Day 61: October 14, 2007 In Salta
Salta,
Argentina
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Day 61: October 14, 2007 In Salta
We slept in late again. I was up and writing by 10:00. I finished around 11:00 and got Elena moving. Once she was up, we grabbed all of our laundry and took the bus down to the lavadero where we dropped it off. Then we walked the three blocks to the sidewalk restaurant at the corner of Rivadavia and Balcarce We were the first ones there so service was fast. All we ordered were empanadas and salad. Elena just had to have the pancake wrapped around banana and dulce de leche for dessert, so I helped her eat it. By the time we finished, every table in the restaurant, inside and outside, was filled. Once again, we appeared to be the only foreigners eating there.
A cab took us out to the Supermercado El Norte where we did our grocery shopping for the week. While waiting for a taxi to take us home, a woman asked if we were waiting for a taxi to Grand Bourg. We said, yes, and she said her husband was a taxista about to take her home to Gran Bourg. She asked if we wanted to share. I said, "Sure." Within a minute we were on our way. I thought it was a clever way for her husband to earn a fare while taking his wife home. They were very nice people. I gave him a tip that equaled the 2.5 peso fare.
Elena took a bus back into town to join Carlos and Guillermo and watch the rugby match. I went down to the office until the match started. I joined Bernardo and Jorge and we watched, drinking mate. South Africa dominated Argentina from the beginning and won handily, 37-13. My bet is that South Africa will be the champs. They were very smooth players.
I returned to the office for a couple of hours. Elena came home about 8:30 and we cooked ourselves some hamburgers. They were delicious. After dinner, I watched the news until about 10:30 and then decided to go to bed.
Back to La Tortuga diaries...
Before finishing in Chilecito, La Tortuga needed some spot welding repairs to the manifold but otherwise it behaved well. We were only driving it about 20 km/day. We decided to return to Fiambalá and finish our work there next. It was a long drive over a dirt road to get there. Just before we reached Tinogasta, in Catamarca province, we lost our brakes again. The exposed brake line was just a recipe for trouble on these roads. It was only a few kilometers to a YPF station with a mechanic. Ken eased it into the station, coasting to a stop. We would have to spend the night in Tinogasta so we got a hotel room a couple of blocks away on the central plaza.
A loud party next to the hotel went on until about 4:00 AM, interrupting our sleep frequently. Within half an hour of the party ending, flocks of parrots started screeching from the surrounding trees to guarantee a night of minimal sleep.
The brake line was repaired by mid-morning and we headed north toward Fiambalá, about 90 km away. We arrived at the Espinoza house and negotiated with the señora to get a triple room for a couple of days. Then we drove the 25 km west of town to the area where we were working to find a road access to the upper part of the section. It was late afternoon by the time we found what we needed so we decided to return to town.
Ken started the engine. We were immediately overwhelmed by the smell of gasoline. He shut it down. We opened the hood but couldn't see the cause of the smell. Ken started the motor again while Guillermo and I watched. A jet of gasoline spurted from the carburetor. The gasket between the two halves had broken. We dismantled the carburetor and opened it up. The flimsy cardboard gasket had indeed ruptured. Rubber gaskets dissolved quickly in the alcohol-rich gas so cardboard gaskets were commonly used. We weren't interested in returning to town with gas spurting out onto the hot engine but it was a long walk back. Suddenly, Guillermo shouted, "¡La goma!" meaning the inner tube. He dug under the seat and pulled out the multi-patched inner tube that he had rescued after I discarded it on our first day together.
Using the remnant of the cardboard gasket as a template, Guillermo used my Swiss Army knife to fashion a new gasket out of a patch-free part of the inner tube. Fifteen minutes later, we installed and tested it. Success! Not a drop issued from the carburetor. We returned to town and bought a cardboard gasket that we stored in the glove box, being too proud of our hand-crafted gasket to discard it so quickly.
