#46 The Triumph of the Sun: Chaco Regions

'The earth burns with the quenchless thirst of ages, and in the steel blue sky scarcely a cloud obstructs the unrelenting triumph of the sun.' I honestly do not think Winston Churchill's description of the deserts of the Sudan are an elevated portrayal of how it felt to travel by motorcycle through Paraguay (and as it turns out North-Western Argentina) during the oppressively-hot summer season.

It's not so much being on the bike, notwithstanding every inch of your body covered in protective gear, including leather gloves, in my case all in black. At least then there is some wind, albeit mostly warm air. But when stationary, for example at a police checkpoint (of which there are many) or when waiting in a long line for petrol, it's hellish. Admittedly the latter is mostly Reece's plague, I usually make a bee-line for the air conditioned shop, usually still with helmet and layers on much to the amusement of my fellow patrons. I probably don't need to describe the levels of sweat experienced...

To divert from the weather for a moment, I couldn't leave Paraguay without including the above picture of these genetically-engineered looking cows with a hump back, impressive horns, and a neck waddle. We first spotted these breeds in Brazil which I assumed must have experienced had an outbreak of foot and mouth disease. But no, it seems that they are a type of Indian-bred cow favoured (apparently) because they can give birth to their calves without assistance. I'm not sure how that works, all I know is it is one strange looking mammal.

The ground in Paraguay is made up of a thick red clay like substance on which, if you are lucky, rocks are scattered. Alongside the road are either some pretty dry fields or lush crops of soybean suggesting that if you are a soybean farmer in Paraguay it pays to invest in an irrigation system. They are pretty basic roads and have no irrigation system; we were told you can be stuck for days after a heavy downpour. Hence our decision to leave Paraguay for Northern Argentina. That and the oppressive heat we were told to expect in the Chaco region of Paraguay. Barely able to handle the 35-odd degrees we had been experiencing already in Southern Paraguay it was time to move on. Shame we didn't ask what the climate was like in the nearby Northern Argentinian province.You would think it sharing the same name as its Paraguayan neighbour might have been a give away, but no.

Soon we were back to the long, monotonous, straight roads of the Chaco region of Argentina where all you have to think about is how hot you are and where the next petrol station with air conditioning is. Resistencia had been chosen as the destination for its sculpture-lined streets. What did we see? The inside of an air- conditioned hotel on the way to an air-conditioned restaurant.

The sun must have fried our brains or something as we forgot that having crossed back into this progressive, oil-producing country petrol is hard to come by and turned up at a gas station expecting to obtain a tank full of gas. We ended up being escorted a few hundred metres down the road to buy 10 litres from a woman with a barrel full of petrol stashed away in the corner of her garage. We filled up with this woman looking over her shoulder - I don't think she was too happy about us taking pictures of the event or wasting time putting our purchased 'Patron Saint of Urgent Causes' stamp on the bike. Admittedly, this is the type of blog material we secretly hope for but with a 50% mark up not a mistake we can afford to make simply for the sake of a good story.

Our petrol station

Finally, after weeks of wondering whether we would ever feel cold again a steady fall in the mercury followed by a downpour which hit just as we entered the city of Tucuman turning its streets into ponds and easily penetrating our unlined clothing. We couldn't do much but laugh at the situation as we raced from bike to hostel and back again. Where one was supposed to be we found the entire building had been teared down leaving a gaping hole between the adjacent concrete structures (thanks, Lonely Planet). Back to the bike, wringing the water out of my gloves, and on to the next one. Fortunately things were about to get surprisingly better.