Heading up into the mountains, the night is starting to draw in, there are no towns coming up so I decided to free camp. The terrain is very rocky and the road is carved into the mountain side, as it winds its way towards the Chilean border near Pismanta, the road rising to over 4850 meters at it´s peak. The trouble is, there are no new good spots, as up in the hills, the road takes up any available space. As the twilight starts to fade I eventually pull off behind some bushes, it´s not great but it will have to do.

Suddenly I´m awake, the tent was awash with a bright light. Poking my head out I can see a car parked a little way off, I can hear the engine running, then I´m dazzled as the full beam is switched on. Back in the tent I check the time on my camera, it was just after two in the morning. I sit listening to the engine ticking over, assessing the situation, until my train of thought is interrupted as the engine is cut and the lights go out. I look out again, I can see two men standing by the car talking. Clutching my keys, I think for a moment, I'm not going to sit passively, if they come over I'll abandon camp, just get on the bike and go. I can still hear voices, I look out again, they're still chatting by the car. I can't decide if I'm over reacting, but decide rather than take any I´ll leave. I pack up as much as I can from inside the tent, rolling up the thermarest, stuffing the sleeping bag into its sack, getting as ready as possible before going outside to take the tent down, listening through the silence the whole time for anything untoward. As I emerge from the tent I immediately go over to the bike and start it up, placing the helmet over one of the mirrors, scanning the landscape to keep an eye on the car, working out the best route to the road. I start to take down the tent, the lights come on again, but I don't miss a beat. I'm tempted to brush my teeth in an attempt to enhance the normality, confuse then with subterfuge, at which point the engine starts. I'm acutely aware of my surroundings and the position of the car, but keep packing, without looking towards them. The car gradually moves towards the road and begins to come level with the tent is, it slows momentarily, before continuing on, eventually disappearing into the night. It seems rather dramatic once the cars gone, it's scarred the bejesus out of me, so I'm not hanging about. It´s about 150km to the border, it´s a bright night, the skies are famously clear here with stellar observatories located throughout the area, the moon almost a full with the stars shinning down. I'll ride on to the border or the next check point then ask to camp near Gendarme, who oversee all Argentine borders. After about 40 minutes I feel really tired, winding my way around the mountain roads, so think better of it and start to look for another spot to camp, but I have the same problem as before. Then on the right I can see the night sky is reflected in what must be a lake, on the other side of the road from the water is a track. I turn off the road, killing my lights the path eventually leading to a horse shoe of rock face, far, far from the road this time, it seems like a good spot. The tent pitched I lie in my sleeping bag, it feels cool now, there's been no traffic since I pitched my tent, until I hear a car approaching way off in the distance, I watch the surface of the tent as if passes, nothing, I'm well out of sight.

I leave at first light the next morning, the miles fly by and I know I´m almost at the border, I´ve passed a number of deserted barriers with small concrete guard houses, but no sign of life. There's no other traffic on the road, so I figure I should clear both sets of customs within an hour and be in La Serena by lunchtime – I have done a big loop back around a thousand kilometres to go snow boarding. The advice was well intentioned, but the ski lifts were closed. I say closed, they hadn't even been built, but still there was a refrigerated tunnel with no lights, cool in both senses of the word. Eventually I reached a manned check point and the young Gendarme looks perplexed. No problem, this is my fifth visit to the Argentine customs, i´m an old pro. I produce my plastic zip folder ready to blind him with paperwork when he politely interrupts. Very slowly, with a mime to accompany he explains, the penny drops, the crossing is closed. His superior office appears, although I don't really understand what he's explanation, a date emerges, it opens in three days time. For some reason I don't feel that perturbed as for the third time I head back to see my good friend routa 40, I'll get to see the bit I rode in the dark last night and at least I know the way now.

I think Martin a cyclist I met that evening summed it up best. After recounting the tale to him over a cold beer, he simply commented in his classic Amsterdama accent "…yeah, but it's a good adventure". And the photograph above, that´s the view I woke up to in the morning. OK, perhaps not quiet as composed, but it was pretty damned close.