perfectly correct. This may or may not cause problems. I collected all of the parts that needed to be replaced, and put them to one side. Then after a time of chatting with Victor and his mechanic, I agreed to return on Monday at 8am to search out the parts.

My bike was a mess. The damage serious. But at least now I know what the problem is, and we are on the way toward repairing it. So for now I remain here in Saenz Peña. Stranded, and going nowhere.

An overcast day in Saenz Peña kept the heat down today.

The Problems At Victor’s
Arriving at Victor’s workshop at 8:15am in the morning with all of my bags, I find a place for them at the back of the workshop and then move into place alongside Victor in helping him work on my bike.

Victor and his mechanic in their workshop.

A problem last night was solved with the use of my Siambretta manual which I dug out of my pack, and we soon had the bike together. There was a problem however. The moment we tightened the parts together, the engine refused to turn over. The crank was too wide.

Borrowing Victor’s easyrider chopper styled bicycle, I ride off down to Pipa’s with the crank in a bag. One hour later I return with everything as narrow as it can be. When we fit it, the same problem occurs and the engine locks up. To solve it, we use some gasket paper which I buy to act as a spacer. It works perfectly.

Finally going again.

With the core of the engine together, Victor and I work on opposite sides of the bike. However, when I put the gearbox cover on, the same thing occurs with the engine refusing to spin. We track it back to a part that I put in wrongly and when that is fixed everything works perfectly.

All of our working and the stops in the middle to fix the wide crank takes us through to midday. Victor wants to stop for siesta, but I can see that this means yet another day in Saenz Peña so I barter with him until he cedes me one more hour.

Looking through the window of Victor’s workshop.

The Beast Lives
We only needed half an hour and the bike was ready. It started on the second kick and ran perfectly. I was very happy with how everything was, listening to the motor purring, when suddenly, Gggggggrrrrnnnnk! The motor stops. The inside bits are too tight and when they heat up and expand, they squeeze on the other parts causing the engine to lock up.

My first reaction is to be aghast, but Victor nonchalantly says, "oh, that is normal. You may need to ride around a bit first to ‘seat’ the parts." He goes on to tell me that this sort of thing will happen a few times as everything is getting used to each other, but it should be further and further apart. I am counselled to ride around the town a bit to help the process.

Victor taking my bike for a test ride.

So as Victor closes up his shop, I jump on my bike and ride it tentatively down the road. Gggggrrrrnnnnnk! It did it again, only a block and a bit away. I wait a few moments then start up and keep going on my way. Ggggggrrrrnnnnk! This time it was almost three blocks. He was right, they are getting further and further apart.

Travelling Around the City
And so I travelled around the city. Riding until the ggggggrrrrrnnnnk! noise stopped me dead in my tracks. First to Pipa’s to show them what they were working on (they commended the engine, saying it had not a single noise out of place), and then from one part to another.

Enjoying a thermal bath.

One of my last stops in the city was at the Thermal Complex, a series of baths in private rooms which they fill up with special thermal water. The bath was nice and refreshing, but there did not seem to be anything more to recommend it.

After that was lunch, and then I see a huge storm coming our way so head out towards it to take some pictures of the fierce green clouds. The storm is moving so fast, that I worry it will catch me as I race back to Victor’s workshop to continue on my bike.

The approaching storm over the outskirts of the city.

Leaving Town
With the covers on, bags tied down, and everything back where it belongs I farewell Victor and his helper and head off down the road. The rain has left everything filled with water, but rather then going straight onward, I stop by some new acquaintances on the way out. The Hotel Presidente where I stayed the first so many nights, Pipa’s again to say farewell, and the service station to fill up the fuel.

Finally leaving the city that had held me for so long.

Everything sorted, I then head back onto the main highway and start my journey. Rejoicing in the ability to move so effortlessly I do not hear the early warning signs. Suddenly, gggrrrrrrnnk. The motor stops dead. A bus is behind me so I drop off the edge of the road and straight into mud. The wheels slip and slide and I almost lose it completely but somehow the bike remains upright.

Leaving tracks in the mud when trying to stop.

Looking back at the storms behind me.

Watching the last rays of the sun disappear.

The dark road that lay ahead.

It was at 6.30pm that I left Saenz Peña, and arrived in Pampa del Infierno at 8.30pm, amidst uncountable engine stops, a missed turn off, and light problems where when the engine cut, so did the lights.

Hotel del Infierno
The first available hotel seems fine to me, and their prices are reasonable. After a nice hot shower I head off down town looking for Internet. The place I was told about was supposed to have broadband connections, but it was horrendously slow to the point that I gave up after just one email.

An old truck and muddy road at the entrance to Pampa del Infierno.

Returning past the hotel I stop at the Parilla (BBQ) for a lovely steak meal and then return to my room. I am exhausted. The physical exertion from such a trip like that left me without any more strength. I try to write my stories but realise that sleep is far more import.

While at the eatery, I learned that Pampa del Infierno is probably named for the lack of water that they have. Most of it has to be imported and it is expensive.

Enjoying a lemonade at the Parilla restaurant.

For me, the best part was that my bike, after six days of work was finally going again. And my journey too.