Arrival in Salta

We cycled to Salta. the road was pretty big but there are smaller roads that run parallel which we used. We did have one moron who gentle tooted behind us (an indication they're about to overtake) and he overtook and then did an immediate right turn, cutting us up in the process at great speed.

I nearly cycled into the side of him. I shouted hoarsely (I have lost my voice), so Al shouted "Knobber!!!" on my behalf.People waiting at a nearby bus stop, who'd seen the incident, shook their heads in disbelief.

The roads were scary big but we found our way around and spotted a sign for the campsite. We followed it but then no more appeared. We asked and no one knew of a campsite in the area.

We carried on further into Salta. Normally we communicate by shouting to each other while cycling along, but I've lost my voice so can only manage a hoarse croak. I found this frustrating.

Eventually we saw signs for municipal campsite  (nowhere NEAR where the earlier sign had pointed) which had hot showers, albeit nearly a mile from where we pitched our tent. The banos nearer to us were only squat loos in cubicles with either no locks or no doors at all. Using the squat loos later, I realised why people had removed the doors. They opened inwards and you nearly fell down the hole trying to leave the cubicle.

The campsite had the most enormous swimming pool I have ever seen and by evening, most day visitors had left. This meant a quiet night, which is quite the novelty.