Vol. 11 No. 24 (2024): Essays of Geography
Ruta Nacional 9, a few turns south of La Quiaca (Argentina) – January 2023
To relate to the world around us, and expand that environment, on two wheels and powered by the strength of one's own legs, is the most beautiful way I know to discover new paths and new places, both on the face of the earth and within oneself. On these journeys, the bicycle becomes a great partner. In it and in the bags it carries, we find carefully selected belongings, having only what we really need to dress, find shelter for sleeping, eat, and make small repairs on the bike – reducing the set of necessary material goods to a minimum.
A dear friend and cyclist says that bicycles need names, or perhaps she is convinced that bicycles have names and by naming them, we reveal them to the world. I am thus sure that the one in the photo has a name, and even more certain that it revealed its name to me back in 2006, the moment it became my two-wheeled partner for so many journeys. But I suspect its name is "On the road again," the refrain of a song first performed in 1980 by the "outlaw" singer Willie Nelson, which plays in my ears every time I ride it and head towards another unknown part of the journey ahead. "On the road again?" the bike seems to ask, and in a low tone mixed with the wind in my ears, it's unclear if the words come from the bike or the wind itself: "If we are on the road, we have already arrived where we should be – on the road!"
Among such diverse and beautiful landscapes, which the often-suffering land never tires of inviting us to explore, deserts and mountains are certainly the most fascinating to me. Imagine then desert regions in the mountains! And it is this combination that makes the high Andes, the Altiplano, so fascinating to explore by bicycle. "Breathtaking" in every sense, an experience that becomes eternal in the visual and sensual memory. This photo was taken as "On the road again" was taking me southward a day after crossing the border from Villazón, still in Bolivia, to La Quiaca, now in Argentina, on one of the days that made up January 2022. Four days of cycling remain to reach Tucumán, and what in my imagination would be a smooth descent to San Salvador de Jujuy turns into one of the most laborious stretches, with strong winds rushing up the Rio Grande valley to fill low-pressure areas high in the mountains. The day this photo was taken ended with a night protected from the winds, lightning, and thunder of a small storm so common in the high mountains, in a riverbed next to a stone bridge of a railway line descending the same valley as Ruta 9, by which I leave the roof of Abya Yala behind, already feeling nostalgic as I still say goodbye to the mountains, their people, and their many forms, colors, and stories to tell (about the world, about ourselves).
Photo taken with a Redmi Note 9 cell phone
Timo Bartholl
Assistant Professor in the Geography Department at UFF/Niterói
@timomesmo
