My Pirelli MT 21 did not enjoy traversng this road with no air in it, and let me know this by fishtailing like mad, making hiddeous sounds and threatening to leave the rim and start a town right there.Night was falling.

I was almost falling

My Polartech Windproof jacket fell... so did my favorite riding gloves.

I had never been in Alota before. I didn't know if there were any hostels there, or food or gas. I had left my tent and sleeping bag behind and it was getting very cold. I could only hope for the best and focus all my energy in keeping the bike vertical.

I saw lights in the distance.

The distance grew smaller.

A beaten up truck with very dim lights drove in the opposite direction, refusing to stop and talk to me. (These bastards would pick up my jacket further down the road).

I arrived and a car signaled to me with it's lights from a fenced house.

It was no house, it was Hospedaje Los Andes, a small hostel.

I was saved.

There were three guests there. A driver, a salsa singer - anthropologist and a biologist. They were conducting a workshop to save the wetlands nearby.

They looked at me under the light and got scared. Grinning, they bought me dinner and gave me lots of water. Then the lot of us went on an expedition to rescue my stuff.

Fortunately I had marked a waypoint with my GPS where the things were hidden.

We found everything except for my jacket. We even found my gloves that were 8 kilometers appart from each other.

The driver would not leave the SUV because he said that the devil dwels in those rocks. Good thing that the devil is no biker, otherwise he would have stolen my gear!

Needless to say, I was a very happy rider.

The next day my friends gave me a lift to Uyuni where I had my tire fixed and bought new spares.

I was ready again. I hired a taxi back to Alota with new determination.

More later